For our Saturday pizza and bad movie, we chose one the dearly beloved recalled seeing in part some years ago. It wasn’t all that good, but it was lighthearted.
Plot:
A Greek ship remains in quarantine in New York harbor because most of the crew is sick. You wouldn’t know it by looking at them. The captain, who usually rants and raves, is dancing. The crew blames a toucan they have in a jerry-rigged cage. When the authorities come to confiscate the bird, it flies away. No surprise.
He finds a group of bohemian/hippie artists and musicians who view life as dreadful and depressing. Pete (George Peppard) is a former advertising executive who sits in front of canvases. (“It says nothing,” he says of one black and white masterpiece. After adding a few dabs of black ink, he announces, “Now it says something.”) Liz, (Mary Tyler Moore), his old lady, performs a song, “Life is Blue, Black, and Gray.” Immediately, she’s told, “That’s terrible.”
The toucan comes in to steal grapes and infects Pete, who wakes up the next morning (as opposed to the next afternoon), shaves his beard, and smiles.
The virus makes people happy. The downside is they stop buying booze and cigarettes, with fewer taxes flowing into city coffers. This becomes not just a city problem but a national problem. New York City mayor (John McMartin) leaps into action when told people might be too happy to vote. He arranges a press conference, advising people of the virus and offers face masks free to any who ask.
The U.S. President sends in his aide, the officious J. Gardner Monroe (Dom DeLuise), who arrives in New York wearing a space suit helmet. His assistant, Murgatroyd (George Furth ), wears a gas mask and wipes his boss’s bubble for him. They will capture that bird, even if it means shutting off New York City from the rest of the world.
Meanwhile, the hippies are happy. Pete and Liz are going to actually get married, along with a lot of other happy New Yorkers.
Thoughts:
This is a silly, lighthearted, and not entirely credible comedy. It was fun, but watching it after the covid pandemic meant shaking off some powerful ghosts. The mayor of New York City (…or governor of the state of New York) going on t.v. to discuss a breakout of a new virus? And wearing face masks? The lockdown?
*shudder*
And the cost to the government of people behaving differently? That the government has a vested interest in people’s self-medication through booze and tobacco? OUCH.
Some silly and outrageous things are not meant to be believed.
The movie is based on a 1943 novel I Am Thinking of My Darling by Vincent McHugh, which was favorably reviewed in the New York Times.
Unfortunately, the movie is difficult to find. The dearly beloved bought it after a prolonged search. I could not find it streaming anywhere, not even for pay.
Title: What’s So Bad About Feeling Good? (1968)
Directed by
George Seaton
Writing Credits (in alphabetical order)
Bill Danch…(writer) (uncredited)
Vincent McHugh…(story “I Am Thinking of My Darling”)
Tedd Pierce…(writer)
Robert Pirosh…(writer)
George Seaton…(writer)
Cast (in credits order)
George Peppard…Pete
Mary Tyler Moore…Liz
Don Stroud…Barney
Susan Saint James…Aida
Dom DeLuise…J. Gardner Monroe
Released: 1968
Length: 1 hour, 34 minutes
Spring Clean Books #13
This is my next batch of books for donation, lucky #13. As always, lots of fond memories. I hope these guys find happy homes.
The Stuff: The memoir/autobiography is relatively short. Loftus describes himself as one to throw himself into things wholeheartedly. He got into trouble as a teenager but found God and later became a preacher, teaching apologetics. Unfortunately, he had an affair. The fallout from the affair increased his already growing doubts about Christianity.
This story occupies about fifteen pages. The rest of the book is spent on anti-apologetics, examining biblical texts and philosophical arguments about Christianity. He doesn’t ridicule so much as expose. Nevertheless, this makes for thick, heavy reading.
Bio John Wayne Loftus (b. 1954) is an American atheist author and former ordained minister. He’s written at least thirteen books on atheism and Christian philosophy. One of his books, The Outsider Test for Faith: How to Know Which Religion Is True (2013), recommends approaching religion as an outsider to evaluate its merit. That is, apply the same degree of skepticism to your own religion as you would to the other guy’s.
Title: Why I Became an Atheist: A Former Preacher Rejects Christianity
Author: John W. Loftus (b. 1954)
First published: 2008
The Stuff: Despite being fascinated with history for as long as I can remember, I was bored to tears with the subject in high school. I think this book explains my boredom in part. Loewen is right when he talks about history textbooks dwelling on the dramatic and the superficial and the need for heroes and villains. The problem is reality is more nuanced. Facts don’t lend themselves to such schemes.
Loewen looks at the “real” importance of Columbus, the treatment of natives by Europeans, and the experience of black in the United States as opposed to what the textbooks tell students, the Civil War and Reconstruction. It is sad and eye-opening.
He also frankly states textbooks “make students stupid.” Given how little many people seem to understand our history, he may have a point. However, textbooks have improved over the 50s and 60s.
The book was reissued in 2005, 2008, and 2018, so my 1995 copy is way behind the times but still a worthy read.
Bio: James William Loewen (1942-2021) was an American sociologist, historian, author, and racial justice activist. He taught history at Tougaloo College, a historically black liberal arts school in Mississippi, and later taught sociology at the University of Vermont. This is his best-known work. He also co-wrote a Mississippi state history textbook, Mississippi: Conflict and Change (1974), which the Mississippi Textbook Purchasing Board rejected even though the book won the Lillian Smith Book Award for Best Southern Nonfiction in 1975. Loewen filed suit and prevailed.
