Psychotronic Ketchup: You've Gotta Start Somewhere

Five Guns West
Director: Roger Corman // 1955
Cinema 4 Rating: 5

Warning: following the definition, there is nothing remotely "psychotronic" about Five Guns West, in what can be charitably described as a rote Western genre offering from 1955. There aren't any monsters or bikers or vampires or strippers or drug fiends or men in gorilla suits or superspies engaging in martial arts about the sets. The only real genre twist to the film is in having the middle-aged leader of a group of villainous rebel soldiers (John Lund) emerge as the reluctant hero though eager love interest, while the actor who would normally fulfill the hero's role (Mike "Touch" "Mannix" Connors) is a creepy and caddish horndog throughout the film.

But in Psychotronic Guide author Michael Weldon's view, certain actors and directors (Vincent Price, Christopher Lee, Boris Karloff) are considered thoroughly "psychotronic" throughout their resumes. This short list of the all-inclusive also contains the name of Roger Corman, who cut his directorial teeth on Five Guns West in typically budget-conscious fashion. The film shows up in between Five Legends of the Dragon (itself psychotronic only by the presence of the aforementioned and seemingly ubiquitous Mr. Lee) and the Hammer Quatermass classic Five Million Years to Earth, a film so thoroughly psychotronic and wonderful, it is an absolutely crime that it is now out of print on DVD (as are all of the Quatermass line).

Corman gets derided a lot these days, even by those I love like the MST3K gang, who delighted in dragging him through the muck even in movies with which he had no apparent connection. Of course, they never tackled what are considered his higher achievements: his long series of generally incredible Poe epics, Little Shop of Horrors, A Bucket of Blood; they usually reserved their mocking for his less personal films. What they don't mention is how, even in his schlockiest of moments, like Teenage Caveman for example, he was still fairly bold and innovative when working with the most minuscule of budgets, even offering Twilight Zone-style twists amongst the horrible monster suits and often stiff acting.

Corman says this in his autobiography, How I Made A Hundred Movies in Hollywood and Never Lost a Dime (Random House, 1990): "Five Guns West was a breakthrough for me. With almost no training or preparation whatsoever, I was literally learning how to direct motion pictures on the job. It took me four or five of these "training films" to learn what a film school student knows when he graduates. But while the mistakes they make in student films are lost forever, mine were immortalized." So, what is the worse crime? Making harmless little 70-minute programmers which invariably make back their budget for only $60,000 a picture, or creating a stultifying and soulless 2-1/2 hour gutcruncher for $150 million (plus another $50 million in advertising, don't forget) that stands very little real chance of making that money back even with video sales? Corman saw his opportunity and took it. He parlayed his break as a studio messenger into scriptwork, that into producer's credits, and that eventually into the director's chair. His fortitude and canniness should be celebrated in this country that generally cheers the shrewd and business-savvy.

Yes, all the seams are there to be observed in this film, and the dialogue gets a bit creaky. It's much like watching the best episode on a slightly below-average western television show: it seems much better than you expected it to be, but it's still not art. Corman, though, shows skills he would use throughout his career: he gets remarkable mileage (as he does in many films) out of stock footage, but he employs it sensibly (unlike, say, Mr. Wood). Knowing his range is going to be limited, he keeps the plot fixed to two basic scenarios and minimalist sets: the opening twenty minutes with the quintet of freed rebel soldiers riding the trail after being sent on their mission (which smartly eats up about a quarter of the screen time straight off) and the abandoned town where the girl and her father live alone (which eats up the rest). As brief as it is, a good ten minutes could have been shorn away and it would not have hurt the story, perhaps cutting some of the tiresome squabbling amongst the testosterone-fueled outlaws. But I ring this up, true to Corman's words above, to filmmakers learning the ropes, making rookie mistakes.

It's the sort of slack I allow to people who otherwise proved themselves to me with their later projects. When looking back and passing judgment on a film from the past, it sometimes can help to know the creator's history, and placing that project in correlation with the work surrounding, following or preceding it. When MST3K took their shots at Mr. Corman, it was with the mistaken impression that he generally stands as a watermark for ineptitude. Of course, I laughed along with the joke, because it was funny in context with the shows in which it appeared. But it was so very, very mistaken. Yes, he could make a bad movie here and there, but he could also make some pretty decent ones.

