Ante Meridiem Theatre: “The Fly” (1958)

Ante Meridiem Theatre is a new feature at the Cafe to focus on those movies that, years ago, would crop up on TV in the wee hours of the morning, when you were only partially awake, and right before the network turned to snow.
A night watchman at a factory finds a woman standing next to a hydraulic press and a crushed body. The woman, Helene (Patricia Owens), flees and later calls her brother-in-law, Francois (Vincent Price), to tell him that she’s killed her husband (and Francois’ brother), Andre. Francois is initially skeptical but his brother’s death is quickly confirmed and made all the more confusing when Helene claims that she operated the press but Andre had lain his head and arm under the machine. Francois and Inspector Charas (Herbert Marshall) find Andre’s laboratory (a madman’s lab, according to Francois), and Helene is seemingly obsessed with flies and becomes hysterical when her nurse swats one of the insects. Eventually, Helene tells the story of Andre (David Hedison), who had invented a device capable of transporting matter, suitably titled the Disintegrator-Integrator. His invention is successful, but one day, he locks the lab door. Slipping notes under the door, Andre informs his wife that he cannot speak and that he needs her help, though she must promise to not look at him. Inside, Andre’s head and face are covered by a cloak, and he keeps his left hand hidden. Helene must find a specific fly, one with a white head, for Andre to correct the ghastly accident which occurred when he transported himself -- not realizing that a fly was in the machine with him.

When I was younger, some of the local cable channels would show numerous horror and sci-fi films late at night and into the early morning hours. Vincent Price was the star of many of these movies, and my brother and I were huge fans, my brother filling a stack of VHS tapes with Vincent Price films. Some our favorites were House of Wax (1953), The Last Man on Earth (1964), and the Dr. Phibes movies (1971-72). Kurt Neumann’s The Fly (1958) is perhaps not the best film to watch for Price fanatics, as over half of the film is Helene’s flashback, in which Price’s character, Francois, only appears in a couple of segments. But despite Price as a supporting character, the actor’s presence has made The Fly a Vincent Price movie.
The Fly is a superb film, and its structure works wonderfully. Rather than open with the genesis of a scientist’s creation, it starts with the aftermath, the shocking image of Helene -- in a dress and with her hair up -- standing next to a bloody body. The first act of the movie consists of Francois and the inspector investigating the crime scene and Andre’s lab, while Helene provides only a few details. The flashback slowly and effectively builds to the accident and invariable reveal of Andre’s new head and arm. Andre as the fly is finally seen with only about 20 minutes remaining, but the gradual suspense -- including Helene and her son trying to catch the fly that Andre says he’ll need to reverse the procedure -- makes the long wait anything but disappointing. Unfortunately, the more overt qualities overwhelm the movie’s subtleties, as the intriguing concept of Andre’s waning humanity is given little development. But the film remains engaging throughout and has a terrific ending -- Francois finds the much-desired white-headed fly.

A sequel followed in 1959, called Return of the Fly. In it, Andre and Helene’s young son has grown and is trying to redeem his father’s name and reputation by continuing his work. Similar results ensue, courtesy of dissimilar circumstances. Price reprises his role of Francois. A second sequel, Curse of the Fly (1965), was produced in the UK and follows the son and grandson of Andre -- though the son now has a different name. They experiment with teleportation, and before long... well, you can guess what happens. Brian Donlevy, who portrayed the titular scientist in two of the Quartermass movies from British studio, Hammer Films, stars as Andre’s son. Director Don Sharp also made movies for Hammer.
Some viewers see the 1958 film as campy, particularly Andre the fly -- though I think he looks creepy, and I especially enjoy his thousand-eyed point-of-view of Helene. There was no sign of campiness in Canadian filmmaker David Cronenberg’s remake in 1986. The movie starred Jeff Goldblum as scientist Seth Brundle who impresses a beautiful journalist, Veronica (Geena Davis), with his Telepods -- devices that can teleport an object from one machine to the next. The most significant difference between the remake and the original is that, while in the original the scientist and the fly “swapped” molecules (and body parts), in the remake the biological makeup of both fuse and create a singular being. This causes Seth to metamorphose into a new creature -- he calls himself “Brundlefly.” The movie is decidedly more horrific and more grotesque, and though the 1958 movie is good, Cronenberg’s remake is even better. There was also an okay sequel to the ‘86 movie: The Fly II (1989), with Eric Stoltz as Seth’s son who -- blah, blah, blah, he becomes a fly!

