Movie Monday: The Tales of Hoffmann

This week's movie is the 1951 British adaptation of the opera The Tales of Hoffmann!

After wallowing in grade-Z movies (which are, I have to admit, my favorites) the last two weeks, I thought it'd be nice to end the year of Movie Mondays with a touch of class. So thanks to a suggestion from my friend Joseph Brian Scott on Facebook, I'm taking a look at The Tales of Hoffman, directed by none other than the classic team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger:

Now, up front I have to admit, I am not a fan of opera or the ballet. Its not that that I haven't been exposed to it; growing up I overheard a lot of opera thanks to my parents, who listened to it fairly regularly. I didn't get it then, and I really don't get it now. But the team of Powell and Pressburger are simply too good to pass up, so I was determined to pressburger on:

The Tales of Hoffmann is based on Jules Offenbach's opera Les contes d'Hoffmann, and is not merely a filmed recording of a live production. No, this film is an all-original recreation of the opera done before movie cameras, and taking advantage of all the benefits that cinema can bring.

Set during the interval of a ballet (starring a dancer named Stella, played by Moira Shearer), The Tales of Hoffman features a young man named Hoffman (Robert Rounseville) in a tavern telling three stories of lost love, each segment featuring the same actors playing different roles.

The film opens with a dance sequence from the ballet, and I have to say I was a startled by the sensuality on display, not to mention the sheer beauty of the dance:

Right off the bat, we see that the visual poetry that was Powell-Pressburger's stock-in-trade is in place here: this film is simply gorgeous to look at, even via the generally muddied, fuzzy copy I had available to me.

Hoffmann begins telling his tales of woe, and instead of trying to analyze what I was watching (I wouldn't begin to presume I could accurately explain what goes on during an opera, any opera), I'm simply going to present some stills from the film, to give you an idea how compelling this film on a purely visual level:

Each story is loosely color "coded"; the first segment is mostly in yellows, the second in reds, the third in blues, with the theme of an artist's struggle between love and dedication to his work prevalent throughout (Mea culpa: I learned most of this though reading about the movie online, not from the film itself. Like I said, I don't "get" opera).

The film ends by pulling out and showing us the conductor instructing his orchestra on the final theme. After completing it, he puts his baton down, and closes his book:

...with a hand coming in and stamping the film "Made in England", The Tales of Hoffmann comes to an end.


I may not have really "gotten" The Tales of Hoffmann, in that I only half understood what was going on at any given moment, but I guess that wasn't completely necessary--its more about how it makes you feel and react to what you're seeing. On that score, The Tales of Hoffmann is a masterpiece--its simply one of the most beautifully constructed movies I've ever seen, flawlessly executed on virtually every level. And that's saying something when you're talking about the work of Powell-Pressburger, who I don't think ever made a bad film.

While this film isn't all that well known nowadays, it certainly had an influence. George Romero--George Romero!--said this about The Tales of Hoffmann for a 2002 Sight & Sound poll: "This is one notch out of alphabetical order, but I decided to give it the status of last position because it's my favourite film of all time; the movie that made me want to make movies."

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Commander Xmas

Now it can be told!

This Commander Xmas Sunday strip (click to embiggen) was commissioned from Dan and me by Jay Piscopo, the writer/artist/creator of Commander X, Cap'n Eli, The Sea Ghost, and a plethora of other characters.

Every year Jay puts together a Commander Xmas book featuring different creators' holiday-themed interpretations of his character, and over the summer he asked us to come up with a Commander X "Color Supplement", in the same style we've ween doing every Sunday with Ace Kilroy.

Working with Dan on another set of characters was a fun of change of pace, and we're honored to be part of the 2011 Commander Xmas book, which you can find here. We strongly advise you check it out to see the rest!

Thanks Jay, and Merry Christmas!

Movie Monday: Ants!

This week's movie is the 1977 horror TV movie Ants!

