Fade to Black (1980)

FADE TO BLACK

FADE TO BLACK (1980) ***

Vernon Zimmerman wrote and directed FADE TO BLACK, a horror film that shows the darkest side of an obsession with movies. Its main character, Eric Binford (Dennis Christopher), takes cinemania literally, as he kills his victims in the guise of his favorite movie characters. They include Dracula, the Mummy, and Hopalong Cassidy.

FADE TO BLACK reached theaters on October 14, 1980. Nearly two months later, disillusioned Beatles fan Mark David Chapman killed former Beatle member John Lennon outside his residence at the Dakota Apartments in New York City. Chapman shot Lennon four times in the back with a .38 special. Chapman stayed at the scene and read from J.D. Salinger’s “The Catcher in the Rye” until the police arrived to arrest him. Chapman became fixated on “Catcher” protagonist Holden Caulfield, who loved to rail against “the phonies,” and Chapman surely considered Lennon a phony.

Eric is barely hanging on at the beginning of FADE TO BLACK. His wheelchair bound Aunt Stella (Eve Brent Ashe), who we later find out is actually his mother, nags at him; for example, her first lines are “Eric! Get up! Well, lookie here. Mister Smart Mouth fell asleep with his nose buried in the screen again! Your one-eyed monster is gonna soften your eyes, much less rot your brain! You spend all your time daydreaming and watching those silly movies on the TV and your projector.” Aunt Stella even blames Eric for her accident and her subsequent paralysis many years ago.

Had she ever seen KISS OF DEATH, she might not have been so hateful to the kid. Eric, though, seems to have a special affinity for Richard Widmark’s Tommy Udo, a precursor to Heath Ledger’s Joker in THE DARK KNIGHT. Udo’s the type of guy who thinks nothing of pushing an old lady in a wheelchair down a flight of stairs to her eventual demise.

Eric is a perpetual fuck up at his job at a film distributor’s warehouse and his boss Mr. Berger (Norman Burton), well, you know, he does what a good boss does in a horror movie built around revenge. Eric discovers Mr. Berger’s weakness, a weak heart that could stop ticking any time if Mr. Berger proved unable to reach his precious medication.

Co-workers Richie (Mickey Rourke) and Bart (Hennen Chambers), especially Richie, give Eric grief every chance they get.

One day, Eric spots Australian model and Marilyn Monroe lookalike Marilyn O’Connor (Linda Kerridge, in a sensational movie debut) eating in a cafe with her friend. Eric works up the courage to strike up a conversation with Marilyn and he asks her what movie Marilyn Monroe and Tom Ewell watched in THE SEVEN YEAR INCH. (I know this one. May I please answer? THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON.) Eric asks Marilyn out to a movie that night and she says yes. He’s all excited, for a change, about something in the “real world.” …

Marilyn unintentionally stands up Eric, a prostitute treats him like shit, Stella smashes his film projector, and, yes, Eric loses his shit and for the rest of the picture, he seeks vengeance against those who he feels have wronged him.

Even a shady filmmaker named Gary Bially (Morgan Paull) crosses Eric by stealing his idea for a nifty low-budget film named ALABAMA AND THE FORTY THIEVES, which Eric says would be made in the early 1950s style of Samuel Fuller.

I’ve read in several places that FADE TO BLACK fails because Christopher gives a bad performance and/or Eric Binford proves to be such a detestable protagonist. Reviews mentioned that Christopher plays a character totally unlike his Dave Stoller in BREAKING AWAY, Christopher’s last big film before FADE TO BLACK.

An unhinged character like Eric Binford — especially since he loves imitating his favorite movie characters in both appearance and speech — allows the actor latitude to push a performance over-the-top and Christopher definitely pushes those limits for even somebody (like me, for example) who admires his performance in FADE TO BLACK.

I give Christopher a tremendous amount of slack after his breakout performance in BREAKING AWAY; he created one of the more lovable characters in cinematic history and I’ll always be grateful to Christopher for that.

Reviewers, though, apparently forgot Dave Stoller’s obsession with bicycling and everything Italian. Did they not remember “cutter” Dave pretending to be Italian exchange student Enrico Gimondi to impress and then date a cute Indiana University co-ed? Dave even renamed poor Jake the Cat “Fellini.”

