The Friday Night Late Movie: Murders Abounds in a Snow-Covered Chateau in Agatha Christie's "Ten Little Indians"

I saw this 1966 remake of Agatha Christie’s classic whodunit as a teenager, then spent over a decade looking for the more highly-touted 1945 original And Then There Were None. When I finally saw it, I was somewhat disappointed. As in the case of Hammer’s The Hound of the Baskervilles, I realized that I liked the remake better. Part of my preference undoubtedly hinges on the setting: And Then There Were None takes place on an isolated island, while Ten Little Indians shifts the action to a more atmospheric, snow-covered, mountaintop chateau. But I also favor prefer the low-wattage cast peppered with British veterans (Wilfred Hyde-White and Dennis Price) and an unusual leading lady (the strangely attractive Shirley Eaton, best known for being painted gold in Goldfinger).

Hugh O'Brien and Shirley Eaton.

The opening features dreadful theme music and an over-the-top performance by then-popular singer Fabian. However, both distractions are discarded quickly as the mystery reveals itself. Eight strangers have been invited to a remote Austrian mansion for the weekend by the mysterious Mr. U. N. Owen. Gradually, the guests discover that none of them even knows their host. They also find it odd that the nursery rhyme “Ten Little Indians” seems to be everywhere: a framed copy hangs on a wall in each bedroom, the sheet music is on the piano, and a dinner tray—playfully decorated by ten little Indian figures—sits atop the dining room table.

Suspects Daliah Lavi, Wilfrid Hyde-White,
and Eaton.

Shortly after dinner, the guests and the two servants hear a recording by Mr. Owen in which he accuses each of them of murder. When one of them dies suddenly and one of the Indians figures disappears, the guests realize that they, along with the two servants, are being eliminated one by one. The situation becomes more complicated when a search of the house fails to uncover Mr. Owen, leading to only one possible conclusion: One of the potential victims must actually be the murderer.

Shirley Eaton faces the noose.

Although Ms. Christie’s ingenious plot violates S.S. Van Dine’s famous essay “Twenty Rules for Writing Detective Stories,” the murder’s identity is both surprising and plausible. And, unlike Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express, the solution doesn’t feel like a cheat. Indeed, in the spirit of fairness, Ten Little Indians includes a “Murder Minute” near the climax, in which an onscreen clock counts down from 60 seconds as key clues are shown to the viewer again. (Inexplicably, the “Murder Minute” doesn’t appear in videotapes of the movie, but does appear in TV prints.)

Dennis Price as Dr. Armstrong.

Although the casting takes a backseat to the plotting, the mostly British actors bring life to each of their characters. Wilfrid Hyde-White as retired Judge Cannon, and Dennis Price, as the alcoholic Dr. Armstrong, rise above the others. They share a wonderful scene in which each suspects the other while playing a game of pool in a dimly-lit room. Hugh O’Brian and Shirley Eaton were clearly expected to heat up the screen a bit—he appears shirtless in one scene and she’s shown in her black lace undergarments more than once. Attractive, but in a sometimes severe way, Eaton only made a few more films and then retired from the screen.

Producer Harry Alan Towers mounted two more adaptations of Ten Little Indians: a 1975 version set in an Iranian desert with Oliver Reed and Elke Sommer and a cheap 1989 remake set in Africa with Donald Pleasance and Frank Stallone. Avoid these catastrophes at all costs and seek out the definitive 1966 film. For added effect, watch it on a snowy evening!

And here's the Whodunit Break courtesy of the Cafe's YouTube Channel:

The Friday Night Late Movie: There's Only One Way to Quench Your "Thirst"

Kate Davis (Chantal Contouri) awakens suddenly, shocked to find herself lying in a coffin and locked inside a tomb-like dungeon. Just a few days before, she was living an ordinary life. A working woman by day, she spent quiet evenings with her boyfriend, Derek (Rod Mullinar), seemingly oblivious to the men spying on her and holding private meetings about her. One morning, Kate is kidnapped and taken to the "Farm," where she is served warm blood and told that she is a descendant of Countess Elizabeth Báthory. "Welcome to the Brotherhood," she is told, but Kate refuses to drink. The Farm acquires its blood from "donors," young men and women dressed in white, most of whom seem more than anxious when it comes time to donate (for good reason, when we finally see the way in which the bodies are exsanguinated). After a failed escape attempt, the Brotherhood tries to subdue Kate with drugs, and soon the woman (and the audience) cannot distinguish between reality and hallucination. Someone tells Kate that "the thirst is in all of us," but Kate can only hope that such is not the case with her.

