What we've been reading lately...

It's A few years ago, discussing movie history with a young movie fan, I was asked “what website did you go to find that information?” Well, to paraphrase Peter Falk in The Princess Bride, once upon a time the Internet was called books. I have boxes and bookcases and crawlspaces and desk drawers crammed with the darn things; life as a fire hazard. Still, call me old school, but as often as I visit, for example, Leonard Maltin’s website, I use his wonderful books (The Great Movie Shorts, The Great Movie Comedy Teams, et al) as reference materials a lot more often.

Recently, a trio of books that I think are of interest to most visitors to this website arrived in the Balcony; two are specifically devoted to classic films.

The first bears the unwieldy title of Science-Fiction & Fantasy Cinema: Classic Films of Horror, Sci-Fi, & the Supernatural. The second is called Hollywood’s Classic Comedies featuring Slapstick, Romance, Music, Glamour or Screwball Fun! Both are by John Howard Reid, who obviously knows his subject matter. They’re both part of a series called “Hollywood Classics”, which numbers a couple of dozen books, all of which I believe are written by him. I enjoyed Mr. Reid’s writing style, his knowledge and love of movies, and his dedication to presenting the breadth and depth of his topics; I wish, however, he’d have narrowed his focus a bit because there are omissions in the book that readers are going to wonder about, if not consider unforgivable.

The books are big (Sci-Fi 320 pages, Classic Comedies 240) and boast colorful covers. The photo sections, alas, are skimpy and relegated to the back of each volume. Each film therein is described with cast, crew, production information, synopsis, and the author’s comments; contemporary or modern reviews are often included as well. From time to time, he’ll mention that a film is on DVD and give us a “scale of 1 to 10” review of same. Most reviews run from half a page to a full page or more.

Starting with the Science Fiction book ($24.50), we’ll find Roger Corman’s The Wasp Woman (“skillful lighting and brooding camerawork. [Fred] Katz’s waspy music score also rates as a major contribution”) but, oddly, not Corman’s Attack of the Crab Monsters or It Conquered the World. The Jungle Jim film Jungle Moon Men is included (“teases us with a tiny bit of action”), but not Robot Monster. I suspect that most people who would buy this book would look for the author’s comments on Plan 9 from Outer Space, Target Earth, It Came from Outer Space, or The Man from Planet X, none of which are included. What ARE included, puzzlingly enough, are dozens of cartoons, most of which have little or nothing to do with science fiction, fantasy, or the supernatural. It would be okay, I guess, to include Terror Faces Magoo or Duck Dodgers, but why are Scrap Happy Daffy, Magoo Breaks Par, and Slick Hare in here? I did appreciate the sheer number of obscurities Reid lists, including The Old Curiosity Shop (1935), The Devil’s Partner (1958), and White Gorilla (1945). I also appreciated the love he shows for Mexican horror films, the Maria Montez-Jon Hall series, and my favorite fantasy film, Here Comes Mr. Jordan. I can’t forgive him, though, for listing the original Flash Gordon serial (which he gives, rightfully, a rave review) as “not for young children.” His definition of “young” must be different than mine.

The Classic Comedies volume ($19.95) is more focused and more satisfying; it reviews 200 films (or so the cover says, I didn’t count) and has a nice cross-reference of arguably the most popular movie genre in history. Still, you’ll wonder why Laurel & Hardy’s worst feature, The Bullfighters, is included, and their best, Sons of the Desert and Way Out West, are not. Why are six pages devoted to the Blondie series, but none of the Marx Bros. movies listed? Again, the book’s greatest value is pointing out films I had overlooked, including One Sunday Afternoon (1933, with Gary Cooper) and Stop Press Girl (1949), plus you’ll find a nice smattering of the great movie comics, including Chaplin, Lloyd, Fields, and Hope, although surprisingly there’s little attention to Buster Keaton. It was nice to see Will Hay and Norman Wisdom films included, though.

You'll most likely find both books to be interesting and highly readable, but you'll hold your book with one hand and scratch your head with t'other. Both books can be ordered through www.lulu.com.

And now, for stories of men in tights...

As a kid, I was an avid reader of funnybooks. I began with Casper and the Looney Tunes comics when I was too young to do more than stare at the pictures; by the age of four, I was reading and had discovered the DC line of super-hero books. I spent the 1960s with my nose stuck in a comic book (well, okay, I read a lot of other things too, but comics were never far away) and they were invariably all DC offerings. Marvel Comics always were in the middle of some long cosmic saga, the heroes didn’t seem to like each other, even when they were teammates, and the editorial pages made fun of me personally for reading DC Comics. No, thanks. Therefore, it wasn’t until Jack Kirby moved back to DC Comics in the early 1970s that I first became a regular reader of his work, although I was certainly familiar with what he’d done on Challengers of the Unknown and a few other older titles for DC. I liked his work on Jimmy Olsen and The Forever People, didn’t much care for The New Gods, and don’t recall ever reading Mr. Miracle. I was puzzled why DC assigned Murphy Anderson to redraw Superman’s face in Kirby’s magazines; I assumed, I guess, that “Kirby couldn’t do it right.” Mark Evanier, whose websites povonline.com and newsfromme.com are essential reading ‘round the Balcony, was an assistant to Kirby during this period, and has written a fascinating, lavishly illustrated biography called Kirby, King of Comics (Abrams, $40) that has impressed this casual Jack Kirby reader very much. It’s large, it’s colorful, it’s full of engrossing anecdotes and stories, and it contains mammoth amounts of terrific Kirby artwork, some of it in the pencil stage.