Title: Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong
Author: James W. Loewen (1946-2021)
First published: 1995
The Stuff: This is a slim chapbook of poetry and a few black-and-white photos used as a textbook in one of the author’s course with a limited press run of 500. Most of the poems are short, one-page free verse affairs, often written in second person. A recurring person talked to and about is the Lady in Red.
Bio: Lee Mallory (b. 1946) is an American poet, editor, and academic. His father and stepfather were both in the military, so he grew up abroad. He himself served in the Army. Long ago, but not so far away, I took a course or two he taught at Santa Ana College. He is now retired. He hosted poetry readings for students and others. Oddly enough, the Orange County Register had a write-up this morning about his current poetry reading: Meet Lee Mallory, O.C.’s poetry man – Orange County Register (ocregister.com)
Title: I Write Your Name
Author: Lee Mallory (b. 1946)
First published: 1990
The Stuff: Taken from articles written in the 1990s while the author was living in Tel Aviv and covering the Arab-Israeli conflict for the Wall Street Journal, this reexamines the biblical narrative from Genesis and compares it to what modern archaeology has been uncovering. The strength of the book lies not in its discussion of how current archaeology does not support the old Bible stories. Rather, the picture of history emerging from archaeology is fascinating and worthy of study by itself.
To offer one easy example, the Bible teaches the children of Israel were long held as slaves in Egypt. Because of this, a tradition arose that the pyramids were built by Hebrew slaves. This was dubious all along. The pyramid-building continued for centuries. As it turns out, the builders were craftsmen, not slaves.
Bio: Amy Dockser Marcus (b. 1965) is a health and science reporter for the Wall Street Journal based in Boston. She has spent time in Tel Aviv covering the Arab-Israeli conflict and worked for Money magazine. In 2005, she was awarded a Pulitzer Prize for Beat Reporting for a series of articles about cancer survivors and the health care system. Her two books are based on articles from her reporting in the Middle East.
Title: The View from Nebo: How Archaeology is Changing the Bible and Reshaping the Middle East
Author: Amy Dockser Marcus (b. 1965)
First published: 2000
The Stuff: Masson acknowledges what most of us who have been around animals know: animals experience emotions. He is careful to explain that they are not humans but animals. For example, he tells a story that could have ended badly for him through his own poor judgment. In his conclusion, he asks, What are the implications for living with beings who feel?
I confess this was a little hard to reread. After having just put a cat down, I have to wonder—as Masson does about his aging dog—do they feel nostalgic? I know my cat didn’t remember being a kitten, but did he, as he aged, remember happier times? Being able to jump the block wall and sit atop it, washing his paws and driving the neighbors’ dog crazy? Or was it enough that he could sleep on the sofa between me and my husband? Impossible to know.
Title: When Elephants Weep: The Emotional Lives of Animals
Authors: Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson (b. 1941) holds a Ph.D. from Harvard in Sanskrit and trained as a psychoanalyst. After studying Freud’s papers, he rejected much of what Freud had written, and oh, my, the fuss that did kick up. He is a vegan and an animal rights activist.
Susan McCarthy holds degrees in biology and journalism, writes regularly for Salon.com, and has contributed to Best American Science Writing, Parade, The Guardian, WIRED, Smithsonian magazine, and Outside. She lives in San Francisco.
First published: 1995
Review of “Arsenic and Old Lace” (1944)
It’s Halloween, 1941, in New York. Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant), a drama critic and author of such books as Marriage, a Fraud and a Failure, waits in a long line with the girl literally next door, Elaine Harper (Pricilla Lane). A sign above them reads “marriage licenses.” A couple of gentlemen of the fourth estate notice him and try to get pictures.
Meanwhile, back home in Brooklyn at the Brewster home, elderly Aunt Abby (Josephine Hull) entertains the Reverend Harper (Grant Mitchell), Elaine’s dad. Mortimer’s brother, Teddy Brewster (John Alexander), plays the piano. He yells, “Charge!” and runs up the stairs, convinced he is President Teddy Roosevelt.
After Reverend Harper leaves, Aunt Martha (Jean Adair) comes home. They tell Teddy he’s going to Panama to “dig another lock for the canal.” This delights Teddy. The two sisters also seem delighted, sharing some secret. They are about to open the window seat when they see Elaine looking in the window. She winks at them. That can only mean—she and Mortimer have gone and gotten married! Well, this changes things!
Mortimer is telling his aunts about a play he’s recently seen—a murder mystery—“When the curtain goes up, the first thing you see is a dead body.” On cue, he opens the window seat. At first, he suspects his delusional brother Teddy, who has just gone down the cellar with a shovel.
But his aunts tell him, oh, no. Teddy had nothing to do with Mr. Hogkins winding up in the window seat. They have their own recipe for elderberry wine for lonely, elderly men.
Thoughts:
This is one of the weirdest mass murder movies you’ll ever see. Two sweet elderly ladies—who give repaired toys to police charities—poison old men because they think it’s kinder than letting them live lonely lives. They have their standards, though. They refuse to let a foreigner be buried with a Methodist.