The Australia-made Thirst (1979), directed by Rod Hardy, was part of the Australian New Wave in the early '70s to late '80s. It was an increased interest in the cinema of said country, sometimes called "Ozploitation." Many of the movies during this time were the result of a change in Australian censorship. In lieu of banning potentially offensive films, a classification system was established by politician Don Chipp, so that films could be labeled with an R rating to restrict the audiences to ones of appropriate age. The most popular of these films was likely George Miller's 1979 Mad Max (as well as his outstanding sequel, 1981's The Road Warrior, aka Mad Max 2), but there were other notable movies, including Peter Weir's Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), Richard Franklin's Patrick (1978) and Roadgames (1981), Russell Mulcahy's Razorback (1984), and Brian Trenchard-Smith's Dead End Drive-In (1986). In some cases, the directors were able to make an effective transition to Hollywood films. Weir directed numerous commercially and critically successful movies, including his U.S. debut Witness (1985) and Dead Poets Society (1989), Franklin surprised audiences with the enjoyable Psycho II (1983), a sequel to the 1960 Hitchcock classic, and Mulcahy helmed Highlander (1986), which would go on to achieve a cult status, as well as various sequels and a TV series (with a remake reportedly in the works). Hardy did not have as much success, but he stayed mostly in TV, directing episodes of series such as The X-Files, JAG, and the updated Battlestar Galactica.

Hardy's Thirst is a remarkably subtle horror film. It's clearly about vampires, but the vampire mythology is kept to a minimum. One of the men responsible for the Farm, Mr. Hodge (Max Phipps, who also appeared The Road Warrior as the Toadie), tells Kate that they don't like being referred to as vampires. They simply consider themselves an elite group, superior to others since they are thoroughly aware of the power and vitality that comes with the consumption of blood. While on occasion Thirst slips into more customary territory, with a few fangs and red eyes making appearances, the more placid moments prevail, such as Kate's cat knocking over a carton of milk, which, in lieu of milk, contains a suspiciously familiar red substance.

Contouri provides a stellar performance as a woman who resists what she finds initially revolting, only to question her own desires. Kate is told that the Farm is trying to move her towards her destiny. So is she doubting herself because of her supposed lineage, or is it merely because she is being conditioned to respond a particular way? This dilemma is the essence of Thirst, as a person can thirst for many things: answers, freedom, or even blood. Answers for the audience remain unreciprocated, even as we see the people behind the curtain. They consistently debate which actions to take with their newest guest, often opposed by Dr. Fraser, portrayed by David Hemmings. Hemmings brings his typical air of sophistication to his role, as Fraser comes across as the nice one, despite freeing Kate from the dungeon, only to then suggest that she not leave the Farm. Actor Hemmings also starred in Michelangelo Antonioni's 1966 Blow-Up, Dario Argento's 1975 Deep Red (aka The Hatchet Murders), and was the designer of the titular helicopter in the TV series, Airwolf (as well as directing an episode). Henry Silva and Shirley Cameron, who play the rest of the Farm personnel, contrast wonderfully with the pleasant-looking Hemmings. Silva, with his perpetual scowl, specialized in portraying villains, such as The Hills Run Red (1967), Sharky's Machine (1981), and Steven Seagal's debut, Above the Law (1988).

The vampire film is more than a subgenre of horror; it's a genre all its own. There are countless vampire films released each year, and there is an abundance of such movies that play with convention and twist audience's expectations. Regardless, Thirst stands out from the crowd. It does have its gory bits, and the film is saturated with blood, but it thrives on suspense. The most memorable parts involve Kate's attempts to leave the Farm, her all-too-real dream sequences, and the Farm's announcements, calling for donors, who walk slowly toward potential doom. It all leads to a rather curious ending, which is intriguing, if not altogether satisfying. Thirst is a vampire film for movie fans who have seen one too many stakes.

The Friday Night Late Movie: An Unlikely Hero Emerges in "The Road Warrior"

The Road Warrior (aka Mad Max 2) is a rarity in cinema—a sequel that surpasses the original in every way. Whereas 1979’s Mad Max drowned in a bleak view of a post-apocalyptic future, The Road Warrior creates a mythic portrait of its hero and presents a world with a glimmer of hope. It also doesn’t hurt that The Road Warrior features some of the most exhilarating chase scenes ever filmed and a star-making turn by Mel Gibson.

