Movie Monday: Brass Target

This week's Movie Monday looks at the 1978 thriller Brass Target!
As the poster suggests, Brass Target concerns itself over 250 million dollars worth of gold and the death of General George S. Patton. Was there a connection?

The film opens in mid-1945, right after VE Day. General Patton has ordered that the vast deposit of gold stolen by the Nazis being transported for safekeeping to Frankfurt. But as a small band of U.S. military personnel are escorting it there, they are attacked and killed, with the gold stolen.

We learn early on that the theft has been organized by corrupt Army officers, Col. Rogers (Robert Vaughn) and Col Gillchrist (Edward Herrmann). Patton launches an investigation, while also dealing with the Soviets and their demands in a post-war Europe:

The investigation initially turns towards OSS Major De Luca (John Cassavetes, clearly looking for some dough to make Gloria), whose crafted a wartime operation similar to how the gold was stolen. This inspires De Luca to look into the crime on his own.

 

This leads De Luca to consult an old friend, Col. McCauley, played by Patrick McGoohan:

As De Luca's investigation continues (also involving a former flame, played by top-billed Sophia Loren), the conspirators hire an expert assassin named Webber, played by Max Von Sydow. The film follows him for a good while as he prepares to murder Patton: 

De Luca learns that Webber is on his trail as well, and the rest of Brass Target is a race against time to stop the assassination and to catch the conspirators. Will Major De Luca make it in time?

I went into Brass Target with pretty high expectations. The cast is impressive, in a 1970s Irwin Allen kind of way; and the subject matter is right in my wheelhouse: WWII, a heist, a conspiracy, a little history mixed in, what's not to like?

The answer is, kind of a lot, actually: given the ingredients, there's no real reason why Brass Target isn't a crackerjack thriller. But as directed by John Hough (who has some solid directing credits to his name), the story plods along with the the tension never really building.

Following Von Sydow around as he kills people with laser-like precision is fun, but the rest of the cast feels wasted: Kennedy is cartoonishly gruff as Patton (I guess anyone trying to follow George C. Scott in the role is doomed to failure), Cassavetes seems bored, Sophia Loren is completely superfluous, and McGoohan seems beamed in from another movie entirely. Vaughn and Herrmann are okay, but the suggestion (more than a suggestion, actually) that they are lovers adds a weird shading to the proceedings: not only are they conspirators, but they're secretly gay, too! You just can't trust those people, you know?

Plus, you have to be careful when crafting a genre piece around a real person or real event: Patton really was killed due to a jeep accident, and here that scene is replicated but as cover to him being assassinated: it seems ghoulish, if not distasteful, to use such a sad event as grist for silly some Hollywood thriller.

That said, Brass Target looks good: it's replicating the look of post-war Europe looks spot on, and gives all these scenes a nice bit of verisimilitude. And the plot is (IMO) so inherently interesting--the chaos that follows such a horrific tragedy as a world war--that it keeps you involved as the plot unfolds. It's not a terrible film, but considering what the filmmakers had to work with, it should have been a lot, lot better.

Movie Monday: Raw Deal

Life is just...a Raw Deal!
 

Raw Deal is one of those movies that film scholars immediately name when talking film noir; made in the years immediately following WWII, it's all deep shadows, death, betrayal, and for good measure, pyromania:

Prisoner Joe Sullivan (Dennis O'Keefe) is doing a stretch in the Big House for a crime that he probably didn't do; no, he's taken the hit for a former partner-in-crime, big time mobster Rick Coyle (Raymond Burr). He's being visited by his dame, Pat (Claire Trevor), who is helping him a plan a break out:

What neither Joe or Pat know is, the skids for this particular escape are being greased by Rick, who has no intention of cutting Joe in on the spoils of the crime that put Joe in the slammer. The plan is that Joe will try and escape, and get killed in the attempt. Easy-peasy!