And always successful, no matter the outcome onscreen. Ain't that America?

waking into a dream journal 12.22.07

this morning's reason to roundhouse-kick chuck norris in the face
silent rage
director: seriously, do i have to give someone credit? // 1982
cinema 4 rating: 3

the year this came out, i was a full-fledged chuck norris addict -- good guys wear black, the octagon, a force of one and an eye for an eye: watched 'em all over and over in my life's initial bout with video madness -- let's not forget return of the dragon against bruce lee, where i first saw him fight, and the multiple showings of breaker, breaker i willingly chose to endure on cable -- this one, though, was the first chuckie film i saw in a theater -- even in those less critical days, i wanted my money back -- the producers apparently wished to splice together a regular norris flying fists epic with halloween, basically pitting the mustachioed one against a michael myers-type serial killer, then in vogue in movie theaters -- they try to achieve this by having two ambitious cretins at a small-town hospital frankenstein an already mentally unstable murderer so that he becomes, literally, an unstoppable killing machine, as it mentions on the movie's release poster -- the doctors alter his physiology in such a manner that his body can heal even the most severe wounds in mere seconds -- hmmm, maybe he could get a role on heroes, where it seems half the characters now have this ability -- look, i will buy any plot device as long the filmmakers jump through the proper hoops in order to sell me on it, and as long as it fits their own twisted logic, even in a perverse fashion -- if these doctors are sooooo ambitious, how did they end up performing surgeries in the sort of small town that would hire chuck norris as sheriff? -- sure, if you are going to perform radical experiments on people, go to a small, out-of-the-way country where human life is cheap and the misfires may be disposed of far easier -- in the original story for lovecraft's reanimator (and in the second film), herbert west and pal refined their techniques in a war, where nobody would notice what they were up to -- but small-town america, where everyone knows everyone else, and nothing doesn't get noticed? i don't think so -- there might be small-town doctors with ambitions as large as these guys have, but there is a big difference between dreaming large and being able to pull off those huge dreams -- guys with this sort of talent are going to be somewhere a tad more prestigious -- besides, in case an experiment does succeed but then the subject goes apeshit, it seems to me that the better place to be, to avoid suspicion, would be a big city, where everyone is bugfuck crazy anyway, and any truly aberrant behavior on the part of the subject could be chalked up to just another wiggy hobo -- you'd think the hitch in these guys' plan would be trying this crap in a town lorded over by chuckie baby -- but he's too busy pitching his icky woo at über-cutie toni kalem to find one seven-foot tall killing machine in a town of about 400 people -- that's right, another movie where a hot girl has to feign enjoyment over kissing chuck on his densely carpeted tittie -- one big fight scene near the end, where chuck and the franken-killer grapple a lot, squeeze each others necks, roll around on the grass, and chuck only gets off a couple of his patented roundhouses -- hardly what a karate champion should be doing in a film until he is too infirm to pull off those moves -- chuck was in his prime then, thus, there is no excuse -- couldn't the doctors at least have downloaded a complete knowledge of martial arts into the monster before they sent him out? then we might have had a good scrap -- a couple of decent kill scenes; to show the killer's strength, they speed the film up, which is a tad too gimmicky, but the one where he slams ron silver's wife's cranium against the wall is pretty good -- oh, yes, ron silver is in this one, which is a decision only slightly smarter than the one where he decided to switch from democrat to republican, and became a presidential butt-smoocher and supporter of criminals like scooter libby -- back then, i was sad he got killed in this movie -- not anymore...

waking into a dream journal 12.21.07

this morning's deborah foreman resurgence?
zombie honeymoon
director: david gebroe // 2004
cinema 4 rating: 6

ach! i've fallen for another man's wife! -- i was dreading watching this romantic horror flick just from its none-too-inventive title alone, but then i saw tracy coogan -- ah! i watched her rush down the church steps to speed off with her newly acquired human baggage, and i knew immediately i would be seeing this one through, no matter the consequences, no matter the quality -- maybe it was the dress, maybe it was the joy and innocence in her face as she bends across the car to mischievously play at fellating her new husband on their way to their honeymoon destination -- whatever it was, there was something in her manner that has been sorely lacking in b-movies since deborah foreman got all adult on us -- so much is made about video vixens and queens of the "b" movies, all over-sized breasts and bottoms and whorish attitude (and i have absolutely no problem with any of that, thank you, in my movies), that i must stress how important it is that even the most fleeting impression of innocent naiveté grace itself on our horror leading ladies (and even lads) -- sure, coogan bares a breast here and there, and even when she isn't, she is often scantily or sexily clad in bikinis or evening dresses (she is on her honeymoon after all), but the very point here isn't the overtness of her manner, but rather how subtle it actually is -- the other point is that this irish-born lass actually has some acting chops...

