Re: Track the Films You Watch (2006)
11/25/06: FANTOMAS (Paul Fejos, 1932) ***
I learned of this film’s existence while browsing the Internet after watching Louis Feuillade’s Silent serial of 1913-14 and coming upon a website dedicated to this arch criminal! Given director Fejos’ involvement, I was obviously intrigued by this version; unfortunately, it turned up on Italian TV while I was in Hollywood late last year – but, thankfully, it didn’t take me long to catch up with it after that (hopefully, two other very interesting films I missed out on during that period – Abel Gance’s THE END OF THE WORLD [1930] and G. W. Pabst’s DON QUIXOTE [1933] – will likewise be re-run shortly)!
Anyway, while essentially dated, the film is great fun throughout. Still, even if the ‘old dark house’-style first half is said to be quite faithtful to Marcel Allain and Pierre Souvestre’s very first “Fantomas” novel, the film is not really typical of the criminal mastermind’s exploits – especially since he only appears on a couple of occasions in his trademark skin-tight black outfit, and we’re left guessing as to his true identity until practically the very end! That first part (with a thunderstorm for backdrop, secret passageways galore and even a robbery/strangling) is nicely shot, however, and plays like a French variant on THE BAT WHISPERS (1930); the remainder involves an automobile race, a murder in an operating theater, a particularly animated fistfight (with the opponents using all the ultra-volatile props and furniture they can get their hands on!) and is capped by a car explosion which allows the titular character to escape (apparently, this was intended as a continuing series but, alas, it never materialized – perhaps it was Marcel Allain’s disapproval of the film which put paid to the idea!).
Unfortunately, Jean Galland is nothing like the Fantomas of the Feuillade serial (hiding under multiple disguises throughout) or Andre’ Hunebelle’s 1960s triptych, featuring Jean Marais sporting a silver mask: his dapper true identity is a disappointment and, even though his regular nemesis Inspector Juve is on hand for most of the proceedings, they only share one scene together! The supporting cast includes Gaston Modot as a suspicious-looking butler and an impossibly young Georges Rigaud (this was the ageing Euro-Cult favorite’s film debut) as a cad who eventually turns heroic.
11/25/06: JUDEX (Georges Franju, 1963) ***1/2
I never had the opportunity to catch up with this one during my childhood and, for a long time, I had to make do with an intriguing still of the lead character in a large bird mask and holding what appears to be a dead dove. Three years ago, I managed to get hold of a VHS copy duped from what, reportedly, is the only French-language version (an extremely fuzzy 16mm print with barely-legible English subtitles) in existence! Its dire condition had affected my initial judgment and I didn’t enjoy the film as much as I hoped I would. Then, two years later, Flicker Alley released the original 12-episode Silent serial of 1916-17 by Louis Feuillade (whose length totals over 5 hours) and I decided to try the Franju film again as a companion piece; this time, I was determined to overlook the deficiencies of the print and just go along for the ride – and, sure enough, it proved to be a much more rewarding experience! This third viewing, then, came by way of an Italian-dubbed ‘variant’ I recorded off TV which is much better shape and, despite being apparently trimmed (95 mins. against the official 104), I opted to keep it as the former is a real chore to sit through!
Anyway, much as I admired the already wonderful Feuillade version (which, for the record, I also rate ***1/2), I found the later film – to my mind, an immensely satisfying compression of it – to be even superior because of its genuine touches of poetry and magic, even surrealism (such as the afore-mentioned costume party scene in which Judex – already hiding his true identity under an alias and his features behind layers of make-up – turns up donning a symbolic pigeon mask). In fact, the title role is played by real-life magician Channing Pollock which allows his celebrated act to be cleverly incorporated into the narrative!
I would venture to say that Franju’s JUDEX is one of the best remakes ever made – fascinating, exciting and imaginative. The timing of its release (coming immediately prior to the espionage boom of the 1960s) ensured that the film also be viewed as a fond farewell to the days of old-fashioned crime (though gadgetry – soon to go overboard, i.e. when the James Bond extravaganzas descended to the level of a comic-strip – is still present, such as the mirror which allows Judex to peek at his captive and even communicate with him by writing on the glass panel itself).
For all his limitations as an actor, Pollock displays all the stoicism of the typical superhero and carries a genuine screen presence. Besides, Francine Berge` has to be one of the most captivating villainesses to ever grace the screen – utilizing several disguises in the realization of her evil schemes, none more fetching than the skin-tight black outfit (which she also sports when engaging in the climactic roof-top fight with an equestrienne, played by Sylva Koscina in a splendid cameo). Franju regular Edith Scob, then, is the doe-eyed heroine and there’s also amiable support from the characters of the detective Cocantin and a resourceful boy who eventually becomes his sidekick. Another of the film’s major assets is a subtly haunting score from Maurice Jarre (the last of eight collaborations with Franju, among them the latter’s masterwork EYES WITHOUT A FACE [1960]).
