Dinosaur Bones and Alien Clones
Our mission here is to follow the various paths of Science Fiction film in the following chapters.
1. Dinosaur Bones and Alien Clones: Sci-Fi overview, and representative sci-fi films not covered below
2. Big Atomic Critters: Prehistoric and Garden Varieties
A. Dinosaurs/monsters who wreak havoc with civilization
B. The ’Bug Movie"; mutated creatures wreaking havoc as above
3. Take Us To Your Leader:; Or, In Three Of Your Earth Years
A. Aliens Invade Earth
B. We invade outer space, and an alien planet or two.
Science-Fiction is a very broad genre in film. I want to concentrate on the Postwar Atomic Age--roughly the 1946-1964 generation. This means the array of monsters generated by atomic blasts and radiation. We will see the dinosaur attacks of Godzilla and his ilk, along with more humanized creatures such as The Thing and The Creature From the Black Lagoon.
The hope of the Post-1945 era (In Britain, and even in Japan, as well as the U.S.) was tempered with apprehension, and more than a tinge of fear. Not only had we unleashed the power of the atom, it’s tangible threat was located just behind the Iron Curtain.
At the same time as we looked inward to dwell on this danger, we looked to outer space, specifically space travel, as a positive and adventurous benefit of new technologies. Of course, in the imaginative realms of science-fiction, often both themes were combined.
In these films we will encounter monsters/humanoids from or on alien planets, as well as creatures from earthbound scientific snafus, whether newly created or ones from a distant past.
In this Sci-fi overview Chapter, I’ll pick up the stray movies that don’t quite fit in the other Sci-Fi- niche chapters.
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One Million B.C., 1940. Science Fiction.
******* + 7.5/10
Not the go-to Raquel Welch version from the ’60s (same title with ’Years’ added), this prewar sci-fi film concerns two Neolithic civilizations that compete with each other for survival. To spice things up, both tribes have to contend with a myriad of pre-historic creatures.
Victor Mature stars as the emerging leader of the Rock civilization, Turnak. His father, Lon Chaney, Jr., as long-in-the-tooth Akhoba needs to hang it up. The other set, known as the Shell people, led by Carole Landis, are more sophisticated and peaceful than the Rocks. As you might expect, a romance between Turnak and Loana (Landis) might be in the offing, giving these guys an opportunity to unite the Rocks and Shells. Could even be a love triangle going with Ohtao (John Hubbard) lurking about.
There’s a frame story. In a handy cave, a hiking party is hiding out from a storm, and falls in with a rustic narrator, Conrad Nagel. Thanks to some cunning archeological skills, Nagel supposedly interprets the cave paintings to tell our story. I like how we have a guide to get us closer by degrees to the plot.
Anyway, we jump in with Turnak looking for his first kill--some sort of giant armadillo. He bags it; but him and Akhoba jibber-jabber about something (pretty cool caveman talk). Dad pitches son off a cliff; I think it had to do with the armadillo steak. Literally out on a limb, Turnak escapes from mastodons by falling into a placid lagoon.
Anyway, he floats right by Lana, who studies him well. These Shell folks have primitive cell phones (conch shells, that is); so she summons other Shell guys. They bring Turnak back to their cave; a huge vat of soup is brewing, with abalone shells as bowls. These guys think of everything.
Physically speaking, the Shell folk aren’t as ugly as those wrong-side-of-the-volcano Rockers. Now, Turnak and Laona have the room to themselves; well, not exactly, there’s one of those beatnik old guys etching a new paragraph into the cave writings.
Meanwhile, back with the Rockers, more hunting. Apparently, real animals were ’customized’ to resemble their prehistoric ancestors--this works really well; a bit later, though, we do resort to a guy in a dinosaur suit. Ah, there he goes...Turnak is shown the Shells’ spearhead, which is strangely superior to what the Rocks use. More important at the moment, Turnak gets introduced to Loana’s parents; things seem rosy, but that deliquent has lousy table manners.
Man, three’s a crowd, as Ohtoa parks himself on Loana’s side. Still, Ohtao is a good sport; he demonstrates more weaponry. Soon Turnak is popular with the kiddies. Once again, Loana displays superior skill by spearing fish nonchalantly, he’s terrible at it. The dinosaur tootles in; Turnak is the man! He slays it, saving a girl. Now he’s the big man on campus.
Except that Ohtao won’t give up the rivalry over Loana. Turnak ambushes him one night: he’s banished for the attack, but persuades Loana to come with him. So, back to the wild side.
Great atmosphere in a Misty, fern-choked forest. Oh, man, a giant lizard...Loana seems to have second thoughts about leaving town, but sticks with Turnak.A giant snake, devoured by a giant badger. There’s no lack of flora or fauna: another horned armadillo checks in. The couple has to seek refuge in a mossy tree, and get pretty cozy.
Next day, they’re among the more desolate rocky terrain. Tons of carcasses; more lizards, which thankfully fight each other (not that real lizards killing each other is cool, but, if they attack the people, we’re done already). Loana is spotted by Turnak’s people; they definitely want to grab her. Turnak shows up just in time to fight the dude off.
Hey, that was Akhoba you smote! After teaching some manners to a would-be vixen, Loana prevents Turnak from finishing off Akhoba. Next thing you know these Rock folk are gonna get soft, warm, and fuzzy. Loana is such a goody-two-shoes. We see in a ritual paralleling the Shells’, Turnak’s granted the official spear of command.
Now she’s got them farming--I guess stuff grew faster in those days. A portent lies in the distance: a simmering volcano. Just like that, it decides to blow its top. Pretty cool avalanches and tilting perspectives. Not to mention lava, earthquakes and tons of lizards falling to their doom in the fissures. Loana manages to rescue a kid, but not everyone makes it.
Turnak finds Loana’s moccasin. Has she been swallowed up too? They here the Shell guy calling (Ohtao); she’s trapped in a cave by a Gila monster, her tribe as well. Ok, so from outside the cave, the Rock guys attack the critter. It’s a superb fight, with rapid cuts between the men, the beast, and the spears and stones.
Finally, a plan. Turnak lures it away from the cave’s mouth, while the other guys basically start an avalanche to crush it. The two tribes get together and feast. Into the sunset, literally go our heroes: they’re united as are all the people. The end.
Very nicely done. The special effects--tempered by some actual suffering animals--is effective. In a word, realistic. Everything is tailored to the primitive environment. I didn’t see a phone line, roadway, or anything out of place. The ersatz language was another convincing touch. It conveys the ’otherness’ of this world without being intrusive or silly.
We could pick on the simplistic plot. As I’ve alluded, this is a sort of pre-historic West Side Story; this star-crossed love does work out. Obviously, the focus is the setting, atmosphere, and tone; that’s not to say that the acting isn’t good. These roles are types. Yet the two tribes are not so divergent that their ultimate reconciliation seems at all implausible.
There’s a sociological aspect in this, which is unexpected and makes up, in large part, for the melodramatic plot and characters. Taken on its own terms, One Million B.C. is ambitious and highly entertaining.
Just to make it interesting, not all sci-fi/monster movies are great stuff--here’s some terrible ones
Death Curse of Tartu, 1966. 3/10
Some hip kids party in the Everglades; near an Indian chief’s burial site. The burial curse deal is somewhat reminiscent of the plot in From Hell It Came, although this native chief at least has the pull to return as a mummy, instead of as a Tobanga (a walking tree). Actually Death Curse of Tartu has a solid premise; all it takes is to suspend disbelief in curses, and the door (tomb?) is open.
One noticeable issue is apparent right away: when nearly all the characters only have first names, we can pretty much figure that the treatment here will remain superficial. At least Ed and Julie Tison (Fred Pinero and Nanette Sherrill) are mature enough to have last names. But then there’s Billy (Bill Marcus), Johnny, Tommy, Joann, Cindy, and, oh yeah, Tartu himself (Doug Hobart).
Oh, good, starting off in a cave is just about right. And a cool coffin, a hand emerging...The explorer guy is trapped. Not by a mummy though, but a regular native, in full tribal garb. To the next explorer, Sam (Frank Weed), the guide Billy gives sufficient warning "I have seen my people bring back the bodies of dead men..." after walking around much too long Sam finds a nice skull on a stick. Time for coffee (doesn’t look like any morsels left on the skull).
Why does Sam need that Coleman lantern in the daylight? Some animal skulls lying about. Cut back to the Native Americans: man, it’s Tartu! Awful good semi-decayed mummy, with snakes slithering about. Back at camp, we got, what, a rock? A gigantic snake surrounds the bundled thing, studded with some kind of hieroglyphics, as Sam goes reconnoitering. A cunning snake whisks out of a tree and does him in. Man, I’m never going there.
