Three fun, cheesy Christmas movies

(This essay originally ran in the Dec. 20, 2007 Standard-Examiner)

By Doug Gibson

Every December the best Christmas films pop up on TV: "Miracle on 34th Street," "A Christmas Carol," "Going My Way," "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" — I refer to the Boris Karloff-narrated cartoon — "Mr. Krueger's Christmas" and, of course, that other Jimmy Stewart classic, "It's a Wonderful Life."

We all have our favorite Christmas cinema moments. George Bailey's joyous run through Bedford Falls, Ebenezer Scrooge dancing for joy on Christmas morning, Macy's Kris Kringle speaking Dutch to a World War II orphan girl, and my favorite, crusty but lovable Father Fitzgibbon's surprise reunion with his mother after decades apart.

There are great holiday films. Much has been written about them. But today let's spill some ink about the other Christmas films, the kitschy ones. They're all over the dial. Just turn on the Hallmark Channel!

Most aren't worth five minutes of our time, but some still spread holiday magic. We've all heard of "A Christmas Carol" or "Scrooge," but how many recall the Fonz — Henry Winkler — starring in "An American Christmas Carol"? There are two well-received versions of "Miracle on 34th Street," but do you recall the kitschy 1973 TV version in which the lawyer was played by actor-turned-newsman David Hartman?

Even the biggy, "It's a Wonderful Life," has a kitschy cousin. Remember "It Happened One Christmas," the gender-switching knockoff starring Marlo Thomas?

Indeed, the competition is fierce for those kitschiest Christmas movies that still entertain us. But here are three finalists, all made on the cheap, yet still being sold and garnering holiday TV showings.

So, without further adieu, here is the best kitschiest Christmas film:

"Santa Claus Conquers the Martians" — This 1964 film was shot in an abandoned airport hangar in Long Island, N.Y., using many minor cast members from a NYC stage production of "Oliver Twist." It has a catchy theme song, "Hurray for Santy (sic) Claus," that you'll hum afterward. The plot involves Martians coming to earth, kidnapping Santa and whisking him away to cheer up the Martian kiddies. Two earth children are kidnapped along with Santa. Santa and the earth kids fight off a Martian baddie, prep a goofy Martian to become that planet's Santa, and launch off to earth in the spaceship. We never know if they made it home — perhaps the budget didn't allow that. The acting has to be seen to be believed, but the film has a goofy charm. It was a big hit on the now-gone "weekend matinee" circuit and played theaters for years. Pia Zadora, who was briefly a sexy starlet in the 1980s, plays one of the Martian children. John Call, as Santa, does a mean "ho, ho, ho." (Update, in 2011 holiday season this film played at the North Ogden Walker Cinemas for $2 plus a donated can of food!)

And now, the second-best kitschiest Christmas film:

* "Santa Claus" — Don't confuse this 1959 Mexican film with Dudley Moore's "Santa Claus: The Movie" or Tim Allen's "The Santa Clause" films. This import is weird and a little creepy, but it sticks with you. Old Kris Kringle is a sort of recluse who talks to himself and lives in a castle in outer space. He has no elves. His helpers are children from around the world who can't sing very well, though they belt out a lot of songs. Santa's reindeer are, I think, plastic and he uses a key to start them. Santa also works out on an exercise belt to slim down for the chimneys. For some reason Santa hangs out with Merlin the Magician. Enter "Pitch," a devil. His goal is to stop Santa from delivering presents. Pitch is a wimpy fellow in red tights and wears what looks like a short middy skirt. Santa and Merlin foil Pitch's nefarious plans. The film also focuses on two children, a poor girl and a rich, neglected boy, who resist Pitch's temptations. There are magic flowers and even special drinks. Santa glides safely to a chimney using a parasol. If this film sounds to readers like the after-effects of taking two Percocet, you got the gist of it.