The film – co-written by Jacques Champreux (grandson of Louis Feuillade!) and produced by Robert De Nesle (later associated with the dubious work of Jess Franco!) – is a veritable connoisseur’s treat and a sheer delight from beginning to end. Franju later made the similar SHADOWMAN (1974; in which Champreux himself took the lead role!) but, by this time, such escapist fare was strictly old hat and, in any case, the result only worked in fits and starts. Another film in the same vein – which I own on VHS and I’ve been meaning to catch up with for some time – is the Russian-made 4½ hour Silent serial, MISS MEND (1926).
11/27/06: LET'S SCARE JESSICA TO DEATH (John Hancock, 1971) ***
For all its cult reputation (especially given the loud decrying by fans over the film’s unavailability on DVD – until recently, that is), this initial viewing proved somewhat underwhelming. Being a studio product (courtesy of Paramount), it did receive some exposure on original release: for instance it’s listed in “Halliwell’s Film Guide”, which usually skimps over such non-mainstream fare!
Still, some of its independently-made low-budget contemporaries – which I came across thanks largely to the Internet – were more immediately impressive (BONE [1972], DEATHDREAM [1972], GANJA & HESS [1973], DEAD AND BURIED [1981]). For starters, the unknown performers fail to bring conviction to (or elicit much sympathy for) the rather dully-written characters. Besides, the film can’t quite make up its mind what it wants to be – ghost story, psychological study, or an exercise in low-grade artiness a` la the contemporaneous work of Jean Rollin!
That said, despite its overly-familiar depiction of a hostile backwoods townsfolk, the eerie lakeside atmosphere (coupled with an evocative score) is undeniably effective – resulting in the occasional well-timed frisson; if anything, the tense latter stages (with their enigmatic revelation and inconclusive ending) improve on a slow-moving and somewhat uncertain beginning. Furthermore, the film’s clever device of concluding with a repetition of (actually, a lead-up to) the opening sequence – that is, without alerting the audience to its essential flashback structure – is also note-worthy and has been imitated in such recent supernatural thrillers as FALLEN (1998).
11/27/06: TWINS OF EVIL (John Hough, 1971) **1/2
I had missed out on this film’s local TV broadcast in the early 80s (along with other Hammer fare such as TASTE THE BLOOD OF DRACULA [1970]). Despite its average reputation in the annals of Hammer and horror alike, for me the film has special meaning because the actresses playing the titular siblings are of Maltese descent; in fact, Mary Collinson lives over here and she came to my place of work last year, but I didn’t get the opportunity to speak to her about her experience on the film – and she’s probably reticent anyway about discussing her one-time film work of long ago! Their screen presence isn’t exactly stimulating (apart from the brief nudity displayed by the vixenish Madeleine Collinson) but, as I said, the nationality factor (which also explains their dubbed voices!) is enough to make me appreciate their contribution more than I would for the typical Hammer starlets!!
Anyway, this is the third in Hammer’s “Karnstein Trilogy” (loosely adapted from J. Sheridan LeFanu’s famous and oft-filmed vampire tale “Carmilla”, with the character itself making a brief appearance merely to ‘initiate’ her decadent brother) – following the superior but still flawed THE VAMPIRE LOVERS (1970) and LUST FOR A VAMPIRE (1970; whose Anchor Bay R1 SE DVD I ordered recently, thanks to a Deep Discount sale, but which I’ve yet to receive and watch for the first time). Interestingly, the narrative augments its essential (but, by this time, rather tired) vampiric theme with an overpowering atmosphere of witch-hunting (Hammer’s sole foray into WITCHFINDER GENERAL [1968] territory which, similarly, features a score courtesy of Harry Robinson straight out of a Western and is photographed by Dick Bush, who had shot THE BLOOD ON SATAN’S CLAW [1971], another film in the same vein!); the community is led by an atypically misguided though commanding as ever Peter Cushing (reportedly, this was the first film he made following the death of his beloved wife) – his vigorous confrontations with above-average hero David Warbeck (who disapproves of Cushing’s over-zealous methods) constitute some of the film’s best scenes.
The climax – featuring a surprising amount of gore (even if the version I saw, a port of the original R2 DVD by Carlton, is said to have been trimmed slightly by the BBFC!) – is quite good as well; besides, the film does contain a couple of good lines spoken by Cushing: when he sees Count Karnstein talking to his one of his nieces, he tells him who she is and the former replies that he’s pleased to make her acquaintance – but Cushing, in his inimitable dry fashion, quips “That wasn’t an introduction but a warning!”; later, when he realizes that the girl has fallen under the Count’s spell regardless, he exclaims in desperation ”The Devil has given me Twins Of Evil!" (thus validating the promise set up by the film’s very title). The supporting cast includes an under-used Kathleen Byron as Cushing’s wife (who strives to protect the girls from their uncle’s blind sense of justice), a tired-looking Dennis Price as a debauched cohort of the blood-sucking Count (who eventually succumbs to one of the twins, similarly afflicted) and Damien Thomas (as Karnstein), who makes for a rather undistinguished figure of corrupting evil.