Back in town, Ed talks to Billy. "The drums, the chanting..." Billy tells of the 400-year old legend of Tartu, keeper of the burial mound. The Tison’s are off for a trip to just that place--with a party of young folks. "Do you think anything...could be ...wrong?" No, just two missing explorers recently. Ok, so the college kids are archeology students. Here again we see the camp, the skulls, the coffee pot. "I don’t want a bunch of panicky kids on my hand!" But you do. The kids go to ’roast marshmallows’.
The marshmallows aren’t getting as hot and groovy as the make-out set. Meanwhile, Tartu is warming up as well. Back with marshmallow-set, swimming with, a shark? With just an ankle and foot left, Johnny has danced his last funky dance. Alligators have destroyed the airboats. "There’s somethings on this planet that scientists have no answer to" yes, Ed, that’s right. For example--why does it take Tartu so long to completely come back to life? Get that dude some espresso or something.
Anyway, Johnny agrees to hoof it back to civilization for help. Snakes are shadowing him. Well, hurry it up or... ok, a snake gets him. Cindy had a dream that it was a snake from Tartu’s cave. So they go off to check out the cave. "Let’s pay Mr. Tartu a visit!" The Tison’s find Sam’s corpse. They also find out that they’re trapped; Cindy escapes, pursued by an alligator.
They blow the cave door open with the powder from a few cartridges; which somehow has the explosive power of a hand grenade. Forget Tartu, they go looking for Cindy. For some reason, the gators ignore Ed and Julie, so scratch Cindy. Tartu is still sleeping off that 400-year deal. Ed and Julie go back to the cave, hoping to check out the stone casket. "Maybe Tartu didn’t exist" Shazam. Right behind you. Turning into his living incarnation, he attacks Ed.
Cindy runs off, but Tartu, having knocked out Ed, chases her. The denouement sees Tartu end up in quicksand--with a final throwback to his mummified state, the Tisons surviving. "Only nature could destroy him" Ed offers as an epilogue. And only this film can keep you away from bayous, jetboats, or anything connected with bodies of water.
I’m not being completely sarcastic there. By far the interest level is highest when the snakes and alligators are lunging about. The authentic setting gives an overall uncomfortable, lurking menace to the tone throughout. It’s just that nothing else works. Except for the very first scene, Tartu doesn’t figure in at all; as a regular human in the ending sequence, he’s just an ordinary antagonist.
That points to the central problem, for all the tribal references, there’s no observable connection between the natives and Tartu; the only other Native American we see is Billy. The cave is isolated, it might as well have a mummified alligator or snake. On the other hand, the promising beginning let’s us down as the mummy does absolutely nothing. What’s the point of saying he’s 400 years old if he quickly morphs into an ordinary guy?
In short, the premise was tossed quickly aside for what is essentially a survival-in-the-wilderness plot. There’s mention, here and there, that the truly menacing creatures are somehow controlled by Tartu. That would be cool; if the mummy were active, and had a bunch of snakes cooling around it or whatnot. But, as it is, the animals hardly need any prompting to be vicious.
Death Curse of Tartu, aside from good atmosphere and a couple of good scenes, is truly cursed.
Monolith Monsters, 1957.
******* 7.0
The desert, the ’50s, sci-fi, and monsters: you can’t beat that combo for entertaining mayhem. But our essential ingredient, the monster, is not a bug, a critter, a mutant guy (well, as a sideshow only), an alien, or a dinosaur...but, a bunch of rocks. Well, Monolith Monsters did for the mineral kingdom what 1961’s Day of the Triffids did for the vegetable kingdom. The only thing that’s really missing here is radiation/atomic blasts. But there is a meteor.
We’ve got the scientist Prof. Arthur Flanders (Trevor Bardette), geologist Dave Miller (Grant Williams), ’the girl’ Cathy (Lola Albright), Martin Cochrane (Les Tremayne), the police chief Dan Corey (William Flaherty), geologist Ben Gilbert (Phil Harvey), a couple of other experts, Drs. E.J. Reynolds (Richard H. Cutting) and Steve Hendricks (Harry Jackson), and, of course, Ginny (Linda Scheley), the kid-who’s-freaked-out. Not to be left out, there’s the obligatory old-timers in pick-ups getting the short end of things.
So what exactly do these townsfolk and outsiders have to contend with?One cool thing is that the rocks not only create havoc by growing and multiplying, but they also ’infect’ people that they contact when ’active’. So both individuals and society in general are endangered. We might question, what’s so scary about rocks? Well, obviously, there’s not anything neighborly about a rock slide; plus these monoliths, once they develop, have a somewhat futuristic/geometric crystal shape.
A meteor strike before the credits roll--that’s getting down to business! Geologist Ben’s woody wagon overheats and drops water onto some funny-looking rocks. He goes back to the Old West type little town that looks suspiciously like the one in Tarantula. So, the sample rock he brings back "...doesn’t just seem to belong" That night a storm blows in, dousing the rock (well, we assume there’s rain coming in the open window). It’s alive! err, growing, anyway.
Dave returns to find a lava-burst of meteor stuff oozing all over the lab, and a petrified Ben, who keels over like a statue. Meanwhile, out in the desert, Cathy takes a bunch of kids for a field trip (in a ’56 two-tone Dodge Sierra wagon, like the one my family had back then). Ginny takes a funny rock home, washed it off...uh-oh. At the same time, Ben’s autopsy reveals...a mystery. "Local geologist turns to rock?" muses the newspaper guy.
Dave brainstorms with the local notables. He, Cathy, and the police chief go out to the kid’s house. The oddball rocks have busted up the place; the girl’s in a daze, and partly ’stoned’. Back to the lab with Dave: "Everywhere this stuff goes people die." So, Drs. Reynolds and Hendricks get involved. Weirdly, they stick Ginny in an iron lung for x-rays. Next step is to get Prof. Flanders input. He, at least, points out that the strange rock is from a meteorite.
So, naturally, they head back to the source, in the desert. "We’ve got a meteor to find!" The experts huddle up at the girl’s destroyed house. Apparently, the rock absorbs silicate from everything around it, including humans. They find the spot who Ginny picked up the dark-colored rock. There’s a lot of it there--with a big black crystal--the crash site. Ginny’s still hanging on.
The bad news is, another storm’s brewing. A huge deal this time; because back at the crater a monolith’s forming. Same thing at the lab--Dave and Fleming figure out that water causes it to grow. Driving back to the meteor site, the monoliths are ascending into giant pyramids, collapsing, then building up again. Looks bad, "there won’t be a living thing left!" Interestingly, no one doubts the threat. What’s this, though? Ginny is getting better.
The phones and power are down in San Angelo, but the police radio works. Dave deduced from talking to Ginny’s doctor Hendricks that the solution that saved Ginny can be used to stop the monoliths; but the key ingredient remains a mystery. Pretty cool monolith path of destruction, as it/they close in on the town. The side plot of the local kids distributing evacuation notices seems extraneous; the plot doesn’t have to tie things up this neat.
Finally Dave tries a saline solution on their unlucky sample rock. Viola! The ’solution’ is at hand; another brainstorming session. So Dave figures if they flood the dry salt lake between the monoliths and the mountains, they might stop them. They need the government’s permission to dynamite a damn--this aspect is handled off-stage. The monoliths, like the Tarantula in that movie, close in on the town without actually getting there. The charges are set...
"Dave, is everything all right?" Asks Cathy, as Dave wheels back to town. If I were him I’d say something like ’well, if the monoliths don’t destroy the town--and maybe then the rest of the world--before we blow the dam that just might destroy them if there’s enough salt in the dry lake...then, yeah, it’s all good’. Anyway, Dave doesn’t wait for the governor’s decision. Sure enough, the salt water dissolves the mutating rock.
All five people, the principal characters that is, look on, gratefully. This is very enjoyable, surprisingly well-acted, has fairly good suspense and pacing, and doesn’t strain our suspension of disbelief much. Having the entire premise depend one purely geological properties makes things much simpler than the ’explanation’ of the phenomena in most sci-fi movies.
We’re not asked to ponder distant planets/galaxies, aliens and their intentions, the effects of radiation, etc. What’s usually a difficult task in a movie like this--keeping the focus on the isolated community, while including the larger outside society, is deftly handled. The link is Ginny’s predicament.
They have to evacuate her to L.A. for treatment, and it’s there that Dr. Hendricks first happens on the antidote (indirectly) to the rock’s growth. Blowing the dam certainly involves higher authority, but, as mentioned, this doesn’t involve subplots and distractions. Lastly, this is believably an isolated occurrence, as the meteorite can only affect the area in the vicinity of the crash site. For all of these reasons the half dozen or so principal characters can handle most of the plot and scenes effectively.