i should take the cable company to task for having an improper description on its info page: it says her husband gets bitten by a zombie, when in fact he merely ingests a lot of noxious fluids that emanate from the mouth of a zombie that staggers out of the surf on a nearby beach -- no explanation is given, and none is really needed, for the film really is distilled down to its basic (and perhaps, necessary, given the minute budget) elements -- the concentration is solely on the (un)happy loving couple, and how they deal with the fact that her husband is slowly devolving into one of the living dead -- pick any scenario where one partner suddenly realizes that the person they have given themselves to life and limb is no longer what they thought they were (or any spousal abuse plot for that matter), and you pretty much have the metaphor at work here -- much has been made over the years of how pliable the zombie/living dead genre, more so than any other horror subgenre, is when it comes to social issues, fears and satire, and zombie honeymoon, in its small romantic comedy way, continues that trend -- i say "romantic comedy," though it is a misnomer, as that implies the standards of that also well-established genre, and there are only traces of it here -- the film is exceedingly romantic though, as these two stick to each other faithfully and lovingly (and, on coogan's character's part, insanely -- which may be the point, too) until the body parts are piled all around them -- the film is also dryly amusing in places, though the characters that are supposed to be humorous (the best friends who join them eventually) roundly fail in that regard -- the real humor comes out of the situation, and i liked the casual manner that the camera would just pick up on its edges a random limb laying about on the bed, even if coogan doesn't even notice it -- in fact, it's a relief that it isn't the light comedy that i thought it would be; the blackness and dryness of the humor is what actually kept me around, long after my instant, moony-eyed schoolboy crush on tracy coogan wore off -- alright, it hasn't worn off...

waking into a dream journal 12.18.07

this morning's urge to ask "who the fuck yelled 'encore!'?"
jolson sings again
director: henry levin // 1949
cinema 4 rating: 5

is this an early example of metafilm? -- basically, we see jolson lingering for the first half of this film in almost self-imposed obscurity, to the point where audiences (for the most part) have forgotten him -- he toils through the war performing to young american troops that no longer recognize his name, and he starts a new marriage that seems likely as doomed as the first, thanks to his depressive state -- where is all this heading? well, it's hollywood, and they love a winner -- since this film comes just three years after the jolson story, which was a monstrous hit, and since that film came just after the war, naturally, we are heading to a huge section of the second film about the making of the first film -- larry parks plays both jolson in the present day and himself playing jolson in the film production -- at first, i just figured they had extra footage from the first movie and decided to break it into two films, until i started watching it and realized that would have been impossible, given that there would have been no point to all of this if the jolson story had turned out like the buster keaton story -- besides, the makeup job on ludwig donath as cantor yoelson is a dead giveaway from scene one that this was filmed separately -- he actually looks younger than he did in the first film -- barbara hale is in fine form here as the new mrs. jolson, but william demarest, following up his oscar-nominated role, seems fairly wasted and also bored by the proceedings -- alaska gets it in the ass once more as the worst sort of place to begin entertaining the troops -- the only place that gets derided more in this manner is detroit (haven't been there... can't really say) -- that this hooey was nominated for an oscar for story and screenplay gives rise to the notion that there must have been a lot of crap released in 1949 -- still, the music is great, and if my behavior after watching the first film is any indication, i'm going to drive the gang at work crazy with my horrid jolson impersonation -- i can't wait...

waking into a dream journal 12.15.07

this morning's reason for noxzema
the jolson story
director: alfred e. green // 1946
cinema 4 rating: 6

sanitized for your approval: another celebrity biography scrubbed and speciously detailed for mass consumption; bland, predictable and yet strangely compelling and immensely watchable -- well, watchable if you can get past the blackface -- all about the music -- song after memorable song; who knew jolson was responsible for putting so many tunes into the hearts of millions of americans? -- larry parks was nominated for an oscar for his portrayal of "the great entertainer"; he didn't sing, though (jolson did and parks lip-synched) -- first karaoke oscar nomination? -- hmmm... makes me wonder how his life story would be filmed nowadays (and i don't mean neil diamond-style) -- could get spike lee to direct -- make it a sequel to bamboozled -- choices, choices... retired life with the gorgeous evelyn keyes as "julie benson (not ruby keeler)" vs. singing to a bunch of noxious fatheads night after night in a smoky nightclub? -- sorry, asa yoelson, i think i would've rested the pipes for a bit longer than just a couple of years -- i am struck by the notion that jolson in blackface is even more grotesque a makeup creation as karloff's monster -- rising on film in the same era, as he mugs at the camera in some of those oldies like wonder bar, there is a horrific effect at work, even as sings songs of great joy and love -- as if he is underlining the pain in the minstrel appearance, even if not doing so purposefully and almost thoughtlessly -- parks, who is generally great in the role, renders this same feeling in the jolson story -- can one be nominated for an oscar for creating an emotion by accident?

