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Sunday, December 30, 2012

New Year's Evil, a scary end to the season!



Happy Days star Roz Kelly stars in this early 1980s slasher film directed by Emmett Alston. Like so many horror films of the 1980s, this one is an attempt to cash in on the success of John Carpenter’s Halloween franchise.

Kelly is a punk rock mother hosting a New Year’s Eve party at a hip New Wave music club in downtown Los Angeles. Her teenage son comes to see her at the club with flowers, but she completely ignores him. A maniac killer, played by Kip Niven, calls Kelly at the club hotline to inform her that he will commit a murder every hour until 12 midnight as part of his New Year’s resolution. A club worker named Yvonne is the first victim to be killed in a bathtub in a club dressing room.

The second victim is a pretty blonde nurse at the local hospital. The killer predictably poses as a new hospital orderly who lures the nurse into a hospital room with champagne and proceeds to stab her to death after making out with her. Another nurse at the hospital discovers her body in a closet.

The killer continues to call Kelly at the music club in a disguised voice to inform her that he is committing murders. He even plays a taped recording over the phone of him stabbing the nurse at the hospital. Kelly is now forced to take his threats seriously. She asks the local police department for police protection.

By now the viewer has been exposed to lots of really bad punk rock performances, zebra striped T-shirts, and 1980s mullet hairstyles. Where are The Ramones, The Misfits and The Sex Pistols when we need them?

Feeling rejected by his mother, Kelly’s son sees his mother performing on television at the club with a punk band. In a fit of anger, he tears apart the roses he brought for her, and stretches one of her red nylon stalkings over his face as if he is about to become a killer himself. This is a particularly confusing scene because by now we already know who the killer is and what he looks like, so any attempt to suggest that the killer could be Kelly’s son seems unnecessary. The killer now shows up at another dance club in L.A. dressed in an obviously fake moustache and three-piece suit. He tells another pretty blonde girl at the bar that he is a business agent for many Hollywood actors in town. He convinces her to leave the club to attend a business party. She refuses to go alone with him, so she takes one of her club friends with her.

This spoils the plans of the killer to get her alone. The three drive in the killer’s Mercedes to a gas station, where the killer strangles one of the girls with a bag full of marijuana. He hides in a Dumpster to attack the second girl as she comes out of the gas station with a bottle of champagne. The killer stabs her to death. As the killer flees the scene, he is harassed at a stop light by a motorcycle gang. The killer speeds away from the motorcycle gang and hides out at a local drive-in theatre.

The movie screen advertises a film entitled Blood Feast as a feature playing at the theatre, but it is not Herschel Gordon Lewis’ schlock masterpiece from 1963, unfortunately. After stealing another car from a young couple making out at the drive-in, the killer shows up at the New Wave club, manages to club a police officer in the head at a back entrance, and puts his police uniform on, which conveniently fits him perfectly. Under police protection outside her dressing room, Kelly sits in front of a mirror putting on make-up as the killer suddenly appears in her room in a jogging outfit and a Halloween mask.

She sees him in the mirror, but is not frightened. He removes the mask, and reveals himself to be Richard Sullivan, her husband. She is not frightened by his presence because she has no idea he is the killer. As the couple gets into an elevator, it becomes evident to Kelly that her husband is the killer.

He holds a knife up to her and saying:“I’m fed up . . . You’re just like all the other women in my life. Women are manipulative, deceitful, immoral and very, very selfish!”

His reasoning for killing here seems very petty and unnecessary. Wouldn’t his actions make him “manipulative, deceitful, immoral and selfish?” If he was so fed up with his wife, why didn’t he just request a divorce from her? Why go through the troubles of killing several innocent women to get to her? In the post O.J. Simpson and Scott Peterson world we live in today, it seems highly unlikely that a man would go on a killing spree killing innocent victims just to prove a point with his wife.

However, I realize this film was made long before the O.J. Simpson ordeal of the1990s, and the Scott Peterson ordeal early in this decade. As the film comes to an end, Richard chains his wife to the bottom of the elevator and is chased by policemen who fire shots at him. He is chased to the top balcony of the building, where he puts the Halloween mask back on and jumps off the building, committing suicide. His son emotionally removes the mask from him.

The film ends with a shot of Kelly being wheeled into an ambulance. The driver of the ambulance is wearing Richard’s Halloween mask, and the paramedic on the passenger side lies dead on the floor of the ambulance. Could the killer now be Kelly’s son?

NEW YEAR’S EVIL follows in the long line-up of so many 1980s slasher/horror films. Like Silent Night, Deadly Night, My Bloody Valentine, Christmas Evil, Don’t Open ‘Til Christmas, April Fool’s Day, Mother’s Day, and so many others, NEW YEAR’S EVIL is an attempt to use a holiday title to cash in on the slasher craze of the 1980s.