There are a lot of in-jokes. Arsenic and Old Lace was originally a play with Boris Karloff as sinister Brewster brother Jonathan. It ran from 1941 to 1946. In the movie, the character Jonathan (Raymond Massey) becomes enraged when told that he looks like Boris Karloff.
Many of the jokes stand up. This is farce and quite silly. Grant overacts but does so deliberately. The corpses are never shown, but they don’t need to be. The strength of the story comes from Mortimer’s realization that his sweet aunts are mass murderers. Later, his long-lost brother, Jonathan, returns. The police are looking for him. There is serious menace from Jonathan, but there’s also farce.
One of the inspirations for the story is thought to have been the real-life murders committed around 1907-1916 in a nursing home run by Amy Archer-Gilligan. She was charged with five killings, convicted of one, and sentenced to death. At a second trial, she pleaded insanity and was again convicted but sentenced to life imprisonment.
While the style of the movie is dated and the subject matter rather gruesome, this is a fun and funny flick. The fun is in the irony. Mortimer is trying to protect his aunts and Teddy but also trying to keep them from committing more harm. He’s also worried about going nuts himself. He tells his new bride, “Insanity runs in my family. It practically gallops.”
There are no booms and certainly no boobs, but this is a lot of fun.
The movie can be watched here:
Title: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)
Directed by
Frank Capra
Writing Credits
Julius J. Epstein…(screen play) and
Philip G. Epstein…(screen play)
Joseph Kesselring…(play)
Cast (in credits order)
Cary Grant…Mortimer Brewster
Priscilla Lane…Elaine Harper
Raymond Massey…Jonathan Brewster
Jack Carson… O’Hara
Edward Everett Horton…Mr. Witherspoon
Peter Lorre…Dr. Einstein
Released: 1944
Length: 1 hour, 58 minutes
Five Books for Donation Resumed
I’ve decided to take up my five-books-a-week donation to the local library. I think it got derailed a while back when I came down with pneumonia. I never got my act back together. I intend to post this on August 25 and donate the books on September 1. If anyone wants any of these books, let me know before September 1, and I’ll try to get one to you.
The Stuff: The title refers to a book by Krakauer’s fellow mountaineer, Greg Mortenson, Three Cups of Tea. In Mortenson’s book, he claims that he started a charity to build schools in remote areas of Pakistan and Afghanistan to repay villagers who befriended him after he got lost descending K2 in Pakistan.
This short (<100 pages) work says most of Mortenson’s stories are fabrications, and the finances of the charitable organization that he founded, the Central Asia Institute (CAI), are in a tangle. Was any school built at all? Were those buildings that were built used as schools?
I read Mortenson’s original books and swallowed them hook, line, and sinker. After reading this, I was angry. As is often the case, the truth lies somewhere in between. The attorney general of Montana wrote of the controversy:
“Our investigation centered on whether CAI’s officers and directors satisfied their legal duties with regard to Mortenson’s books and speaking engagements, and in managing the financial and operational affairs of the organization. We concluded that the board of directors failed to fulfill some of its important responsibilities in governing the nonprofit charity. Further, Mortenson failed to fulfill his responsibilities as executive director and as a member of the board.
Despite policies that committed him to do so, Mortenson failed to make contributions to CAI equal to the royalties he earned on the books the organization purchased. Nor did he and CAI devise an equitable way to split the costs to advertise and promote the book, as required by his 2008 employment agreement. Mortenson also accepted travel fees from event sponsors while CAI was paying his travel costs. Moreover, he had significant lapses in judgment resulting in money donated to CAI being spent on personal items such as charter flights for family vacations, clothing, and internet downloads.”
2012_0405_FINAL-REPORT-FOR-DISTRIBUTION.pdf (dojmt.gov)
Bio: Jon Krakauer (b. 1954) is an American writer and mountaineer. He wrote for Outside magazine and has written several nonfiction books, including Eiger Dreams, Into the Wild, and Into Thin Air. The last was written for Outside magazine and took place during the disastrous 1996 Everest ascent. His books have not been without controversy.
Title: Three Cups of Deceit
Author: Jon Krakauer (b. 1954)
First published: 2011
The stuff: This is a nonfiction work describing the role astronomers and those who read portents in the skies played in ancient societies. The author describes the worldview of peoples as diverse as ancient China to the prehistoric Americas. This heavy, hardback book is illustrated throughout with black-and-white drawings and photographs, many original to the author. “Astronomical knowledge confers power,” Krupp writes in his introduction. “The calendar must be kept. The omens must be read. The ceremonies must be performed.”
This is not a technical book, but it can get a little dry for the layperson. Nevertheless, this was an interesting and rewarding read. May it find a good home.
Bio: Edwin Charles Krupp (b. 1944) has been the director of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles since 1976 and taught at El Camino College, USC, and UCLA. His area of expertise is archeoastronomy, the astronomy of ancient cultures. He has written books for adults and children in addition to academic works.
Title: Skywatchers, Shamans, & Kings: Astronomy and the Archaeology of Power
Author: E. C. Krupp (b. 1944)
First published: 1997
The stuff: This is a nonfiction work examining the 1925 Scopes trial regarding the teaching of evolution in Tennessee. In the popular imagination, the trial was settled as depicted in Inherit the Wind. (Produced in 1960, the play was not about the Scopes trial as much as it was a metaphor about McCarthyism.)