Even casual leafing through the book will whet your appetite for more; here’s the story of how Marvel instructed Herb Trimpe to trace over a Kirby Hulk poster, creating a project that paid Jack no money and even less respect; there’s a reproduction of the original artwork to a full adventure of the Fighting American. Hell, I’d have paid $40 just for a print of Kirby’s character portrait of movie funnyman Andy Clyde (page 21).

Naturally, Kirby’s conclave of enthusiasts are going to want this book (and they’re going to be mighty impressed by it), but I recommend it fully to anyone with even a cursory interest in comics or pop art. Wonderful stuff, beautifully reproduced, and probably the best book on comics I’ve read since Jules Feiffer’s The Great Comic Book Heroes. I can’t think of any higher praise than that. You can order it from amazon.com, where the going price is only $26.40. A steal and a half.

What we've been watching lately...

It's been awhile since we've had time to post much (darn it, Monogram Week does that to us every year) but we're leaving on vacation soon (to Mars or New York City, whatever that doohickey on our dashboard steers us t'wards) and would like to toss some reviews at you before we go. What say we do 'em in alphabetic order, Balconeers?

Barn of the Naked Dead (Legend House, $19.95) promises women "Stripped Naked! Chained Like Animals!" and that's what it delivers, although a lot more of the latter than the former, sadly, men. Andrew Prine is a Nevada desert psycho who captures Las Vegas showgirls and chains them up for his own private circus. And what's that monster living out in the shack? And what's with the mommy fetish? And, and, and... well, the box has a warning that the film contains "Explicit Gore and Naked Women" but it has precious little of either, frankly. Exploitation at its finest, and to Johnny Legend -- who claims to have searched for 34 years to find a copy of this film -- we can only say, "Why?" Still, it's a pretty good print, letterboxed, and contains a full-length "Gore Beat" videozine that we didn't watch.

The Black Camel (Not part of the new Charlie Chan, Vol. 4 collection from Fox, $49.98) Here in the Balcony, we've been sleeping pretty well lately, so there's been no need for a doze inducer. Hence, the Charlie Chan films have been gathering dust on the ol' Balcony shelves. With the release of a new fourth volume, though, we thought, what th' heck (we think those three words a lot) and went back to the LAST set of Chan films and tried to catch up a bit by watching The Black Camel, a very early (1931) installment in the series. Well, pick OUR jaws up off the floor: this is actually a very good movie and a very good mystery. Three years after her fiance was mysteriously killed, a beautiful actress is stabbed to death on location in Honolulu. The suspects include Bela Lugosi AND Dwight Frye, and for once Charlie doesn't take his own sweet time in gettin' around to actually cracking the case. Interesting characters, a swift-moving plot, and a lot of Hawaiian color make this easily the best Chan film this reporter has ever seen.

Bugville (Genius Entertainment, $14.95) is a piece of crap. Next! What's that? You want more detail? Okay, you nosy parker. This is actually the 1941 animated feature Mr. Bug Goes to Town, the second and last feature (after Gulliver's Travels) produced by Max Fleischer before Paramount booted him from his own cartoon studio. It's long been one of my favorites, and I had high hopes for this new release, because Genius did such a good job with The First Kings of Comedy, one of the best unheralded DVD releases of 2007. Well, the crappy bootleg-type edition I ordered from Australia years ago is much better than this edition, which boasts three bonus Fleischer cartoons (a Gabby, a Hunky & Spunky, and a Color Classics) that look like they came from a 99¢ store DVD in a paper sleeve. Shockingly, the feature doesn't look any better -- it apparently comes from a second-generation video master. And the opening credits are even missing, replaced by a new "Bugville" title that's been optically altered with scratches to look "old". Hey, maybe they did that to the whole film, which would explain a lot. The brief Max Fleischer bio has several errors; the only other bonus is a trailer (under the 1950s title of Hoppity Goes to Town). One of the big disappointments of the year.

Delinquent Schoolgirls kicks of a new boxed "Psychotronica" set from VCI Entertainment, which is so embarrassed by the darn things that you won't find their name anywhere on the packaging. They've set up a special website, psychotronica.com, that I haven't visited. I have visited the boxed set, though. Yikes! The kinds of movies that make you feel like you need a good shower afterwards, although you know you'll never scrape the stickiness off your soul. Delinquent Schoolgirls offers three "sexual deviates" (a gay guy, a rapist, and someone who just likes to imitate film stars, mainly W.C. Fields) who break out of the Sexual Deviate Asylum and raid a school for delinquent women. Not nearly as much fun as it sounds; by the 50 min. mark, you'll consider a porno film starring Roseanne Barr to be more entertaining. For the record, the boxed set includes Dream No Evil, Mondo Keyhole, The Raw Ones, The Mermaids of Tiburon ("Nude Version", it says here) and Yambao - Cry of the Bewitched. Personally, I'm awfully glad VCI released these, 'cause it's gonna keep a lot of very strange individuals off the streets and in their homes watching TV.

The Robert Donat Collection ($29.99) is a new set from Firecake Entertainment (England), although it's Region 0 and will play on any DVD player (we tried it; in fact, it looks worst on our all-region player, coming across as rather ghostly. It looked much better on our other players). You're not going to believe what they've jammed on one li'l 2-sided disc, but I swear, it's true. You get three Donat-starring British films, the "restored to its original length" 1934 version of The Count of Monte Cristo directed by Rowland V. Lee (Son of Frankenstein, Tower of London); Hitchcock's classic The 39 Steps (1935); and a true comedy classic, Rene Clair's The Ghost Goes West (1935), which is the one we watched. More on that later. Y'know what else they jammed onto this shiny li'l disc? Three radio adaptations of our three movies, AND full PDF versions of the novels The 39 Steps and The Count of Monte Cristo -- nearly 1700 pages of manuscript. Naturally, with all this stuff crammed on one disc, the picture and sound quality aren't what they should be. Still, man is that a bargain, and The Ghost Goes West (the one we watched, as you'll recall) is a gem. Donat is the cowardly son of a Scottish laird who's killed in battle (technically; he's actually hiding behind a barrel full of gunpowder that explodes) and cursed to haunt his family castle. That he does, right up until the modern age, when the castle is sold to Eugene Pallatte and family and shipped to America. Great stuff.