Except, this being film noir, nothing goes as planned: Joe's escape works, and soon he and Pat are driving off in the dead of night. Joe decides to stop and kidnap his social worker Ann (Marsha Hunt), who seemed sympathetic to his plight while he was doing the proverbial nickel up in Attica (okay, I'll stop with the prison slang). This immediately, understandably, sets Pat off a little, since Joe seems a little too keen on Ann as well. Things only get more complicated when Ann is forced to shoot a goon of Rick's death so she can save Joe's life. Dames!

Rick, for his part, does not take terribly well to the news that Joe has escaped and is coming for his money. As played by Burr, Rick is a hulking brute who dresses is nice suits and has fancy home decorations; but lurking just underneath the polite exterior is a volcano of rage:

As I mentioned above, Rick is a pyromaniac, so if I were that couple dancing, I'd be careful around this guy and the open flame seen at right. Just saying.

One of Rick's goons is a smartass named Fantail(!) played by John Ireland. Even though he seems to work for Rick, Fantail seems to take delight in egging Rick on, even mocking him to his face. When he confronts Joe at gunpoint, he seems less concerned with carrying out his boss's instructions than he is just messing with Joe's head:

Joe eventually sends Ann away, realizing he's dragging this nice woman into a dark path. The mobsters kidnap Ann, hoping that will lure Joe out of hiding, but the call is intercepted by Pat, who sees this a chance for her and Joe to get away and leave it all behind. But, of course, that doesn't happen.

Raw Deal is enormously entertaining; as directed by Anthony Mann, the movie's entire world is one of dark alleyways, police lights seen through venetian blinds, and guns in pockets. Hell, one of the characters lives on a street called Cork Screw Alley! The plot unfolds as it must, since this is a film noir, but it still feels fresh.

All the performances are solid, but what really stuck out to me were the bad guys: Ireland's weird, self-amused Fantail (who I'm sure plays craps with Tommy Udo every week), and Burr's Coyle, whom Mann always shoots from an angle highlighting his mountainous frame:

At only 79 minutes (or the length of one dish washing scene in The Hobbit), the film moves at a lightning pace and is pure pleasure to look at: Mann knew how to compose a shot to achieve maximum mood, and then let his actors do their thing.

As of this writing, Raw Deal is available on Netflix WI, so give it a play when you're in the mood for a dark, grim mini-masterpiece. And stay away from open flame when Rick Coyle is around.

Movie Monday: Thirst

This week's Movie Monday is the 1979 Ozploitation horror classic Thirst!

I like to think I'm fairly well-versed when it comes to horror films; sure there are many I haven't seen, but I had never even heard of Thirst before its DVD/Blu-Ray release this month, so once I read up on its plot it was a slam-dunk. How did this movie escape my notice for so long?

Shot in Australia, Thirst is about  a young woman named Kate Davis (Chantal Contouri), who seems to have it all: a successful career, a nice house, not to mention a super-hunky 70s-style boyfriend:

But her life turns into a living nightmare when she is kidnapped by a strange shadowy organization known as The Brotherhood. Kate is locked up on some massive compound, we learn that The Brotherhood is nothing less than a cabal of vampires (played by the British David Hemmings, American Henry Silva, and Aussie actors Shirley Cameron and Max Phipps)! They want Kate because she is a descendant of the notoriously bat-sh*t Elizabeth Bathory, and want to draft her into the lifestyle of the vampire!

Kate, as you might imagine, wants nothing to do with this, and tries to escape, but nothing doing: The Brotherhood's operation is enormous: it houses hundreds of vampires, who consider themselves the aristocracy, as well as thousands of "blood cows", half-dead victims who are used as sustenance for the vampires:

As The Brotherhood puts Kate through one mind-screw after another, trying to break her down mentally and physically, we learn that there are thousands of vampires out there, and The Brotherhood supplies them all with blood, shipped in cartons like milk and carefully checked for quality and taste--they even run tours of the dairy, featuring vampire tourists snapping pics while the cows are drained of their blood. Ick!