Real life was more complex. John Scopes, the history teacher charged with violating the Butler Act (which forbade teaching evolution), was convicted and fined $100—a bit more money in 1925 than in 2022. Author Larson sees the trial not as resolving the issue of science and religion but as an opening shot in a battle that continues under different guises. Instead of forbidding evolution, fundamentalists may try to include aspects of “creationism” such as “intelligent design” or “teaching the controversy” in public school curricula, for example.
This book was awarded a Pulitzer Prize in history.
I found this an interesting, if sad, read. However, it has the ugliest and most off-topic cover—an out-of-focus close-up of a chimpanzee’s face. It’s hard to look.
Bio: Edward J. Larson (b. 1953) is an American historian and legal scholar. Currently a professor at Pepperdine University, he formerly held a professorship at the University of Georgia. He makes frequent television appearances on outlets such as NPR and PBS. His articles have been published in Nature, Scientific American, The Nation, American History, Time, and various academic history and law journals.
Title: Summer for the Gods: The Scopes Trial and America’s Continuing Debate Over Science and Religion
Author: Edward J. Larson (b. 1953)
First published: 1997
The Stuff: Leakey begins his discussion by referring to Darwin’s arguments about the origins of humans. Some of them—humans originated in Africa—have held up well for statements made without fossil remains. Others, not so well. Leakey emphasizes humans’ unusual bipedalism and the development of large brains and language. While the book misses out on some DNA developments of the last decade or so, it is a concise, accessible discussion of human origins.
Bio: Richard Erskine Frere Leakey (1944-2022) was a Kenyan paleoanthropologist, conservationist, and politician. He was the son of renowned paleoanthropologists, Louis and Mary Leakey. Leakey and his team discovered an unprecedented 1.5-million-year-old skeleton dubbed the Turkana Boy. Leakey lost both legs as a result of a plane crash in 1993 and wrote such books (in addition to the present work) as One Life: An Autobiography (1983), The Sixth Extinction (with Roger Lewin) (1995), and Wildlife Wars: My Fight to Save Africa’s Natural Treasures (with Virginia Morell) (2001).
Title: The Origin of Humankind
Author: Richard Leakey (1944-2022)
First published: 1994
The Stuff: This is a memoir about losing religious faith and building a life afterward. Lobdell writes that at 27, he had made a mess of his life. A friend advised him he needed God. He became a Christian, started a family, and got married. Things are sometimes complicated. With patience and some finagling, he landed his dream job: writing a religion column for the Los Angeles Times. But there were scandals. When he and his wife were about to convert to Catholicism, the priest sex abuse scandal broke. The memoir is honest and heartbreaking. The material can be hard to read emotionally, but it is candid and important.
Bio: William Lobdell: I couldn’t find much current bio info on the author. His LinkedIn profile listed him as the content manager of Pacific Funds. He seems to have been active—at least for a while—with the Center for Inquiry, a skeptic organization. He is (or was) a visiting faculty member at UC Irvine but was not listed on the UCI directory when I checked. He wrote the “Getting Religion” column for the Orange County edition of the Los Angeles Times from 1998 to 2008 and was a journalist for about 25 years. This is the only book I could find published by this author.
Title: How I lost My faith Reporting Religion in America—and Found Unexpected Peace
Author: William Lobdell
First published: 2009
Review of “Cry Wilderness” (1987)
SHORT REVIEW: RUN AWAY!!!
Longer review:
For our Saturday night pizza and bad movie, we picked one Mystery Science Theater that may have actually improved the viewing experience. This one is just nonsense. Or fine family PG-rated viewing, however you want to look at it.
Plot:
On a school trip, Paul Cooper (Eric Foster) wanders away from the group of boys with red ties. When his teacher Mr. Douglas (Navarre Perry), finds him, he’s standing by an exhibit of something like a tall ape/man. Paul tells his teacher that he’s seen him. He’s seen Bigfoot. Mr. Douglas tells him not to lie and threatens discipline.
Later, when Paul is in his dormitory bed, he hears someone calling. Why, it’s Bigfoot (Tom Folkes)! Or maybe it’s a vision. An odd red glow surrounds everything. Bigfoot tells Paul to come home. His father is in grave danger.
Mr. Douglas at first busts Paul before he can run away, but he runs away anyway. A trucker (Guy Bass) gives him a ride but doesn’t ask where a kid Paul’s age is going. Paul is probably no more than eleven or so.
He wanders through the woods somewhere in northern California/western Nevada until he stumbles across his dad, a forest ranger (Maurice Grandmaison), who pulls a gun on him, not expecting him. Dad lays down the law. Paul is going back to school on Monday. Doesn’t he ask what the kid is doing wandering around the woods?
Paul also stumbles across a pair of boots, which turn out to be on the feet of his dad’s friend Jim (John Tallman), a Native American who (I kid you not) wears blush all over his face. The amount of blush varies from scene to scene.
They all laugh. They laugh a lot. Inappropriately. They walk by a succession of wild critters like a fox with a collar on its neck. They stop laughing when they get to Dad’s cabin and find the door open. Who’s been here? Could it be Bigfoot? Could it be something worse?