Also known as It Happened At Lakewood Manor and Panic at Lakewood Manor (and Laverne & Lakewood Manor, for all I know), Ants! was a TV movie that I remember seeing...maybe not when it first aired, but definitely on TV when I was a youngin', and it left quite an impression on me. Years later, when I toiled at Movies Unlimited (R.I.P.), I was ecstatic to see we had it on VHS. I put it on the store's closed circuit TV system more than once.

The plot is pretty basic: a real estate mogul named Tony Fleming (Gerald Gordon) is developing a large chunk of land next door to a placid resort hotel, and all the activity stirs up the local ant population. We can see that these are no ordinary ants, though--they swarm over a construction worker, and when another dives into a pit to help him, they are killed when a steam shovel accidentally covers them in tons of dirt.

We are then introduced to the cast of characters--along with the mogul is his cute assistant Gloria (Suzanne Somers, pictured on the VHS box), head of construction Mike Carr (Robert Foxworth, looking a lot like Jeff Lynne), his right hand man Vince (Bernie Casey), his girlfriend Valerie (Lynda Day George), and Valerie's wealthy mother Ethel (played by one of my favorites, the legendary Myrna Loy--who, frankly, should have known better):

After a quick trip through the manor where we get to meet everyone (including some other characters like a young boy and his mother, and some teens), the ants start making their way into the place. At first of course it seems harmless enough, if kinda icky, like when they pop up through the drain of Lakewood's kitchen:

Mike and Vince find the wounded construction workers, and take them to the hospital where one of them dies. The doctor is at a loss to explain what's wrong with the men, exactly, and tells Carr to investigate the site for clues (I guess there are no police in wherever this is, so investigating mysterious deaths are outsourced to local construction crews).

The young boy gets some ants on him playing around, which sends him into a panic. He runs into the swimming pool, even though he can't swim. Mike fishes him out, and the boy is carted off to the hospital.

The real estate mogul wants to buy Lakewood from Ethel, who owns it, but she's reluctant to sell. Fleming lays it on thick, and both Ethel and Valerie seem to fall for it. But we've already seen Fleming is a total jerk (he makes sleazy plays Gloria, abuses some of Lakewood's help), so of course we're all rooting for him to be covered in ants before long.

Mike and Vince dig around, and Vince is bit by some ants, which temporarily paralyze him! After that, word starts to get out about the strange goings-on--the cook is found dead, meaning the lunch buffet is going to be a little late. Mike tries to convince a local government agent that its ants--"Little damn ants, buddy!"

Unfortunately for Mike, when they go and check out the kitchen, the ants have antscrayed, and are nowhere to be found. The government official thinks a local water pipe has been ruptured, leading to the soil being poisoned. Mike doesn't buy it, so he goes looking for evidence.

A local scientist, investigating the soil, doesn't necessarily think that the ants being the culprits is such a ridiculous idea either, and we get to see some footage of real-life killer ants attacking other bugs. Kinda grisly, really.

Despite all this hubbub, Tony and Gloria spend the night together. Tony gets up and Gloria goes back to sleep, not knowing the ants are in her room!

At this point all hell breaks loose--Lakewood is surrounded by ants. The government stooge refuses to believe it (even though you can just look out the window see them), and runs outside, only to be killed by the ants within moments. Ah, where's the private sector when you need it?

They consult the scientist on what to do, and while they wait for him to arrive, Mike, Tony, and some of the others move everyone upstairs, including the wheelchair-bound Ethel. I love the giant bug prop in the scientist's office:

"Yes, I'm single. Why?"

Finally some cops arrive, led by the chief, played by Brian Dennehy! Using a fire truck, they extend a ladder over the ants, carrying a few of the people out and to safety.

The scientist arrives and explains that the ants have been soaking up all the poisons we damn humans have been putting into the ground for decades, and have now become, truly, killer ants. The poor actor playing the scientist (Bruce French) has to lay a lot of pipe about the ants, in between cutaway shots of Myrna Loy being carried up yet another floor of the hotel.