Don't Talk to Strange Men (Odeon, £9.99, Region 2) is another of the Best of British series of obscure thrillers, comedies, and war pictures. This is a true gem, a real nail-biter from 1962. A strangler's on the loose, and young Jean (Christina Gregg) has answered a wrong number and met a very charming stranger on a public telephone. He calls her every day at the same time as she waits for the bus home, and soon he's drawing information out of her about who she is and where she can be found. At a taut 64 minutes, this one's one of the great unsung suspense films of the 1960s. If you'd like to sample one of these Odeon rarities, start with this one. You'll be hooked.

Frontier Marshal (Fox, free, but for all the wrong reasons) is the second adaptation of the book that would eventually inspire John Ford's classic My Darling Clementine. The darn thing should've been included as a free gift in that massive colossal $300, 2-ton boxed set that came out late last year (and that earned our coveted In The Balcony DVD of the Year award anyway). Instead, they stuck it as a separate, free disc with the stand-alone release of Clementine ($19.98). Which means that chumps like me, that had that massive colossal box AND had the "Fox Studio Classics" version of Clementine, had to pick up yet a THIRD version of the DVD to get the 1939 film Frontier Marshal directed by Allan Dwan. Well, we're nothing if not a chump, so we did. Fox, you owe us. In any case, it's a fine film in its own right, with the great Randolph Scott as Wyatt Earp and Cesar Romero as Doc Holiday. The print is outstanding. There was a third version; the original one, made in 1934 and starring George O'Brien. That one is either lost or locked away in an archive, depending on whom you believe, although the poster is published in itty-bitty postage stamp size on the back of the packaging.

The Smiling Lieutenant (Criterion/Eclipse, part of the Ernst Lubitsch Musicals collection, $59.95) proves the old adage, which I just made up, that movies don't come any more entertaining than a good Lubitsch. The box features a quartet of Paramount musicals from the early sound era, and in those lascivious pre-Code days, these are "bedroom romps" what ARE "bedroom romps". In Lieutenant, Maurice Chevalier is in love with Claudette Colbert (and she him) but he's forced to marry Princess Miriam Hopkins, whose one overwhelming dominant trait is that she's completely devoid of being any fun whatsoever. Toss in some songs, some dancing, Charles Ruggles, a lot of naughty references, and a song about jazzing up one's underwear, and you've got a delicious confection that -- well, reread the first sentence of this paragraph. And this is just about the nicest 1930s Paramount print and transfer we've ever seen, too. A beauty.

Val Lewton: Man in the Shadows (Warners, $19.98) is a new documentary from Martin Scorsese on the legendary B-movie producer who turned out a series of highly regarded (and for the most part highly profitable) horror films for RKO in the 1940s, including The Cat People, The Leopard Man, I Walked with a Zombie, The Bodysnatcher, and Curse of the Cat People, amongst others. The documentary's been airing on TCM along the Lewton films, and I went into it thinking it was going to be rather dull, but on the contrary it sheds a lot of light into the darkness that was Lewton. The documentary is available separately or as a bonus in the newly reissued Val Lewton DVD collection from Warner Bros.

What we were watching before what we've been watching lately...

We've been enjoying a spate of rare vintage British films released on DVD in the UK (region 2) by Odeon Entertainment, and the latest one, a crime thriller called Tomorrow at Ten (1962), is easily the best one yet. It's a suspense classic with a great cast.

Robert Shaw has kidnapped a little boy from his rich father and secreted him in a run-down country estate. None of these "anonymous notes" or dead-of-night phone calls, though, for this guy: He marches right in to the estate and demands the ransom. His gimmick? He's given the boy a stuffed toy that happens to be stuffed with an explosive timed to go off at 10 a.m. the following morning. Shaw's got a plane ticket for a 5:30 p.m. flight to Buenos Aires, see, and unless he reaches his destination safely, that boy isn't going to see his sixth birthday. The father is ready to pay the ransom, but when the housekeeper panics and calls in the police, it becomes a test of wills between Shaw and a tenacious cop (John Gregson, who's terrific) who absolutely, positively refuses to give in to the demands. After that, the film cuts between the cat-and-mouse game between the two stars, the work of Scotland Yard to try and find the boy, and the lad himself, locked in a room and amusing himself with his golliwog (a term for the type of toy he has; it's a hideous caricature of a Minstrel performer, and apparently these toys were very popular in England for generations). Two-thirds of the way through the film, the plot takes a major twist, and you're not gonna hear about it from us, but we went from the edge of our seats to the EDGE of the edge of our seats. There wasn't an unbit fingernail in the house by the time the film had ended.

Shaw is sensational, weaving between a totally-in-control but heartless criminal to a pathetic bully with mother issues. The supporting cast includes Alec Clunes (father of Martin, who starred in Men Behaving Badly) and William Hartnell, the original Doctor Who (1963-73).