Selection B—something worse. A hunter with exceptionally bad table manners is here to eliminate whatever’s been killing the wildlife. (Uh… there are bear in them thare woods? Think they might be doing some ‘a that there killin’? Eh, never mind) The hunter is keen to bag him a Bigfoot, and he gets wind that the boy might know a thing or two.
Thoughts:
The strong point of this little flick is not the script. Nor the acting. Nor the special effects. Bigfoot doesn’t have gloves. The movie has wannabe echoes of Harry and the Hendersons (1987) and E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982) but adds nothing unique.
There are some lovely location shots from around Mono Lake, California, and the Devil’s Postpile. These are both otherworldly and breathtaking areas.
It’s hokum with cute animals.
There might be an explanation. In Backstory 2: interviews with screenwriters of the 1940s and 1950s, Patrick McGilligan records writer/screenwriter Philip Yordan saying this about the movie:
The distributor, who had done Sasquatch [1978], which cost maybe $150,000 and made over $4 million profit, says to me, “Give me a picture about Bigfoot, and I’ll make millions.” So I sat down and wrote a picture. He says, “No, no, no, you don’t understand. You got scenes in the beginning that will scare the audience. It’s for kids. So I had to take out all the scary scenes. Bigfoot couldn’t be threatening; he had to be nice. No blood, no violence, no sex, no bad language. I said, “You really want a picture about nothing!” He says, “That’s it! Now you’ve got it! Nothing! I want nothing!” I said, “That’s the most difficult thing to write.” Well, the picture is about nothing, if you sit through it, which I don’t know if you can.
So there. This stinker is incomprehensible, insulting, and bad not because the writer, actors, or director were incompetent but because the people who paid for it wanted it to stink. Yeah, makes no sense to me, either.
Title: Cry Wilderness (1987)
Directed by
Jay Schlossberg-Cohen
Writing Credits
Philip Yordan…(original story)
Philip Yordan…(screenplay)
Cast (in credits order)
Eric Foster…Paul Cooper
Maurice Grandmaison…Will Cooper
John Tallman…Jim
Griffin Casey…Morgan Hicks
Faith Clift…Dr. Helen Foster
Navarre Perry…Mr. Douglas
Released: 1987
Length: 1 hour, 33 minutes
Rated: PG
Review of “At the Earth’s Core” (1977)
Svengoolie was a rerun once again, so we went to Mystery Science Theater for this gem, an adaptation of an Edgar Rice Burroughs work.
Plot:
Against a backdrop of Victorian Great Britain, scientist Dr. Abner Perry (Peter Cushing) oversees the building of a giant earth-boring machine, “the iron mole.” Accompanying him on its test run through some Welsh hills is former student David Innes (Doug McClure), who has financed the venture.
The local people come to watch the demonstration, along with the press and a marching band. First contact between drill and hillside produces sparks and smoke and jostles our heroes around in their leather-upholstered swivel chairs. The crowd applauds.
As soon as Perry and Innes are underground, things go wrong. First, the borer heads down rather than straight ahead through the mountain. Our heroes have no control. On an analog indicator, the crew watches as the machine digs through the earth’s crust and the upper mantle. They faint from the heat. The machine keeps boring through the lower mantle and skirting the earth’s core. When Perry and Innes revive, they find frost covering their instruments and their persons. The ice outside the ship becomes water—they’re in an underground lake. They find themselves on land. The ship halts and goes dark. Innes strikes a match and lights a cigar, providing the only light inside the “mole.”
“Total power failure,” says Perry. “How very disappointing. It must have been the water. I didn’t allow for that contingency. I’ll just get my umbrella. The weather seems so changeable.”
They exit the machine and find themselves in a jungle.
“This can’t be the other side of the hill—unless it’s changed dramatically,” Perry tells the younger man.
There is no attempt to explain the outside light source. Perry immediately recognizes some of the plant species. He’s only seen fossilized form.
They come to understand they’re not on the earth but in it. Their explorations are interrupted by a giant parrot/eagle stomping through the jungle. Our heroes flee. Perry even tries to shoo it away with his umbrella.
The real trouble starts when they’re rescued, however. Beings that resemble apes with slicked-backed hair drag Perry and Innes to a group of humans, chained together, making their way to the city of the Mahars as slaves.
Thoughts:
From the opening shots of gentlemen in 19th-century garb holding planning specs to the marching band spoiling the publicity picture, I knew this would be a delightfully goofy flick. It did not disappoint. It has much in common with works like Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth and The Time Machine.
The special effects are, um, quaint. That is, guys in pterodactyl costumes enslave humans by using telepathic powers. Their eyes light up when they’ve got their mojo working. They hang out on rocks with a bit of fog. They have a written language.
Guys in upright rhinoceros fight each other.
Innes falls for one of the slave women, the lovely Dia (Caroline Munro), but he offends her in some complicated culture-specific way, and she won’t talk to him anymore. Ah, yes. The course of true love never did run smooth, even if those people speak English. Maybe that British Empire went farther than even the British knew.
Our heroes wouldn’t be heroes if they didn’t liberate the oppressed from their oppressors—an idea that apparently didn’t cross their poor benighted minds until the plucky Brits arrived.
The best lines come from Peter Cushing’s character, Abner Perry. In defying the telepathic Mahar, he insists, “You cannot mesmerize me! I’m British!”