Suffice to say, teleportation never seems to work out well in movies, or literature, for that matter (example: Stephen King’s short story, “The Jaunt”, from the collection, Skeleton Crew). People are often excited about technological advances, but The Fly represents a fear of new technology -- Helene explicitly voices her apprehension -- and the potential (and feasibly harmful) side effects of unfamiliar machinery. Most technology is about convenience. Sure, it’d be great to quickly teleport to a place miles away, much like the speed of messaging via texts and email. But would I take a fly head and arm in exchange for Apple’s new iTeleport? Nah, I’ll just walk.

Come to “The Little Shop of Horrors” For All Your Man-Eating Plant Needs

At Mushnick’s Florist, a small flower shop on skid row, Seymour (Jonathan Haze) is an unassuming employee. To avoid losing his job, he brings in a special plant he’s been nursing. The plant, Audrey Junior -- named after Seymour’s beautiful co-worker, Audrey (Jackie Joseph) -- is frail and apparently dying. Seymour’s care seems to have no effect until that evening at the shop when, quite by accident, Seymour learns that Audrey Junior is responsive to his blood. The strange plant brings in some customers, but it quickly returns to its feeble state. Seymour considers his next move, and Audrey Junior clears up his indecision by stating bluntly, “Feed me.” That night, the lowly employee is lucky enough to happen upon an accidental death, and Audrey Junior grows in size and popularity. Meanwhile, the plant’s appeal for sustenance is vigorous and persistent, and suddenly Seymour is at a loss as to where he might find food. But let’s face it: with a sadistic dentist (John Shaner) who enjoys inflicting pain on his patients, how hard can it be?

Roger Corman’s The Little Shop of Horrors (1960) is a wonderfully diverting black comedy. Though the man-eating plant takes center stage, it’s supported by a motley cast: the customer (Dick Miller) who, as an Audrey Junior counterpart, buys flowers for consumption; Seymour’s hypochondriac mother (Myrtle Vail), whose meals are spiced and garnished with various medications; and the investigating cops, Joe Fink (Wally Campo) and Frank Stoolie (Jack Warford), who are so apathetic that Stoolie casually and coldly tells Fink that his own son has died from playing with matches -- and then lights a cigarette. Haze is quite good as Seymour, who’s passive but never measly, and his romance with Audrey is a high point of the film. Seymour’s boss, Mushnick (Mel Welles), adds even more humor to the plot, insisting that his employee call him “Dad” when Audrey Junior piques customers’ interests, but then retracting that when the plant isn’t looking well.

A number of cast members had previously worked with Corman and would work with him again. Screenwriter Charles B. Griffith, who has several smaller roles in The Little Shop of Horrors, including a would-be robber and the voice of Audrey Junior, scripted Corman’s earlier effort, A Bucket of Blood (1959), which starred Miller. However, the movie’s most famous star is Jack Nicholson, who appears in a single scene as a masochistic patient of the dentist. Even today, varying home media releases of the 1960 film will highlight Nicholson’s appearance.

The Little Shop of Horrors garnered a cult following, a status that was solidified by an Off-Broadway adaptation in 1982, written by composer Alan Menken and playwright/lyricist Howard Ashman. The production eventually moved to Broadway and was further adapted into a cinematic musical in 1986. The movie was directed by Frank Oz and starred Rick Moranis as Seymour, Ellen Greene as Audrey, and a scene-stealing Steve Martin as the dentist. Levi Stubbs, lead vocalist for the Four Tops, provided the voice of the plant, called Audrey II in the adaptations.