Tomorrow at Ten was directed by Lance Comfort, and we're going to seek out more of his films. By the way, it was filmed in 1962 and released in mid-1963 in England, as the B-feature with Hud. The IMDB claims it was made in 1964; that is wrong. The Odeon DVD (£9.99), which presents the film in full-frame, is fine, with a very good sound and picture and the usual new trailers you'll find on other Odeon releases. The only real bonus is a very well-written and informative essay booklet. Highly recommended; if you've got an all region player (or you actually LIVE in England), don't miss it.

We haven't had time to post much lately, so let's try 'n' get caught up with various new releases, some of which are brand new and some of which are only now arriving In The Balcony (hey, we ARE a Second Run House, and if you don't know what that means, well, you can wiki it later). Several of them are cherce sets from overseas, including our first offering, which hails from France.

Robert Siodmak was a terrific noir director whose titles, including The Killers, Criss Cross, and The File on Thelma Jordan are prized by mystery/suspense fans. (He gave us Son of Dracula, too.) Three of his best-loved films are featured in a 4-disc boxed set from Universal in France (Euro 42.99). In addition to a 2-disc Special Edition of quintessential noir The Killers (1946), there's a gorgeous Technicolor offering of Maria Montez, Jon Hall, and Sabu in the deliriously, deliciously goofy Cobra Woman (1944) and a terrific suspense thriller, Phantom Lady (1944) with Ella Raines (pictured) and Elijah Cook, Jr. All four films feature ample bonus materials (mostly in French, although there's a one-hour interview on German TV with Siodmak) and trailers. Beautiful prints and transfers, and inasmuch as only The Killers is currently on DVD in Region 1, you should snap this one up.

Ya wanna know whom we love here In The Balcony? Well, we love a lot of people (and if you're out there reading this, Parker Posey, know that YOU are one of 'em, babe) but one we love a lot is the incomparable Ernst Lubitsch, who gave us some of the wittiest, funniest, and most charming movies that we've ever seen. Us Lubitsch fans (I think we're called Lubitches) are ecstatic these days, pretty much: Criterion has a boxed set of his early musicals coming, and Kino has a recent release called Lubitsch in Berlin, featuring 7 movies (1919-1921) on 5 DVDs ($79.95). Titles include archival 35mm restorations of Anna Boleyn, The Doll, I Don't Want to be a Man, The Oyster Princess, Sumurun, and The Wildcat, plus a new documentary. The earliest film in the set, The Doll, is a real charmer... a quite fey young man (to put it nicely, he "doesn't like women") has to get married to claim his inheritance. No problem: he marries a life-size robotic female created by a daffy scientist/inventor/clockmaker. Only the robot was accidentally smashed, and the scientist's daughter has secretly taken its place. Whimsical, and the typical German expressionist sets are warped, not towards Caligari, but towards Toyland. Great fun.

In the past year, it almost seems there's been too much great stuff out on DVD; even we can't keep up with it all. Case in pernt: the fourth boxed set of Films Noir from Warner Bros., containing 10 additional vintage suspense thrillers, was out before we'd even finished 2006's collection. We're gettin' round to 'em, though, and a real highlight and surprise has been Mystery Street (1950), with Ricardo Montalban and Bruce Bennett teaming to apply the latest forensic science techniques to solve the murder of a pregnant prostitute. With little more than bones to go on, they piece together first the body, then the identity, then the motive -- and then the killer. Graphic, chilling stuff. A terrific movie. Available on a single disc with another good film, Act of Violence (1948). Robert Ryan has murderous intent as he tries to settle an old war grudge against Van Heflin. Buy the whole box ($59.98) and get 8 more movies besides.

Until such time (if ever) as Laurel & Hardy get the U.S. boxed set they deserve, the funniest collection of classic movies you can buy remains the massive 17-film, 10 disc set strangely entitled W.C. Fields: The Movie Collection: 17 Classic Movies. That pretty much covers it. It's available in England (Region 2) and is reason enough for making sure you pick up an all-region player (they're cheap, folks). Here In The Balcony, we have found the films to have lost none of their ability to make us guffaw, split our sides, spurt goat's milk through our nose, or any of the other nasty things people do when they're laughing uncontrollably. As you look around this website, you'll find a W.C. Fields article or two, but we'll just use this space to remind you that in addition to 11 films currently available on U.S. DVD, there are five films exclusive to this set, and four of them are essential: Million Dollar Legs, Tillie and Gus, If I Had a Million, and Mississippi (pictured, with Bing Crosby). The fifth film is Follow the Boys, with Fields one of many on display. In the U.S., Universal has two boxed sets available, and at the very least you should have them.

Well, as long as we're ordering DVDs from Europe, let's go back to France for The Road to Glory (1936), a pretty good Howard Hawks picture. Fredric March and Warner Baxter share the trenches of the first World War, battling the Huns and each other for the love of June Lang. Lionel Barrymore and Victor Kilian are brothers in arms, and can you picture ANY of them as being French? Me, either. In fact, the whole picture is based on (with stock footage from) the 1932 French film Wooden Crosses, available on DVD from Criterion as part of their Raymond Bernard set. The Hollywood version adds the love triangle, the girl, a subplot with Baxter's father joining the regiment, and some comedy business, none of which improves on the Bernard original. The French DVD looks great, though; you wonder why Fox, Warners, and Universal don't just arrange to port over DVDs that look as good as this one, Phantom Lady, and Cobra Woman for U.S. audiences.