Eric and Dave are not as different as reviewers have suggested. Eric just lived a tougher life right from the start and he was definitely not blessed with great friends and family like Dave Stoller. We could get into the whole “Nature vs. Nurture” discussion and when’s the last time a horror movie spurred on that.

What I especially liked about FADE TO BLACK is that it follows Eric’s descent into madness all the way to its inevitable conclusion — especially inevitable since Eric becomes Cody Jarrett from WHITE HEAT — and then it finishes in such a flourish atop legendary movie palace Grauman’s Chinese Theatre to make WHITE HEAT director Raoul Walsh and star Jimmy Cagney proud. “Made it Ma! Top of the world!”

Message from Space (1978)

MESSAGE FROM SPACE

MESSAGE FROM SPACE (1978) *

It took two tries to make it all the way through Kinji Fukasaku’s MESSAGE FROM SPACE, one of the first of many STAR WARS rip-offs that only make you appreciate more what George Lucas and gang did in their movies.

How does MESSAGE FROM SPACE rip off STAR WARS? Let us count the ways. A soap, er, space opera, characters named Meia and Hans, a robot, interplanetary strife and destruction, aerial dogfights in space, laser beams, and a musical score by Kenichiro Morioka that should have been enough for grounds for a lawsuit from 20th Century Fox, John Williams, and the London Symphony Orchestra.

I struggled through MESSAGE FROM SPACE and it was a real cinematic endurance contest to get through its 105 minutes. I only made it through about 30 minutes the first try.

At one point in time, I thought about cutting MESSAGE FROM SPACE a little slack for its often lousy special effects, until I read that MESSAGE FROM SPACE cost $5-6 million. Okay, that’s about half of what 20th Century Fox spent on STAR WARS the previous year, but the budget for MESSAGE FROM SPACE apparently established a record (long since broken, of course) for largest budget for a Japanese movie. There went the slack, she be gone.

Vic Morrow (1929-82) sadly found himself at that stage in his career when he appeared in awful movies like HUMANOIDS FROM THE DEEP, GREAT WHITE, and MESSAGE FROM SPACE. Work is work is work, right? In MESSAGE FROM SPACE, Morrow plays a character named General Garuda and receives top billing in the cast above Sonny Chiba. Garuda Indonesia is the airline of Indonesia. Morrow seems to be drinking in every scene and if you had to act with an imitation R2-D2 named Beba, you’d be a full-blown alcoholic too.

This is one of those films not exactly helped out by a bad dubbing job.

I am normally one equipped with more empathy and enthusiasm than the average cinematic pleasure seeker for movies like MESSAGE FROM SPACE. I mean, for crying out loud, I have given four stars to INFRA-MAN, DRUNKEN MASTER, and PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE, three incredibly ridiculous movies that immediately came to mind.

I just found scant pleasure to be experienced from MESSAGE FROM SPACE.

Hard to believe, right, when MESSAGE FROM SPACE features eight Liabe seeds. They resemble walnuts, glowing, magical walnuts that are the unifying plot device; bet Nuts.com would do killer business with a MESSAGE FROM SPACE remake. Rather than The Force, MESSAGE FROM SPACE only manages doze nuts. Bad joke, I know right, but the bad movie made me do it. I promise, I promise, I would never write anything like that otherwise.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)

WILLY WONKA

WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY (1971) Three-and-a-half stars

Over the years, many individual performers have walked away with a movie and made it their own. For example, Gene Wilder in WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY.

Wilder provides one of the great movie entrances at about the 45-minute mark of the picture and it’s about darn time because it’s a bit of a slog before we reach the chocolate factory. Our expectations are very high by this point in the picture and Wilder’s Willy Wonka meets and even surpasses them. It was Wilder himself who insisted that he make such an entrance.

“When I make my first entrance, I’d like to come out of the door carrying a cane and then walk toward the crowd with a limp,” Wilder said. “After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and then become deathly quiet. As I walk toward them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I’m walking on and stands straight up, by itself; but I keep on walking, until I realize that I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward, and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause.”

This entrance establishes Wonka’s unpredictability right from the start.