Finally, the third-best kitschiest Christmas film:

* "Santa and the Three Bears" — If you lived in Southern California long ago, this 1970 blend of live action and cartoon was a Thanksgiving afternoon staple on KTLA Channel 5. The animation is mediocre, but the story has a simple charm. A forest ranger teaches two excitable bear cubs about Christmas while their grouchy mother bear wants them to hibernate for the winter. The ranger agrees to play Santa for the cubs on Christmas Eve, but a storm keeps "Santa" away ... or does it? The best part of the film is the live-action beginning and ending, where the ranger sits by the Christmas tree with his grandaughter, a sleepy cat and many toys. The ranger is voiced and played by Hal Smith, best known as Otis the town drunk on "The Andy Griffith Show." Grumpy Mama Bear was voiced by Jean Vander Pyl (Wilma on "The Flintstones"). The uncredited director is Barry Mahon, who made soft-core sex films in the 1960s with such titles as "Nudes Inc." and "The Sex Killer."

A footnote: These films can occasionally be found on TV. Both Santa Claus films mentioned here have also been spoofed by the snarky robots of "Mystery Science Theater 3000." Also, YouTube has all three (see Santa Claus below). However, the live action of Santa and the Three Bears is getting hard to find. Most prints omit it.

A Plan9Crunch RETRO videocast, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians!

"Hurray for Santy Claus!" was the cheery theme song for the ultra-bizarre 1960s kiddie-matinee Christmas cult classic "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians." The hyper-low budget, so-bad-it's-good blend of sci-fi and holiday cheer hung around theaters for more than a decade. In the past couple of generations, it was named one of the 50 Worst Films by the Medved brothers, was spoofed by Mystery Science Theater 3000 and is still ubiquitous as a DVD offering in dollar stores. In the video podcast above, Steve D. Stones and I, along with camera help from Jennifer Thorsted, dissect this wonderful film. And, by, we're in the screening room of the beautiful Art House Cinema 502 theater, located at 158  Historic 25th Street in Ogden, Utah.
-- Doug Gibson

'The Creeping Terror' or 'Invasion of the People Eaters?' -- an iconic bad film gets another title

By STEVE D. STONES

I recently received a DVD in the mail from Sinister Cinema entitled – Invasion of The People Eaters. I bought the DVD fully knowing that this title is the alternative title for what is regarded as one of the worst movies of all time – The Creeping Terror. When I bought the DVD, I assumed that perhaps this print may have scenes missing or later added to The Creeping Terror. Be aware if you purchase this film from Sinister Cinema because this is not the case. Only the title sequence has changed.

The Creeping Terror is notorious for the monster of the film looking like giant carpet shag that lethargically crawls around locations as his victims literally shove themselves into the opening at his feet. That is how bad and unconvincing this monster is. The viewer cannot help but laugh hysterically at the victims as they make no effort to escape the giant carpet shag, but instead push themselves into his large orifice.

One teenage girl is consumed by the monster at a dance hall as the monster makes his way across the dance room floor. Her sexy nylon covered legs are shown as she pushes her way into the monster. A sun bathing beauty in a bikini is also consumed by the monster in another scene. Even a young mother is attacked while hanging her laundry out to dry in her backyard. Instead of running from the monster, she stares dumbfounded at him until he eats her for lunch.

The Creeping Terror is also notorious for the sound man accidentally dumping the recorded sound for the film in Lake Tahoe, which is the location where the film was made. Most of the film is dubbed in boring voice over narration typical of industrial short films children watched in elementary school. The Invasion of The People Eaters print sold by Sinister Cinema has large portions of the film where the sound is not dubbed in sync with the movement of the actor’s mouths, making it difficult to view (as if the movie isn’t already tough enough to sit through).

The Creeping Terror may have been made in an attempt to cash in on some of the success of a film made six years earlier – The Blob (1958) starring Steve McQueen. The opening sequence shows spiraling lines encompassing the title and credits, similar to The Blob, although they are not animated as they are in The Blob. Happy Viewing!!!