Okay, let's wrap this up: it's fun to write about DVDs, more fun even to watch the darn things. Criterion's Eclipse collections have turned out to be a treasure trove of obscure goodies for film fans who've seen pretty much everything, or thought we had. One of the latest releases contains a set of postwar films by Akira Kurosawa, and we initiated the set with One Wonderful Sunday, a not-altogether-successful attempt to combine Italian neo-realism with Frank Capraesque whimsy. Isao Numazaki and Chieko Nakakita are young lovers spending their one day off a week with each other. They have little money, little hope, and few dreams of a better life, and what meager amounts they DO have of all three is scraped away from them by bitter reality. Little pieces of happiness keep them (and us, out there watching them on the screen) going until the film's climax, at the end of a long day, when the film turns into an absurdist piece of audience participation. I came away with much more of a "that was interesting" than "that was a good movie."

More Reviews

Y'know what we love here In The Balcony? Discovering one of those goofy old movies that attempted to appeal to everybody in the audience by offering a veritable cornucopia of entertainment for the price of one measly theatre ticket. Such a film is the rather delightful if minor concoction entitled Holidays with Pay (1948), now available from Odeon Entertainment in the UK (Region 2) as part of their "Northern Comedy" series.

Frank Randle (1901-1957) was a wildly popular stage and screen comic who was known for being the #1 hell-raiser on whatever circuit he worked, a heavy drinker and often violent individual that was nevertheless worshipped by his fans. He made his film debut in 1940 and provided needed laughs to a nation torn by war. Randle's stock character was a quick-tongued but slow-witted individual who hated all forms of authority but seemed unable to function without strict supervision. Holidays with Pay, his fifth film, is graced with the considerable talents of "Two-Ton" Tessie O'Shea as his good-natured wife, and how in th' heck do we recap the nutty plot? Basically, Frank and Tessie are off to Blackpool (which appears to be the Atlantic City of England) on their annual summer holiday, with their daughters and various other family members and boarders in tow. The first third of the film shows their preparations for the trip, the second third plants them on the Boardwalk enjoying a variety of activities, including musical numbers and a love subplot with their daughter and the young heir to a fortune, and then finally they all end up in a haunted house with an ape-like monster and a headless skeleton! Hey, I've SEEN the picture and I'm not sure how all this happened!

Weirdest of all, the film gets laughs from a hairlipped woman who pops up from time to time and sprouts meaningless dialog (prompting Randle to ask her, "Have you caught your face on a nail?"). Some of the dialog exchanges are quite amusing (Tessie: "You need to settle down before you go looking for a pub." Frank: "My problem is going to be settling up, not settling down") and Tessie herself, huge as she is, is adorable and quite good-natured no matter what indignities she's saddled with. The central third of the film is the best part, with many scenes of the cast simply ad-libbing fun in the amusement park, including hopping off their hansom to clean up after the horse and dancing the Hokey Pokey with hundreds of other vacationers on the boardwalk. In fact, throughout much of the film you can see dozens of real holiday-goers simply standing and laughing at the cast and their antics.

It's unfortunate that the print used isn't very good, rather scratchy and with less than adequate sound. Better original materials would've goosed the enjoyablility of the film a lot. The only extras are trailers for several other films in the series, plus a well-written essay on the life of the crazy Mr. Randle.

Dilemma is another in the new “Best of British” series from Odeon, a collection of DVDs (UK, Region 2) of obscure comedy, thriller, and war films from 1940s-1960s England.

In this unusual suspense story from 1962, a mild-mannered schoolteacher (Peter Halliday) arrives home to find his wife missing and a dead man in the bathroom, stabbed with her scissors. Finding evidence that the guy was a blackmailer, and hearing from the snoopy neighbor that his wife had left the house in a dead run a few minutes earlier, he concludes that she killed him and panicked. He decides to bury the body under house and cover up any traces of his wife’s crime. The problem is the steady parade of visitors who interrupt his task, including kids, nuns, a piano tuner, his mum, and of course, that snoopy neighbor, who is determined to discover what’s going on behind the drawn curtains. Meanwhile, the wife (Ingrid Hafner) has an agenda of her own… and is she really a killer?

Dilemma is Rear Window from the other side of the glass, and it’s quite entertaining in its modest way (at only 65 min., it plays very much ike a slightly extended hour-long episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents). According to the extensive liner notes, the film received only a limited cinema release in Yorkshire and appeared on TV but once. Most of the cast and crew came from such British TV series as Dr. Who, The Avengers, A for Andromeda, and Harpers West One, and director Peter Maxwell contributed episodes of The Adventures of Robin Hood, William Tell, and Danger Man.

The DVD includes newly created trailers for several of the films in the Best of British collection. We’re enjoying the opportunity to view these rare films; Dilemma comes from a beautiful print that belies its age and scarcity. You can order it (SRP £9.99) and other films in the series (if you keep scrolling down, you'll stumble across our review of Brass Monkey) from amazon.co.uk or direct from Odeon Entertainment.

The Lean Years

Milan Records has sent over a new, wonderful DVD/CD set that features the legendary 1992 concert paying tribute to the legendary director, who had died the previous year. Maurice Jarre: A Tribute to David Lean (SRP $19.97) presents the concert in DVD with brilliant Dolby 2.0 sound, and an accompanying CD that features most of the event (short the music from A Passage to India ). The lineup, conducted by Mr. Jarre, includes suites from Ryan's Daughter, A Passage to India, Lawrence of Arabia, and the instantly recognizable highlight, Doctor Zhivago, plus a new piece in honor of the event, Remembrance.

The bonus material is impressive; there's feature commentary (in French, with English subtitles) by Jarre, as well as a 35 min. onscreen interview and extensive liner notes. The picture quality of the concert itself (4:3) is surprisingly good, considering it was taped 15 years ago. Here In The Balcony, we've watched the concert three times in the past week (throughout which, by the way, we're treated to brief snippets of scenes from the films themselves, or of Lean directing) and listened to the CD extensively. Whether you're a Lean fanatic or a casual fan of film scores, you'll enjoy this offering, which can be ordered from amazon.com or direct from the fine folks at Milan Records.