Wilder magnificently expresses all the sides of Willy Wonka’s personality. It turns on a dime from joy and wonder to malevolent anger at the selfish children who found their golden ticket in a Wonka bar. Their golden tickets earned the children a pass to Wonka’s factory. The five children are Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Violet Beauregarde, Mike Teavee, and Charlie Bucket and they are each joined by one parent or grandparent in the case of final ticket winner Charlie Bucket. The bad children are punished in unspeakable, horrifying ways for their indiscretions. That’ll show ‘em and serves ‘em right, greedy little bastards.

When the beloved Wilder died in 2016 at the age of 83, I thought immediately of his performance as Willy Wonka and his spotlight song “Pure Imagination,” a number written by the British duo of Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley. “If you want to view paradise / Simply look around and view it / Anything you want to do it / Wanna change the world / There’s nothing to it / There is no life I know / To compare with pure imagination / Living there you’ll be free / If you truly wish to be.” At its very, very best, WILLY WONKA approaches THE WIZARD OF OZ and Wilder’s on par with Margaret Hamilton and Frank Morgan and gang. They all share a certain joy of performance that’s wonderful to behold.

Like THE WIZARD OF OZ, WILLY WONKA undoubtedly introduced multitudes of children to scary movies. The Haunted Forest, the Wicked Witch of the West, flying monkeys, et cetera, in the 1939 film and the Oompa-Loompas and the boat ride in WILLY WONKA.

“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” author Roald Dahl (1916-90) absolutely hated the 1971 screen adaptation. Dahl received credit for writing the screenplay, but it was the uncredited David Seltzer who came in and made script changes that raised Dahl’s ire.

What did Mr. Dahl hate about the picture? The shift in focus from Charlie to Willy Wonka. Check. The musical numbers. Check. Casting Gene Wilder rather than Spike Milligan, Dahl’s stated preference. Check. Guess the question should be changed to what didn’t Mr. Dahl hate about WILLY WONKA. This whole situation reminds one that Stephen King hates Stanley Kubrick’s THE SHINING.

I saw WILLY WONKA for the first time in fifth grade (1990) and read Dahl’s novel the next school year. I loved Dahl’s novel, but I have not read it since completing it during sixth grade, roughly the same age as the precocious golden ticket winners. Meanwhile, I have seen the 1971 version several times since that first encounter nearly three decades ago, on cable TV (Teavee), VHS, and DVD. I do think of the film more often than I do the book, and I believe that it has almost everything to do with the Wilder performance.

I have skipped Tim Burton’s 2005 adaptation CHARLIE & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY & I just remember being appalled from the start by still photographs of Johnny Depp’s take on Willy Wonka. Remember that scene in ANIMAL HOUSE when the older members of Delta Tau Chi pelt that picture of pledge Flounder with beer cans? That’s about how I feel every time I see a picture of Depp as Wonka. (Generally speaking, I have no problem with Burton and Depp movies. I love ED WOOD and like SLEEPY HOLLOW and SWEENEY TODD a lot.)

In a 2013 interview with Turner Classic Movies host Robert Osborne (1932-2017), Wilder shared his true feelings on the 2005 version.

“I think it’s an insult,” he said. “Johnny Depp, I think, is a good actor, but I don’t care for that director [Tim Burton]. He’s a talented man, but I don’t care for him doing stuff like he did.”

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

THE WIZARD OF OZ

THE WIZARD OF OZ (1939) Four stars

I watched THE WIZARD OF OZ for the first time since my Grandma died and the experience naturally brought on a lot of precious memories.

After all, I watched THE WIZARD OF OZ for the first (and second and third …) time at my Grandma’s house. She loved the movie and every now and then, she also talked about how many times she went to the movies to watch GONE WITH THE WIND. It was several, and I can remember hearing the delight in her voice just talking about it. She turned 10 years old in 1939, one of Hollywood’s hallowed years with MGM productions THE WIZARD OF OZ and GONE WITH THE WIND headlining. GONE WITH THE WIND was the TITANIC of its day, but a 4-hour historical soap opera did not enter my priority list until college. I watched THE WIZARD OF OZ a good dozen times before I got through GONE WITH THE WIND even once.