-- Steve D. Stones

Saturday, December 29, 2012

'The Entertainer' a book of an actor's role in 20th century entertainment



By Doug Gibson

Prior to this week, if one had asked me about the late character actor, Lyle Talbot, I'd have leaned on my knowledge of cult cinema to define him. I'd have cited his three Ed Wood films and his role in the Wood documentaries a generation ago. And I'd recall his appearances as "Lex Luthor" or "Commissioner Gordon," in cheap Superman and Batman serials. Or even his role as a narrator in the Ormond family's cheapo "Mesa of Lost Women."

It's up to Talbot's daughter, New Yorker journalist Margaret Talbot, to do justice to her dad. She has written "The Entertainer: Movies, Magic and My Father's Twentieth Century, " (Riverhead Books) (link),and absolutely brilliant tale that not only encapsulates Lyle Talbot's life, but provides the subject as a background, a Zelig, a symbol, of the history of 20th century mass market entertainment.

As his daughter relates, Talbot never became a star, but he had the privilege of earning his living solely as an actor for more than 70 years, which was his lifetime goal. Born in 1902 to a mother who died a few months later, Lyle was snatched up by his grandmother, Mary Talbot,  -- who kept his natural father away -- and ran a drummers' hotel outside a train station in Brainard, Neb. The very young Lyle never had his own bed, instead sleeping curled next to the Bohemian teenage servant girls, most of Czech origin, who were hired at the hotel to learn homemaking skills, primarily cooking, from Lyle's businesswoman grandma.

Although deprived of contact with his son early, Lyle's dad, Ellis Henderson, eventually met his son and came to have the greatest influence on his life. Ellis and Lyle's stepmother, Anna, became entertainers, traveling the region in circuses, carnivals, predecessors to today's reality TV freak shows, and small acting troupes. Son Lyle, no doubt having the genes from dad, became an entertainer as a teenager. He started at the absolute bottom, not entertaining, but cleaning up at the circuses and carnivals. But, as author Margaret Talbot notes, assumed correctly that he would eventually get a chance to be on stage.

The genesis for many of Margaret Talbot's recollections of dad's life and times derived from the many stories she heard from her father, whether at the dinner table, living room, etc. She's done a good job of research backing the stories as well as providing what must be, for her, priceless photos of her dad at long-gone locations such as the Savidge carnivals, Chase Lister company, with the magician Mock Sad Alli, ... a life of small touring troupes of actors, traveling the Midwest, hoping the gate take would provide enough for a small payday and funds to move on to the next small town with an "opera house."

Lyle gained enough stature in the 1920s to actually start his own acting company in the south; it failed thanks to the Depression. He did attract the eye of a Warner Brothers talent scout and was invited to take a screen test in Hollywood. So broke that he had to borrow money from his agent to fund the trip, Lyle, a good looking young man, beat the odds and earned a contract after the test.

Perhaps the best part of Margaret Talbot's book is her description of Hollywood in the early to mid 1930s and the life of a "movie star," or contract player for a studio. It was a tough, insular, clannish life, with 14-hour work days, contracts that favored the studios, studios that functioned as little worlds of their own, and studio bosses who arranged dates for their contract players and paid off the cops when a "star" got himself in a bit of legal trouble.

The Hollywood described in "The Entertainer" doesn't exist any more, but it must have seemed like a mythical magic kingdom to those far away and those, such as Lyle, who were successes there. It was far away from the Midwest and East, accessible by long train rides or motor trips. As recounted, Talbot had many affairs, often with the women that males dreamed about in movie houses. One of his more serious flings was with the hard-bitten, older silent star Estelle Taylor, who had earlier married, and dumped, heavyweight boxing champ Jack Dempsey.

What I got most from Margaret Talbot's book is a desire to immerse myself in what is described as "Forbidden Hollywood," the steady stream of racy, sexy, hard-bitten films that the studios churned out prior to he Hays Office morality crackdown in the mid-30s. Lyle starred in a bunch of them, including "Three On a Match," which is clearly one of his daughter's favorites. (I'll be searching Turner Classic Movies for this take of lust, adultery, regret.) In these films, Talbot starred with Glenda Farrell, Joan Blondell, Mae West, Loretta Young, Humphrey Bogart and even a very young John Wayne. The stories of Hollywood culture in that age were fascinating, with fan clubs that featured stories about the fans, and stars who were eager to be involved with their fans. In fact, these early fan clubs, described by the author as a type of early "Facebook" with most eager to talk about others rather than themselves, even offered advice and criticism on their stars' handling by the studio bosses.

Talbot's role as a founding member of the Screen Actors Guild, as well as his "friendships" with the occasional hood, his traveling by train across country to hype Warner Brothers, the occasional theater gig, and visits from his dad, stepmother and grandma to Hollywood are detailed. I must stress that daughter Margaret's tale strays often from biography, and offers detailed accounts of the entertainment culture of her dad's era.