The Assassination of Billy the Kid by the Sheriff Pat Garrett

Through its association with Kit Parker, VCI Entertainment has been releasing so many obscure westerns, musicals, and crime thrillers from the Lippert vaults that I can scarcely keep up with them all. You'll pardon me if from time to time I just shovel a review your way as I dig through the pile of B-movie delights, okay?

Now, I didn't see the recent film The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (I do wonder how that one came out, though; I wish the title had been more specific), but it reminded me that in 1950, Lippert gave us I Shot Billy the Kid, produced by and starring Donald “Red’ Barry as Billy the Kid. And I can only say that apparently, this is the story of Billy the Kid when he was a middle-aged man.

The film opens at the Ft. Sumner, New Mexico grave of William H. Bonney, and standing over it is Robert Lowery, the poor man’s Lon Chaney, Jr. Lowery – made up to look like Andy Clyde – tells us that he was Billy’s friend in the olden days, and ended up shooting him. I was kind of expecting the words THE END to flash across the screen right there, but instead we get a flashback to happier days in July of ’78. No, not the disco era, you sillies – 1878. Billy the Kid – whom we’re told “was not old enough to vote” but who appears to be ready for AARP – is a participant in the Lincoln County War, and is better at killing people than anybody else involved in that imbroglio, so he’s the one everybody’s after. The governor ends the war and pardons everyone except Billy; attempts to grant him amnesty fail because he refuses to lay down his arms. Soon Billy’s old friend Pat Garrett, now a sheriff, is charged with ending Billy’s hard reign.

Director William Berke directed about 100 movies, including Jungle Jim, Dick Tracy, and Falcon pictures, plus dozens of cheap westerns. None of them are very good, but all of them are passable entertainment for the second slot on a Saturday matinee bill. I Shot Billy the Kid is better ‘n’ a lot of ‘em, not least of all because of its cast. Oh, I don’t mean Lowery – although he’s pretty good, and doesn’t have that pudginess he demonstrates in a lot of his films – or Barry, who seems to be playing Billy the Kid’s dad – but the supporting cast includes Tom Neal as Billy’s sidekick, Wally Vernon as a very funny Mexican bandito, the smokin’ hot Wendy Lee as Billy’s smokin’ hot senorita friend, and such familiar faces amongst the good & bad guys as Bill Kennedy, Jack Perrin, John Merton, and Jack Geddes.

VCI's DVD of I Shot Billy the Kid is, like all their Kit Parker offerings, from rare original materials and looks great. It's on Vol. 3 of the "Legendary Outlaws" collection, along with Don Barry and Bob Lowery again in – no, not as Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer, you wags – The Dalton Gang. You can order it from your nearest online distributor or direct from VCI Entertainment (SRP $14.99).

Stanwyck By Your Man

Warners has released the latest in their fine line of Signature series boxed sets, this time devoted to Barbara Stanwyck (1907-1990) on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of her birth. The box (SRP $49.98) is a disappointment if you’re looking for the best of Babs, though – there’s no Union Pacific or The Lady Eve here, nor are any of her four Oscar-nominated performances (Stella Dallas, Ball of Fire, Double Indemnity, and Sorry, Wrong Number). There are six pretty entertaining pictures, though, and as usual Warners has included a wealth of shorts. Each disc is available separately ($19.98), too.

The first film aired here In The Balcony is also the most recent film in the set, Executive Suite (1954). We chose that one because of its stellar cast (including William Holden, Fredric March, Walter Pidgeon, Shelley Winters) and its pedigree (produced by John Housman, directed by Robert Wise, screenplay by Ernest Lehman). What we found is a not-quite-as-engrossing-as-it-could’ve-been drama about the Tredway Corporation, manufacturer of fine furniture. When the company’s president (shown only in POV shots, just like Lady in the Lake) drops dead, the corporate machinations and backstabbing to replace him occur as swiftly as buzzards descending on carrion. Eventually, it comes down to idealistic young Bill Holden, who wants to invest in the company’s future, and sourpuss money-counter Freddy March, who wants to maximize investor dividends. The rest of the cast lines up behind one or t’other, depending on what’s in it for them.

So why isn’t it as good as it should’ve been? Well, for one thing, Mrs. Holden is played by June Allyson, and any time your picture devotes screen time to her, it’s not going to be as good as it should be. The film also takes itself a bit too seriously: there’s no bit of lighthearted business to relieve what was intended to be tension, but c’mon: it’s a FURNITURE company we’re talking about. There isn’t even a score to set the mood, unless you count the tower clock bells that open and close the picture.

Stanwyck’s part is small but showy; as the daughter of the company’s founder, and former mistress of the recently deceased president, she gets in some serious emoting as she wrestles with conflicting feelings about the old boy’s death. Fredric March, though, as the Beancounter from Hell, steals the picture.

The Warners DVD (also available separately) includes the trailer (which unlike the film, DOES have music; go figure) and two short subjects from 1954, a shockingly bad Tex Avery cartoon called Billy Boy and a laugh-out-loud Pete Smith Specialty with Dave O’Brien seeking relaxation from his stressful job in Out for Fun. Also, director Oliver Stone does feature commentary on Executive Suite; somebody listen to it and let us know why, ‘kay?

The rest of the Stanwyck Signature Collection, which includes the original trailers for all films except the first one:

Annie Oakley (1935, director George Stevens) with Preston Foster; shorts are a Porky Pig prototype cartoon called Into Your Dance and a 2-reel musical comedy short with Hal LeRoy and a number of specialty acts, Main Street Follies.

