Becoming Nosferatu anthology offers prose, poetry on German silent horror

 

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Review by Doug Gibson

It's been almost six months since the 2024 Robert Eggers' film version of "Nosferatu" (reviews here and here) enjoyed strong success at the box office. The film was mostly faithful to F.W. Murnau's interpretation of the vampire, and enhanced the monster's connection to its prey Ellen Hutter.

Academics Matthew Sorrento and Gary D. Rhodes have edited -- and contributed stories to -- a new anthology, "Becoming Nosferatu: Stories Inspired By Silent German Horror," Bearmanor Media, 2025. Mostly stories, along with poetry, the book includes takes on several era icons, including Caligari, Dr. Mabuse, "M," "The Golem," "Vampyr," Metropolis" and "Nosferatu." Some of the tales are set in the past; others in more current times. Some of the tales are serious; some are comedic, others satirical. Some stories find contemporary parallels.

When I review art, I resist the urge to search for passages that support my biases. I'm just looking for a great read. Despite its not-too-subtle political message, I quite enjoyed Robert Guffey's novella "The Land of Thieves and Phantoms." Set in modern times in California's Inland Empire (an area that can be considered remote albeit in California), a charismatic preacher-type pol named Henry Orlok runs for mayor of Lake Wisborg, a small community.

Although not particularly aesthetically attractive, he soon commands widespread support. Two acolytes include a schoolteacher named Ellen and a realtor named Knock. Orlok rallies the town against a longstanding cleric and a peaceful baker whose name and business create unfortunate anagrams. Orlok and supporters eventually force out the town's power structure. 

Guffey effectively weaves a town of individuals manipulated by fear, nativism, prejudice, a longing for security, and a desire to find scapegoats. He provides vampire tendencies from Orlok and convert-like zeal from his conquests. However, more subtle is that dark habits already within his converts are allowed to flourish. A mean-spirited, perverted teacher-turned librarian is given new life to persecute. A conformist businessman easily turns allegiances to Orlok despite the harm to others. Unrepentent, he frankly admits to the persecuted baker that he personally has nothing against him. 

I won't give away the story's finale but it explores the totalitarian tendency to safely rehabilitate -- after their death and/or destruction -- the reputations of those destroyed.

Another story, a witty satirical tale, "Totenkopf," by Rhodes, involves a private detective, Jack Six, from Hollywood but now moving through Europe on assignment searching for the skull of the late director F.W. Murnau. As narrator Six admits, he's a conflicted soul. "... there were two of me, one investigating the Murnau case, the other investigating the me that was investigating the Murnau case." 

Jack Six's well-funded case moves him through conversations with ghosts, including Forry Ackerman, pining for Pola Negi, passages of Louise Brooks, and help from contemporaries, including Bela Lugosi biographer Robert Cremer. He moves through, bars, seances, hotel rooms, Ubers, cemetaries and cities in his quest. It's a fun read for genre fans. It kind of reminded me of Charles Bukowski's final novel "Pulp," where a jaded private eye searches for death.

One more Nosferatu-influenced story I'll mention is Argyle Goolsby's "Serpent on the Lace," a short tale that effective captures the mood and drama of Ellen Hutter's doomed but successful entrapment and destruction of the vampire.

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"The Good Doctor: An Editorial," by John Talbird, is a brief story that conveys the experience of those unfortunate patients submerged in a Caligari brain fog. 

I enjoyed Charles Rammelkamp's two stories, "Der Golem," and Return of der Golem," that provides the point of view on the monster, particularly his unrequited love for Jessica, and later another women.

Sorrento has a story, from the "Metropolis" section, "The Watcher," that traces the evolution and manipulation of an adolescent. Initially fascinated by street games, Julian becomes the protege of a Tall Man who leads him into a world of illegal boxing clubs, and punishment for gamblers. The youngster's name eventually changes.

I enjoyed a story "Yours Alraune," (from the 1928 film "Alraune"), by Martyn Pedler and Alexandra Heller-Nicholas. A beautiful young woman named Alraune exchanges letters with film star Brigitte Helm, now an old woman. The two reveal a contrast of the younger woman, defining Helm by her films, and Helm's responses, which provide clarity and a realism and wisdom the younger woman will presumably attain.

"Mabuse's Last Scheme." by Jeffrey Ford, ("Dr. Mabuse the Gambler," 1922) is a good read with a fantastic ending. 

A poem, "Soul of Frankenstein," by Donald F. Glut, stuck with me. It's an eloquent, beautifully composed summary of the iconic novel.

Sorrento and Rhodes have done a fine job culling and editing stories that underscore the expressionist films this anthology pays homage to. I honestly enjoyed every story and poem. The anthology can be enjoyed by those in the know of the silent horror genre. And the stories can serve as inspiration -- for those unfamiliar with the film genre -- to appreciate the films.

Editor's note: To read an excellent analysis of the 2024 "Nosferatu' from Rhodes, go here.

Last of the American Hoboes: A review

 

Review by Doug Gibson

The actor above is the late Titus Moede (also known as Titus Moody). It's a still from the film "The Last American Hoboes," which has a date of 1967, but I don't believe it premiered until at least 1969.  View a trailer here.