No one will confuse this with great cinematic art, but it is silly and doesn’t take itself too seriously. I enjoyed it.
The Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror Films nominated At the Earth’s Core for its 1977 Golden Scroll Best Fantasy Film.
At the Earth’s Core can be watched here.
Title: At the Earth’s Core (1976)
Directed by
Kevin Connor
Writing Credits
Edgar Rice Burroughs…(based upon the novel by)
Milton Subotsky…(screenplay)
Cast (in credits order)
Doug McClure…David Innes
Peter Cushing…Dr. Abner Perry
Caroline Munro…Dia
Cy Grant…Ra
Godfrey James…Ghak
Sean Lynch…Hoojah
Released: 1976
Length: 1 hour, 29 minutes
Rated: PG
Review “Trancers” (1984)
Svengoolie was yet again a rerun, a generically named Curse of Frankenstein, which I reviewed here: We tried another movie the dearly beloved saw a while ago. I remembered bits and pieces of it as well.
Plot:
In the year 2247, Trooper Jack Deth (Tim Thomerson) patrols the mean streets of Angel City, near sunken Los(t) Angeles. The opening sequences show our hero entering a café and ordering coffee.
“The real stuff?” the waitress asks. “That’ll cost you.” She disappears into the back room.
Deth asks a patron to show proof he’s not a trancer. The patron objects that he needs a warrant. Deth pulls a gun.
The patron, a large bear of a man, is not a trancer. However, the waitress, an older black woman, comes out of the back room with an ashen face, red eyes, and a bad attitude. She and Deth get into a knockdown-dragout. The non-trancer patron flees and hits a beacon outside the café, alerting the police.
After taking a few blows, Deth shoots the hapless waitress with a ray gun, killing her. She glows and leaves a person-sized burn mark on the floor. She has, in the parlance of the time, been “singed.”
The police arrive in a hover squad car. Out pops McNulty (Art LaFleur), who admonishes Deth over his private war on trancers and demands he return to his assignments. Deth throws his badge onto the ground and stomps off.
Later, when he is diving in the water around submerged Los(t) Angeles, recovering artifacts, McNulty returns. His former supervisor wants him to come with him to speak with the City Council.
Deth at first demurs. McNulty tells him the creator of the trancers, Whistler (Michael Stefani), has found a way to go back in time.
Deth believed he killed Whistler on one of the rim planets. Hearing he’s alive is disappointing, particularly since Whistler killed his wife.
Whistler is back in 1985 in the body of an ancestor, assassinating the ancestors of the City Council. There would be nothing to stand between him and taking over Angel City.
The remaining members of the Council want to send him back in time to stop Whistler as his ancestor. This requires keeping his body in stasis and injecting him with drugs. The antidote for return—one for him and one for Whistler—is secreted in the handle of his period .38 Special.
He agrees, with one exception. He uses his gun on the body of Whistler, destroying it. Whistler isn’t coming home, regardless of what happens.
The Council furnishes him with some information. His ancestor is a journalist. Whistler’s ancestor is a cop, of course, and with the power to psychically control people and make them into the zombie-like creatures known as trancers, beings neither dead nor alive and without a will of their own
Thoughts:
There are cute moments. Jack wakes up with a cute girl (Helen Hunt) whose name he doesn’t know. He’s supposed to get her to her job as a photographer for a mall Santa. The girl is no fool and realizes he isn‘t the same man she took a tumble with the night before. He told her he’s from L.A. but can’t find (let alone pronounce) Cahuenga Boulevard.
When she arrives at work—late—oh, the things that come over Saint Nick (Peter Schrum). That jolly old elf turns green and attacks Deth with a giant plastic candy cane while children scream and worried mothers hustle their munchkins out of harm’s way.
Mrs. Claus calls security, telling them, “We’ve got trouble at the North Pole!”
The sheer silliness of it is worth the price of admission.
Jack Deth himself brings to mind many of the old noir film detectives. No damsel in distress comes running up to his office with a tale of woe, but he is hard bitten, always backtalking his boss. He has a way with the ladies. At the same time, he mourns for his wife and will do all he can to get vengeance on her killer.
The plot is the weakest point, and the movie takes itself rather too seriously at points, but with the silliness, it’s a lot of fun. And it’s just the beginning of a small library of sequels.
The movie can be watch for free with commercials here:
Title: Trancesrs (1984)
Directed by
Charles Band
Writing Credits
Danny Bilson… (written by) and
Paul De Meo… (written by)
Cast (in credits order)
Tim Thomerson…Jack Deth
Helen Hunt…Leena
Michael Stefani…Whistler / Detective Weisling
Art LaFleur…McNulty (as Art La Fleur)
Telma Hopkins…Engineer Raines
Richard Herd…Chairman Spencer
Released: 1984
Length: 1 hour, 16 minutes
Rated: PG-13
Review of “Starcrash” (1978)
We ducked out on a bad rerun on Svengoolie and chose this gem, a color sci-fi Star Wars rip—er, Star Wars-inspired flick.
Plot:
The opening shots show the bottom of a white starship passing over the viewer. Where, oh, where has that appeared before? No crawl to set the action a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, however. Aboard the ship, transparent red blobs attack people who are looking for the hiding place of the evil Count Zarth Arn. Three escape pods leave, but the ship itself is lost.