Other than some script flaws mentioned above, Monolith Monsters does a good job throwing us into an otherworldly crisis, keeping us guessing, and pulling us up at the last minute. If you liked Tarantula, The Giant Gila Monster, and Them!, then get petrified by this classic-era sci-fi menace-in-the-desert movie.
The Amazing Colossal Man, 1957.
*******7.0
"What Did You Expect, Snow-White And The Seven Dwarfs?"
Ah, yes, the ’50s, the desert, atomic tests, and an unfortunate mutant. The comfort zone of classic-era sci-fi fans. As we now know, all the guys in the trenches would be in some danger from the test blast’s radiation, regardless of their dark glasses. Col. Glenn Manning (Glenn Langan) is doubly brave--trying to rescue a downed pilot at ground zero. Carol (Gloria Talbot), his fiancee, is pretty good grieving over his painful predicament.
We’re dealing with actual personalities here, not just the ’usual suspects’ common in this genre: the scientist, the hothead, the authorities, the locals, the girl, even the girl/scientist, etc. Well, those types are present too, but only in supporting roles. There’s pretty good suspense too, as Carol, surprised by finding out suddenly that she can’t see the Glenn for "security reasons." So she knows something’s wrong, but has no idea what. His records have been destroyed. She does some sleuthing and skulking about, film-noirish style. And, then, she finds her fiancee all right, all eighteen feet of him.
Then we get the junk-science ’explanation’ from the doctors. Interestingly, Manning has a flashback to his Korean War days. Very good mixture of stock footage and live action. There’s a pretty violent ambush scene in which he loses a buddy. Then another memory: an innocent scene with Carol on a picnic. Lastly in his reverie, the blast happens again. Manning wakes up, now 22 feet tall. It seems naive, but Carol tries to comfort him. Ironically, like the freak that he feels he’s become, he’s going to be put up in a circus tent.
The newscast from Las Vegas, with a pan of the casinos, hints that we’re going to see more from there. "By the way, where’s Manning?" asks a doctor; he and Carol are hanging out. That seems hokey, but again, there’s an authenticity to their interactions. He’s depressed and angry, but more or less ok. In fact, most of his interactions are fascinating. "I think you’re the freak!" he tells the soldier who brings him food. His fatal flaw is an underdeveloped heart. "His mind will go first, then his heart will literally explode." the doc tells Carol. More tension, more suspense.
Glenn basically tells her to buzz off--he just can’t take the embarrassment anymore. Then he does what all movie monsters do--he gets loose. The doctors think they have an answer; they’ve figured out how to shrink animals...could the jibber-jabber fix work on Manning? Fittingly, two drunks spot him first. By now, of course, he’s considered dangerous; he’s a wanted man. He’s dying, and he’s losing it mentally.
It takes awhile to spot him again. Too many meetings and such. The scenes in the casino area is great; you can see that Manning is curious, even fascinated by how things look. He muses over the over-sized casino doodads--the crown, the shoe, the Arab figure. But (thanks to the afore-mentioned hothead types) he’s shot at. Time for a bit of a rampage. Everything is heading for a denouement at Hoover Dam. The gigantic hypodermic needle is well-modeled; skewering the soldier with it was a unique bit too. Fay Wray-style, Carol gets scooped up. Putting her down, he’s blown off the dam to his death below.
The ending is the weakest part of the movie. Why don’t they tell Manning what they’re injecting him with? For all he knows it might be lethal; No wonder he reacts violently. And why kill him if there’s a chance he could return to normal size? After all, what got him into all this was an act of kindness and bravery. He’s not a bad guy. The special effects weaken as well; Manning is partly invisible in all of the Las Vegas and Hoover Dam scenes.
Still, The Amazing Colossal Man is mostly successful. The premise is certainly interesting, the pacing, though lagging in the middle, is generally good; both Langan and Downs give solid, sympathetic performances. The special effects are uneven, but not bad overall. There’s few movie ’monsters’ who are drawn as thoughtfully as Col. Mannings’s character. Recommended for classic-era sci-fi fans, despite its flaws.
The Crawling Eye, 1957.
******* 7.0
"Sounds Crazy To Me--Bombing A Cloud..."
This classic-era sci-fi movie has an interesting angle with the psychic Anne (Janet Munro). Her and her mind-reader-sister Sarah (Jennifer Jayne) happen to be drawn to the Trollenberg just as the mayhem begins with a climber’s gruesome death. And then the scientists converge (Forrest Tucker as Alan, William Mitchell as Prof. Crevett) for an ’urgent’ meeting concerning disappearing and dead climbers and strange clouds "a radioactive freak of nature." Then there’s superstitious villagers, including a rumored clairvoyant ’witch’. A rare sci-fi/horror double theme--the isolated setting matches up well with both genres.
The practical effect of Anne’s premonitions is to help create suspense by foreshadowing. Although the monster isn’t completely visible until near the end, it’s gradually revealed, thanks to its cloudy, foggy ’wrappings’. Plus it leaves its calling card, headless corpses. As seems to be part of the recipe for some films of this type, the monster recruits the victims into a sort of zombie posse. It seems that the redoubtable scientists quickly surmise that the phenomenon is extra-terrestrial; not only that, but also that it’s bent on world domination, due to its dying world, etc.
Sometimes it takes the majority of a movie’s run time to reach these conclusions. These guys must’ve seen their fair share of sci-fi movies--it’s good that skepticism isn’t a major plot point, but here conjecture equals facts. Alan seems to anticipate everything--a bit too convenient.
The horror aspect is never far away, as a dutiful knife-wielding ex-climber-zombie stalks Anne, only to be shot in the nick of time. The cloud mist literally crawling under doorways is a memorable image. Also, the scene of the little girl chasing her ball while the finally-revealed eye tries to ensnare her. Come to think of it, the combination of the supernatural-like eye’s misty incarnation and it’s use of extreme cold are powerful tools. We could quibble with the zombie deal, however.
Since those guys are dead, how can shooting and stabbing ’kill’ them? Anyway, at long last, the eye(s), err, octopus, crawls up to the headquarters (observatory) in full array. It’s cool that there’s more than one, always a plus in movies like this. No monster deprivation.
The antidote to our crawling nemesis is as obvious as it is logical: fire bombs. Nice to see RAF Glouster Meteors on the attack instead of the usual Starfighters or Shooting Stars as in U.S. movies of this era. With the mountain barbeque complete, we exit quickly, which is noteworthy. We’re spared the omniscient narrator going on about saving civilization, mankind, etc. One final quibble, how does the observatory avoid incineration? After all, Alan made it explicit to the pilots to basically bomb their position.
This is a fairly quickly-paced, well-acted, suspenseful effort. Pretty good special effects too. Both sci-fi and horror elements work well and complement each other. Both genres have in common an antagonistic being or force that needs to be dealt with before everyone is demonized, killed, or whatnot. Worth watching, especially for unusual elements.
From Hell It Came, 1957.
**** 4.0
"What Do You Make Of That Green Ooze?
From Hell It Came is a pretty good title for this schlocky example from the golden age of science fiction. The title also points out a problem with the admittedly original premise. Is this horror--with the supernatural on hand? Or--with South Seas nuclear testing and subsequent radioactive fallout on tap--is it sci-fi? It’s both, I suppose. But the revenge plot only works with the Tabanga as a supernatural manifestation.
With black magic, murder, a curse, and mythological creature emerging--all products of the traditional culture, who needs science? There could still be Yankee interlopers to witness the drama; but, instead, the narrative is sort of hijacked by the American scientists’ parallel story. Suspension of disbelief should have an internal logic to build it up and hold it together. That is, I can accept a tree-monster as a wronged tribal chief seeking vengeance, but not if he’s also the mutant result of radioactivity.
I’m taking From Hell It Came seriously because it did have enough elements to more or less carry it along. The acting wasn’t too bad--although Mae seemed just to waste time with her everlasting annoying chatter. The Tod Andrews/Tina Carver romance was similarly just a distraction. Most of the natives had little to do. Actually, the Tabanga works well enough: it does look creepy, and, fittingly, does get its revenge. Interestingly, the evil chief wants to use it more or less like a zombie. Poison supposedly will tweak it into becoming a hit-man role for the bad guy. Once that idea’s raised, though, we never hear about it again.
It might’ve been cool if the Tabanga, sort of Frankenstein-monster-like, has to wrestle with his ’conscience’. Does he carry out his righteous vendetta? Or give in to the poisoness influence of Maranka? (Or is it Tano?). I like how the natives think they’ve killed the Tabanga, and, in typical sci-fi/horror fashion, they’re wrong--the thing is still out and about. Similarly, when the scientists inject the Tabanga with their reanimating junk, they leave it be, not expecting anything. Then, like the monster in The Thing, it gives the humans a nasty surprise by getting a head start.