Roger Corman filmed The Little Shop of Horrors in two days. Corman has stated that the film’s budget was $30,000, which would make the 1986 musical’s reported $25 million budget over 800 times higher. In Corman’s 1960 original, Audrey Junior is, essentially, a mutation or some type of deformity. Its origins are a little unclear, as Seymour claims that he bought seeds from a Japanese gardener and then later defines the plant as a cross between a butterwort and a Venus Flytrap. Audrey II of the stage and film adaptation is an alien, a fact that’s nearly impossible to forget with the catchy number, “Mean Green Mother from Outer Space”.

The musicals are topnotch, but one shouldn’t negate the skill of Roger Corman. The singing and dancing rev up the comedy, but the 1960 movie was already funny, and some might argue that the original has a charm that the adaptations don’t quite match. With a shoestring budget and made in little time, The Little Shop of Horrors is a testament to Corman as a director and producer. Success isn’t predicated on the size of the production. Sometimes it only takes a little shop. And a man-eating plant.

Ode to the Movie Mutant Monsters

So very many mutants,

oh how is one to choose?

Tarantula or Swamp Thing

or even Killer Shrews?

It's Alive's scary baby

really knew how to creep.

If the sea is your thing,

try Humanoids from the Deep.

Gamma People on the earth,

Mole People down below.

And in the air Ghidrah flew

despite Godzilla's blow.

So how to choose a mutant?

Remember to use care.
Don't feed the plant in Little Shop,

Shoo The Fly off your chair!

And the Beasts Shall Reign Over the Earth: Them!

The title appeared in color, though
the film was shot in B&W.

In a New Mexico desert, two state troopers pick up a six-year-old girl wandering aimlessly in a bathrobe and slippers, carrying a broken doll. When Sergeant Ben Peterson (James Whitmore) tries to question the little girl, she remains silent, staring in space--a victim of shock. Up the road, Peterson and his partner discover a trailer with a large hole ripped in one side. Bloody clothes and dollar bills litter the floor...as well as a corpse. Outside the trailer, the troopers discover an unusual footprint in the sand, made by neither man nor known beast. As the desert wind whistles, an eerie sound causes the girl to look up in trepidation.

The young survivor of the first attack.

This brilliant opening scene sets the stage for the first-third of Them!, which unravels more as a mystery than a science fiction film. The clues are revealed one by one: a hardware store destroyed in the same manner as the trailer; the sudden arrival of scientists from the Department of Agriculture; an autopsy that reveals a victim may have died from an injection of formic acid; and finally the little girl screaming "Them! Them!" after taking a whiff of the acid.

The first we see a giant ant
is during a sandstorm.

By the time Dr. Medford (Edmund Gwenn) reveals that the culprits are giant ants, it's almost anticlimactic. It also marks a shift in approach as the mystery gives way to a standard science fiction formula. To be sure, Them! executes the formula with precision, with three marvelous set pieces: the first glimpse of the ants as one becomes visible during a sandstorm; a cyanide gas assault on the ants' nest; and the climax in Los Angeles storm drains.

Yet, its very success is what makes Them! slightly disappointing on second and later viewings. Certainly, it ranks above all but a handful of science fiction films produced during the 1950s; it's a unqualified genre classic. However, stripped of its novelty "mystery approach" and big pay-off scenes, it lacks a potent theme that resonates in the same way as truly timeless genre films like The Day the Earth the Stood Still, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and even The Incredible Shrinking Man.

One could argue that Them! is the definitive example of the "nuclear power-caused mutant creature subgenre." Still, that's nothing new thematically. Man invented nuclear power, so we're back to the old sci fi staple of man messing around in areas he shouldn't and inadvertently creating monsters. This is a theme at least as old as Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and featured in earlier sci fi films such as The Invisible Ray (1936). What Them! brings to it is a dark sense of humor, in that through man's intervention, the tiniest of creatures threatens to wipe out all of mankind.

Whitmore opens fire as Gwenn's
scientist observes the giant ant.