Set in the barren Australian outback, the minimalist plot places cop-turned-loner Max into the middle of a conflict between a bloodthirsty gang of road scavengers and a “tribe” of families searching for paradise. Max and his trusty canine companion, Dog, try to not to get involved. But fate intervenes and Max finds himself forced to become an unwilling hero.

Writer-director George Miller acknowledges the influence of both American Westerns and Japanese samurai films. Indeed, the first time I saw The Road Warrior, it reminded me of George Stevens’ Western classic Shane. Like the former gunslinger Shane, Max is a loner who reluctantly comes to the defense of peaceful folks trying to fend off villains who want their land (well, their gasoline in The Road Warrior). Shane tries to put his past behind him and considers joining the farmers he defends. Max accepts his past, although I think he briefly contemplates joining a “family” again. And, finally, both Shane and Max forge friendships with young boys.

The relationship between Max and the Feral Kid is economically conveyed in a handful of choice scenes. Miller and his co-writers link that friendship to the film’s narration—which goes a long way toward establishing Max as a truly mythic figure.

Of course, for many viewers, The Road Warrior is simply a superbly crafted action picture. The 17-minute chase climax combines tense editing, terrific stunts, and—like all great chases—a collection of interesting mini-dramas as Max drives a tanker with the villains in pursuit. My favorite sequence occurs when Max’s shotgun shells fly through the blown-out windshield frame and roll down the hood of the speeding rig. At Max’s prompting, the frightened Feral Kid crawls out to get them—only to encounter a nasty shock.

Alas, the Feral Kid was nowhere in sight when Miller and Gibson teamed up again for a second sequel with 1985’s Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. It recycled some of the same elements (instead of Max and one kid, why not Max and a bunch of them?). Though better than the first film in the trilogy, it lacked the power and sense of destiny that makes The Road Warrior such a memorable movie.

The Friday Night Late Movie: Jimmy Wang Yu Shows His Kung Fu in "The One-Armed Boxer"

Prior to 1973, Hong Kong martial arts films played only small venues in major U.S. cities with Asian communities. That changed with the release of Five Fingers of Death (aka King Boxer), a typical “chopsocky” flick released in the wake of the popular TV series Kung Fu. If the unexpected success of Five Fingers opened the door to the genre’s widespread appeal, then Bruce Lee’s The Big Boss (aka Fists of Fury) kicked the door down. Fueled by Lee’s skyrocketing popularity, a rash of Kung Fu films found their way to U.S. shores. One of the most memorable was The One-Armed Boxer, released here as The Chinese Professionals (perhaps a belated attempt to capitalize on the success of the Burt Lancaster Western The Professionals).

Writer-director Wang Yu stars as Yu, a martial arts student who beats up some bad guys after a confrontation at a restaurant. The chief baddie, Shao, is thoroughly embarrassed by the ineptitude of his underlings. So, he hires a bunch of mercenaries to take revenge on Yu’s school. The fighters-for-hire, each an expert at a different martial arts discipline, consist of: a fanged karate master, a pair of Thai boxers, a judo expert, a taekwondo fighter, a Yoga teacher, and two Tibetan lamas. The latter two are the most fun. The Yoga teacher walks on his hands and fights with his feet. The lamas can “control their circulation” and inflate their bodies so weapons bounce off them.

Anyway, after a bunch of well-choreographed fights, Yu faces the karate master, who beats him to a pulp—and, shockingly, chops off his right arm! Yu crawls to safety, though, as everyone else at the school is killed. Fortunately, a physican and his attractive daughter find Yu on the roadside and nurse him back to health. The wise old man also tells Yu about a painful procedure that will strengthen his arm so he can take revenge on the mercenaries.

“But first, we will have to kill every nerve in the arm, ”says the old man. “If even one nerve remains, it won’t work.” It does, of course, and you can pretty much guess the rest of the plot.

As a martial artist, Wang Yu lacked the fluid style that made Bruce Lee so much fun to watch. And, in this film anyway, he comes across as a little goofy (his blue-and-white outfit doesn’t help). But he directs with style, making excellent use of unusual settings like a brick factory and a mill. He certainly keeps the pace tight, too, devoting about 80% of the film’s running time to the fight scenes.

The One-Armed Boxer was produced by Golden Harvest, the same company that made Bruce Lee’s Asian movies. Wang Yu tried to establish himself as Lee’s successor, even changing his billing to Jimmy Wang Yu. Alas, the “Kung Fu Craze” was short-lived and Wang Yu lacked the charisma to sustain it.