A movie of this sort should have some sort of palpable tension. But only the natives seem very worried when the Tobanga starts to sprout out of Kimo’s grave. The scientists act as if they’ve discovered some new specie of wildflower; they’re surprised, but the Tabanga doesn’t keep them from their subplots. They only perk up when it escapes. That leads, strangely, to Terry’s (Carver’s) desire to keep it alive. The old ’quest for scientific knowledge’ excuse; another device used better in many other sci-fi films of the era. It’s something mentioned, like Tano’s zombie idea, then just as quickly dropped.
Maybe the horror/sci-fi blend would’ve worked better without the huge ethnocentric dose dumped on the natives. It’s not just that they’re referred to as having "stupid blind ignorance" since they’re "children", not to mention "cannibals" (that one admittedly from the loony Mae). The worst is the patronizing tone with which their "medicine" is dismissed. Ok, maybe their "medicine" depends on magic or whatnot, but one such context is in a discussion with a native girl who’s suffered disfiguring effects from radiation. Who’s fault is that? Who has the black magic? Well, I’d like to think that those scenes and dialogue were merely clumsily done, the result of amateurish filmmaking.
Neither the unconvincing attempt to blend genres, nor the weak attempt to focus on two cultures worked decently enough. Still, I don’t think that From Hell It Came is terrible, and certainly not one of the all-time worst sci-fi movies. It’s deeply flawed, but entertaining here and there.
Plan 9 From Outer Space, 1957.
*****+ 5.5
Plan 10: Ghoul Man’s Resurrection?
Did Ed Wood intentionally create bad films, was he forced to make compromises and improvise for lack of funds, or was he missing a few clues? Possibly a little bit of each. In any case, Plan 9 has achieved cult status for its hodgepodge of horror and sci-fi cliches energized with odd performances against less than special effects. Poor Bela Lugosi had the bizarre fate of actually dying--off-screen--while playing an undead ghoul.
Aside from Lugosi’s Ghoul Man role, there’s his wife Vampira (Maila Nurmi), Tor Johnson as Police inspector Clay, the Trent family, Jeff and Paula (Gregory Walcott, and Mona McKinnon), the three aliens, the Ruler, Tanna, and Eros (John Breckenridge, Joanna Lee, and Dudley Manlove), General Roberts (Lyle Talbot), patrolman Larry (Duke Marco), and an actual psychic, Chriswell who plays himself, and narrates.
Chriswell begins: "what happened on that fateful day." Grave robbers from outer space? What? Don’t they have dead folks on their planet? The credits are pretty cool: the cast’s names apper on headstones. Ghoul Man’s wife, Vampira, has died. Can she do that? Meanwhile, an airliner is buzzed by a ufo; the spacecraft lands near the graveyard we were just at. Vampira has come back to life. Ghoul Man dies--he’s got an above-ground crypt. For some reason the two gravediggers are dead.
That brings the cops out (led by Tor Johnson). The pilot, Jeff, safely at home, tells his wife Paula about the ufo. It conveniently buzzes their house and the graveyard. As the Inspector goes to investigate, he’s spooked by both ghouls (Lugosi has reappeared) and dies. "Wonder if the saucer had something to do with this?" Impossibly, his burial is that same night--Vampira looks on. With the saucers supposedly everywhere, we see (thanks to stock footage) the army and air force attack them.
Now, in outer space, a spacecraft docks at a station. The aliens (Eros, Tanna, and the Ruler) have a conference to discuss Plan 9. "Report to me in two earth days" says the Leader. We mere Earthlings learn something here: the aliens want to take over our dead people because, having no thoughts, they can be controlled. Ghoul Man goes to check out Paula Trent. She flees to the cemetary, just in time to see the Inspector come back to life, and crawl out of his grave. Now we’ve got three ghoul aliens. Paula gets away thanks to a good Samaritan.
The police return to the graveyard; but the ghouls walk up to the spaceship and enter. The craft takes off. Two of the cops see the saucer; then they discover the Inspector’s messed up grave. Back in Washington, at the Pentagon, the military discuss the ufos. The General says that they’ve been contacted by the aliens. Thanks to a cunning bit of technology, they can listen to the alien Leader. It’s the usual stuff about how we’re endangering the "entire universe" with our nuclear activity.
Back to the alien spacecraft: the ghoulish inspector proves he’s a wild card by attacking them. The aliens neutralize him, and discuss what to do next. It’s an ominous plan: armies of controllable (?) dead people taking over the earth. They return to Earth. Why did they leave anyway? Now, ye olde Ghoul Man shows up at the Trent’s. He’s about to scare them to death, when a sort of laser emits from the spacecraft, reducing Ghoul Man to a skeleton. The chief alien did say he was expendable.
The Colonel and all the others converge on the cemetary--dangerously close to the spacecraft. Eros sends Inspector Ghoul to get the Earthlings’ attention. Actually, he just whacks one of the officers, while the aliens let the good guys inside. "Do we have to kill them?" asks Tanna. Yes, of course. On a video screen, Eros shows them the Inspector carrying Paula.
Then he gives them the ’you guys are trashing the universe’ speech. Nothing about the aliens convinces: their unremarkable appearance, the obvious banality of the spaceships interior, Eros’s talky patronizing tone; it’s just silly. A fistfight ensues--don’t these guys have weapons? Probably because of busted-up equipment, the craft catches fire. The good guys open the door, and manage to split. The Inspector’s reduced to a skeleton, and the flaming saucer takes off, only to explode over the city. Some wrap-up by the narrator finishes things off. The end.
This was a bit better than I remember it: the pacing was pretty good, there was a lot going on, and the premise made some sense (if we bend suspension of disbelief enough). The blend of genres was a good idea. After all, what’s the point of having zombies (technically, reanimated ghouls) if they’re just going to scare people? Why not have aliens recruit them?
The best aspect was the genuinely creepy nature of these ghouls--Vampira would make the grade in any horror movie of the era. Left unresolved, if we choose to wonder, is just how the ghouls are able to kill people; on the other hand, they seem impervious to bullets, but can be knocked down.
Other than some wooden acting, and a tone problem, it’s the alien milieu that makes us roll our eyes. Absurdity is one thing, but plain hokey stuff just wrecks the overall effect. The exterior of the ufos, and the space station, aren’t at all bad. But we don’t expect the product of their proclaimed advanced civilization (the spacecraft) to look like a potting shed inside. What happened to the round shape? Isn’t that a construction-site blinker on top of one of their devices? Is that table from a thrift store? Oh, well.
Plan 9 From Outer Space is ambitious, and certainly original. To answer the questions I began with: this is a decent effort drastically undermined by its small budget.
Here’s something that we wish would go bump in the night:
Cosmic Monsters, 1958.
**** 4.0
Known as The Strange World of Planet X in England.
Giant insects, influences from outer space, black & white, made in England–a promising classic-era sci-fi mixture. This is one that I haven’t seen since it was first on TV in the early ’60s. There’s the requisite American, Forrest Tucker, as Gil Graham; his assistant Michele Dupont (Gaby Andre), more-or-less mad scientist Dr. Laird (Alec Mango), an alien guy, Smith (Martin Benson), and the military and police General Cartwright (Wyndham Goldie) and Inspector Burns (Richard Warner). Also, Jimmy Murray (Hugh Latimer), Helen Forsyth (Patricia Sinclair), and Gerald Wilson (Geoffrey Chater).
Strangely, it’s a magnetic field, and not radiation, that causes the mutation mayhem. Good old weird sci-fi music accompanies the narration of science venturing forth, etc. Aha! a lab at a country estate. Dr. Laird is tooling up something with Graham…while, in London, the Brigadier meets with the Inspector. They discuss the immense sums the government is throwing at Laird for his “baloney…a bottomless piece of folly” Anyway, they discuss some metal blocks. Very interesting.
Michele shows up to take her job at the lab. She learns that the guys are working on “the molecular structure of metal” and the interplay of that with magnetism. They’re astonished to learn that Michele isn’t there just as window dressing. Out in the village, a wandering ne’er-do-well puts in an appearance. Back at the lab, Gil is busy sizing up Michele. Thankfully, we soon go back to the wandering guy in the forest.
No one has really bothered to do anything yet. Michele’s job consists of throwing a switch and announcing “computer: on”. They appear to be microwaving some metal or something. A thunderstorm does something to mess with the experiment. A meteor (ufo maybe) zips by, “The invasion from Planet X” they call it. Cartwright shows the exciting metal bits to the Inspector, they look them over with great interest.