11/28/06: LEGEND OF THE WEREWOLF (Freddie Francis, 1975) **
This was among my earliest recollections of watching a horror film, which occurred in the early 80s via a local TV broadcast (when my family still had a black-and-white set); therefore, I was very much looking forward to re-acquainting myself with it – though, as it doesn’t seem to have much of a reputation, it’s proven virtually impossible to find until now!
Anyway, I’m glad to say that I liked it quite a bit still: in essence, it’s a revamping of Hammer Films’ CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF (1961) – by the same writer, John Elder (aka Anthony Hinds), no less – but made this time for the short-lived Tyburn company. The script, in fact, returns the story to its original Paris setting – CURSE having been inspired by Guy Endore’s “The Werewolf Of Paris” – and again pits our hirsute hero in the midst of a complicated romantic attachment (a prostitute rather than a merchant’s daughter) whose development (the girl is unwilling to give up her profession at first) could or could not control his affliction; still, this element isn’t quite as well integrated into the narrative here as it was in the Hammer version – and the decision to allow the lycanthrope to speak briefly, WEREWOLF OF LONDON (1935)-style, was perhaps a mistake. Of course, the film features several other Hammer alumni – director Francis, composer Harry Robinson and, from the cast, Peter Cushing and Michael Ripper (in a cameo as a tramp and one of the werewolf’s victims).
The visibly reduced budget allows for little real period atmosphere – despite traveling show, zoo and brothel – but the film is pacy and enjoyable enough to overcome such limitations; still, the werewolf scenes aren’t exactly inspired – resorting mainly to either red-tinted POV shots (which, obviously, didn’t register during my first viewing of the film) or close-ups of its bare and bloodied fangs – and, while I’ve always been partial to the silver-haired make-up myself, it’s only seen in full at the very end (much like CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF, actually)!
David Rintoul offers no real challenge to Lon Chaney Jr.’s definitive werewolf – or Oliver Reed from CURSE, for that matter; in fact, the most notable cast members are the three top-billed veterans: Hugh Griffith is the owner of the traveling show who raises the wolf-boy (though he disappears from the narrative after the first 20 minutes or so) and Ron Moody plays the eccentric zoo-keeper who employs Rintoul (and whose grounds are used as recreation area by the prostitutes, which is how the young man meets his beloved!), but the film truly belongs to Cushing as the unflappable police surgeon – I’ve rarely seen him so relaxed (particularly during this latter phase of his career) and he’s clearly enjoying every minute of it…though his character gradually turns sleuth and, ultimately, bent on ‘treating’ Rintoul rather than capturing him (but such radical ideas are not shared by his convention-bound colleagues).
The film also generates some tension during Rintoul’s confrontation scenes with his girl’s madame (at one point, he even breaks into the brothel through a window to assault a client), as well as the climax set in the Paris sewers (which had allowed the werewolf to move about without being seen).
11/28/06: WEREWOLF IN A GIRLS’ DORMITORY (Paolo Heusch, 1962) *1/2
This film’s reputation rests largely on its catchy moniker and the (barely-used) song “The Ghoul In School”; the original Italian title, LYCANTHROPUS, is even more intriguing (I had missed out on its solitary broadcast years ago on late-night Italian TV) but it’s not really anything special – and among the least of the Italian horrors of its vintage that I’ve watched!
The reform-school setting certainly allows for a busy plot – including affairs between inmates and their professors which result in blackmail (shades of the then-nascent giallo subgenre), as well as clandestine scientific experiments to alleviate the werewolf affliction (which is never explained) – but the film, as a whole, doesn’t generate much suspense (the identity of the monster isn’t hard to figure out, despite a couple of red herrings) or excitement (apart from a chase through a forest and the occasional atmospheric touch), while the make-up itself is rather weak. Casting, too, is below-par: the hero is played by Carl Schell (Maximilian’s elder brother) and the heroine by Barbara Lass (at the time married to Roman Polanski, and who later got hitched to Karl Boehm!), while Luciano Pigozzi – the Italian Peter Lorre – is the crippled caretaker (involved in the various shady dealings, naturally he comes to a sticky end).
WEREWOLF IN A GIRLS’ DORMITORY (sans the song but in probably better shape than the version I watched, which feels somewhat choppy and features at least one prominent cut) was recently released via Retromedia as a SE DVD – but, given the film’s indifferent overall quality, to my mind it’s not worth the investment…
!
out of 