Lyle Talbot starred in or was featured in hundreds of films; he was ubiquitous in the 1930s and a popular item in film fan magazines. But he never became a star, eventually settling into a role as an independent actor who would take almost any role offered. He had his fat times and his thin times, but he always lived comfortably. Margaret Talbot offers theories as to why her dad never made it to the level of a Bogart or a Grant. He was handsome but lacked that thing called screen presence, that made his face irresistible to audiences. He usually played weaker characters, such as feckless hoods or spurned lovers. There may have been political reasons. His efforts to unionize actors may have annoyed Warner Brothers.

Or maybe it was his problem with alcohol, a quiet but persistent flaw in his personal life for 25 years. He had his share of mishaps, as well as several ill-advised marriages. In the latter half of the 1940s, as Lyle battled middle age and perhaps fears of an alcoholic, solitary middle age, Talbot finally met the woman he would spend 40 years with, Margaret Epple, only 20 (26 years younger than Lyle) but more mature than her years thanks to a few years as breadwinner to a semi-dysfunctional family. Margaret provided what Lyle Talbot yearned for, a family, stability, a home. She also, through some tough love, cured him of his alcoholism problem.

To Talbot, entertaining was as natural as throwing a baseball with his sons. His daughter recalls his ease and lack of nerves behind the stage as the curtain opening drew nearer. Perhaps energized by his successful marriage, he passed through his "Ed Wood era" unscathed, making a smooth and profitable move to television, most notably as the neighbor on the Nelsons on "Ozzie and Harriet." Margaret Talbot provides some interesting tales of how television was greeted by critics, along with a amusing anecdote of a New York Times writer who predicted its failure because people would not take the time to stare at the TV screen. (To cult film fans: Margaret Talbot has little nice to say about her dad's association with Ed Wood. She recounts the oft-told anecdote of a drunken Ed wearing Lyle's wife Margaret's underclothes. She describes "Plan 9 From Outer Space" and "Jail Bait" as "unwatchable" but has kinder words for "Glen Or Glenda," noting its progressive and forward take on accepting sexual differences.)

I could write more about this marvelous book, my favorite non-fiction offering of 2012, but it's time to stop with the final word of advice that there's much to recommend in Talbot's life and times that is found in his daughter's affectionate re-telling.


Wednesday, December 26, 2012

The Mad Monster -- low rent Wolf Man!





The Mad Monster, 77 minutes, Producers Releasing Corporation, B&W. Directed by Sam Newfield. Starring George Zucco as Dr. Lorenzo Cameron, Johnny Downs as Tom Gregory, Anne Nagel as Lenora Cameron, Glenn Strange as Petro/the monster, and Sarah Padden as the grandmother. Schlock-meter rating: Five stars out of 10.

By Doug Gibson

The first time I watched this vintage PRC cheapie, I trashed it and compared it to later dogs like Beast of Yucca Flats and The Creeping Terror. However, during my second viewing I warmed a little to the film. It is, as one reviewer has said, so bad it fascinates. I agree. The plot: Mad scientist Lorenzo Cameron (Zucco), rebuffed by his peers, injects wolf blood into a simpleminded handyman (Strange) turning him into a well-dressed dog/wolf man. Ostensibly, the crazy doc plans to create warriors to defeat the Nazis and other enemies with his injections, but he eventually uses the monster to kill his enemies. The plot, which is recycled pulp, includes a backwoods country swamp setting, a beautiful daughter, her reporter boyfriend, and the cops.

The bottom of the barrel budget hampers Mad Monster, but there are scenes of high camp that are bizarre: The opening sequence involves the mad Zucco injecting Petro in the laboratory with blood from a snarling creature in a cage. During the scene, the doctor hallucinates a debate with his scientist colleagues (who appear as misty personages). I guess low-budget director Newfield was trying to show Zucco is mad, but it seems like he's on an LSD trip. Also, some filter is used to make the country swamp seem dank and foggy, but it just looks like the air is filled with cheesecloth.

The film lags often and should have been trimmed to an hour. There are several scenes where actors, who have nothing to do, sit and wait for the camera to stop rolling. Despite the budget and bad script, Zucco, a veteran of low-grade horrors, does a capable job. PRC starlet Nagel is pretty, and has a voice that is a dead ringer for Judy Garland. Unfortunately her reporter/boyfriend Gregory has a squeaky voice. Strange, who later would play the Frankenstein monster in a few films, is terrible. As the dim-witted Petro, he's a fourth-rate imitation of Lon Chaney Jr's Lenny in Of Mice and Men. In fact, he seems to have a far better personality as the monster. In a small role, Padden is creepy as a cackling backwoods grandma. The film ends, as was often the style 60 years ago, with the young lovers embracing in front of a burning house. It's worth a rental if you like C and B movies from the 30s and 40s.


Monday, December 24, 2012

Three beloved, kitschy Christmas flicks




(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. Indeed, "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians" and "Santa Claus" are usually broadcast a Friday in December on KULC Channel 9 in Utah at 9 p.m. Antenna TV played "... Martians" all last week. Both Santa Claus films mentioned here have also been spoofed by the snarky robots of "Mystery Science Theater 3000."