My sister and I saw The One-Armed Boxer at a local theatre in 1974 and never forgot it. I finally found it on video in the mid-1990s (though the film quality was poor). At the same time, I bought the The One-Armed Boxer 2 (aka The Master of the Flying Guillotine), which also stars Wang Yu. It’s about an elaborate martial arts tournament and also features fighters with different styles. It’s more polished and entertaining than its predecessor and, thanks to Quentino Tarantino and others, has become a well-known cult film. Maybe someday, the original One-Armed Boxer will be rediscovered.

The Friday Night Late Movie: The Dead Won't Stay Dead in Lucio Fulci's "Zombie"

In New York waters, a boat is discovered floating aimlessly. Two policemen board the vessel and are suddenly attacked by a huge man (who appears to be... uh... decomposing). One officer is killed, but the other shoots the man, who falls into the water. The boat owner's daughter, Anne (Tisa Farrow -- Mia's younger sister), is concerned about her father, who, last she heard, was on an island doing research. She meets a reporter, Peter (Ian McCulloch), and they travel to Matool, the island in question. There they quickly learn that Matool is a place where the natives ceaselessly play drums and practice voodoo. Oh, and the dead stand up, walk around, and have an insatiable appetite for living flesh.

Lucio Fulci's Zombie (1979) was originally released in Italy as Zombi 2. The Italian release of George A. Romero's 1978 Dawn of the Dead was titled Zombie: Dawn of the Dead (and, for good measure, was re-edited by filmmaker Dario Argento and re-scored by rock band/Argento collaborators Goblin). Fulci's movie was initially conceived as a pseudo-sequel to Romero's popular film, but Fulci's work owes more to Jacques Tourneur's classic 1943 I Walked with a Zombie. Dawn of the Dead, as with many of Romero's films, dealt with people dropped into seemingly impossible situations. If you follow his Dead series, you can see characters fighting for survival, but you will also see them adapt: trying to understand the zombies themselves in Day of the Dead (1985) and making an effort to live among them in Land of the Dead (2005). The "horror" is there, but people can endure. Fulci does not offer such hope in his movie. Like Tourneur's film, Zombie is shrouded in a rich atmosphere: an ever-present wind, a sun that seems to hide itself, the sound of drums coming from everywhere. It's not necessarily the zombies that the people need fear. It's an unseen evil that, sadly, is inescapable. This was a characteristic that would carry over to future Fulci films, such as City of the Living Dead (1980/aka Gates of Hell), The Beyond (aka Seven Doors of Death), and The House by the Cemetery (both 1981).

Before Zombie, Fulci had made a variety of films, from thrillers to erotic comedies and Spaghetti Westerns. Not surprisingly, following the success of Zombie, he began to focus on horror films. Fulci is notorious among horror fans for his graphic and gory features, and Zombie is no exception. His films are certainly not for the squeamish, but one cannot write off his films as exploitative. He's a talented filmmaker who delivers the frights, as well as the gory parts. One of his best known gore sequences is from Zombie, involving a splintered door and an eyeball. It's undoubtedly memorable, but it's likely remembered because, for many years, it was cut from multiple video versions. Recent DVD releases have included the scene intact.

The tagline for the American release of Zombie was the rather brazen, "We are going to eat you!" Similarly, Zombie was released in the U.K. as Zombie Flesh Eaters. Fulci is credited as the director of Zombi 3 (1988), but he reportedly only directed part of the film, with nearly half of what appears on screen being helmed by an uncredited Bruno Mattei. The Italian zombie film, After Death (1988), was released in the U.S. as Zombie 4: After Death, while Killing Birds, actually released the year before, was given a U.S. title of Zombie 5: Killing Birds. In the U.K., Zombi 3 and After Death were titled, respectively, Zombie Flesh Eaters 2 and Zombie Flesh Eaters 3.

Fulci, as he typically did, makes a cameo in his film. He plays the newspaper editor who assigns Peter the story on the abandoned boat. In 1996, shortly after making an appearance at the Fangoria Weekend of Horrors (the director's only time at a U.S. film convention), Lucio Fulci died of diabetic complications.

The Friday Night Late Movie: It! The Terror from Beyond Space

This low-budget, monster-in-a-spaceship film languished in obscurity for 21 years until sci fi buffs hailed it as the inspiration for Alien in 1979. There are similarities between the two movies, but it's still a stretch to claim that Alien borrowed its premise from this earlier film. As Bill Warren points out in his excellent sci fi film encyclopedia Keep Watching the Skies!, both movies owe an immense debt to 1951's The Thing (from Another World). From a film perspective, The Thing pioneered the plotline whereby people battle a hungry alien creature in a confined, isolated setting.