Meanwhile, smugglers Stella Star (Caroline Munroe) and Akton (Marjor Gortner) run afoul of the imperial patrol. Police Chief Thor (Robert Tessier) and robot sheriff Elle (Judd Hamilton, English dialogue voiced by Hamilton Camp). Our heroes escape into hyperspace. They come across a random derelict ship where they find one of the escape pod survivors. He is in bad shape and can tell them nothing, not even how he got on a ship from the escape pod.
The long arm of the law catches up with them. Much mustache twirling follows. Stella and Akton are tried for piracy (wait… aren’t they smugglers? Oh, it’s so confusing) and sentenced to separate prison labor colonies.
Interestingly, Stella keeps her bikini-ish costume in prison. Her labor involves dropping white beach balls into what looks like the nuclear reaction in the Batcave. She quickly stages an uprising; guards and inmates alike are killed. ‘Nuff of this prison stuff. Stella sprints off in her bikini and inappropriate footwear.
Outside, she finds… a starship—whaddya know. Thor and Elle stop her. And they take her to an orbiting spaceship where—whaddya know—Akton happens to be waiting. So that prison uprising was for nothing? All those people died for just a chance to go “Pew-pew-pew” with their funky weapons? They’re getting the band back together or something?
Wha—?
Oh, this will make sense now. The Emperor Palp—I mean, the Emperor (Christopher Plummer—in a role he probably didn’t ask his mom to watch) communicates by holograph. He’s heard good things about Stella’s piloting skills. (She’s a smuggler and a pirate?). He’s commissioning her to find his son, a victim of an attack by the evil Count Zarth Arn. The evil count has some fantastic weapon hidden in a secret planet. How does he keep a planet secret? The Emperor’s son was looking for this weapon when he disappeared.
Okay…
I’d ask what could go wrong, but I’m not sure there’s anything that makes sense. And Stella’s clothes keep getting weirder.
Thoughts:
We saw the Mystery Science Theater 3000 version of this. Maybe it makes more sense without the added commentary, but I have a hard time picturing it. For example, the spaceship our heroes travel in for most of the movie has two main round viewing ports with a wide separator between them, giving the impression they were traveling through space looking out through a giant ape’s skull. Stella flies/swims between spaceships Superman style, with one fist raised, untethered. Some characters have random powers, such as being about to shoot lasers out of their eyes. This trait is never explained. However, a giant animated amazon statue with prominent boobs does not shoot lasers either out of its eyes or its boobs. What appears to be an uncomplicated wound to the upper arm proves fatal.
The outfits Stella and other women wore—like the uniforms of the amazon warriors who attack her and Elle—might remind the viewer of the clean parts of “adult” films. And, frankly, so did the dialogue. Just the same, there is no sex.
The special effects are… special. I can forgive that. Sometimes they’re more enjoyable than the big-bucks special effects. I can’t forgive plots that don’t make sense, nonsensical dialogue, and too many moments of “Wha—?”
Of course, the good guys win. And the bad guy goes down in a humiliating defeat, shaking his fist amid smoke and sparks while his underlings flee. Just can’t get good minions these days.
Yeah, I’d give this one a wide berth.
If, for some reason, you wish to see this movie, it can be watched here.
Title: Starcrash (1978)
Directed by
Luigi Cozzi…(as Lewis Coates)
Writing Credits
Luigi Cozzi…(screenplay) (as Lewis Coates) &
Nat Wachsberger…(screenplay)
R.A. Dillon…(additional dialogue)
Cast (in credits order)
Marjoe Gortner…Akton
Caroline Munro…Stella Star
Christopher Plummer…The Emperor
David Hasselhoff…Prince Simon
Robert Tessier…Chief Thor
Joe Spinell…Count Zarth Arn
Released: 1978
Length: 1 hour, 32 minutes
Rated: PG
Gremlin: In Memoriam
Disclaimer: A eulogy for a cat is perhaps a bit self-indulgent. Gremlin has been gone a week. I miss him very much and probably will for a long time. I ask anyone who isn’t into cats or animals is general to skip this. Thank you.
“Would you like his ashes?” the receptionist asked.
“No. Ashes are ashes.” I didn’t say what I wanted to say: Give me back my cat.
I’d just watched the vet carry Gremlin—or what had been Gremlin—away wrapped in a blanket, his head bobbing, his eyes only slits, his tongue poking out between his teeth.
“I feel the same way you do,” the receptionist said. She asked for my credit card. It would be easier than performing the transaction at the front counter.
After she left with the card, I told my husband, “I didn’t even think to ask how much this will cost.”
“It’s not like you have a choice,” he said.
“No.”
Give me back my cat.
I clutched the jacket I’d wrapped around Gremlin for this last ride to the vet. I wasn’t going to put him in a carrier. He hated the carrier. He’d been in kidney failure for about five years but had remained happy and sassy. True, the block wall fence had grown mysteriously taller with time, but for most of the nineteen years he’d been with me, it had proved no obstacle. Little stood in his way since he was a kitten so small he had to claw his way up to the couch.
He’d lost weight fast the last couple of weeks. That last morning when I went to feed him, he didn’t come out of the doghouse he slept in. I thought he might already be gone, but he sat up and lumbered out. He wandered around his enclosure. He was blind. He hadn’t been the day before. I picked him up and set him down by bushes where he liked to spray. He walked in unsteady circles by my feet.