I used to read about this film in the pages of Cult Movies Magazine. Moede occasionally contributed for the pub, either as interviewee or interviewer. He was active in the film industry for 40-plus years. Early in his career he was a TV actor. He moved toward low-budget cinema in the '60s, working for Coleman Francis and Ray Dennis Steckler. My favorite Moede film is "Rat Pfink a Boo Boo." 

Like some of his peers, Moede gravitated to adult cinema. His tasks included directing and photography. But "Last of the American Hoboes" was a passion project of his. Over the course of several years, Moede, along with script writer/actor Gordon Barclay, gathered film for this pseudo documentary that included a healthy dose of filmed dramatic inserts. Moede and Barclay moved from skid row streets to railroads, to "hobo jungles," to flophouses, cheap late-night diners, skid row, country homes, old trees, and many roads of middle America and the American West. The film has a lot of atmosphere with the relaxed outdoor hobo camps, and trains, and the different, cramped, oppressive life in downtown skid row. It culminates in Britt, Iowa, where a hobo convention is held and a hobo king crowned.

The film includes a few low-budget cult names of the era, besides Moede and Barclay. Genre fans will notice Coleman Francis and Bruno VeSota. The cast includes hoboes of the 1960s, including contenders vying for the title of hobo king.

I am really surprised this film never made it to the now-canceled TCM Underground movie series. Or maybe I missed it. But I doubt it. It also seems like a film that public television of that era might have been interested in airing.

I always wanted to see this film, and could have bought it thirty years ago. The magazine had ads for it. But it was an era when I was yet to solidify a career and couldn't easily part with the cash. But every few years I would casually scan the Internet for the entire film, but no luck. It had been a few years but recently I looked for it again and lo and behold, it's currently free to watch on Tubi.

 

The film also released an album of songs (see cover below). These are songs of the road and hobo history. The film boasts of covering 70 hears of hobo life. I enjoy the songs a bunch and will probably haunt Ebay to find a reasonably priced copy of the album. I was surprised a reviewer of the film on IMDB.com panned the songs. They are actually quite cool. 

So, after finally viewing it, what's my take on "Last of the American Hoboes?" Thumbs up. It's far from a great film. The low budget hampers it. Often scenes are shot silent and voices dubbed in. I would have liked to have seen more action in Britt, Iowa, and less inserted drama. The actors are earnest but limited. Also on IMDB.com a reviewer recalls being in the film as a child. She has nice things to say about Moede.

But those are really minor quibbles. This a fascinating film, a deeply personal endeavour from Moede and Barclay, who clearly have love and passion for the subject. Just the locations they moved into, and the unique individuals, as well as points of view that are inserted in the film, make it remarkable. Without condescension, the lives of hoboes, tramps and stationary homeless individuals are treated with respect. The film recreates history, including the unfair, sad state of the Depression-era Bonus marchers and the criminal trial and execution of IWW "Wobblie" labor leader Joe Hill.

The best acting is from Barclay, who portrays a traveling hobo. With his haunted, gaunt, unshaven face, and old clothes, he conveys effectively the frustration, and impotent anger of a man who understands all too well he's getting the short straw in life. His accounting of a man's suicide in a flop house is moving.

Moede is prominent later in the film as a bearded traveler riding the roads to the convention. 

I have no idea if this film played theaters. Our newspaper archive expert in Long Beach, Calif., David Grudt, found some newspaper clips for the film, which shows it garnered publicity in southen California. Rumor has it Moede garnered awards for the film. Late in his life, Moede received a career achievement award at a Cult Movies Magazine convention. He died in 2001. 

Below is a snippet of a Hollywood Citizen-News column in 1971, from Criswell, plugging the film. It's from the last edition Cult Movies magazine published.

Below are David's clips from, in order, The San Francisco Examiner, June 13, 1969; Ventura County Star, Aug. 15, 1971; Redding Calif., Record Searchlight, May 21, 1975; and finally, two small clippings from The Los Angeles Times that ran roughly 25 years apart! Same notice, Sept. 2, 1972 and Aug. 28, 1997. (I would have enjoyed a serving of Moede's hobo stew!). The film was sold for a long time at the now-gone Mondo Video a Go-Go in Los Angeles.

A True Yuasan Modern Gamera Film: Gamera The Brave, 19th Anniversary Celebration of Gamera The Brave

 

By Joe Gibson

The following is an anniversary celebration post of Gamera The Brave, intersecting with one particular aspect of the movie’s exigence. We may do a more in depth review eventually, but you can watch a discussion on the film from Doug and Joe Gibson here: https://youtu.be/O1SZ8W5BKIg?si=r-rG3-ExlPlFPjLu 

Gamera The Brave is my favorite Gamera film and one of my favorite films of all time.  An honest and objective inquiry might find that Gamera 3: Revenge of Iris has less plot conveniences (all of the monsters have built in plot justifications for when, why and where they appear unlike Zedus) and more success in the ambiguity it employs, but I will maintain that not only is Gamera The Brave the runner-up in nearly every category of filmmaking, but Gamera The Brave is also the truest Gamera film, at least in upholding a vision similar to Noriaki Yuasa’s with more success in budget allocation.