Set in 1973, It! opens with Colonel Edward Carruthers (Marshall Thompson) facing court-martial changes for murdering the members of his Mars expedition. A second spaceship, commanded by Colonel James Van Heusen (Kim Spalding), journeys to the red planet to take Carruthers into custody. Carruthers staunchly maintains his innocence, claiming that his fellow team members were "killed by something--not me."

That something creeps aboard Van Heusen's craft as it blasts off from Mars. After two crew members disappear mysteriously, Carruthers and the others discover the alien stowaway (which even resembles The Thing--with an uglier face courtesy of a fakey rubber mask). The rest of the film concerns the crew's efforts to destroy the creature (played by Ray "Crash" Corrigan). They shoot it with bullets, set booby traps with explosive grenades, hurl gas grenades at it, burn it with a blow torch, and (again recalling The Thing) electrocute it.

Other than the basic premise, the strongest resemblance to Alien is a scene in which the crew confronts the creature in an air vent. The alien uses an injured crew member as bait to lure the other humans into the deadly confines of the vent system. It's one of the few times in the film that the creature exhibits intelligence, a trait which would have made it much more menacing than a lumbering hulk.

It's also unfortunate that director Edward L. Cahn shows glimpses of the creature so early in the film. Screenwriter Jerome Bixby's story opens as a whodunit with no indication of an alien creature's involvement. Therefore, a more intriguing approach would have been for the crew to suspect Carruthers initially when their co-workers began turning up dead. As it is, the film copies The Thing's structure, in which the emphasis is on destroying the monster while suffering as few fatalities as possible.

Despite these limitations, It! The Terror From Beyond Space rates as an above-average, low budget sci fi film. It was Cahn's best effort in the genre, although his follow-up film, 1959's Invisible Invaders, foreshadowed 1968's Night of the Living Dead with its eeries scenes of the dead walking again.

Screenwriter Jerome Bixby's greatest contribution to sci-fi and fantasy was his short story "It's a Good Life." This creepy tale of a young boy who controls an entire town served as the basis for one of The Twilight Zone's most famous episodes (with Billy Mumy as the boy). It was also remade, and significantly altered, as part of Twilight Zone--The Movie.

The Friday Night Late Movie: Robert Culp and Eli Wallach Face a Cold Night's Death

When a scientist is found dead at a remote Arctic research station, Frank Enari (Eli Wallach) and Robert Jones (Robert Culp) are sent to complete the high-altitude experiments on chimpanzees and monkeys. Strange events hamper the two from the beginning: an audio tape is mysteriously erased, the generator is turned off while they’re sleeping, their food supply is almost destroyed, and Jones is locked outside in the subzero temperature. Each man begins to suspect the other as the tension builds to an unexpected climax.

Essentially a two-character play, A Cold Night’s Death benefits from compelling performances from Culp and Wallach. Credit must also be given to Christopher Knopf’s clever script which portrays Jones and Enari as something of an odd couple. They almost act married at times: Enari divides up the chores and ends up cooking and cleaning while Jones performs the more “manly” task of shoveling snow to make water. The two scientists bicker almost constantly. When Enari thinks Jones is acting irrationally, he moves his bed to another room—the symbolic equivalent of making Jones sleep on the couch.

The confined sets, the dark hallways, and director Jerrold Freedman’s sometimes extreme camera angles create an atmosphere of uneasiness. Things don’t even look right at the Tower Mountain Research Station.

A Cold Night’s Death (aka The Chill Factor) was broadcast in the early 1970s during what I consider to be the “Golden Age” of made-for-television movies. It was shown on the ABC Movie of the Week, which consisted of 73-minute films of all genres. Although the casts were typically TV performers and the budgets were understandably modest, there were several memorable movies. To mention just a few: Bing Crosby starred in the disturbing Dr. Cook’s Garden; Jan-Michael Vincent was surprisingly good as a hippy Marine in Tribes; and a then-unknown director named Steven Spielberg made the offbeat chase thriller Duel.

The Friday Night Late Movie: Kirk and Tony Fight Over Janet in "The Vikings"

Two years before they appeared in Spartacus, Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis teamed for this colorful 1958 costume epic about the Norsemen.