It seems unfair perhaps to criticize Them! because of its own high standards. To be sure, the cast is above average for a 1950s sci fi opus, with Edmund Gwenn giving new life to the standard role of the scientist that figures it all out. The special effects, while not on a Harryhausen level, work well enough, aided considerably by the inspired settings (e.g., the sandstorm, the tunnels). And although there is some sexism directed toward Joan Weldon's Dr. Pat Medford (e.g., she's introduced legs first), she evolves into a strong character. True, she investigates the first crime scene in a dress suit and high heels. But later, she ditches that for a military uniform and accompanies the male heroes in the tunnels to make sure the ants are dead.

Even if its potency fades during repeated viewings, Them! has earned its status as a genre classic. Its "mystery approach" alone makes it a unique sci fi film. There can also be no doubt that it was an influential film, inspiring 1950s imitators such as Beginning of the End (giant grasshoppers), Tarantula, Earth vs. the Spider, and The Deadly Mantis (as in big preying mantis).

Don’t Run and Hide From This Monster, “Swamp Thing” is Here to Save You

Government agent Alice Cable (Adrienne Barbeau) is sent to the swamp, where Dr. Alec Holland (Ray Wise) is working on a top secret experiment. Dr. Holland shows Alice a vegetable cell with animal DNA, telling her that his purpose is to create “aggressive” vegetation, or, more specifically, plants that can survive in extreme conditions. But when Holland has a breakthrough, a group of paramilitary soldiers led by a corrupt scientist, Arcane (Louis Jourdan), infiltrates his lab. The villains are there to steal Holland’s work, but a struggle results in an explosive compound setting the doctor afire, Holland then running outside and jumping into the swamp. Alice has eluded the soldiers, and when they come after her, they are thwarted by a still-living Holland, now a brawny plant-like creature (and played by Dick Durock). It isn’t long before Arcane mixes his own batch of Holland’s chemical with the hopes of achieving immortality.

Based on characters from DC Comics, Swamp Thing (1982) was written and directed by Wes Craven. Having previously helmed the low-budget hits, The Last House on the Left (1972) and The Hills Have Eyes (1977), Craven was provided a significantly higher budget and well-known stars, including Jourdan and Barbeau. Swamp Thing leans closer to action than any other genre, with some entertaining and impressive stunts. The movie is remembered for its campy qualities, although Craven’s intent was clearly to make a live-action comic book, exemplified by the exaggerated transitional wipes, not unlike the various and sometimes irregular frames of comic book panels.

Swamp Thing is an unusual mutated monster, as he is most assuredly the hero. His identity is unmistakable to the audience, and he’s not played as a misunderstood creature, even to Alice. Her initial wariness of Swamp Thing, even if he seems to be protecting her, is tongue-in-cheek: The first thing she says to the mutated Holland is “Shoo!” while waving him away. Though Craven does touch upon Holland’s inner turmoil -- the scientist realizing that his massive hands cannot handle the delicate lab work -- the movie showcases a monster with noble intentions, focusing on Swamp Thing’s attempts to save Alice.

Alice, however, is not helpless, simply waiting to be saved. She swings and punches, knocking down one of the soldiers and shooting another with no hesitation. When she is cornered at a gas station with a young boy, Jude (Reggie Batts), a wise-cracking character who supplies much of the comic relief, she draws the soldiers away from the boy. The bulk of the film is the villains pursuing Alice, but she isn’t always rescued by Swamp Thing, sometimes escaping with no reinforcements. When Alice is invariably caught, she is adorned in a dress and bound much like Ann (Fay Wray) in the 1933 King Kong. The difference, of course, is that Ann was being sacrificed to King Kong, while Alice is being kept away from the monster. Barbeau is terrific as Alice, portraying a strong female typical of her roles in earlier movies such as The Fog (1980) and Escape from New York (1981), both directed by her then-husband, John Carpenter.