A rescue chopper comes by to rescue Ethel, but the wind kicked up by the blades send the ants into the air, all over the slack-jawed crowd!

Luckily(?), the threat of mass ant attack is erased when the crowd is hosed down. Sadly, this is endemic of most of the scenes of Ants!: just when something really exciting or even a little gruesome might be happen, the film puts a stop to it and cuts back to more people yakking.

A trench is dug, filled with gas and set on fire, keeping the ants from going any further. But of course they're still swarming Lakewood Manor, which means Mike, Valerie, and Tony are in real trouble.

The scientist tells them that if they stay perfectly still, then even if the ants crawl on them they might not get bit. Left with no other options, Mike grabs hunks of wallpaper to use as breathing tubes so they can try it:

However, Tony is not frosty in the clutch, and starts freaking out when the ants swarm all over him (understandable). He jumps up and runs around the room, comically flailing his arms while Mike and Valerie sit still, covered in ants. It sort of undercuts the drama.

Anyway, Tony runs onto the balcony, and tries to jump into the swimming pool below. Sadly Tony, in his ant-addled state, isn't going to make the Swimming Pool Jumping Semi-Finals:

Mike and Valerie are rescued by the local authorities, who come in wearing special suits and committing mass anticide:

The ants are all killed (?), Ethel's moving to Florida, Tony is dead, all is well! The End.

The end credits feature stills from the movie (a feature long since erased on TV, now that all credits run as plankton-sized type at high-speed, underneath the next show's opening credits), and this one was my favorite:

Gaaah, the ants! THE ANTS!!!


Of course, Ants! is pretty weak as a horror/thriller: since it was made for TV, there just couldn't be too much Good Stuff. The closest we get to anything remotely icky is the sight of (partly) nude Suzanne Somers being covered in ants (a scene of course highlighted on the VHS box), and even that scene is over way too quickly. In between its all talk talk talk, and the sad sight (to me) of the great Myrna Loy--Nora Charles herself!--wasting her time in piffle like this.

Ants! is one of those movies that exists better as a hazy childhood memory. As a kid, you tend to remember the movies and TV you saw as being really, really cool or scary or funny or whatever; then you see as an adult and you're like "Really? That's it?"

A Modest Proposal: The Star Wars Holiday Special

I've been meaning to set this down to paper (metaphorically) for a while, and since Christmas is right around the corner, it only seems fitting to do so now. As the above graphic indicates, this is an essay about the infamous 1978 Star Wars Holiday Special.

For anyone not familiar with it, a brief history: The Star Wars Holiday Special was an all-new made-for-TV special starring the Star Wars characters and original cast. It featured a live-action segment as well as an animated one, which was the debut of a major new character to the Star Wars mythos, Boba Fett:

Unfortunately, the special was not produced by Lucasfilm or even 20th Century Fox; rather due to some arcane business deal it was farmed out to another production company, made by people who clearly didn't understand at all what made Star Wars so popular and trendsetting.

With appearances by Harvey Korman, Bea Arthur, and Jefferson Starship, The Star Wars Holiday Special feels like it was dumped in the lap of an old school TV variety show producer, someone who might have cut his teeth on The Dean Martin Show. Cheesy sets, shameless mugging, and funny names might be fine for Dean and his Golddiggers; but when mixed with Star Wars it made for an unfunny, excruciating viewing experience. I watched it over again a few years ago and even though the special is about ninety minutes, it feels like it goes on for approximately fifteen hours.

Anyway, the Special was a total bomb, and it was pulled from any sort of official Star Wars history, in perpetuity. Lucas never allowed it to surface again, and its never been mentioned in any of the numerous official histories of the Star Wars, except in some extremely rare instances. Lucas wants to pretend it simply doesn't exist, even once saying "If I had the time and a sledgehammer, I would track down every copy of that show and smash it."