'Chaplin's Vintage Year' offers a history of the star's early Mutual film series

By Doug Gibson

Despite the fact that Charlie Chaplin is generally regarded as the top silent film comic and his persona, as the Little Tramp, is iconic, few realize how incredibly popular he was almost 100 years ago. As Michael J. Hayde notes in his new book, "Chaplin's Vintage Year: The History of the Mutual Chaplin Specials," (Bear Manor Media) it was not uncommon for movie theaters to play a Chaplin short every day of operation. When the British-born star signed to make 12 two-reel shorts for Mutual, a film-exchange group that rented production facilities, he received $670,000 in 1916, an amount akin to about $15 million today.

The Mutual series of films are likely the most accessible of Chaplin's early work. As Hayde explains, they have been by far the most ubiquitous of this era. They were reissued frequently over the next 30 years, in varying formats, with different music, even in one-reel editions. One constant is they tended to make money. For as much as Mutual paid Chaplin for the series, it was a bargain, the 12 films grossed several times what Chaplin earned.

Hayde's book is part of the genre of film and culture where the minutiae of a subject is delved into. For historians, Chaplin enthusiasts, silent film fans, there is a desire to delve deeper into the subject. Hayde, who has authored a book on the Dragnet TV series and co-authored a deep biography of the silent/talkie comedy star Harry Langdon, is capable of fulfilling this duty. The history of the Mutual films, "The Pawnbroker," "The Fireman," "One a.m.," etc., provides a fascinating read. Chaplin was not an actor -- such as Ben Turpin -- who stuck to the same film company. Always seeking bigger paychecks and creative freedom, he moved from Keystone, to Essanay, to Mutual in rapid succession. After the Mutual series, the comic star bolted again. Mutual enjoyed a profitable but short tenure with the Little Tramp, and then faded away.

The "ins and outs" of the early movie-making business is described in loving detail by Hayde as it applies to Chaplin. The efforts to consolidate power by a few in the early days of cinema were doomed as the production spread west to Hollywood and stars realized that they were worth more than assumed only a decade earlier. As Hayde writes, as the 20th century began, films were logged at the bottom rung of entertainment, fir for the poorest of the entertainment clientele.

Even when a production company lost control of a star such as Chaplin, Hayde notes that there were still ways to continue making big dollars. Essanay, for example, used just about every extra stock of its Chaplin film to create longer "films" that piggybacked on the Mutual successes. This grafting annoyed Chaplin and others, who sometimes attempted legal action against the slapdash "films."

Many of the executives, film crew and co-stars of the Mutual films are profiled in Hayde's book. I found the life story of Edna Purviance, co-star of the Mutual film series and Chaplin's paramour at the time, to be most interesting. She eventually tired of Chaplin's roving romantic eye but remained on the Chaplin payroll for years until she married. After her husband died in the 1940s she was slated for a Chaplin-related comeback but it didn't happen. Nevertheless, she was on her former lover's payroll for the rest of her life.

Chaplin appears in Hayde's book to be a man focused on details, wanting more time and money spent than execs were comfortable with. If there is a shortcoming to Hayde's book, it is that the main man, Chaplin himself, remains an elusive figure. He's basically portrayed in the passive sense, reacting to events and personalities. To be fair, though, the subject of the book is on Chaplin's Mutual series, and not on the actor.

As for the movies themselves, they are superb efforts, which can now be seen as easily as surfing to YouTube. Their lives, from debut screens to revivals to additions in documentaries to Blackhawk status for collectors, to video, DVD and finally Internet access, is very interesting reading. An extremely detailed summary of the films, from scenes, titles, production, reviews, etc. takes up much of the second half of the book. My favorite of the films is "The Fireman," which encapsulates Chaplin's ability to create sympathy with the audience, despite his foolishness, by virtue of his inimitable mannerisms and deadpan facial expressions. "One A.M.," however, may be the most interesting of the films because it strays from the most successful formula, as noted in "The Fireman." "One A.M." is almost a one-man show from Chaplin. It's interesting that it was among the least successful of the series, it does underscore, though, that Chaplin was not afraid of expanding his artistic vision.

As Hayde notes, his usage of the term "vintage" means excellence with staying power. That defines the 12 Mutual films. Books such as "Chaplin's Vintage Year" are appreciates as they provide new information on a subject that has already been analysed from likely 1,000 different angles.