Kirk stars as Einor, son of Viking leader Ernest Borgnine, who leads continuous raids against the bickering British nobles. Tony, as a slave whose secret past is quickly revealed, plays Kirk’s despised enemy. He and Kirk spend much of the film vying for the affections of the lovely kidnapped Princess Morgana (Janet Leigh).

Certainly, The Vikings lacks the emotional depth of the superior Spartacus. One problem is that it’s hard to like the Vikings—they’re portrayed, probably accurately, as chauvinist pigs devoted to plundering and drinking ale. Still, there’s an underlying sense of honor to the proceedings and the action scenes are superbly staged. The violence, though, must have been considered shocking in the late 1950s--especially when a hawk attacks Kirk and when Tony is brutally punished for helping an enemy. By the way, in the scene in which the Vikings ran across the tops of their ship’s oars, Kirk Douglas refused to use a double...and fared better than the stunt men.

In terms of craftsmanship, The Vikings is first-rate in all departments. Famed cinematographer Jack Cardiff (Black Narcissus) lensed the Norwegian locales in brilliant color. Italian film composer Mario Nascimbene's score, especially the “welcome home” call on a Viking horn, may stick in your head for several days.

Director Richard Fleischer teamed with Kirk four years earlier in Disney's lavish 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Fleischer would work with Curtis again in 1968's The Boston Strangler.

Tony and Janet, who were married when they made The Vikings, also co-starred in The Perfect Furlough that same year. The couple appeared in five films together: the two already mentioned, plus Houdini (1953), The Black Shield of Falworth (1954), and Who Was That Lady? (with Dean Martin).

 No, it's not a Ricola commercial. A Viking plays
a catchy tune to signal the arrival of ships.

The Friday Night Late Movie: Which One of "The Five Deadly Venoms" Will You Trust?

In the 1978 cult kung fu film, The Five Deadly Venoms (aka The Five Venoms), a dying sifu ("master" or "teacher" in Chinese) tells his pupil of a "Poison Clan" consisting of five students. The sifu had taught each member of the clan a very specific and deadly technique: the Centipede, the Snake, the Scorpion, the Lizard and the Toad. The clan had long ago disbanded, but since the students hid their identities (even from one another, always wearing masks), their master does not know their whereabouts. He asks his pupil to ensure that the former students are not utilizing their skills for evil deeds. The young fighter has been taught each of the five techniques, but since he has not focused on a single one, he will only be able to defeat an opponent if he aligns with another.

When I was younger, there was a local cable channel that often ran obscure movies, typically of the horror variety. But if it was not a horror film, chances are it was a '70s Hong Kong kung fu action pic. I saw The Five Deadly Venoms many years ago, and for the longest time, I could not recall the title. There were three distinguishing characteristics of the film that I never forgot: different men with unique styles, one in particular with his hands posed like snake fangs (and yes, it was the Snake); a villain boasting of killing someone without anyone knowing it was murder (he simply drove a hook up the nose and... well, you get the picture); and one of the fighters was seemingly indestructible, and his opponents continually tried to find his weakness.

I was happy that I eventually discovered the film again and enjoyed it immensely. The fight sequences are outstanding. By the time this film was released, director Chang Cheh had mastered the kung fu film. He was one of the most prolific directors at Shaw Bros. Studio in Hong Kong, having also helmed the classic 1967 One-Armed Swordsman, which made a star out of Jimmy Wang Yu (one of the biggest actors in Hong Kong before that Bruce Lee guy came along). What also makes The Five Deadly Venoms great is an undeniably strong story. The fact that the young pupil has to first identify each former student adds an element of mystery to the action film. It's not just a movie about kung fu fighters in combat. It's about loyalty and trust, two attributes which prove necessary for survival in a world of poison clans.The year of 1978 also saw the release of Crippled Avengers, which was released in the U.S. as Return of the 5 Deadly Venoms. It was certainly not a sequel to Five Deadly Venoms, but a few of the actors appear in each film, and, not surprisingly, Chang had his directorial hand in both. In Crippled Avengers, a man discovers his wife killed and his son crippled (his arms have been severed). Years later, father and son (now with deadly arms made of iron!) seek to harm whomever they so desire. Four of the men crippled by the two vengeance-minded villains band together to stop the familial rein of terror. Though the two films are connected only by (U.S.) titles, they make a terrific double feature.

The Friday Night Late Movie: Michael York Defends a Fellow Officer Accused of "Conduct Unbecoming"

Michael York.