It was the CBS broadcast of THE WIZARD OF OZ that we watched together and the first time I can remember it I must have been 8 years old. Like IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, THE WIZARD OF OZ became an annual TV event for generations of Americans. I first watched IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE at my Grandma’s house and it assumed the position of a holiday tradition for many years. I want to say that IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE played on the local NBC affiliate.

Seeing THE WIZARD OF OZ for the 20th or 30th or 40th or 50th time (I lost track) in my life before this review, I found myself singing the songs, yes, every single line of every single darn song, but the most pleasure I experienced came from imitating the Wicked Witch of the West (Margaret Hamilton). I mean, I doubt that anybody who’s ever watched THE WIZARD OF OZ can resist imitating her voice on the all-time classic line “I’ll get you, my little pretty, and your little dog, too.” Hamilton virtually steals the movie and she’s so much more fun than that darn Glinda the Good Witch (Billie Burke), whose goodness decreases over time.

The Wicked Witch finished in fourth place on the American Film Institute’s top 50 villains list (2003), behind Hannibal Lecter, Norman Bates, and Darth Vader and ahead of Nurse Ratched, Mr. Potter, Alex Forrest, Phyllis Dietrichson, Regan MacNeil (when possessed), and the Evil Queen in the top 10.

Ironically enough, Hamilton served as a school teacher before her acting career. She became known for terrifying children … but she retained a lifelong commitment to education.

I wish I could have met Hamilton (1902-85).

“Almost always they want me to laugh like the Witch,” she said. “And sometimes when I go to schools, if we’re in an auditorium, I’ll do it. And there’s always a funny reaction, like they wish they hadn’t asked. They’re scared. They’re really scared for a second. Even adolescents. I guess for a minute they get the feeling they got when they watched the picture. They like to hear it but they don’t like to hear it. And then they go, ‘Oh…’ The picture made a terrible impression of some kind on them, sometimes a ghastly impression, but most of them got over it, I guess. … Because when I talk like the Witch and when I laugh, there is a hesitation, and then they clap. They’re clapping at hearing the sound again.”

THE WIZARD OF OZ served as many people’s introduction to scary movies. (Throw in classic Disney films SNOW WHITE and PINOCCHIO, as well, both of which I remember first watching during roughly the same period as when I first watched THE WIZARD OF OZ.)

Not only the Wicked Witch, but also somebody wanting to take your pet away, running away from home, a tornado, them flying monkeys, et cetera, they’re all terrifying, especially to a small child watching it for the first time. (Please consider the film left out the most gruesome details from the L. Frank Baum source material.)

THE WIZARD OF OZ shows us how much fun it can be to be scared.

That’s just one way the film reaches us.

Hamilton herself talked about its seemingly everlasting appeal.

“THE WIZARD OF OZ keeps coming back every year,” she said, “because it’s such a beautiful film. I don’t think any of us knew how lovely it was at first. But, after a while, we all began to feel it coming together and knew we had something. I can watch it again and again and remember wonderful Judy, Bert, Ray, Jack, Billie, Frank and how wonderful they all were. The scene that always gets to me, though, and I think it’s one of the most appealing scenes I’ve ever seen, is the one where the Wizard gives the gifts to them at the end. Frank (Morgan) was just like that as a person. And every time I see him do it, the tears come to my eyes. I listen to the words. I think of Frank, and I know how much he meant what he said, and how much the words themselves mean.”

I devoted much space to Hamilton and the Wicked Witch, but there are at least six more beloved characters and performers: Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland, 1922-69), the Scarecrow (Ray Bolger, 1904-87), the Tin Man (Jack Haley, 1898-1979), the Cowardly Lion (Bert Lahr, 1895-1967), Toto (Terry, 1933-45), and the Wizard (Frank Morgan, 1890-1949). They go a long way toward making THE WIZARD OF OZ a classic that will persevere down the ages.

On this latest go-around, I again noticed how much of an influence WIZARD OF OZ had on George Lucas when he made STAR WARS.

THE WIZARD OF OZ grabs us early on, precisely at the moment when Garland begins singing “Over the Rainbow,” and it just builds and builds for the next 90-odd minutes.

Eighty years after it premiered (Aug. 25, 1939), I now have one more reason to watch it moving forward. Grandma, it felt like you were right there with me.

Clash of the Titans (1981)

 

CLASH OF THE TITANS (1981) Three-and-a-half stars

Harryhausen vs. Harry Hamlin.