Lucas' attitude of course keeps the Special from ever being officially released on DVD, one of the rare instances where a buck is not being made from something with the Star Wars name on it. Obviously Lucas and Co. hate the thing so much that they feel like they can't actually release it, even though the legion of rabid Star Wars fans would eat it up.

But of course, The Star Wars Holiday Special is available, all over the place: do a Google search, and you'll find copies available for sale on VHS, DVD, even Blu-Ray! So Lucas' dream that he could wipe every copy of the Special off the face of the earth remains permanently out of reach, even for someone with resources as vast as his. So it remains available to any Star Wars fan who wants it; albeit in horrible-looking, fuzzy copies.

So my thought was this: why doesn't Lucasfilm just formally acknowledge that fans keep buying it, and release a deluxe edition of the Special, with crystal clear picture and sound, maybe even accompanied with some juicy extras? What Star Wars fan wouldn't want to see a great "Making of" doc explaining just what the hell happened?

But instead of making it a For Profit release, Lucasfilm states that they will donate all proceeds from the sale of The Star Wars Holiday Special: Deluxe Edition towards a cause--any cause Lucasfilm wants to support--cancer research, the environment, fighting animal abuse, whatever. That way Lucas doesn't feel like he's bilking his fans, selling them something he truly believes isn't any good, and in turn is using the Special to do something positive in the world.

This would also have the benefit of undercutting the sales from all the crappy-looking bootlegs out there, something that also must stick in Lucas' craw. After all, if you're a die-hard Star Wars and you want to own a copy of the Special, which would you rather have--a fifth-generation dub with horrible picture and fuzzy sound, or a Lucasfilm produced edition, with the best possible picture and sound and lots of extras, with all profits going towards charity? For Lucas and Star Wars fans, it's win-win-win!

I can appreciate George Lucas' feeling so proprietary about Star Wars--he is truly the master of this particular universe, and the Holiday Special must feel akin to that one relative who shows up every year for Thanksgiving dinner and gets drunk and says horribly embarrassing things. He'd rather just forget its existence.

But since the Bantha is out of the bag, and can never be put back in, why not just own up and do some good? After all, isn't that what Life Day is all about?

Movie Monday: Orgy of the Dead

This week's movie is the Ed Wood horror/nudie film Orgy of the Dead!

Now, I call this an "Ed Wood Film" (the way one might say "A Martin Scorsese Film"), but I guess that's a misnomer; it was supposedly directed by someone named A.C. Stephen. But since Wood wrote the screenplay (based on his book!), worked on the film as Production Manager, casting agent, and cue-card guy, and it features longtime Wood favorite Criswell, I'm comfortable saying this is a pretty Woodian production, as it goes.

Okay--the film starts with two scantily-clad men (for a change) entering a tomb. Inside the tomb is Criswell--looking more than worse for wear--and he addresses the camera, telling us this is a story of people who live "in the twilight time", and are now monsters. Naturally, that leads us to a credit sequence featuring a nude woman in gold body paint:

After the credits, we see a young couple, Bob and Shirley (William Bates and the ravishing Pat Barrington), who end up in a car crash. Even if Criswell hadn't shown up in the first scene, the extended dialogue sequence (and the fact that the film changes from night to day and then back to night) lets you know this is, unmistakably, an Ed Wood film: the couple talk like no people in human history ever have, barely acknowledging punctuation, inflection, or meaning. Each actor basically just waits for the other to stop talking, then they say stuff. Then vice versa.

Okay, anyway, Criswell provides some narration, as Shirley wakes up post-crash. Criswell wanders around a cemetery, beckoning the undead--but still pretty hot--Black Ghoul (Fawn Silver, dressed a lot like Vampira). Criswell demands a show, and it better be pretty, um, titillating, or the Black Ghoul and the others will face eternal damnation! So there's no pressure.