For most of the its run time, Thirst eschews cheap scares and gory scenes of bloodsucking. The Brotherhood is run like a typical, boring, company, except for the fact that their talking about death, blood, and mind-control (so maybe it's like Goldman-Sachs in that way). Henry Silva is his usual weird self, with strange line readings and a perpetual smirk that seems to suggest he's in on a joke the rest of us are not.

Kate's only "friend", if I may use that word at all, is Dr. Fraser (Hemmings), who seems the most squeamish about putting her through the mental hell the rest of them are almost gleeful over. But he is, after all, part of a vampire cabal, so everything's relative (in this movie, literally in some cases). You can't help but feel deep pity for Kate, since The Brotherhood seems too big to fail, and this being the 1970s you know a downer ending is probably on the menu.

There are some moments where Thirst threatens with breaking the Goofy Meter: whenever someone vamps out their eyes turn red while standing perfectly still for about a solid minute, which just looks silly. Plus there's an action scene that seems woefully out of place, but I must admit features an extended, nasty death scene that I enjoyed for the imagination it took to conceive and shoot it.

There are so many dream sequences or hallucinations that at a certain point Thirst loses that sense of impending doom, because you're never certain whether what you're watching is really happening. But it still packs a nightmarish punch, presenting a chamber of horrors that seems to be operating right under all our noses, right out there in the daylight. *Shudder*

P.S. Check out the movie poster up top, featuring a vampire wearing a classic Bela Lugosi-esque cloak, something that never comes close to happening in the movie. I guess the producers were worried Thirst was a little too different from the standard vampire flick for average audiences.

Back Issue! #71 On Sale Now!

The newest issue of TwoMorrows' Back Issue! is on sale now, and features an article by me about DC's one-off Dick Tracy Limited Collectors' Edition comic published in 1975.

The theme for this issue is "Tryouts, One-Shots, and One-Hit Wonders" and is all kinds of fun. Head over to the TwoMorrows site to purchase a copy!

Movie Monday: The Asphyx

The Asphyx is a 1973 British horror film that looks and feels like it could have been produced by Hammer, but somehow wasn't.

 

It tells the story of Sir Hugo Cunningham (Robert Stephens), who is a member of a group of amateur parapsychologists. After looking at some photos Cunningham snapped of people just as they died, the group notices something similar in all of them: a dark blur hovering nearby. After some wild speculation, they conclude Cunningham has photographic proof of the soul!

Blimey, Crikey, and all that!

Cunningham is skeptical. That is, until he shoots some film of his fiancee and son in a boat. A freak accident kills them both, and when Cunningham reviews the film, he sees that same dark blur by his son just as he died! But by watching the blur move, he concludes that this is not the soul moving away from the body; rather, it was moving towards him, which means that this strange apparition is not the soul, but Death itself, which he calls an "asphyx", a term from Greek mythology.

Like any good crackpot scientist/philosopher/doctor, this drives Cunningham to want to try and capture the Asphyx. He does some research via a handy local public execution, and determines that the Asphyx is subject to the laws of physics, and can be contained. He and his ward Giles (Robert Powell) put the whammy on a poor guinea pig, and actually manage to snag its asphyx just as it dies.

"The light is blue, the trap is...clean?"

Cunningham then decides that his work is too valuable ever to lose, and that he should live forever. Good plan! He contrives Giles to nearly electrocute Cunningham to death, drawing out the Asphyx, and sticking it in an impenetrable vault deep below his estate. After an experiment involving Giles' fiancee goes really, really wrong, Cunningham decides that he has Peppered God's Lo Mein and wants his Asphyx to be freed so he is no longer immortal. Giles agrees to help him, but for a price.

I won't say any more because, well, while The Asphyx is a bit on the dull and stagy side (even at 90 minutes, it feels slow and padded), the final scenes are really fun, and how it brings us back around to the seemingly unconnected opening scene is a great little twist. Who doesn't enjoy watching a mad scientist do something we all know will blow up his face, sometimes literally? Maybe if Hammer had made this, they would have stuck in a couple of bosomy maidens, an extra bloody scene or two, and that might have perked everything up a bit.