Background

Noriaki Yuasa was the primary creative of the franchise between 1965 and 1980 (1991 if you count the Gamera vs Garasharp short), his creative influence waxing and waning proportionally to the success of the brand. (Most people attribute Daiei president Masaichi Nagata with the original thought of a flying turtle monster, though other stories exist, but Gamera, as we know him, exists because of Yuasa.)  While the series would eventually become the ultimate child friendly kaiju adventures, Daiei’s vision for this character and franchise was a cheap knockoff of the then more serious Godzilla, bringing on Noriaki Yuasa (director), Nisan Takahashi (writer), Akira Inoue (creature designer) and Yonejiro Saito (producer), some of whom had more experience than others, for early drafts and development of the project. Those are some of the names that each brought their own ideas to this franchise, so we can try to whittle down basic authorial intents and inputs from there.  

Yonejiro Saito only worked on the first two and seventh (so his contributions are to be mostly ignored except in how the films under him differ from the rest), replaced by Maisaichi’s son Hidemasa Nagata (definitely more in support of the childlike vision since he wrote the disembodied child anthems for Gamera). Some sources indicate Hidemasa’s involvement as early as the original film, but others credit his father instead, which would make more sense. Despite only having one other directed film, Yuasa stepped up to leave his fingerprints pretty much everywhere else in the production.  As well as working on special effects, Yuasa worked closely with Inoue to iron out the designs of several of the monsters in the franchise, including Gamera himself, and Yuasa and Takahashi were united in the belief that Gamera should be The Friend To All Children, working together to include the infamous scene where hostile Gamera catches a child from the lighthouse after attacking. Yuasa has said that his primary job was adapting Takahashi’s scripts, but I actually believe Takahashi wrote whatever he was told to while Yuasa pushed in a distinct creative direction, since the second film Gamera vs Barugon, after Gamera was a success, demoted Yuasa to special effects director but kept Takahashi as writer and is a dark and gritty film about human greed with no child characters. 

Once Gamera vs Barugon, a big budget production, did not meet expectations, Daiei realized Yuasa somehow had the key to making this franchise successful and reinstated him as director, quite possibly catering to his vision since Gamera vs Gyaos was a far more polished demonstration of Yuasa’s tropes than the original film, which switched between Daiei and Yuasa, Daiei and Yuasa. The budgets would slowly dry up, motivating creativity from Yuasa but eventually surpassing his capability to make a competent story (see my review of Gamera vs Zigra: https://planninecrunch.blogspot.com/2024/07/gamera-vs-zigra-turning-53-years-old.html). 

The Tropes of Yuasan Gamera

But what are these Noriaki Yuasa staple tropes? Yuasa is a very fascinating and complicated figure, and the interviews with him, while cryptic, help us to understand him a little better especially Jorg Buttgereit’s and David Milner’s (if you can still find it). This explanation of his intent comes mostly from those sources.  

First, more than just featuring children, Yuasa wanted to emphasize the wisdom of children while engineering scenarios that serve not only to vindicate but console them and their worldview. Yuasa thought of himself as childish but also trusted children more than adults because he grew up during World War II and witnessed the inconsistency of the adults around him politically reacting to all of that.  Children were simple and could see the truth of things without confusion, so, even with all sorts of turmoil and politics around them, the truth in a Yuasa movie must be simple and ideally it is the child character that can understand it by the end of the film. With the journey Gamera The Brave’s child protagonist goes on, once I explain it, you’ll be sure this is represented in the movie too.

However, children also needed to be protected. Yuasa spoke of a time when he was filming at an institution for abandoned children and noticed their sadness as one of the reasons he made Gamera into The Friend To All Children. Gamera specifically goes out of his way and often into danger to protect Eiichi from Gyaos, Masao and Jim from Viras, Akio and Tom from Guiron, and Ken and Helen from Zigra. While that trend continued into the 90s films (random child in GOTU, Asagi in all films and Ayana in the third), it is on full display in Gamera The Brave.

Going along with that, Gamera has to be an influence that helps the children navigate the issues in their lives. Obviously, when they trust in him, he saves the day, but Gamera actually seems to help Akio and Tom with their character arcs while helping them fight Guiron, and is one of the main influences that helps Keiichi in his social life as he gains the older sister influences he needs in his life from the Space Women (as bizarre as Gamera Super Monster is, there is at least a clear thematic core that interplays with the other trends of this franchise). A home life with mundane conflict stemming from the children being seen as childish is very common for the franchise, so we should look out for that.

Adults are not as trustworthy, but, on an individual basis, if they support the kids, they are good guys, and, if not, they are not. Virtuous characters either actively defend the children or think like children themselves (Kondo in Gamera vs Guiron and the worker in Gamera vs Zigra), while unhelpful but sympathetic characters initially oppose the children but come around to their way of thinking (the parents in most of these movies), and truly evil characters often betray the kids from a place of trust (Viras himself and the Terans in Gamera vs Guiron). This is something that gets more elaboration in Gamera Rebirth with notable plot payoffs based on the reveals of which adult humans have or do not have children’s better interests in mind, but there are aspects of it here.