Gil and Michele go over the experiment: they’ve recorded some weird squeeks and shrieks. But they conclude that the power surge during the experiment wasn’t due to the storm itself, but the storm was brought on by the meteor/ufo. Meanwhile, they mess up the mansion’s feng shui by putting up armored barriers. A girl runs into Smith in the forest. Is he an alien? He’s a stranger, and he’s got “funny whiskers” (must be an alien).
He’s curious about Laird, using an alien paging-type device to alert ‘headquarters’. Lurking in the shadows, the hermit goes after the new teacher, Helen. At a pub, fish-out-of-water Smith shows up; Gil, Michele, and Gerald are already there. Murray tells them about the attack on Helen. Just like that, there’s another attack.
Gil has a brainstorm about the mysterious power surge; Laird admits that the experiment produced a super magnetic field. Of course, Laird doesn’t care about the consequences, he’s all about science-for-its-own-sake. Out in the sticks, the latest victim is found; also a rotting corpse; something disgusting emerges from the woods–probably a giant bug.
Michele talks to Smith. The next evening, wanting to slake each other’s curiosity, Smith meets with Gil and Michele. Smith’s message: deadly cosmic rays will drive people crazy. Which will be in a different movie, I guess, since the effects take hold only gradually. But insects are susceptible to more immediate influence.
Naturally, the bug-curious young girl finds a watermelon-sized egg in the woods, as creepy giant centipedes and such slither about. Now, at last, there’s a sense of danger. At the Inspector’s office, Gil, Cartwright, and others agree that they have to in investigate Smith. Unaware of the big bug menace, Helen is trapped at the country schoolhouse. The critters are reminiscent of those in 1954’s Them!, especially their cricket-like noises.
Everyone, including a couple of soldiers, come to the rescue. Michele gets stuck in a spider web, and looks on while a bug and spider fight it out. More soldiers pop up; awkwardly the men are shown apart from the monster bugs, so that they may as well not even exist in the same world, which they don’t. But we do see one gruesome bug attack. Back at the lab, Laird is adamant that nothing will interfere with his work, and shoots Gerald.
At the school, Smith confesses that he’s an alien. He explains about himself and Planet X. It’s revealed that the meteor was one of their space craft that Laird’s experiments brought down. His message: stop the experiments. “Yours in the strange world.” Ok, good point. The bugs won’t be an ongoing problem, he says. He fools with his pager/smart phone deal to contact his spacecraft, presumably to get the heck out. But not before the ufo blasts the mansion sky-high, including Laird with all his contraptions. The end.
Very disappointing in just about every way. This is one classic-era sci-fi movie in which I remembered nothing but the title. No wonder. There simply is very little going on. It takes until the last part of the movie before we get to the giant bugs, the so-called “monsters.”
The fundamental problem with Cosmic Monsters is that its parts don’t really fit into a comprehensible whole. Why is the hermit guy’s face burned? Why is he attacked? Why are the various women attacked by him? Who cares whether Michele prefers Gil to Gerald? Why are bugs affected by the weird force and not people? Other than the unfortunate hermit and one soldier, the bugs really don’t do all that much.
Neither do the people. In the first place, it might’ve not strained suspension of disbelief so much if Laird had been doing nuclear experiments involving radiation. The magnetic field stuff doesn’t seem space-age enough up to spark the interests of aliens or to cause mutations. It’s just too obscure. There’s hardly any direct interaction among Smith, the insects, and Laird (excepting Smith’s dispatching one of the bugs).
That issue also touches on the generally disinterested characters. They don’t seem too amazed that there’s a ufo, an alien, or even dangerous experiments (why not just shut Laird down instead of wringing their hands about him?). Conveniently, the bug menace is only affecting that one locale; there’s info that sea creatures are similarly affected, but no one seems to mind that. Given that explanation, I’m not expecting the entire British Army to show to defend the schoolhouse, but one squad of guys isn’t much of a response.
Cosmic Monsters starts out slowly and only builds to a bit of genuine sci-fi stuff towards the end. For a simple plot there’s way too many distractions and subplots that somehow make for a confusing overall effect. Not recommended.
The Time Machine, 1960.
********* 9.0
Probably the best adaptation of a science fiction novel to film. H.G. Well’s late-Victorian era time traveler is Rod Taylor. His buddy David Filby is played by Alan Young (who conveniently also plays Filby’s son James). Yvette Mimieux is one of the dystopian Eloi, while, back in 1900 England, there’s Sebastian Cabot as Dr. Phillip Hillyer, Tom Helmore as Anthony Bridewell, Walter Kemp is played by Whit Bissell, and Well’s housekeeper is Mrs. Watchett (Doris Lloyd).
The book has a well-thought-out plot. In an initial get-together of Wells (just ‘George’ here) and his colleagues, he stumbles in, and launches into a flashback to relate the main story. Without too much set-up, George bursts forward through time in his machine; somewhat unluckily making pit stops in the middle of the world wars (including a hypothetical WWIII in the 1960s). The bulk of the plot, though, considers a far-future society of the monstrous Morlocks and naive Eloi.
After a successful intervention for the Eloi, Wells returns to 1900, and resumes his report from the future to his still skeptical dinner guests. They’re a good stand-in for the viewer, as the plausibility of George’s adventures is enhanced for the simple reason that the other guys can’t be expected to understand how his time machine works, but only whether or not what George’s narrative (the movie itself) seems convincing. He doesn’t have to wait around to ‘prove’ anything, as he can simply escape to the future.
Strangely, George’s invention is only considered from an investment angle by his friends. Believing in his machine is seemingly less important than its commercial possibilities. It’s also odd that, before George ‘takes off’, Filby doesn’t even want to see the full-sized machine. By the end, though, Filby is definitely a believer. In any case, the machine itself manages to look suitably ornate and functional at the same time: a spinning Ouija board propelling a cushy chair, with a slot machine for instrumentation.
Once among the Eloi, there’s plenty moire interesting visuals: futuristic (though post-apocalyptic) buildings, and the Edenic look of the countryside is great–even the bowls of fruit and veggies. It seems that the Eloi are sort of out of it; like they don’t deserve their good fortune. Of course, they’re delusional, and don’t have a good deal after all. George thinks he can “reawaken” the Eloi’s humanity. Along those lines, the “talking rings” are a fascinating concept–retainers of civilized knowledge. The interior of the building containing that stuff is another great quasi-futuristic set.
It’s a weird inversion of fortune that the Morlocks control all of the machinery–more great sets in the subterranean world. The Morlocks’ creepiest feature is their glowing eyes; like most monsters they have a fatal flaw–fear of fire. It proves relatively easy to burn them out. George is pretty much successful in restoring the Eloi’s sense of humanity. The denouement is well-done. He wants to take Weena back to 1900 with him, but a last-gasp Morlock attack prevents that.
This production benefits from excellent and wide-ranging special effects and an overall sumptuous look. There’s not only the 1900 period detail to wrap around the story but the other points visited as well; though more than a bit inaccurate, the 1966 scenes show the fantastic destructive effects of a nuclear attack . Despite a relatively long run time, the pacing never lets the story lag. Which is all the more amazing, considering the amount of fourth-dimensional territory covered. Of course, Wells set the parameters for the story; nonetheless, the filmmaker updated it, and did so with a deft touch.
This production benefits from excellent and wide-ranging special effects and an overall sumptuous look. There’s not only the 1900 period detail to wrap around the story but the other points visited as well; though more than a bit inaccurate, the 1966 scenes show the cataclysmic destructive effects of a nuclear attack .
In a sort of sentimental way, seeing the movie now has its own time travel element. In fact, as of 2019, it’s been longer since the movie was made than the time depicted (in the 1900 frame story) was from the 1960 release date. One light-hearted bit that works very well is George’s view of the shop window, with the ever-changing clothes on the mannequin.
Journey To The Center Of The Earth, 1959.
******* 7.0
James Mason, Pat Boone, Arlene Dahl, and Peter Ronson descend into a volcano in Iceland, have a splendid but devilish time of it, and pop up, literally, in another volcano in Italy. Along the way, they blunder into a rival, Count Saknussemm (Thayer David). Jules Verne supplied the premise, and the Victorian setting. 1950s sci-fi provided, fairly lavishly, the special effects. And Gertrude the duck earned a prominent place for critters. Mason is Sir Oliver, a science professor, Boone is his protege, Alec, Dahl is the widow Carla Goteborg.
Her husband had set out on his own expedition, but was killed by Saknussemm, descendant of a much earlier explorer. Local guy Hans (Ronson) joins up, including his Gertrude. The Count tries to mess with the party, but ends up having to join them.