The Asphyx is available via Netflix Streaming, so while I wouldn't say you should rush to put it on your queue (oh, excuse me, your List) it does have some fun, ghoulish moments that make it worth a look.


Fun Fact: This is the only film directed by Peter Newbrook, who did second unit photography on a little movie called Lawrence of Arabia. The Asphyx is quite nice to look at, with vivid colors and well-staged scenes. It's a shame he didn't get to sit in the director's chair again.

Movie Monday: Brute Force

Inside prison, there is only...Brute Force!
 

Jules Dassin's 1947 film Brute Force is, as the title suggests, a tough-as-nails expose on life on the Inside:

The film opens with convict Joe Collins (Burt Lancaster, on his way to legendary status) being led out of a long stretch in Solitary Confinement. He is escorted by a guard and the head of security, the instantly-unlikeable Captain Munsey (Hume Cronyn):

Munsey mocks Collins, and as the torrential rain pours, we see we are in for some tough going. With the prison packed to the gills, Munsey and the warden (Roman Bohnen) are warned that the prison is a powder keg waiting to go off. The prison's doctor, the often-soused Dr. Walters (Art Smith) has sympathy for the inmates, but his input is ignored by Munsey completely.

Collins learns that his wife Ruth (Ann Blyth) has cancer, and needs an operation. But she won't go through with it unless Joe is by her side, which lights the fuse in Collins: he has to escape.

At this point in the film, it feels like we are set up to see Collins as our hero. Sure, he's a convict, but clearly he's not that bad a guy, right? Well, not really: as revenge on a fellow inmate who planted the evidence that landed Collins in Solitary, he organizes a hit on the guy, which takes place in the prison machine shop, concluding in a, well, brutal act of violence, something almost akin to a horror movie.

Munsey starts to get wind that something is up, and responds by all-but-eliminating all the inmates' privileges and even parole hearings. This sets everyone on edge even more, but Munsey just keeps pushing:

The middle of the film gives us a series of flashbacks of Collins' other cellmates (played by Whit Bissell, John Hoyt, Howard Keel, and others), where we learn how they all ended up in the joint. This being a film noir, the reasons are almost exactly the same for each man: dames! Yvone DeCarlo and the gorgeous Ella Raines both help lead their men down the path of destruction, leaving them to this awful place.

Back at the prison, tensions continue to mount. Collins learns that Munsey knows about his escape plan, and Dr. Walters begs Collins to call it off. But Collins has been pushed too far, and goes ahead even though it's essentially a suicide mission.

And it's here, in the film's final series of scenes depicting the breakout (inspired by the real life "Battle of Alcatraz"), that Bruce Force moves from Very Good to Scarily Great. I say "scarily", because the level of violence, terror, and bloodshed on display is simply astonishing when you consider this was made in 1947. Fires rage, bullets fly, prison guards are attacked by the inmates in something akin a zombie movie:

How director Jules Dassin got away with these scenes is beyond me. Sure, the film contains a lot of ham-handed moralizing that censors demanded back then, but Munsey is such an unrepentant monster (having only known Cronyn in his later "grandpa" years, seeing him as a heartless bastard here is shocking) that you can't help but side with the prisoners, even as they become little more than savages. His final confrontation with Collins feels like something out of Frankenstein.

Brute Force is, in the end, not a lot of fun, but it features such beautiful images (the prison, with its deep shadows and crazy angles, at times feels like it was made by German Expressionists with the sole purpose of crushing souls), sharp acting, and a gut-buster of an ending that I would recommend it to anyone interested in the prison film genre, Burt Lancaster, or film noir.

The fine folks at the Criterion Collection released Brute Force on DVD in 2007, with all sorts of extras, including a commentary track by film historians. I just might have to pick that up!