The children also must play a role in the monster proceedings of each film, whether it is as simple as Eiichi needing to be rescued not only by Gamera but also some human characters, as arbitrary as the children getting Zigra to paralyze them so they don’t die of asphyxiation in a broken Bathysphere (even in context, that one is pretty harebrained) or as direct as the boys in Gamera vs Jiger literally going inside Gamera to abort Jiger’s parasitic child with a shortwave radio.  We must pay extra attention to where the kids fit within monster set-pieces and how the film leverages that. (If, for example, the core of this movie were a scene emphasizing the way particular kids as well as all kids can and will help Gamera when given the chance, that would fit quite nicely into this franchise.)

Single parent families are common but so are dual parent households (both are prominent in this movie). Similarly, pairs and trios of friends exist in the old movies and here to varying extents. I do not mean to be fallacious and claim total adherence to the formula of a Showa Gamera film because the cultural and societal context is different. Yuasa’s views came about as a reaction to perceived adult political inconsistency as Yuasa was growing up around the time of World War 2, so that subtext cannot be carried forward organically within this film. (Instead, the film seems to be using the Showa series itself as the subtextual background stimulus to justify the tropes in ways I will explain shortly.)

Finally, and this is where we get into that bizarre Yuasa phrasing that is either due to translation errors or genuinely how this man’s brain worked that animals are also capable of the same emotions as humans, and as part of a religious philosophy, gigantism does not disqualify one from being like man either. All this to say, Gamera’s emotions are as valid as any other, and him being a turtle is no reason he cannot be a human archetype. Having already thought about this, Gamera is this strange mixture of Sage, Caregiver, Everyman/underdog and Warrior that does not fit popular definitions of any of those the more specific you get but can bring all of those together into a specifically Jungian version of Jesus Christ (read my Jungian analysis of Gamera vs Guiron for more information: https://planninecrunch.blogspot.com/2024/04/a-jungian-exploration-of-gamera-vs.html), which is also weird because I have no evidence at this point of Yuasa having any affinity for Christianity, least of all Jungian Christianity. (Ultraman himself seems to be an inherently Christian character and later analysis into Ultraman 80 to see how Christian Yuasa’s episodes are will be my last chance to further that connection.) The specific imagery is self sacrifice (Gamera Super Monster), crucifixion (Gamera vs Jiger) and a death and rebirth cycle (Gamera vs Guiron). 

So, on one end, Gamera as a gigantic animal, is not disqualified from being human and God, but Yuasa also emphasized that the less organic the villain monster, the more Gamera was a hero by comparison (one of the main reasons I read knife-headed Guiron as a false Christ personally, but you can read more on that by following the links). For this point, what we have to keep in mind for Gamera The Brave is that Gamera is a character, maybe Jesus, and the less organically possible the villain monster gets, the less human it is (extra points if the villain monster gets less organically feasible over the course of the film rather than just starting out inhuman).

The Yuasan Film

Toru Aizawa is the protagonist of Gamera: The Brave. As a child protagonist with a special bond with Gamera that we are meant to empathize with and see the story through, his character has an automatic credibility, but he also demonstrates wisdom and knowledge about what to do with Gamera and strong interpersonal skills with his friends. While he is stubborn and realistically whiny, the moment where he learns of Mai’s impending surgery and offers the red jewel for good luck as well as his scenes learning to care for Gamera clarify a strong moral center in a dynamic character that grounds this experience (this is the type of story where the lead character’s development demonstrates the theme). While his friends outside of Mai are not exceptionally well developed, their role in the shared relay race to Gamera clarifies that they can step up to do what needs to be done and exemplify the wisdom of Yuasan Gamera children. While Mai takes the most vocal stance against keeping Toto, she is the first in the chain to get the jewel back to Gamera. To make those last two sentences make sense, I should explain that the scene at the core of this movie, that every leads up to, is a set piece in which all of the kids in the movie including set extras, all realizing Toto needs the red jewel good luck charm found by his egg to fully become Gamera and use the powers to save the day, pass of the jewel to each other to reach him in time. 

Adults try to evacuate the city and impede the children running straight into the danger, but, any time an adult stops them, another kid arrives until the jewel gets to Gamera. This exemplifies the Yuasan ideal that children are wiser and more trustworthy and ultimately more powerful in these scenarios. Actually, the movie’s original title would translate better to The Little Braves, Gamera, which by process of elimination is actually referring to the children in this scene and not Gamera himself.

Though this is a children’s film, the antagonist Zedus is a literal maneater, and the child characters are literally in danger of getting eaten throughout the film. Toru’s friend Mai is waiting for and then goes through a risky surgery, and her entire family has to deal with the idea that she might not make it (thankfully she does). Similarly, Toru just lost his mother and not only mourns having her near but lacks belief that he will ever see again, a very human character wound to ground this story in. To varying degrees, the children need Gamera, but their partnership with Gamera works because they are brave, and, for them to be brave, they have to face adversity, even adversity that would be difficult for adults.

As the adult figures are judged in this movie by proximity to the children, those that are motivated to look out for the children and/or defer to their wisdom are the “good guys.” Toru’s father is technically structurally a minor antagonist in this movie because he wants to keep Toru safe and away from the kaiju action, but he eventually relents, and his own previous connection to Gamera helps to explain why. At the same time, the life and death stakes affecting Toru and Mai also affect their parents. The military and government task force help Gamera recover but do so for their own reasons and fundamentally disagree with the children, which codes them as shifty and perhaps past their usefulness.