It’s been decades since my previous viewing, so I’d forgotten the thick subplots that go on for 45 minutes before there is any descent into the earth. The main plot ought to start the first time Sir Oliver and Alec sidle up to the Icelandic volcano. At that juncture, we’ve already got the rivalry, Alec’s romance with Jenny (Diane Baker), and some unfinished business of Sir Oliver’s back in Edinburgh. I guess Gertrude’s contract stipulated a lot of Icelandic scenes.
Finally, once we get into the earth, things definitely get more interesting. I like movies with caves: this is, of course, the ultimate cave situation. The pathways themselves are outstanding; some virtiginous, others claustrophobic, dark, luminous, labyrinthine, etc. And beautiful; jewel-studded crystalline formations, pools, waterfalls, even an ocean, with a beach–not to mention magic mushrooms and dinosaurs.
The dinosaurs are about as good as monsters get in movies of this type. There’s a lot of them too. And, they’re not invincible–Hans has to kill one that threatens Carla. Once aboard their raft, on the ocean, they get sucked into a vortex. The center of the earth? Ok, but they wash up on some other underground beach. Gertrude, the most intepid explorer of all, finds a cave leading to the ruins of Atlantis. Unfortunately, the evil Count has made a snack of Gertrude.
Pretty cool Atlantis ruins: mosiacs and such, and of course, assorted pillars, in the rubble of which there’s and a skeleton of the Count’s ancestor/explorer. Conveniently, the skeleton’s hand points to an airshaft: the way to the surface. Another giant lizard lurks nearby. That’s not all, an outcropping blocks the passageway. Ah, but the gunpowder left behind just might be enough to…cover the lizard with lava from the expected earthquake, and tootle the explorers up the shaft in the convenient altar stone. Deliverance.
A final celebration for all four at Edinburgh. Alec marries Jenny, and it seems that Carla and Sir Oliver have the same intention. The end and such. Excellent sci-fi adventure, in the Around the World in Eighty Days and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea mode.
I’ve got a great deal of interest in these 1950s Jules Verne and H.G. Wells adaptations. This was the earliest type of film that I remember from childhood. And now, having become a fan of sci-fi, the Victorian era, and literary-inspired films, Journey to the Center of the Earth pretty much does it all.
The attention to period detail is very assiduous, and the special effects are among the best of the era. The acting isn’t great, but Mason, at least, makes a very convincing eccentric but esteemed leader. Dahl’s role is interesting, as she’s not just “the girl,” in fact, she provides much of the equipment for the expedition.
Unfortunately, the movie is so weighed down with all the unnecessary stuff in the extended Edinburgh and Icelandic scenes that, by the time the actual expedition gets going, it feels like an entirely different movie. Some of this stuff is useful, but a good twenty minutes could’ve been left off without hurting continuity.
Farmermouse thought Gertrude got a bad break, so he’s vowed to lead his own expedition with a bunch of giant ducks to eat up some bad guys and lizards down there. He gives this seven jewels from the caverns.
The Tunnel/The Transatlantic Tunnel, 1935.
*******+ 7.5
Very engaging visually.
Richard Dix and Leslie Banks are engineers in this ’30s futuristic sci-fi movie about making a tunnel under the Atlantic connecting London and New York City. Dix is Richard McAllan, Marge Evans plays his wife Ruth, and Jimmy Handley, their son, Geoffrey. Banks is Frederick Robbins.
Then there’s the Lloyd’s, Varlia (Helen Vinson and her father, C. Aubrey Smith), who are wealthy backers of the enterprise. An interesting couple of roles here: the President of the U.S (Walter Huston) and the Prime Minister of Great Britain (George Arliss). The plot needs these dudes on board to promote and approve the project .
This movie is known for cool special effects; all the more so, since, 85 years ago, everything had to be physically modelled or otherwise created. Another notable aspect is that, given the nature of the project, the drama plays out over a twenty-year period. So, there’s an entire new world out there, and not just under the sea.
As we might expect this super-tunnel (beats the Chunnel by 3,000 miles) concept has a relatively long history, going back to a German novel from 1915, followed by a few silent film versions.
We open at a concert.”It’s Beethoven, he’s dead.” All the lead characters are present. Richard and Ruth discuss the tunnel project; this is really a prelude to a business meeting, concerning funding. Apparently, we’re already in the future, as Richard (‘Mac’) is credited with having engineered the Channel Tunnel in 1940.
His presentation, though, is greeted with absolute silence. Ruth tells him “the world needs the tunnel.” Fortunately, the subsequent discussion is more appreciative: Grellier (Henry Oscar) and Mostyn (Basil Sydney) are in, so are the Lloyds.
We then find ourselves three years on–excellent transitions move us along, with just enough narration–we see the tunnel in-process on TV, no less. Then we’re on-site with ‘Robbie’ (Robbins), who’s the hands-on guy; the passenger railcars have an art-deco streamliner look. The control rooms are very impressive, with rows of wheels, dials, and video monitors. This stuff would’ve still looked futuristic if the movie had been made in the ’50s.
Leaving modelling and simulations aside, we see that Ruth drives a Stout Scarab–one of three prototype fully streamlined cars of the era. Then,- what’s this? A gyroplane (a helicopter/airplane hybrid, probably a model here). Avante-garde stuff. The gyroplane lands on top of a skyscraper.
That’s all good, but, backstage at Mac’s press conference, Robbie tells Ruth he’s in love with her. Anyway, Lloyd tells Mac he has to hype the tunnel to the media; funding’s drying up. So he and Varlia head for the States for a bunch of photo-ops.
Well, Ruth is sidling up to Robbie “I’ve lost him (Mac).” The romantic quadrangle (to include a possible Mac/Varlia liason) isn’t too interesting, but does impact the main plot. At a meeting with Lloyd, Robbie agrees to throw in with him in an attempt to pry the tunnel company from Mac; ok, Robbie’s dalliance with Ruth now gives him the motive to mess with her husband.
Back at the tunnel site, Ruth seems to be going blind, a result of exposure to some underground gas. Mac is coming back to England; we see this thanks to a video monitor that folds up from a living room console. Ruth sobs in Robbie’s arms; when Mac arrives, he learns from his friend that she’s left him.
Finally, we’re back to the drill site. A showdown: Robbie says he’s done with the tunnel. Remember, he’s got two aces up his sleeve–Ruth and the financial scheme. Still, he’s persuaded to stay. We learn that fifty people have died from the gas.
In Parliament, the Prime Minister gives a is that stirring speech: the tunnel is nearly finished. There’s a video hook-up with the President, who agrees with what the P.M. said. Plus an odd hint that the project will promote peace–through increased commerce?
Since time flies here, Mac and Ruth’s son is grown up; Robbie comes calling there to shoot the breeze, and check out Ruth, in the rose garden. Back on site, a new crisis: an underground/undersea volcano impinges on the tunnel, literally heating things up.
One cue, an eruption bursts through an inspection plate. What they have to do is detour around the volcano. Since this means more time, the investors want to pull out. Mac tells them the obvious; unless they avoid the volcano the whole tunnel will be destroyed by it.
Varlia tries to commiserate with Mac “The tunnel: it’s broken you, as it’s broken me.” She upbraids her father for giving up. Lloyd repeats the mantra that the tunnel, if completed, would bring “world peace.” Between two countries, maybe. Now, from her dad and Mostyn, she learns about the stock scam fouling things up. They bargain. That is, she trades herself “a spectacular self-sacrifice” for his investment. Ok, more than a triangle, or quadrangle, now it’s a love polygon.
Now Mac’s trying to literally rally the workers–forget the gas, let’s just bypass the volcano–well, he’s a convincing guy. Back with the toney set, Grellier feels betrayed by Mostyn; no more stock scam? Hey, what’s up with that, old boy?
Out on the street with another Scarab, there’s what looks like the Phantom Corsair, another legendary ’30s streamliner prototype. A family detail: Mac’s son is now working in the tunnel. The drill crew goes on with its work; a redundant confrontation of Robbie, Mac, and his son. The kid says “I hope it’s good and dangerous!” So he can be a he-man too, I guess.
One result of that stuff is that Robbie and Mac reconcile. Varlia comes to talk to Ruth (really blind now), about…divorcing Mac. They both love him, how could Ruth do it (supposedly ruin Mac)? “Are you blind?” Varlia clamors, meaning, blind to the truth. Yes, but don’t take that the wrong way, blind lady.
The tunnel. A scribbled note: the lava is just 400′ away. Actually, it’s…right here, in our laps, and it’s hot! Freaking out everywhere down there. Do they shut the dangerous sector, stopping the lava, but sealing off those guys’ escape route? Have to, but hundreds die.
Here’s the P.M. announcing that the tunnel must go on. In a sort of premonition, eerily similar to a Churchill speech, he insists that we have to continue construction because the “Eastern Federation of Powers” (meaning Germany, and perhaps also the Soviet Union) is poised to “strike” in the West. The president is completely in accord. So, ultimately, the tunnel is a military asset: a communication, logistic, and strategic corridor. That makes sense.