(There's a great, classic Wood moment where the theme music for this scene ends a second or two before the scene does, leaving the actors staring at each other in silence).

Its at this moment that the "nudie" portion of our program kicks in, and we're treated(?) to a series of topless girls dancing for Criswell's pleasure. First up is an Indian Girl--you can tell she's Indian because she's wearing moccasins!

There's another scene with Bob and Shirley, now both awake. But enough of that junk, bring on the girls!!

And, you know, I have to admit, some of these girls are pretty cute. A lot of the women that found their way into Ed Wood films kinda have that sad, slightly Hepatitis-y look, but here they look more...wholesome is probably not the right word, but less demoralized. I'm guessing Ed found these girls dancing in various Los Angeles strip joints, and offered them a few bucks to do the same thing in a cheesy cemetery set.

Bob and Shirley watch all this ("Am I in heaven?", Bob wonders), and are kidnapped by a wolfman and a mummy (sure, why not?) and tied to stakes in front of Criswell and the Black Ghoul:

There's another dance number, by a Cat Girl, wearing the least erotic outfit seen in the movies since Margaret Dumont:

The Black Ghoul wants to F/Marry/Kill Shirley, and shows her displeasure by opening Shirley's blouse, as ghouls are wont to do:

(Note: this was my favorite scene)

There's more dancing, some mismatched stock footage, and the Wolfman and the Mummy clowning around, which pretty much tips the viewers off that this isn't remotely supposed to be serious...not that there was a lot of debate about that beforehand.

Bob and Shirley argue, there's more dancing (a nudie bride!), there's more talk between Criswell and the Ghoul, even more dancing, ending with The Black Ghoul once again opening Shirley's blouse while threatening her with a knife. Bob tries to intervene, but is knocked out by the wolfman with one slight tap to the head.

Just as The Black Ghoul is about to stab Shirley, the sun comes out, suddenly turning everyone--The Black Ghoul, Criswell, the wolfman, the mummy--into skeletons!

We then find Bob and Shirley, just waking up from the car crash. Shirley asks what happened to the monsters. But of course...it was all a dream!!

Or was it? Its hard to say, because Criswell is still talking:

...The End!


Woo, what to say? Of course, Orgy of the Dead is a complete and utter mess, and anyone expecting anything more, please contact me, I have a bridge I'd like to sell you.

While Orgy of the Dead, as a film, manages to make previous Wood efforts Glen or Glenda?, Bride of the Monster and The Sinister Urge look like The Apu Trilogy, there's a cheerful goofiness to the proceedings that keeps the sadness at bay. Sure, this film marked a departure for Wood, where he stopped even pretending to be making real movies, which had to be heartbreaking for someone who saw himself as an Orson Welles-type, a real visionary of cinema.

Or...perhaps I'm confusing Johnny Depp's marvelous performance as Ed in Tim Burton's Ed Wood with the real guy: maybe the real-life version just saw making movies as a way to have some fun, make some money, and hang around with unusual people (you don't put people like Criswell and Tor Johnson in your repertory company unless you like spending time with them). And with content restrictions in movies being relaxed by the mid-1960s, Ed simply decided to take advantage of that and put boobies in his movie.

And on that score, Ed did a damn good job.

Movie Monday: The Band Wagon

This week's movie is the MGM musical The Band Wagon!

I wanted to try something as different from last week's The Last Exorcism as possible, so a MGM Technicolor musical extravaganza starring Fred Astaire seemed to fit the bill!

The film opens with an auction of movie memorabilia belonging to former star Tony Hunter (Fred Astaire), whose popularity is clearly on the decline. We can see that when the first item offered garners no bids, despite the rock-bottom price.

Luckily for Tony, his two good friends Lester and Lily Morton (Oscar Levant and Nannette Fabrey) have written what they believe is the perfect comeback vehicle for him: a classic Broadway musical, filled with thrills, drama, and comedy. Tony heads to New York to see them (on the way, he runs into Ava Gardner--playing herself--whom attracts all the press attention, allowing Tony to get of the train unnoticed).