Gamera, though far less blatant than Ultraman, is very easy to slot into a Christ role, and, as I have mentioned a few times before, Little Braves Gamera happens to be the strongest example of Gamera as a Christ figure and legitimately has more one to one points of comparison than some Ultraman shows. In this case, Toru’s growth alongside Gamera specifically allows him to gain faith in an afterlife, so a spiritual component exists in the subtext of this movie. More tantalizing, this Gamera, Toto, is both Son and Father, reborn 33 years (the age of Christ in tradition) after a self sacrifice. By the end of the movie right when Toto is about to willfully self-destruct (giving up the ghost), he has been lodged in a building, and Zedus spears him in the side (I am fairly confident it is the same side as Jesus was supposed to be speared on). Consequently, this is actually a fairly good Easter movie for being about the miracle of a Christ figure’s rebirth, and, as Easter just came, it is worth mentioning. I do feel I have harped on the Gamera as Christ symbolism a little bit too much lately though and will try to explore other aspects for the next little bit.

In the Showa Gamera series, the children would usually have an important role in the action, and that is true here too. The heart of this movie is the aforementioned scene when the kids pass off the red jewel back to Gamera to get him to full power. Having to save Gamera calls back to Gamera vs Jiger notably (but that case was a radio powered abortion, and this case is throwing a rock into Gamera’s mouth). As for Eiichi and most of the other child characters, Gamera has to save Toru’s friend from the enemy monster in the film. Even the speculation from Toshio in the original film on Gamera’s motivations has a match here, while Toru initially refuses to believe Toto is Gamera and gets to spectate much of the action. Though it all may very well be coincidental, the spectrum of Showa Gamera child engagement is present in this film.

Zedus is an interesting creature that could match Yuasa and Inoue’s design philosophy insofar as he technically grows less and less organically natural/viable as he establishes and codifies himself as the villain of the picture. First, he appears lampooning Jaws offscreen attacking survivors of a shipwreck (notably an actual shark could do everything he does in that scene). When he reaches the mainland, and we see his full design, he attacks and eats humans, something very down to Earth for a kaiju to do (compare this to Legion from two films prior, who was an entire army of pneumatically powered extraterrestrials). Zedus then gains special abilities of the extendable tongue and frill that serve to separate him from the mostly natural dinosaur he had been thus far. It is not quite as blatant as literally turning Guiron into a knife to drive the point home that he is villainous and organic, but Inoue even said at the time “Only Guiron is like this,” implying that it is usually meant to be more subtle. (Indeed, Viras’ squid head is also capable of stabbing Gamera in the climax of his movie, the same movie that introduces us to Viras as an innocent animal in a cage before revealing he can talk and is in charge of the entire operation, warping our perception of him from organic zoo animal to impossibly sharp space demon squid.)

This last one is not necessarily a serious point, but, in my own analysis of Gamera vs Guiron, I found similarities to portal fantasy (at least more than there were with Grimm’s fairy tales), and, here, the concept of a pet named Toto could be a subtle reference to The Wizard of Oz, one of the most notable Portal Fantasy films.  Whether or not this was coincidental either time it occurred, a Yuasan trope nonetheless became a Tasaki trope.

Basically, this film is everything Yuasa would have wanted but with better writing, acting and special effects.

Conclusion

While it is impossible to truly replicate a Yuasa film, this film comes the closest. Based on Gamera vs Guiron, Yuasa would have emphasized acrobatics in the fight scenes more than this film does, though it also has some involving Zedus. As far as the positive portrayal of Toru’s father, it is possible that such a character would exist in a Yuasa film and also possible he would not (much of Yuasa’s worldview regarding the negative qualities of actors and adults came from Yuasa’s father, an actor, also being unfaithful, and mother characters are certainly more common than fathers in the Showa series, though both exist).

It is not exactly a surprise this film turned out to emulate Yuasa’s style; according to Wikizilla, that was director Ryuta Tasaki’s goal, as he, like Yuasa before him, predominantly made his tokusatsu stories to be appreciated by children. The story for this movie was also based on earlier draft of the 1995 film Gamera Guardian of the Universe (before that film and trilogy went in its own darker direction helmed by Shusuke Kaneko and Kazunori Ito) that I unfortunately could not find more information on before the release of this post. I must confess I have not looked as deep into Tasaki as I have attempted for Yuasa, but, as The Little Braves: Gamera is the last film in the franchise, Tasaki, born 1964, is the 30 years later (Yuasa was born in 1933) next generation to keep the franchise and our connection to Gamera intact, just as we see in the movie’s Aizawa family. 

I cannot help but compare this film from 2006 with Godzilla Final Wars (2004) as both were intended to serve as celebrations for the franchises before them, but, while Godzilla Final Wars paraded around the corpses of our favorite monsters and reduced Akira Takarada and Kumi Mizuno to set dressing, The Little Braves: Gamera crafted a compelling new story that truly celebrates the old in such a way that I am sure Noriaki Yuasa would have been proud if he’d lived to see it.  Yuasa praised the moment toward the end of the 1998 Godzilla where human and monster are face to face, but, here, it is not a moment in isolation but the scope and focus of this story to reach that point.