East Side, West Side (1949, dir. Mervyn LeRoy) with James Mason, Van Heflin, and Ava Gardner; bonuses include the Tex Avery cartoon The Counterfeit Cat and the Passing Parade short Stuff for Stuff.

My Reputation (1946, dir. Curtis Bernhardt) with George Brent and Eve Arden; included are the Daffy Duck cartoon Daffy Doodles and the Melody Masters short Jan Savitt and his Band, plus two radio adaptations of the feature.

The fifth disc is a double feature of To Please a Lady (1950, dir. Clarence Brown) with Clark Gable and Adolphe Menjou, and Jeopardy (1953, dir. John Sturges) with Barry Sullivan.

Ring Them Bells!

When Image Entertainment released a Milestone Ultimate Edition of the silent classic The Phantom of the Opera with Lon Chaney (SRP $24.99) a few years ago, they offered fans of this film a gorgeously restored DVD of the 1929 re-release cut of the film, plus a second disc with a rare complete version of the 1925 original version, and many worthwhile bonus features that made it one of the most highly collectible DVDs in the format's history. Since then, we've waited patiently for the other Chaney Universal classic, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923) to receive similar care. Hunchback is a film that we're lucky to have at all; for decades, only battered, worn, truncated versions have been in existence.

The first look at the new Image Hunchback of Notre Dame, then, results in disappointment: whereas Phantom was cleaned up to look as good as new, Hunchback is still marred by much debris and scratches. It appears that, until technology changes, this is as good as the film can look. The film has been speed-corrected from previous DVD editions, the score (conducted by Robert Israel) is fine, and there is an impressive array of bonus material included, not least of all commentary from Michael F. Blake, Chaney biographer, and a recreation of the press kit and 20-page souvenir program. There's also a gallery of 3-D stills, which actually look terrific once you turn the glasses backwards so that the red lens is over the right eye (don't ask me why, but it works, and thanks to the guy over at the Classic Horror Film Board for that advice).

Okay, all this aside, how's the movie? Well, as a film, not too good: overly long and way too talky, which in a silent film means you're going to be spending a LOT of time reading. So why is it one of our all-time favorite silent pictures? In a word: Chaney. It's his most impressive performance, and one of the greatest and most iconic portrayals in the history of motion pictures. His Quasimodo is astonishing and unforgettable, and if this film doesn't make you a fan, nothing will. So I don't know if this is truly the "ultimate edition," but it's the best one out there.

Rare British Films

Odeon Entertainment recently released a large number of what they’re calling “forgotten classics from the Golden Age of British Cinema” on DVD in England (£9.99, Region 2) as part of a “Best of British Collection” and here In The Balcony we’ll be proud to screen several of them and diligently report what we find.

We’re going to begin with a truly strange but entertaining 1948 musical/comedy/mystery called Brass Monkey, directed by Thornton Freeland. An eccentric millionaire (Ernest Thesiger) has two thirds of the original “See no evil, hear no evil” monkey talismans, and needs only “speak no evil” to complete the set. The rare artifact is being smuggled into England by Carole Landis (in her last role), but she gives it to her friend, a radio personality named Carroll Levis, played by radio personality Carroll Levis, who promptly loses it. The hunt is on, gangster Herbert Lom gets involved, and people end up dead. Meanwhile, the radio show must go on, and there’s plenty of weird talent on display.

Carroll Levis’ radio programme was a cross between The Gong Show and American Idol, with up-and-coming young talents mixed with oddball novelty acts and even some well-established music hall performers. A famous singer followed by an old man playing “Endearing Young Charms” on a band saw, followed by Terry-Thomas doing impressions, followed by a teenage girl offering “Flight of the Bumblebee” on the accordion. You know, that sort of thing. Terry-Thomas is wonderful in this film, and Carole Landis is beautiful in what would be her last role before her suicide in the summer of ’48. Levis has no talent whatsoever; as an actor, he’s Ed Sullivan, but when he’s doing his radio broadcast, he’s quite good (he was called “Britain’s Favorite Canadian”). Avril Angers is Levis’ ditzy secretary, and her comedy is unfunny but her singing and performing are marvelous (she was called “Britain’s Lucille Ball”).

Brass Monkey is certainly not a good film, but it’s an interesting one and it sure is different. The DVD is okay, with several promos for the other DVDs in the Best of British line as the only bonuses.

Universal Horror Classic Movie Archive

This year, Universal Home Entertainment has issued a pair of DVD sets of great interest to Monster Kids, those of us who grew up in the '60s and '70s glued to Friday and Saturday spook shows on our TV. Both sets are Best Buy exclusives, and should be snapped up before they're gone. If you're out of Best Buy range, call a friend.

Although the big guns like Frankenstein, Dracula, The Mummy, and The Wolf Man have seen numerous DVD releases, there are still a lot of 1930s and 1940s minor titles of varying quality waiting to escape from the dusty Universal vaults. Five of 'em are included on the new 2-disc DVD set called "Universal Horror Classic Movie Archive" ($19.99). A steal for five charming little chillers that, while no masterpieces, are perfect for a dark, stormy night.

The Black Cat is not the much-loved 1934 Karloff/Lugosi devil worshipper opus; it's a 1941 comedy/mystery set in an old dark house, and it's filled with familiar Universal B-movie faces, including Basil Rathbone, Bela Lugosi, Hugh Herbert, Gale Sondergaard, and Anne Gwynne. A couple of up-and-coming youngsters are on display, Broderick Crawford and Alan Ladd.