In New York, the Mortons tell Tony about their show:

They plan to meet with a big-time Broadway director/producer the next day, which lifts Tony's spirits. He breaks into a music number, where his joy is so infectious its like a burst of energy. Heck, at an amusement park, a pyramid of tin cans topple before he even has to throw a ball!

The Mortons and Tony got to a theater where they are to meet the legendary Jeffrey Cordova (Jack Buchanan), who knows a thing or two about promotion:

Cordova likes the idea he's pitched, except he decides to inflate it with all kinds of high-falutin' ideas, and thinks the show should be a musical version of Faust. The Mortons and Tony are a little taken aback, but decide to go along with Cordova. Tony meets his would-be co-star, the ballerina Gaby Gerard (Cyd Charisse), and he is intimidated by her youth, talent, and looks. Little does Tony know, but she is equally intimidated by him, because he's a legend.

(We get to see a glimpse of Cordova's Oedipus Rex, and its gorgeous in all its Technicolor glory)

Despite their initial awkward moments, Tony and Gaby start to fall in love. They walk through Central Park (or a Hollywood set version of), and they silently break into a number called "Dancing in the Dark", which is quite lovely:

Tony, despite his misgivings, goes along with Cordova's idea for the show, and they have their first try-out in New Haven. It doesn't go well, and the crowd leaving the theater is like the walking dead, except even quieter:

Tony convinces Cardova to let him take over the production, and turn it back into the kind of show his friends has envisioned. They take the show on the road to test it, financially backed by Tony himself, since the original backers have pulled out.

Even though big Broadway music is not really my cup of tea, I could appreciate the skill and grace with which the songs are performed (and of course Fred Astaire dancing is about as good as it gets). Nevertheless, the movie does feature one of those types of numbers that, with the benefit(?) of hindsight, looks so friggin' goofy that you can sorta see why these movies fell out of favor:

...yep, three grown people dressed as babies. They sing like babies, walk on their knees, the whole thing. Somebody get me an Avid.

Anyway, the show is tweaked and improved, and is ready for Broadway. The main set-piece is called "Girl Hunt", and is nothing less than a pulp detective novel come to life.

This sequence was shown (in part) in the documentary Martin Scorsese: A Personal Journey Through American Movies, and the sheer look of it made me want to see this movie. It is, simply, breathtaking:

Tony and Gaby dance a torrid number together, and it finishes the show. The crowd loves it, proving that show--as Tony and his friends saw it--is going to be a huge hit. After the show, the whole cast gets together to congratulate Tony and tell him they always believed in him.

Gaby lets Tony know how she feels, and everyone breaks into the now-classic "That's Entertainment" to wrap it all up:

Like I mentioned above, I mostly wanted to see The Band Wagon for that one number, and it is a doozy. Its funny to think how 1960s TV would appropriate the pop art look of numbers like this, with their bold colors, crazy angles, and deep shadows (Batman, I'm looking in your direction). In a similar vein, Saturday Night Live would parody the "Dancing in the Dark" number, with Gilda Radner and Steve Martin filling in for Charisse and Astaire (and it was this sketch that was re-run in 1989 when host Steve Martin payed tribute to Radner, who had died earlier that day).

Old school movie musicals are weird going for me--I don't find them particularly funny, and the music, for the most part, just doesn't appeal to me. But I simply love the Technicolor look, and enjoy the subtlety and grace with which the musical numbers are employed. I enjoyed the "Girl Hunt" piece so much I feel like I could have seen a whole movie of just that!

I don't need to tell you that The Band Wagon is a good movie--it starts Fred Astaire, for Pete's sake, was directed by the master of the musical movie Vincent Minnelli, and is personally vouched for by Martin Scorsese himself! But I will say that if you, like me, don't particularly go in for this type of movie, I'd say give it a shot--you'll enjoy it.