'Monstrosity' is gutter auteur Andy Milligan's take on Frankenstein

 

Essay and review by Doug Gibson

Rob Craig’s book on Andy Milligan, Gutter Auteur: The Films of Andy Milligan, is aptly named. Milligan, who died nearly 35 years ago, made films designed for 42^nd Street. The sleazier the “Deuce” got, it didn’t matter; a Milligan film would provide well for its audience.

Jimmy McDonough, who penned the superb biography, “The Ghastly One: The Sex-Gore Netherworld of Filmmaker Andy Milligan,” recounts Milligan’s early career, when there might have been an opportunity for him to break through bohemia and into a mainstream career. In the ‘60s, he wrote, acted and directed plays in such iconic locations as Caffe Cino and La MaMa Experimental Theater. A short film he directed in 1965,”Vapors,” is well regarded as an early gay-themed film. It played art houses on both coasts.

But McDonough also chronicles a horrific familial life Milligan endured, and it likely affected his career, as he feuded with producers and distributors, and could be tyrannical, even cruel, when directing. After making some late-feature adult drama films that are unfortunately lost (some attracted better than average reviews and box office) Milligan settled down into grindhouse horror direction. William Mishkin was his money man. Milligan would get $20,000 or so, spend half of it making a film, and presumably pay himself with the excess.

A dress-maker who ran a shop for a while, Milligan made garish period pieces. He made versions of horror films, including “Torture Dungeon,” (Richard the Third), “Blood,” (House of Dracula), “The Body Beneath,” (Dracula), “The Rats are Coming. The Werewolves are Here,” (The Wolf Man/Willard), “The Man with Two Heads,” (Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde), “Nightbirds,” (The Servant) and “Bloodthirsty Butchers,” (Sweeney Todd).

Drawing on his dysfunctional life, he made psychological, violent films that assailed marriage (The Ghastly Ones,” religion, “Guru the Mad Monk,” and family life, “Seeds.” He even made a poignant, downbeat porno/adult film, “Fleshpot on 42^nd Street,” that is a commentary on life where his films were often shown.

Occasionally Milligan would attempt to move from Mishkin to other producers. He even made films in England. But most films were with Mishkin.

For a long while, Milligan lived in Staten Island, and some films were shot at his home. He eventually bought and lived in a Staten Island hotel where he shot a couple of films. He then moved to Manhattan and ran an off-Broadway theater, The Troupe, for several years.

Perhaps feeling his age, and disgusted with the decay of Manhattan, Milligan moved to Los Angeles in the mid ‘80s. He resumed much of his past life, opening an ill-fated dress shop, started a Troupe West playhouse which lasted a few years, and made some movies. Milligan, a gay man, also settled into a relationship with a younger man, a sometimes hustler, named Wayne Keeton.

Milligan made three films in Los Angeles: “The Weirdo,” an interesting remake of a lost film that involved a bullied young man in a dysfunctional family. He also directed (for hire) a film, a comedy horror titled “Surgikill.’

In between Milligan kind of reunited with the Mishkin family to direct “Monstrosity.” Lew Mishkin, William’s son, provided the money. Andy and Lew hated each other, but the VHS boom probably motivated the ulta-low-budget film, which is Milligan’s take on the Frankenstein monster, with a little bit of the Golem thrown in.

None of Milligan’s ‘80s films made any money. The video boom was over. “The Weirdo” perhaps had a tiny VHS release, and later a Blu-Ray. “Surgikill” sat on the shelf for decades. ‘Monstrosity” economically fared no better. It may have had a small Europe VHS release. It finally found a DVD home early in the 21^st century and a Blu-Ray release in 2018.

Yet “Monstrosity” is my favorite Milligan LA film, and I feel comfortable saying it’s the most cultish of his last films. It’s dreadfully cheap, with typical Milligan gore (a couple steps below Herschell Gordon Lewis). The first 25 minutes – despite interesting film-noirish shots of sleazy ‘80s Los Angeles – is torture porn.

Stereotypical punks kill and maim random people on the streets. They rape and badly injure a young woman. While in what’s supposed to be a hospital room – but looks like a bedroom – one of the killers, pretending to be an orderly, savagely kills her, removing her intestines (again poor special effects). Her grieving boyfriend, along with a couple buddies, decide to create a Golem-like monster to get revenge. In an outdoor shed, they do just that and name the creation “Frankie.” Get it?

Readers may be wondering why I keep watching. But once Frankie arrives – played by frequent Milligan actor Hal Borske – “Monstrosity” turns into something special, the unique work, indeed, of a gutter auteur. As Craig writes in “Gutter Auteur …,” “… “Monstrosity” is an amazing, baffling and at times extraordinary film, equal parts social satire, slapstick farce and light fantasy, awash in the overall sheen of the horror-comedy mythos. … “Monstrosity” is Andy Milligan’s “Frankenstein,’ a conceit stated overtly by one of the characters, and vividly illustrated via the film’s main plot points.”

Borske's Frankie captures the spirit of Mary Shelley’s creation. He’s a monstrous innocent, initially trusting in his creators but learning the downbeat, dysfunctional lesson that most of the world hates him, and his creators only want to control him.