Speaking of young talent, after a decade of toiling away in minor crime dramas and serials and finally taking his father's famous name, Lon Chaney, Jr. made his Universal horror film debut -- and a good one it is -- with Man Made Monster (1941). Lon's a likeable carnival performer who is turned into an electrified killer by mad scientist Lionel Atwill in one of the studio's best B-horrors. Fun stuff, and at slightly less than an hour long, just the right length. It led to Chaney being cast as The Wolf Man, and the rest is horror movie history.

Horror Island (1941) never made it to VHS, so its home debut here is especially welcome. With a very short shooting schedule and reportedly a theatrical debut less than two weeks later, it is rumored to have been the least costly of all the Universal horrors. That aside, it's got a nice cast, including Dick Foran, Leo Carrillo, and Fuzzy Knight (what, it's not a western?) plus Peggy Moran. Again, only an hour long, so if you get bored, don't fret, it's quick and painless.

Night Monster (1942) is helped by experienced director Ford Beebe and a top cast of sinister suspects headed by Lugosi, Atwill, and Ralph Morgan. Who is killing the psychologists who have been summoned to an old, dark house to verify the sanity of a rich heiress? Beats me, I haven't watched it yet.

The last of the great Universal monsters of the 1930s-40s era was Paula the Gorilla Woman, who starred in a trio of ultra-cheap thrillers late in the horror era. The first and best of these, Captive Wild Woman, closes the set. Acquanetta is the ape lady, and the cast -- arguably the best of the five films in the set -- includes John Carradine, Evelyn Ankers, and Milburn Stone. Famed animal trainer Clyde Beatty appears in so much stock footage that he actually receives a screen credit!

All five films look pretty good, and trailers for three of 'em are included. Will there be a second volume next year? Your guess is as good as mine, but if there is, it could contain House of Horrors, The Strange Case of Dr. Rx, Jungle Woman, Mad Doctor of Market Street, and The Mad Ghoul. Are you listening, Universal?

Earlier Reviews

Several boxed sets of interest to movie fans are scheduled for release this fall, and the first two are already in the hot li’l hands of your crack Balcony Central staff. Our Noir section (HERE) has the other one. You've blundered into the Sci-Fi Universe!

The Classic Sci-Fi Ultimate Collection Volume 2 is a Best Buy exclusive that hardly anybody at Best Buy seems to know about (SRP $19.99). Typical of what passes for “customer service” at that place. In any case, it’s a badly named (neither classic nor ultimate) set of five fondly remembered vintage thrillers. We’ll start with the 1940 Paramount film (much of the Paramount catalog is now owned by Universal) Dr. Cyclops, a movie that was a “must see” during its frequent TV viewings when I was a kid for the simple reason that it was one of the very few vintage “monster movies” of the ’40s and ’50s produced in color. Cylops is from director Ernest B. Schoedsack, who gave us King Kong and Mighty Joe Young; this time, though, it’s a giant human that’s the menace, and it’s Albert Dekker, not an animated creation. Dekker’s a mad scientist in the jungles of Peru, shrinking the rest of the cast to itty-bitty size. The special effects were truly groundbreaking for their time, and the 3-strip Technicolor was breathtaking then and, on this DVD, is again.

The other four films are all B&W Universal offerings from a couple of decades later, mainly with those interesting studio contact players honing their craft. Cult of the Cobra (1955) gives us a twist on the old Mummy series; a group of American GIs witness a forbidden religious ceremony and are marked to die a cursed death. Instead of Lon Chaney, Jr., though, punishment is meted out by Faith Domergue, who can turn into a Queen Cobra. Slow setup, but stick with it – it’s a lot of fun once it gets going. The Land Unknown (1957) is a colossal CinemaScope effort with a  group of explorers stumbling across a tropical Lost World of dinosaurs and man-eating plants in the Antarctic. Jock Mahoney and Henry Brandon are in this one, with optically enlarged dinosaurs and a tyrannosaurus rex played by a guy in a rubber suit; it makes the cheesiest Godzilla movie’s effects look great by comparison.

The Deadly Mantis (1957) is much more appreciated in the grand scheme of 1950s schlock; it’s from producer William Alland (Creature from the Black Lagoon and, yes, The Land Unknown) and director Nathan Juran (7th Voyage of Sinbad). We all know that the ’50s were fertile ground for “giant bug” movies, and this is… well, it’s one of them. Craig Stevens and William Hopper trade lots of pseudo-scientific talk back and forth about how, if a mantis actually COULD grow to giant size, it would be the most voracious, unstoppable creature on earth. Hmmm. Finally, we’ve got The Leech Woman (1960), with Coleen Gray needing gland extracts to maintain her youthful appearance. It’s basically the same plot as Roger Corman’s The Wasp Woman from the same year, but I liked that one better. Coleen Gray is no Susan Cabot.

Somebody did a good job digitally remastering the films, particularly the beautiful hues of Dr. Cyclops and the deep, rich monochrome look of The Land Unknown. Leech Woman, Unknown, and Cobra are all widescreen anamorphic; Cyclops and Mantis are full-screen. Trailers are included for all films, although the Cyclops trailer looks as though it might be a re-creation. The five films are spread across three DVDs, with Leech Woman getting its own disc and the others doubled up.

Frankly, this is a nice little, inexpensive collection, although the films are a big comedown from last year’s Volume 1, which included The Incredible Shrinking Man, Monster on the Campus, The Monolith Monsters, Tarantula and The Mole People. Who are we to complain, though? Five sci-fi films looking this good for four bucks each? Sounds like a sweet deal to us. Go for it!