An ill-received sequel was released in 1989, The Return of Swamp Thing. Jourdan and Durock as the titular hero both returned, but the movie, which also starred Heather Locklear and Sarah Douglas, was treated as a comedy, a glaring shift in genres that was a misfire for audiences. The subsequent year, Swamp Thing: The Series made its television debut on USA Network. Though critics were largely unreceptive, the series lasted three seasons and has since developed a cult following. Durock reprised his role for TV. A 3-D remake of Craven’s 1982 film is reportedly in the works, to be directed by Vincenzo Natali, who also helmed the cult sci-fi movie, Cube (1997), and, more recently, Splice (2009), with Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley. DC Comics recently rebooted its line of comic book titles, called The New 52, which includes, among many others, Swamp Thing.

Composer Harry Manfredini wrote the score for a number of horror films, but is perhaps best known for his work on the popular slasher film, Sean S. Cunningham’s Friday the 13th (1980), and its numerous sequels. Cunningham also produced Craven’s The Last House on the Left, which featured David Hess, who stars in Swamp Thing as Ferret, leader of the soldiers. Hess provided memorable turns as villains in Craven’s movies, as well as two films from Italian director Ruggero Deodato, The House on the Edge of the Park (1980) and Body Count (1987/aka Camping del terrore). The actor passed away last week, on Saturday, Oct. 8th.

Some nudity in the film, including a bathing sequence with Barbeau, was cut to receive a PG rating, but the film was released overseas with these scenes included. When MGM released Swamp Thing on DVD, the international version was inadvertently used, despite the PG printed on the box. When the studio discovered the blunder, it quickly pulled the DVD from the shelves. MGM eventually re-released the movie on DVD, this time the original PG cut. Those with DVD players that can bypass regional encoding can search for an European DVD, although the earlier recalled DVD is easy to find online. The unrated version is typically preferred, as the Barbeau scene adds much depth to the, you know, story or whatever.

Two years after Swamp Thing, Wes Craven released A Nightmare on Elm Street, a huge success that spawned sequels and turned Craven’s character, Freddy Krueger (portrayed by Robert Englund), into an icon. Craven’s subsequent filmography was hit-or-miss, but he scored another blockbuster with Scream in 1996. Sequels also followed, all of which have been directed by Craven, including this year’s Scream 4. In addition to the purported Swamp Thing remake, other films from Craven have been recently remade, such as The Hills Have Eyes in 2006 (with a sequel the next year), The Last House on the Left (2009), and A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010).

Godzilla (or Gojira): The Reigning King of the Monsters

In the ocean waters of Tokyo, Japan, a couple of boats mysteriously disappear with few survivors. Two rescue ships likewise do not return. Some villagers are quick to attribute their misfortune to Gojira, monster of the sea, and when a hurricane destroys homes and ends lives, reports claim that a large animal is responsible for the destruction. The day after the hurricane, paleontologist Professor Yamane (Takashi Shimura) finds footprints with a radioactive signature and the body of the long-extinct trilobite. The professor theorizes that an atomic explosion may have upset the habitat of a creature from the Jurassic period, a theory proven correct when Gojira comes ashore and attacks the city. Yamane wishes to study the unknown creature, which seems to absorb radiation, but citizens and officials alike are looking for ways to kill Gojira.

Gojira (1954) -- better known as Godzilla -- was directed by Ishiro Honda, who also helmed several of the Godzilla sequels, as well as other films of the kaiju (roughly translated as “monster”) genre, including Rodan (1956), The War of the Gargantuas (1966), and Mothra (1961), the latter a kaiju nearly as popular as Godzilla and featured in numerous series entries and her own films. (“Kaiju” is the name of the genre, though Godzilla and Mothra are more specifically daikaiju: “giant monsters.”) The creatures in Honda’s films are different from the spider in Tarantula (1955) and the giant ants in Them! (1954), animals made monstrous by atomic radiation. In the case of Gojira, the titular beast is provoked by nuclear warfare, with the insinuation that he was previously content in his subaquatic existence. Professor Yamane represents the sympathy viewers may feel for Gojira, much like the monster in James Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein (1935). Insects that have grown to astronomical size are monsters, but Gojira is an animal merely seen as a monster by the people who fear him. In the 1954 movie, everyone is terrified of Gojira before many of them have actually seen the creature do anything.