Conduct Unbecoming is a harsh indictment of the British Army, circa the 1890s, disguised as a courtroom drama. The irony is that the well-played trial scenes are so engrossing that the film’s point becomes almost too subtle. That hardly seems a fair criticism, though. Perhaps, it’s better to call Conduct Unbecoming a multilayered film in which some layers work better than others.

Michael York and James Faulkner play second lieutenants freshly assigned to the tradition-rich 20th Indian Light Cavalry in India. Mr. Drake (York) is an earnest, young man with middle-class origins, who wants to succeed as a British officer. Mr. Millington is his polar opposite, an impudent cynic from a wealthy family. He would like nothing better than to be kicked out of the army. As soon as we meet Millington, we know he is destined for trouble.

York as Mrs. Scarlet.

He finds it in the form of Mrs. Scarlett (Susannah York), an attractive widow who enjoys being the center of attention. Although she firmly rejects Millington’s advances during a ball, the young officer pursues her. When she is attacked later that evening, Mrs. Scarlett accuses Millington of the crime. In lieu of a scandalous court martial, the regimental colonel authorizes an informal midnight inquiry. Millington is allowed to choose his own defending officer and selects Drake because he is a “gentleman of honor.”

Drake faces overwhelming pressure during the start of the trial. His client is uncooperative and apathetic. Captain Harper (Stacy Keach), the president of the board, urges Drake to just go through the motions. But the reluctant “lawyer” refuses to give less than 100%. Eventually, the flippant Millington comes to respect Drake and learn the true meaning of duty. Drake’s persistent pursuit of the truth also gradually earns him the support of an influential superior officer (in what may be the best scene).

As with most military dramas, the relationships among the men take center stage. However, it’s unfortunate that the film’s female characters, both victims of atrocious crimes, come across as indifferent. Mrs. Scarlett, in particular, fears doing anything that could result in her “deportation” back in England. In India, she is the admired widow of an Army hero; in her homeland, she is just another pretty face.

Michael York and James Faulkner.

Michael York, an actor I sometimes find bland, gives an appealing, convincing performance. He captures Drake’s tentativeness at the outset of the trial (Drake doesn’t know what he’s doing and is afraid he’s ruining his military career). As the trial progresses and Drake comes closer to the truth, York projects an air of confidence and authority. Stacy Keach stands out among the all-star supporting cast, which also includes Trevor Howard and James Donald.

I first saw Conduct Unbecoming at an art film theatre in Bloomington, Indiana. I remember liking it, but it wasn’t until my wife and I watched it many years later that I fully appreciated its virtues (especially a nice little twist involving Drake near the climax). It’s not a great film, but it’s consistently interesting and at times riveting—just what a good courtroom drama should be.

The Friday Night Late Movie: Robert Culp as a Modern-Day Sherlock Holmes in "Spectre"

Gene Roddenberry produced and co-wrote this 1977 made-for-TV supernatural thriller that borrows liberally from Dark Intruder (1965) and The Devil Rides Out (1968). Robert Culp plays William Sebastian, a criminologist with a unique medical condition—part of his heart is missing as a result of an occult encounter. Sebastian summons old friend (and alcoholic) Dr. "Ham" Hamilton (Gig Young) to accompany him to an English country estate on a case of possible demonic possession.

Before they even reach their destination, they encounter a beautiful woman who turns out to be an evil succucbus (fortunately, Sebastian knows how to destroy her with a holy book). But things really get strange when they arrive at the estate of Sir Geoffrey Coyn (James Villiers) and his sister Anitra (Ann Bell). Our intrepid heroes have to deal with a mysterious murder, a human-like beast with a hairy hand, exploding dinner glasses, and a creepy ceremony in a cave. Is Sir Geoffrey really possessed as his sister claims? Or is there a more fiendish plot afoot?

 
As made-for-TV movies go, this is a stylish affair that takes advantage of its atmospheric British locations (it's almost as if Hammer Films had made a movie for the small screen). Culp and Young are good as a modern-day Holmes and Watson…though with issues. In some of Culp's films, his intensity bordered on being overpowering, but he's very much in control here. Young doesn't have a lot to do, but the supporting cast of veteran British actors--including John Hurt and Gordon Jackson (from Upstairs, Downstairs)--is in fine form. Roddenberry's wife Majel Barrett (Nurse Chapel on the original Star Trek) has fun as Sebastian's witchy housekeeper.
 