It’s not an irony, but merely obvious, that Borske’s Frankie, despite his deadly violence, is the most humane character in “Monstrosity.” And Milligan throws in a love interest, a dim-witted, oft-abused but gentle drug addict named Jamie Lee, played by Carrie Anita. It’s a marvelous performance by an actress I doubt was in another film.

Milligan never did love better than in this film as the relationship between a monster and a street girl seems natural. In wacky fashion, the pair are married by a guardian angel. During intimacy blood, rather than semen, shoots from other parts of Frankie’s body.

The cruel murder of Jamie Lee by Frankie’s creators leads to a revenge-filled bloody climax.

The final scene of “Monstrosity” is a cult gem. Author Craig accurately tags it as “allegorical.” Frankie sits on a public bench chatting away with a “bag lady’ named Agnes. They converse about life and the things they’ve learned through existence. Frankie is mellow, a bit downbeat but also optimistic, prepared to use his brain to be the best man he can be. What I like most in this final scene is that Frankie seems to have blended in with life on the street. His contemporaries aren’t alarmed by his conventionally grotesque appearance.

The camera moves up into an epilogue where Milligan shouts “Cut, that’s a wrap! Then cast and crew members join Frankie and Agnes on the street. It’s another cultish touch that probably wouldn’t have been included had the film received an initial release.

After “Monstrosity” there was the for-hire “Surgikill.” Milligan’s boyfriend Keeton died of AIDS. Soon afterwards Milligan was diagnosed with AIDS. The Troupe West playhouse closed and Milligan died in 1991. Author McDonough, who worked on the crew on “Monstrosity,” relates Milligan’s horrific final days. By then a pauper, Milligan is buried in an unmarked grave.

If you want to learn more about Andy Milligan, you can purchase McDonough’s’ updated biography and Craig’s analysis book here, and here. You can search ebay or other sites for issues 52, 53 and 54 of Tim Lucas’ Video Watchdog, to read a three-part series on Milligan. And Plan9Crunch blog has a detailed look at the making of “Surgikill” by its writer, the late Sherman Hirsh. Andy, in rascal fashion, conned Sherman into believing he never made films in England, but it’s a great read. And Plan9Crunch blog interviewed McDonough a long while ago. Many of Milligan's films are reviewed at Plan9Crunch.com.

Devil Girl From Mars - A Female Darth Vader

It's hard to believe that Devil Girl From Mars may have once scared the pants off baby boomers of the mid-1950s. The plot of the film has many similarities to the 1951 classic The Day The Earth Stood Still.

Martian Nyah, played by Patricia Laffan, is a sex starved, female version of Darth Vader who comes to earth to find men to take back to mars for breeding purposes. She comes dressed in a tight black outfit and cape, and carries a deadly ray gun. Her spaceship crashes in the hills of Scotland.

Joining Nyah is her oversized robot shaped like a kitchen appliance with a police light on top. The robot zaps anything and anyone in his path with an atomic ray, including humans who do not obey Nyah. He walks with a pace slower than a common snail, making it easy for victims to get away.

Nyah projects an invisible ray around a local Scottish Inn to keep the occupants contained while she decides which men to take back to mars with her. The occupants make several attempts to stop Nyah, but are unable to foil her plot. One of the occupants, an escaped murderer from a local jail, agrees to return to mars with Nyah in exchange for sparing the lives of the remaining inn occupants. While onboard Nyah's ship, he is able to destroy it, spoiling any future plans to return to earth for more men.

Most 1950s sci-fi films portray women as helpless victims while the men are busy being the heroes and saving the day. Devil Girl From Mars, however, reverses this formula a bit. Nyah is an evil queen from another world who has come to terrorize male victims. Was this a bold feminist statement for the 1950s? Perhaps. But only if Nyah had been successful in her attempts to bring back men to mars. Nevertheless, this is what makes Devil Girl From Mars unique from so many other 50s sci-fi flicks. Enjoy, and happy viewing!

-- Steve D. Stones

(The newspaper clips are courtesy of David Grudt, of Long Beach, Calif. From the top: Long Beach, Calif. Independent, Tuesday Aug. 9, 1955; Long Beach, Calif. Independent, Saturday, March 16, 1957; Long Beach, Calif. Independent TV listing, Sunday June 1, 1958; and below, a shocking news story about a young moviegoer who was burned while watching the film in a theater. From the Oakland, Calif. Tribune, Thursday July 12, 1956.)

Journey to Freedom a flawed by compelling Cold War drama from cult filmmaker Stephen C Apostolof

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Review by Doug Gibson

Most cult film genre fans know the late Stephen C. Apostolof  as the director of the mid-‘60s Ed Wood-scripted “nudie-cutie” film “Orgy of the Dead,” with ponderous, pontificating Criswell, shot in a Hollywood graveyard, with very, very long poorly choreographed nude dances. Those deeper into cult genre know Apostolof, later in his career, hired Wood to script, act, and generally just help out in several more soft-core films the Bulgarian-born director made in the ‘70s.

But Apostolof, who died a generation ago, was a fascinating, charismatic man with an intensely interesting life story. The biography, Dad Made Dirty Movies, by Jordon Todorov and Joe Blevins, is a book that merits more sales success. There is also a film documentary on Apostolof’s life and career.