waking into a dream journal 12.13.07

this morning's not so much a continuation of my nightmares through the week
dexter // episode 2.11 "Left Turn Ahead"
cinema 4 rating: 7

been having a series of nightmares through the week, none of which have anything to do with this show -- one involved a very good friend of mine taking an ax to somebody on a city bus, gore flying all about and covering everybody, while several of my other friends and myself sit around ignoring what is going on -- do i secretly suspect this friend may have killed someone, or is that too direct an interpretation? -- certainly has to be -- it couldn't be otherwise, but where would i get this image into my head? -- as a result, reluctant to watch this penultimate episode of one of my current favorite series -- at least, reluctant to watch it at night for fear of having it influence me too much come bedtime -- figured i should work this out on my own -- been watching dexter on monday mornings before work anyway since i dvr it late sunday night anyway -- then the nightmares began -- fact is, upon watching this, it's one of the least violence-laden episodes of the show, concentrating instead on a lot of character development which all goes toward setting up the finale this sunday -- jennifer carpenter, who bothered me tremendously in the first season as both she and her character, dexter's sister, found their way, has grown into the role, and even in her whinier moments, i find her entertaining -- keith carradine has been a terrific add to this season, and i am hoping he sticks around in some capacity, which will be tough since he is there on an fbi gig to find dexter -- last saw him on deadwood, where he also didn't stick around long enough, but then he was playing wild bill hickok -- is that jonathan banks? -- entertainment weekly took apart the show for making dexter far too nervy this season, but i totally disagreed, believing that in order to show him at his best, you have to get him back on his heels for a while -- which they have done up until now -- still, absolutely nothing ever goes as planned on this show, and i hope that carries through into the finale -- oops! watched too much of next week's trailer -- all season long, they have not shown next week attractions until two weeks ago; haven't watched one for fear of knowing too much going in and having my senses twisted in the process -- and now i have done exactly that -- must forget what i have seen, must forget, must... what was i going on about? as long as it doesn't come out in my rem sleep, i probably won't remember until it pops up in the finale...

waking into a dream journal 12.12.07

this morning's call to arms
let's rock again!
director: dick rude // 2004
cinema 4 rating: 7

when did i stop listening to what joe strummer had to say? -- i never did stop listening to him (the clash have been regular visitors to my eardrums since the '70s), but i did stop seeking out new music from him -- not even his latter day albums with the mescaleros, which is the focus of this quick (barely over an hour) and unique concert tour documentary -- hard to believe the director is the repellent and socially tortured punk criminal duke from repo man (and an alex cox regular) -- i know the point of the piece is a posthumous tribute to strummer's later years, but i can't help but feel i wanted to know a little bit more about his newer bandmates than i got from just watching them goof around backstage at gigs -- strummer is amazingly humble throughout, downplaying his influence tremendously, and ripping apart notions of his social and political importance -- we know the truth, though -- favorite scene is when joe tries to gain entrance into a radio station; left waiting for the longest time, he finally manages to get inside, and is told by the suckhole dj that, coincidentally enough, he just happened to be two songs away from playing the clash! -- i don't buy it, the director doesn't buy it, and i am sure joe didn't either; the dj shows joe a picture of the clash in a rock encyclopedia, which is pretty much proof the guy had to look up strummer's name to know who he was before letting him in, and reels off a couple of facts you are pretty sure he just ran into -- cool scene with joe handing out hastily handwritten fliers on the boardwalk, pressing the flesh and meeting the public, practically begging people to come to the show -- wish this were twice the length -- far too short, and far too little of the music, which really is the reason i wanted to watch it -- but what music is there is incredible, with joe in fine form on a variety of original mescalero songs and some clash cover bits -- tymon dogg on violin... nice -- interesting to reflect on strummer almost moving into the folk arena at times -- i simply wish there were more full songs -- seeing this on ifc, so perhaps if i checked out the dvd, there would be extra musical material -- as much as joe may protest his importance, he was vital to the end... and beyond...