Among the volcano casualties, Jeffrey; Mac has to tell Ruth. Good thing is that the tragedy brings them closer to each other. Mac trots out the “peace” mission of the tunnel. That’s just not holding water. It will help in a war with that nasty “Eastern Federation,” but that’s assuming a war anyway. At most it’s a deterrent, like the French Maginot Line.
We get some great views from the drill–itself a gigantic vehicle, with its own control room. It’s the old heat problem now. Guys on the other side (eastbound from the States) can hear it coming though. Forty-five feet to go and the tunnel will go all the way. A final blast should do it…
Through the rubble, the two sets of workers unite. An announcement from London, then Washington. Both capital cities feature a gigantic tunnel opening. National anthems. We’re done. Well, Mack and Ruth have patched it up; and I guess Varlia has got stuck with Mostyn. Look out Eastern Federation.
Futuristic sci-fi is hard to pull off. Tunnel uses the slick, convincing device of immersing us in the future world; we’re simply there. There’s some narration, but that’s filtered through the unique double perspective of the TV/video monitor. We see futurism through a futuristic (by decades) media. And then, the metaphoric curtain, or literal frame provided by the monitor’s screen, gives way to our direct look at the events just mentioned.
As I’ve pointed out with the vehicles shown, no effort was spared to incorporate the most advanced automotive designs available in 1935 to further embellish the future magic. An exemption is the obvious ’30s roadster that we see while Varlia’s in the U.S. Even so, we only see the windshield and interior, so it doesn’t really register much.
With the exception of official buildings, which haven’t changed much anyway, interior scenes have the same art-deco look as the streamlined cars. The illusion that we’re in the future is not only initiated seamlessly, it’s a look and atmosphere that’s maintained throughout.
The tunnel itself has marvel’s everywhere. From the railcars, to the drill, the control tower, the ‘spacesuits’ for the workers, the volcanic eruption, even the scaffolding in the tunnel, it all looks like what such a project might look like in the time-period covered (mid-’30s to ’50s, presumably).
The political aspect was also engaging, if not quite as plausible. What was prescient, as mentioned, were the assumptions made by the P.M. that Britain and America were in danger of being attacked soon. In retrospect, many people would think that this was more or less obvious; fear of the U.S.S.R. in the West, for example, was at least as great as of Germany and Japan.
But Germany was still quite weak in ’35; there was by no means a certainly that there would be a WWII, or if there was, that Germany would be on the opposite side of the Western Powers. The strategic awareness shown in the speeches, therefore, is fairly remarkable.
What doesn’t add up is the alleged and almost strained emphasis on the tunnel’s ability to supposedly promote peace. Only in the roundabout way I’ve hinted at earlier.
Having built this amount of praise for Tunnel, there’s the significant problem of the romantic entanglements clogging it all up (a tunnel of love is a different sort of project). Other than the great quip that Ruth is “that blind,” this stuff inhabits too many scenes, burdening what otherwise is a nicely-paced script.
The exception would be the tunnel-shares-scam which figures into Robbie’s conflict with Mac over Ruth. If that had been the sole bit of indiscretion, then, ok. But Varlia’s contribution, other than the creepy deal with Mostyn, just eats up time to no real purpose.
All in all, a must see, especially for fans of pre-war sci-fi. Maybe a good follow-up would be to watch another early British futuristic film, 1936’s Things To Come, and compare special effects and political predictions.
Farmermouse was sure it must be Christmas, as such rare cars don’t just drive by everyday. Seven and a half humongous drill bits for Tunnel.
Things To Come. 1936
******** 8.0
Futuristic in the style of the contemporary The Tunnel, this is amazing visually.
This is certainly a unique movie. The action sequences are incredible–not only are they horrifying and fairly realistic (well, futuristic too), but they’re interspersed with semi-abstract montages that add a nightmarish quality. The blobby plastic-looking tanks are a bit much, but, as I suppose they were easily-modeled, there’s plenty to give a good battle simulation. As we quickly segue from 1940 to 1970, good olde Everytown is not only literally in a post-apocalyptic state, it even has plague-infected ‘hillpeople’ survivors. In fact, we’re pretty much back to Medieval times.
Meanwhile, Passworthy (Edward Chapman) makes a blustering ninny who thinks “the last war (WWI) wasn’t as bad as all that.” Later, he’s become a warlord of sorts, strutting about in cavemen furs draped over a Teutonic uniform with “I’m master here! I’m the State!” on his lips. Cabal (Raymond Massey) has become his more civilized antagonist. The sublime multi-engine aircraft are beautiful art deco creations. And dropping paratroopers, no less, along with ‘peace gas’ (that surely puts us comfortably in 1970).
The futuristic stuff keeps coming with the mining and excavating machinery; parts of an underground city of intricate beauty in 2036. Giant pneumatic tube-like elevators and monorails operate around a utopian cityscape. Plus, the interiors are equally streamlined visions of tomorrow; with a video/TV monitor, and wrist-mounted cellphones for the big-shots.
The sets reach their ultimate development once we get to the space cannon; its monumental launching apparatus reached by the sleek helicopter. By this time, the Passworthy character has become a ‘good guy’. But then, there’s Thanotocopulos (Cedric Hardwicke), a sort of Luddite rabble-rouser. Whereas Passworthy’s war-mongering characters are clearly meant to be dangerous, if not sinister, it’s hard to figure how we’re supposed to take the more ambiguous Thanotocopulos. The fact that the moon launch comes off as planned means only that the Cabal forces prevail, not that ‘the establishment’ has moral ascendancy.
I like the last few lines “If we’re no more than little animals, then we must grasp every little scrap of happiness.” Sort of an existentialist, make-the-best-of-it bit of confident resignation. I also like that Things To Come leaves us puzzled about the wisdom of our choices. A ground-breaking sci-fi movie that has a breathless scope, and anticipates so much in the genre.
Fiend Without A Face, 1958
******+ 6.5
Right in the cockpit of ’50s sci-fi, Fiend involves a creature concocted somehow through a dose of nuclear energy. A device in play is that the creature’s “face” isn’t revealed until the latter part of the film (it starts out invisible). The fun begins when a rogue scientist (aren’t they always up to something?) taps into the nuclear power–intended for the nearby military base for its radar–to enhance his experiments on the subconscious. Sounds dangerous, but in a cool way.
On deck for this movie are Marshall Thompson, Kynaston Reeves, Kim Parker, Stanley Master, Terry Killburn, James Dyrenforth, Robert MacKenzie, and Peter Madden. Thompson is the base commander Major Cummings, Reeves is our scientist Prof. Salvage, Killburn is Captain Chester, and Parker is Barbara, Walgate’s assistant. Dyrenforth is the town’s mayor, and MacKenzie is Howard Gibbons.
We start with a sentry at a military base who see some suspicious stuff whiz across the sky. When he goes to investigate, there’s a bunch of oozy gooey whatever in a clearing, along with a dead guy. Thompson has to figure out how the man died. No autopsy possible; locals have whisked the body away.
Pesky locals–don’t they get that the nearby nuclear reactor isn’t a bomb? The Army has a point in that an autopsy would show if radiation was involved or not. The victim’s diary isn’t much help. Barbara is only slightly perturbed about her brother’s death; she has it in her to find the Captain amusing.
At the command tower, something funny is happening on the radar screen (Siberia giving us dirty looks?) There’s a power fade; that is, the reactor needs to be spooled up so their equipment will work better. Something’s draining the power off. Well, it was just a test anyway, all that fuss for nothing.
“Our beloved Jack” is lowered into his grave just as there’s a B-47 flyover, drowning out the funeral oratory. Meanwhile, on a nearby farm, what looks like an incredibly huge mole tunnel is rapidly closing in on a farmer’s wife–she’s strangled by invisible stuff (not murderous moles). The old guy tries to pitchfork it, but it gets him too. Sounds like a pig, actually.
Well, what is it? Not radioactivity! The brass is worried though “it will be tough if the town turns against us.” Well, at last we get an autopsy–the brain and spinal cord are missing, a “mental vampire” at work? Which burrows like a mole, sounds like a pig, but is invisible. Time for the Major to make a house call on Barbara. What’s this lying about? “The Principles of Thought Control, by R. E. Walgate,” her boss’s book that is.
Hmm. Stop right there. Suppose Walgate is using nuclear energy to jump-start his thought control experiments? All the evidence is there: dead folks piling up with their brains missing. That doesn’t explain the invisible whatever it is.