Spectre was a pilot for a TV series that, sadly, never materialized. It's too bad that Sebastian's "hip" clothes and groovy pad date the movie, but that's really just a minor distraction in an otherwise engaging supernatural picture. It was released theatrically in Britain with some additional footage.
 
Young, who was a real-life alcoholic, died shortly after filming Spectre.

(If you're a Robert Culp fan, click here to read a review of his best Outer Limits episode.)

The Friday Night Late Movie: Edmond O'Brien Solves His Own Murder in "D.O.A."

As a man crosses the street into a police station, huge 3-D letters fill the screen with the film's foreboding title. The camera follows along behind the man as he staggers down a hallway to Dimitri Tiomkin's march-like theme. As he enters the office of the Homicide Division, the man's determined face becomes visible for the first time. He tells the division chief he wants to report a murder. When the chief inquires who was murdered, the man calmly replies: "I was." From this gripping opening, D.O.A. spins a film noirish flashback which explains how an unassuming tax accountant named Frank Bigelow (Edmond O'Brien) came to be a murder victim. The tale begins with Frank leaving for a week vacation in San Francisco, so he can get away from his possessive girlfriend Paula (Pamela Britton). Frank cares for Paula, but he's unsure about making the commitment she wants from him.

His Bay City hotel is overflowing with traveling salespeople (it's Market Week) and attractive women who keep distracting Frank. He goes to several nightclubs his first night, drinks a lot of bourbon, and wakes up feeling unusually nauseous. When he visits a physician, the doctor informs him that he has ingested luminous poison, which has already been absorbed into his system. There's no antidote. He could die within 24 hours--he will die within a week. Frank spends his final days trying to figure out who killed him and why.

The rest of the film unravels in a convoluted fashion as Frank encounters crooked businessmen, violent thugs, and treacherous women. Ironically, the questions that drive Frank--the mysteries of who and why--become secondary to the film's colorful characters and atmospheric locations.

O'Brien gives a believable performance in the lead role, but he gets upstaged by the secondary villains. These memorable heavies include Luther Adler as the polite Hispanic gangster Majak, Neville Brand as his homicidal henchman Chester, and Laurette Luez as a beautiful, but tough-minded, Majak accomplice. When Frank treats her roughly for not answering his questions, she snarls back: "If I were a man, I'd punch your dirty face in." Chester, on the other hand, prefers to punch Frank in the stomach. When Frank winces from pain caused by the poison, Chester chides him about being "soft in the belly." Majak shows his sensitive side when he orders Chester to leave Frank alone and privately explains about Chester: "That unfortunate boy--he's psychopathic. He's not happy unless he gives pain. He likes to see blood."

Director Rudolph Mate makes effective use of the San Francisco and Los Angeles settings. He stages imaginative chases through a deserted factory and a busy drugstore--a thrilling set piece which climaxes in an unexpected shootout. Overall, though, he fails to recapture the level of excitement generated by the opening scene. The screenplay certainly deserves some of the blame. The mystery angle, involving stolen goods and a missing bill of sale, doesn't work well in D.O.A. The film also lacks suspense, in a traditional sense, because there's no doubt that the protagonist will die.

Aside from the premise, the most interesting aspect of the script lies in its moral depiction of Frank. Although Paula clings to Frank, she truly loves him. Frank thinks he may love her, too, but he want s to sow some wild oats before settling down. Once in San Francisco, he ogles all the women at the hotel. He dances the rhumba with an attractive woman across the hall. He even tries to pick up a stranger in the nightclub where he's poisoned. Ultimately, he remains faithful to Paula. However, his death is an indirect result of his impure thoughts. His San Francisco trip and his pursuit of other women give the killer an opportunity to poison him discreetly--an opportunity which would not have presented itself had Frank stayed with Paula in the first place.

The two official remakes, Color Me Dead (1969) and D.O.A. (1988), jettisoned the moral context for a more conventional approach. They actually functioned better as mysteries, but they lacked the interesting characters, dark urban settings, and the originality (of course) that distinguished the 1950 version.

The Friday Night Late Movie is a weekly film review that focuses on the kinds of films (and occasional TV shows) that used to pop up on the late show...on Friday nights. I fondly recall watching The CBS Late Movie in the 1970s and experiencing action pictures, horror flicks, forgotten B-films, made-for-TV movies, cult classics, and offbeat TV series like Kolchak: The Night Stalker, The New Avengers, and Return of the Saint. Hey, you just read a preview for what you'll see here on Friday nights in the coming weeks!