With the suggestion in the film that Godzilla/Gojira has been awakened, so to speak, by an atomic explosion, one can clearly see a connection to World War II and Hiroshima. However, the tragedy of the Daigo Fukuryu Maru (Lucky Dragon 5), a Japanese fishing boat, is most often cited as the inspiration for Godzilla and the kaiju films. In 1954, the U.S. tested a hydrogen bomb, and the nuclear fallout from the detonation was so severe that the crewmen of the Daigo Fukuryu Maru suffered radiation poisoning, one of the men dying months later. The film opens with a fishing boat attacked by Gojira, unseen and signified by a glow on the water’s surface and explosive results.

Gojira initially received a very limited U.S. release in its original form. In 1956, it was released as Godzilla, King of the Monsters! It was heavily cut and inserted sequences with an American protagonist, reporter Steve Martin (Raymond Burr). The film opens with the aftermath of Godzilla’s assault, and a flashback with a voice-over from Steve provides most of the story. Burr interacts with new characters as well as characters from Gojira, such as Yamane’s daughter, Emiko (Momoko Kochi), via doubles and help from the English dubbing. Unfortunately, many of the excised scenes include further development of Yamane’s desire to study Godzilla and the love triangle among Emiko, Ogata (Akira Takarada) and Dr. Serizawa (Akihiko Hirata). The additional sequences were so extensive that Honda had to share directing credit with Terry Morse, but despite the new footage, King of the Monsters! still managed to be 16 minutes shorter than Gojira.

Godzilla, King of the Monsters! is generally considered a wholly different film from Gojira, the original proving far superior. However, it was the truncated U.S. version that played overseas and made Godzilla an international star. The edited version was a box office success and performed well in other countries, even Japan. Gojira was a merging of the Japanese words, gorira (“gorilla”) and kujira (“whale”), as the film’s star features traits from both animals. Some fans argue that “Gojira” is the proper anglicized rendering of the creature’s name and that the American name was possibly a mistranslation, while others claim that “Godzilla” was suggested for the U.S. film version by the Gojira studio, Toho. Whatever the case, the creature became known as Godzilla across the globe, and Toho has trademarked and copyrighted the worldwide moniker.

Actor Takashi Shimura had starred in numerous films from famed Japanese auteur, Akira Kurosawa, including Rashomon (1950), Seven Samurai (1954) and Yojimbo (1961). Director and kaiju storyteller Honda likewise worked as an assistant director for Kurosawa in films such as Stray Dog (1949), Kagemusha (1980) and Ran (1985), the former two movies also featuring Shimura.

It’s a popular misconception that Godzilla breathes fire. As his power is essentially derived from radiation, the creature is in actuality exhaling what’s been called atomic or radioactive breath. Many times, before Godzilla releases his atomic breath, his dorsal fins will glow. This causes explosions and buildings and vehicles to catch fire, leaving the city in ruins and often in flames. However, in the 1978-79 animated series, a Japanese/American co-production and broadcast in both countries, Godzilla did indeed emit fire (possibly to simplify his power, as the show was aimed at young children).

Godzilla’s influence is indisputable. It’s difficult for films of the giant monster variety, such as Cloverfield (2008), to not draw comparisons to the famous kaiju, and place any person, child or adult, in front of a model-sized city, and one will witness a quick transformation into a roaring beast stomping its hefty feet to crush the tiny buildings. Ishiro Honda’s original 1954 movie is immensely entertaining, a superb debut for a creature who deserved his own series. If possible, viewers should seek the Japanese version, Gojira, in lieu of Godzilla, King of the Monsters!, but they should also appreciate the U.S. edit, if for nothing else than introducing the world to the colossal film star. Godzilla may tower over us all, but he easily fits inside our hearts.