Anyway, the Major gets his comeuppance from Howard. No “tom-catting” around here (Howard’s the town constable, not exactly Barbara’s chaperone). Next step for the Army is to sleuth Walgate’s repertoire. Ominously, we here the invisible critter stalking the Mayor. Sure enough, he gets it too. Does he have a big brain or something. “It’s the atomic fallout!” cry some locals.
Time for vigilante action–they think a wigged-out GI is the murderer. Ok, but how do they know where to look for it? At the base, here’s the dope on Walgate: “a cross between Robinson Crusoe and Einstein.” Describes most scientists in sci-fi movies. The erstwhile unwelcome Major comes calling on the elusive Walgate.
“It’s just ignorance!” These townspeople…he means, four deaths? well. They talk about the look of the first victim’s (Barbara’s brother’s) face after he died. Outdoors, the posse is restless. We hear the wumf-wumf of the creature. (Now I can place it’s crawling sound as similar to that of the invisible creature in 1956’s Forbidden Planet.)
Gibbons has had the misfortune to wander into the gooey clearing in the forest. Bradley gets the deputy mayor, Melville, to summon a council meeting. The Colonel and Major are called in on it. Again, they testify that radiation is innocent of all wrongdoing. They also dismiss the “mad GI” theory. Gibbons crashes the meeting.
Groaning with real horror, he looks like rubber jello. The Major is going to do a cemetery inspection. Down in a crypt he finds the partly open coffin with one of the victims inside. Of course, the Major gets locked in the crypt. A secret passageway? The Captain is worried about the Major; Barbara tells him about the cemetery.
They hear him pounding from down in the crypt. Rescued. They go to see Walgate. “Man can create power from thought… [impossible you say?] …maybe with atomic power…” And why was Walgate down in the crypt–the dummy had left his pipe there? Time for Walgate to have a fit.
The brass agrees to shut the nuclear plant down. Uh–oh, the “rods” have been destroyed; can’t shut down the power. Ok, finally Walgate levels with the military guys about his thought experiments. Something about detaching thoughts to make them “entities.”
So we get via flashback Walgate doing stuff in his lab (absurdly, Barbara didn’t even know that he had a lab). An electrical storm gives him enough of an energy boost: viola! He can move objects. Conveniently, the nuclear plant proves to be a more reliable power source. He can now give “life, and mobility” to his thought projections.
He realizes that he’s created a “fiend.” That is, he finds he can’t control the wayward thoughts. Using the military’s terminology, he’s talking about having created a “mental vampire.” Ok, but there’s an environmental angle: the nuclear plant, and therefore it’s energy, is inherently “evil.” Thus the destructive bent of the thing(s).
The doctor thinks the evil is actually in Walgate’s mind. Sounds plausible. Well, scratch another guy, the ol’ Fiend is breaking in. Kind of a hum-drum barricading scene. Anticipation builds though, as the ‘entities’ might become visible, thanks to the escalating power level.
Great: we see–brains with spinal cords; scorpion-like things with heads and tails. They are pretty creepy. The solution is to blow up the control room at the plant. A too-long scene ensues, with the main characters holed up in Walgate’s house under siege by the creatures. Outside, the Major hi-tails it to the plant.
Needless to say, the brain creatures quickly up and die as soon as the control room blows up. The end. Why the power plant itself doesn’t go off is a mystery.
This could’ve been better. There’s lots of potential, but problems everywhere: the premise, the pacing, the logic (merely the suspension of disbelief), some of the scenes… What’s the point of keeping the creatures invisible for most of the movie?
In Forbidden Planet, which also doesn’t reveal its critter until late in the game, it hardly matters; that film is loaded with special effects. But Fiend Without A Face has nothing else tangibly monstrous going on, except Gibbons’ hideous fate.
Had all the victims ended up like him, it would’ve been both more horrific and truer to the thought-control concept. That is, the victims might’ve become so many pod people (ala 1956’s Invasion Of The Body Snatchers).
There’s a false sense of isolation when the creatures actually appear. Who cares about a handful of people stuck in a house? There’s a military base nearby with, presumably, more than a few soldiers on hand (we see both fighters and bombers as well). Certainly, a low budget movie can’t have cities destroyed or bases attacked, but a truly isolated setting can give a small group or community a palpable sense of danger.
The most notable example of an isolated community in danger–1951’s The Thing–uses little more than some prefabricated buildings for most of its very chilling scenes. Or the ‘giant bug’ movies (Them!, Tarantula, The Giant Scorpion), most of which used the desert (and its small towns) to generate their creatures.
What’s interesting here is that there’s a quasi-horror aspect alongside the sci-fi. Walgate is after all something of a latter-day Dr. Frankenstein trying to animate thoughts (“mental vampire” is an apt phrase). The graveyard scene wouldn’t be out of place in any vampire movie. Plus, we even have superstitious townspeople.
All of those trappings are more or less wasted, or there impact diluted, by the nuclear power plant/military base settings. That sets up some needless duplication; if lightning (again a Frankenstein-like horror touch) works initially for Walgate’s energy source, who needs nuclear energy? The entire rationale for the base, the radar, is not really figured into the plot.
I’d rather have some alien presence (detected by the radar) cause the Fiend to appear, or just junk all that stuff, give us Wingate conjuring his thoughts into their grotesque existence to run amok in the sticks somewhere. And so the townspeople band together to exterminate the little buggers. As it is, the plots needlessly complex. The pay-off just doesn’t offer much; the weak ending really hurts.
Fiend Without A Face isn’t bad, it’s just not very good.
This guy’s in a sort of unique niche; a survivor of an indigenous prehistoic amphibian, rediscovered.
The Creature From the Black Lagoon
********* 9.0
This is one of the better humanoid monsters of vintage sci-fi. It’s got plenty of everything. A remote location, a local legend, plenty of tension in the quickly-paced script, some pretty good performances, and, of course, the fabled Creature himself. One indication of Creature’s success were the sequels, which themselves were pretty good. The characters are types; but we expect that in a genre where the focus is on the monster.
After a brief but worthwhile lead-up in a marine biology lab, the scientists examine a fossilized claw, obviously from the Creature’s lineage. Expecting to find, at the most, more complete skeletal remains, we see that the Creature is already attacking the local people.
Not only is the scientific expedition laid out for us, we also get early hints of the Creature (and then we get actual glimpsess of it). Almost immediately we’re in its presence; since the plot revolves around the Creature, interest builds quickly. In a classic narrative sense, we actually begin near the end. That’s why things happen in a nightmarish rush, even though the lighter moments keep us grounded by the smallest margin in ordinary experience.
The plot is a fairly well-tuned version of: seek the creature, find it, destroy it. It’s the way it fits together that helps Creature transcend it’s stereotypical origins to iconic status. The most vivid scenes are the skillful underwater stuff, and during the Creature’s nighttime ambush on the boat. The explorers and crew are doubly isolated-- not only are they in the upper reaches of the Amazon, but, confined to the claustrophobic and vulnerable boat, they’re literally sitting ducks. That gives the creature a rough parity with its invaders, who, though armed, are in no way expecting a fight.The Creature’s genuinely threatening actions are tempered somewhat by its fasination for the attractive female scientist Kay (Julie Adams). Like King Kong, Frankenstein’s monster, and others, this quasi-romantic bit humanizes it to some extent, giving a counterpart to her human love interest on board. Nonetheless, this thing is dangerous and must be destroyed. So the premise follows the fear of the unknown to it’s logical conclusion. We could say that the creature represents the id; the ego has to control it, or be destroyed by it. There’s something of a mythic quality too; reinforced by the journey into an underworld of sorts, and the ultimate escape from it.
Although it’s not apparent in this script, the sequels deal with the Creature’s effect on the characters, and on humanity in general. Indeed, the Creature becomes semi-civilized in The Creature Walks Among Us. Therefore, the id is cautiously integrated into the personality; at least on a contingent basis. Some less exotic ways of looking at this would suggest a more literal interpretation. The creature, as essentially the descendant of a primordial specie, might represent an indigenous culture. Our attempts to deal with him are confrontational and destructive.
He’s somewhat curious about us, but matches our level of violence; again, the sequels point out the difficulty in his adapting (even though physically altered) to our world. Along with the psychological and fish-out-of-water conversion theories would be a social-engineering theme. In this analysis, which might be closer to the atomic-age and Cold War fears that were building up in this era, we have to either destroy what’s alien and different, or refashion it into something more familiar.
I’m not suggesting that the filmmaker intended any such overt message. This is fundamentally entertainment that’s done exceptionally well. The effortlessness of the drama reveals plenty of associations and metaphors within it’s apparently simple plot. That clear vision--like the fascinating underwater scenes--explores the nature of the reality we take for granted. The overall feel is of a shadowy lagoon, but every spooky detail is palpable.