He didn’t appear to be in pain, but he wasn’t eliminating. There was nothing in the litter box. His organs weren’t working. Add to this the blindness—
I wouldn’t put an animal down simply for being blind, but Gremlin’s blindness came from detached retinas due to hypertension because his kidneys weren’t working. They were never going to work.
“Talk me out of it,” I told my husband after I showed him how Gremlin walked.
“I don’t think I can,” he said.
My husband held him while I took a shower.
“He’s just been purring away,” he told me when I returned.
I held him while my husband took a shower. I called for the appointment. Nothing was open until 2:30, so for those hours, we talked to Gremlin. I told him he was loved.
I fed him and gave him some water. He ate a little and drank some. I took him outside and let him feel the sun.
I remembered this kitten who chewed our fingers when he first arrived and kneaded the back of my head in the middle of the night with very sharp little claws, who purred loudly next to me on the pillow. I remembered the kitten who ran out of his hiding place behind the bookcase to greet me when I came home from work. I remembered the cat who made it impossible to wrap presents because wrapping paper is a cat toy. I remembered the cat who played with the yo-yo my husband dangled before him. I remembered the cat who sat on the block wall washing his paws, ignoring the neighbors’ dog going nuts barking at him. I remember the cat who delighting in tearing up newspaper. I remembered the cat who cried every morning for breakfast as if he hadn’t been fed for a week. I remembered the cat who slept on the couch between me and my husband, one paw touching each of us, as if he didn’t want us to leave. I remembered the cat who pawed my husband’s shoulder because he wasn’t done receiving attention.
That morning, the cat curled up next to me on the couch, sleeping, content.
I kept you safe from coyotes and cars. I kept you—mostly—out of the wind, the rain, and the hot sun. I could not keep your kidneys from dying. But I kept you from suffering needlessly.
And when we came home with an empty jacket, I had no words. My husband hugged me and said, “I miss him, too.”
To the well-meaning receptionist: Fuck your ashes, trying to separate more of my money from me.
I want my cat back.
Review of “The Life and Times of Le Bronco von der Löwenhöhle”
Long before I read this lovely tribute, I read and enjoyed Bronco’s adventures. Bronco was, without doubt, the goodest boy of them all—just like every dog.
Full disclosure: the author, Thomas Wikman, and I go back some years to a now-defunct writing site, Epinions. I have enjoyed his book reviews and letters to the editor for years.
That is not to say that the book is without surprises. For example, I didn’t know Thomas didn’t grow up with dogs. He has always come across as knowledgeable regarding animals. I assumed he’d been playing catch with four-footed beasts for as long as he could stand on two feet. I grew up with dogs. To me, a house without an animal isn’t a home.
Bronco was a Leonberger, a breed I’d never heard of before. It is an unusual breed in North America. Having originated in the 19th century in Germany, it remains more common in Europe. They are huge dogs, with the males weighing between 120 and 170 pounds and the females 100 and 135 pounds. They are similar to St. Bernards and are known for their gentle dispositions. This was the case for Bronco.
The author relates amusing stories about Bronco and the other dogs he and his family own(ed), which are entertaining. The tales serve more than to entertain, however. They show the family learning, though these are never mere didactic tools.
For example, the author relates that while he was talking with a trainer, Bronco kept poking him in the leg with his (sizeable) paw. The author ignored him because he was in the middle of a conversation. Bronco didn’t give up but bit his rear end—not hard enough to do damage, but hard enough to cause pain. Again, I stress the size of the dog. The author writes:
“I turned around, and there stood Bronco, looking at me with his happy eyes and wagging his tail as if he were completely innocent. I forgave him immediately.”
Rather than go off on the dog or slap him—as people might—he wisely asked the trainer why the dog acted like that. The trainer responded that Bronco wanted his attention but had to learn that he was not the one in charge and shouldn’t behave like that.
The love and caring the author and his family show for their dogs comes through on every page. It is not mere sentiment. He acknowledges that caring for animals is work and, at times, expensive. The dogs are walked, they’re cared for, and trained.
And the pictures! A photo of the cutest puppy on the planet—just like all the other puppies on the planet—when Bronco first arrived at about three months, and a photo of Bronco sitting on the lap of Thomas’ wife, Claudia. You have to take Thomas’ word for it because you can barely see any human in the picture. In addition to the photos, there are charming color drawings by Naomi Rosenblatt depicting some of the cutest and funniest incidents in the book. She also draws touching tributes to the dogs when they leave.
At the end of the book is a history of the Leonberger breed, including statistics, health concerns, and breed standards. This section also discusses the work of the Leonberger Health Foundation International, whose “mission is to improve the life, health, and longevity of the Leonberger,” according to its website.
The author and his stories of Bronco and the family’s other dogs are a reminder of how much animals enrich our lives. They are informative as well. I think any animal-lover will enjoy this—even if a Leonberger is not in your future.
The author is donating his proceeds from the sale of this book to the Leonberger Health Foundation International.
Title: The Life and Times of Le Bronco von der Löwenhöhle
Author: Thomas Wikman
First published: 2022
Available in print:
- Amazon.com
- Barnes & Noble
In kindle: - Amazon.com
Reviews of Old and New Stories. Mostly Old 