At the age of 18 Apostolof, a lifelong anti-communist, was imprisoned by the communist party that then ruled Bulgaria. He eventually managed to get out of that country, and  -- with many adventures – moved his way through Istanbul, Paris, Canada and eventually to the United States, where the now-married Apostolof settled in Los Angeles for decades.

A man of many jobs, Apostolof was interested in making a semi-autobiographical film detailing, with some license, his experiences eluding communism. The 1950s were a decade with anti-communist films. Bigger-budget films included “The Woman on Pier 13” and “I was a Communist for the FBI.” But there were lower-budget efforts too, including “The Beast of Budapest” and “Escape from the Iron Curtain,” which starred a young Theodore Bikel. Apostolof consulted with a friend, Herb Niccols, to write a screenplay based on Apostolof’s life.

Apostolof formed SCA Productions, managed to get $47,000 in funds, and made the 60-minute “Journey to Freedom,” which RKO eventually agreed to distribute.

How good a film is “Journey to Freedom?” Well, I like it, but I love cult films. I love those low-budget, ragged puppies of movies made on a wing and a prayer. “Journey to Freedom” is a very personal film. It details the escape from communism of Stephan Raikin, (Jacques Scott) a mild-mannered pianist/writer who escapes prison with two friends. Raikin gets a job playing piano in an Istanbul bar. There he encounters a monster of a man (Tor Johnson) who hates Bulgarians and beats up Raikin. Alone now, Raikin takes off for Paris and falls in love with a beautiful woman, Nanette (Michele Montau). Their romance has potential but the communists are still trying to kill Raikin, who is now interested in working for Voice of America. The pair break up. Raikin makes it to New York City. Injured there, he falls in love with and marries his nurse, Mary (Eve Brent). They move to Los Angeles, have a child (played by Apostolof’s real life child, Polly) and began an idealistic life, in a happy home, going to church, and Raiking writing for Voice of America. But the Bulgarian secret police won’t stop pursuing him, and the climax involves one more attempt to ruin the immigrant dissident’s life.

The plot sounds interesting, but it needs a better script and budget. Frankly, to encompass the plot, the film needs 30 extra minutes. But due to budget strains, it’s episodic, with abrupt plot changes, plot twists that seem contrived, and just passable dialogue. The film has lots of stock news footage, which is interesting.

The film is either enhanced, or lowered (depending on the viewer’s opinion) by the unique inclusion of a Bulgarian communist secret police member who narrates much of the film. This is done to move the plot along and increase awareness of the ongoing danger facing Raikin. I found this initially fun although it started to wear out its welcome later. The narration is very campy, sort of told in an accented “Snidely Whiplash” type of manner.

The crew and cast is a cult genre fan’s delight. Director Robert Dertano directed ‘50s cheapies “Girl Gang” and “Paris after Midnight.” He was also an assistant director in “Orgy of the Dead.” The cameraman was Ed Wood’s favorite, Bill Thompson, who filmed “Plan 9 from Outer Space.” Tor Johnson does a rare speaking part in Journey to Freedom. He also had dialogue in “Plan 9 From Outer Space.” Don Marlowe, a former agent of Bela Lugosi with a rascally reputation, has a small role as a detective. Apostolof has a small cameo in a scene where he wears a beret.

The cast is not bad. Scott was the son of a British ambassador. His best role was in the Jack Lemon, June Allyson film “You Can’t Run Away From It.” Montau was a working actress. Her best role might be “The Devil at 4 O’Clock,” with Spencer Tracy and Frank Sinatra. The best-known actress in the film is Brent, who had a very long career. Today her face is recognizable because she was so ubiquitous in TV and films. In the big-budget film, “The Green Mile,” she had a substantial role. Her career was still young in “Journey to Freedom” and she bears a resemblance to Shelly Winters.

It’s easy to tag these 1950s anti-communist films as an element of the McCarthy era. But that’s not really fair for films dealing with oppression in Europe, such as “Journey to Freedom” or “The Beast of Budapest.” The treatment of dissidents, even peaceful ones, was uniquely cruel. My father in law, a labor leader in Hungary who supported the unsuccessful ’56 revolution, was imprisoned and tortured. Scores of thousands were murdered.

Apostolof was certainly proud of the film. But it bankrupted him. He only earned a small percentage of his investment back. Yet, he was resilient, and enjoyed long success making soft-core films with the moniker A.C. Stephen. His career -- and family life -- make for fascinating reading in “Dad Made Dirty Movies.”

Currently, “Journey to Freedom” can be viewed (free) on Amazon Prime. It’s part of the streamer MGM+ offerings. It’s definitely worth an hour of your time. And buy his biography. (I think Max or Netflix, etc. could make a fascinating multi-part series of his life, but what do I know?)

Plan9Crunch thanks David Grudt, of Long Beach Calif., for unearthing these several newspaper clippings of the film. From top to bottom, the sources are: South Bend Tribune, South Bend Indiana, Oct. 17, 1957; Anaheim Bulletin, Anaheim California, Jan. 19, 1957; The Bellingham Herald, Bellingham, Washington, Nov. 13, 1957; Los Angeles Evening News, Hollywood, California, Dec. 3, 1957; The LA Times, Thursday, December 1, 1960 (already on TV).