That’s what CLASH OF THE TITANS amounts to in the long run for this viewer.

Artist, designer, visual effects man, writer, and producer Ray Harryhausen (1920-2013) mastered the dying art of stop-motion animation. His credits include MIGHTY JOE YOUNG, THE 7TH VOYAGE OF SINBAD, JASON AND THE ARGONAUTS, ONE MILLION YEARS B.C., and CLASH OF THE TITANS, Harryhausen’s final production in which he goes out with a big bang.

Harryhausen is the real star of CLASH OF THE TITANS, and not Harry Hamlin or even big-name actors Laurence Olivier, Ursula Andress, Maggie Smith, Burgess Meredith, and Claire Bloom.

I like CLASH OF THE TITANS a lot because of all them stop-motion creations.

Let’s see, we have scorpions, the Stygian witches, Calibos and his vulture, a two-headed hound of Hell, the Kraken, the mechanical owl Bubo, and, of course, Medusa.

The Medusa sequence is the pièce de résistance of CLASH OF THE TITANS and responsible for at least three stars alone.

Harryhausen himself favored Medusa among his many creations.

The snake-haired Medusa, we all know that she’s deadly with arrows and she can turn a person to stone if you make contact with her eyes. Personally, I pretend that every salesperson in a shopping mall is Medusa and eye contact must be strictly avoided. Perseus (Hamlin) tricks Medusa with his reflection and he lops off her head. Then, our hero uses Medusa’s head to turn the formidable Kraken to stone.

A wide range of filmmakers have been inspired by Harryhausen’s work, including Steven Spielberg, Joe Dante, James Cameron, Tim Burton, Peter Jackson, and Sam Raimi.

In 2010, Academy Award winning animator Nick Park talked with the BBC about his three favorite Harryhausen moments. He finished up with Medusa from CLASH OF THE TITANS after picking two from JASON AND THE ARGONAUTS.

“It was so well done and frightening,” Park said. “It’s all the same technique but going to different heights of intricacy.

“I thought it was a combination of really good lighting and shadow. I do admire a lot of CGI, but there’s something not real about it.

“In the Medusa that Ray did it’s there and it’s grounded, there’s real light hitting real surfaces. Somehow your brain knows it’s not real with CGI.”

I’ll be honest, I am far more interested in Harryhausen’s creatures than the rather convoluted plot involving Perseus, Andromeda (Judi Bowker), Calibos, Cassiopeia, and the gods pulling all the strings.

That’s what I meant by starting this review “Harryhausen vs. Harry Hamlin.”

Most of CLASH OF THE TITANS plays like a soap opera, not helped out by pretty boy Hamlin and Bowker, who seem like they should be on “Days of Our Lives.”

Google is a wondrous invention: With just two magic words and one little click, I found the 1987 People article on Hamlin, “The Sexiest Man Alive” double issue no less, and the opening paragraph of “Last of the Great Romantics” just hooks me in against my better instincts.

“The name seems wrong for The Sexiest Man Alive, Harry is a name for an uncle, or a guy who asks you to the prom because his mother made him. Of course, Harold would be worse. So Harry it is. Harry Robinson Hamlin, to be precise … the Harry everyone’s just wild about.” (Personally, I prefer Harry Truman or Harry Potter, quite possibly since neither will ever be proclaimed “The Sexiest Man Alive.”)

The article comes back around for a swipe at CLASH OF THE TITANS.

“And there’s always the possibility of doing a remake of CLASH OF THE TITANS. ‘I brought my toga home,’ says Harry, raising hopes of another glimpse of those knees. He’s kidding, of course. Frivolous flicks are a thing of the past for The Sexiest Man Alive. Besides, says Harry, laughing, ‘I used the toga to wash my car.’”

Frivolous flicks a thing of the past for Hamlin? Hamlin’s career has included 105 episodes of “L.A. Law,” 21 of “Movie Stars,” 12 of “Veronica Mars,” eight apiece of “Army Wives” and “Shameless,” and 15 of “Mad Men,” as well as a plethora of TV movies and other shows.

Hamlin should count himself lucky to be associated with CLASH OF THE TITANS.

Because Harryhausen trumps Harry Hamlin every single time.