Just a Little Something to Make You “Squirm”

Having a penchant for the genre of horror, I have encountered numerous fans of horror films. But even the most cool-headed fan, who can apparently handle anything -- carnivorous blobs, masked killers, slimy aliens -- will visibly shiver when having to deal with a tiny something that creeps and crawls and makes people go, “Ew...”

In Fly Creek, Georgia, an electric storm renders the small rural town with no power. City boy Mick (Don Scardino) is on his way to visit his lady friend, Geri (Patricia Pearcy). When the two go to see the town’s antiques dealer, they cannot find him and instead uncover a skeleton in the backyard. An incredulous and stubborn sheriff leaves Mick and Geri with no other choice than to look into the apparent death themselves. Before long, they learn that the storm from the previous night not only knocked out the electricity, but also stirred up bloodworms, which have been burrowing their way above ground and attacking people. It seems that daylight is keeping the worms at bay, but soon the sun will be set, blanketing the town in darkness. With no power and the phone lines down, the townsfolk can only hope that the sound they hear is running water and not a batch of wiggling worms.

Jeff Lieberman’s Squirm (1976), at first glance, gives the impression of being an exploitative horror film. But it’s truly a subtle genre piece, displaying an undeniable talent from an innovative and intelligent writer/director. Lieberman opens the movie like a traditional, classic horror feature. Lightning flashes across a dark town, with heavy winds and rain. It’s the storm foreshadowing the impending evil. The next morning, with the sun shining, all seems fine, but as Geri’s mother says about last night’s storm, there is “something... evil about it.” In keeping with the conventions of the horror genre, Mick arrives on bus, but, when a blocked road forces the bus to turn around, he must make his way into town on foot through the gloomy, dense woods.

However, the conventional horror story stops there. One standard of the horror genre is the “damsel in distress.” But the ladies of Squirm, while occasionally in distress, are anything but helpless. Geri’s sister, Alma (Fran Higgins) is introduced putting on her makeup. To contrast a stereotypical cinematic woman, Alma, while gingerly applying blush, mocks Geri for “yakking” about Mick. Moreover, she paints her toenails while smoking a joint and excitedly follows Mick through an open window wearing platform shoes. In a similar vein, Geri goes fishing on the lake with Mick and Roger (R.A. Dow). Mick cannot bait a hook, and even Roger, whose father runs a bait shop, refuses to touch the “disgusting” worms, leaving the petite Geri to expertly handle the task. Mick, although proficient and reliable, is hardly a typical “tough guy” protagonist. A city resident, he’s completely out of his element and looks silly as he barely exits the bus (carrying three pieces of luggage, a tennis racket, and a fishing rod, and bumping everyone along the way) and asks the driver if he knows where he can find a men’s room (while standing next to the woods, nature’s restroom). To further this, Mick wears glasses, which, especially back in the ‘70s, was a sure sign that he was a geek (or, if you will, a bookworm... see what I did there?).

There are plenty of grotesque shots of writhing worms and even closeups of bloodworms (with their parapodia -- fleshy, leg-like outgrowth -- and their teeth), but Lieberman still manages a great deal of subtly in Squirm. When Mick orders an egg cream (basically a chocolate soda) at a diner, he spills the drink when spotting a worm inside the glass. In a later scene, Geri pours a couple of glasses of milk for the two, and, due to the earlier sequence, it’s almost like the “glowing” glass of milk in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1941 film, Suspicion (i.e., with no explicit knowledge of a worm inside, the audience will fear either person drinking from the glass). The preceding scenes of worm attacks include numerous visual references: a twitching downed power line, kids enjoying licorice, someone eying a box of necklaces, the sheriff and his date eating spaghetti. Similarly, there’s a clear shot of a preoccupied Roger scratching the side of his neck, and later Mick vigorously scratches his leg (before being told that he has poison ivy). It’s all a very deliberate strategy from the director, a constant reminder of the worms underground, the same worms that will, quite literally, get under the skin. One of the most clever visual cues is the name of the baiting business, printed on the side of a truck: Willie’s Bait. Willie gives people the worms, and the worms give most people the “willies.”

Lieberman engineers the entire film around a simple concept: people’s basic fear of “creepy-crawlies.” The first shot of a worm is the one from Mick’s egg cream at the diner. That alone, a single worm contorting in the chocolate liquid, is enough to make most viewers cringe. From there, Lieberman lets the audience’s imagination do most of the work for him: the aformentioned scratching, Mick falling into a muddy ditch, candles at nightfall providing very little light, the sound of worms in motion, etc. The viewers don’t always have to see what the worms are doing or even the worms themselves. All they have to know is that the worms are out there, and if just one makes most people uncomfortable, an ostensibly limitless number of worms is nothing short of terrifying.

Squirm handles the low budget wonderfully, and the largely amateur cast is outstanding, particularly Scardino and Pearcy in the leads. Though this film is a focus for the Forgotten Favorites, Jeff Lieberman seems to be a forgotten director. Following Squirm, he helmed Blue Sunshine (1978), concerning people turning homicidal from a new type of LSD, and Just Before Dawn (1981), an above-average slasher involving campers evading twin murderers in the forest. In 1988, he directed the horror-comedy, Remote Control, but would not direct another feature film for nearly 20 years. That film, however, was a smashing comeback. Satan’s Little Helper (2004), about an impressionable young boy during Halloween playfully helping “Satan” (a masked man who, unbeknownst to the boy, is actually an escaped arsonist/serial killer), was also written by Lieberman, as were his earlier works (co-scripting Just Before Dawn). Actor Scardino went on to become a prolific TV producer and director. Makeup artist Rick Baker is one of the most well known artists in his field. He had the distinction of winning an Academy Award for Best Makeup the very first year that the category was awarded, for An American Werewolf in London at the 1982 ceremony. He has won the same award multiple times, including Harry and the Hendersons (1988) and Men in Black (1997).

Squirm is a profound, multifaceted film, but if a wall of gooey bloodworms makes you apprehensive or leaves you feeling nauseous, I would strongly recommend that you avoid this film. But it should be noted that Jeff Lieberman has made a movie which deserves respect. Sure, it’s a film about aggressive, flesh-eating worms, but it’s a savvy work of art from a filmmaker who successfully eludes the schlocky route. He reels you in, baits you, and leaves you feeling itchy for days. In short, he makes you squirm.

Trivia Time - Part 42

Greetings from beautiful Pismo Beach, California! Boy, are there a lot of old rock stars living up here! (like Steve Perry and Jon Anderson)

Who are we? I (male) appeared in both the original and the remake of the same movie. I've worked with William Powell, Errol Flynn, Olivia De Havilland, and Kay Francis, among others. I (female) was in the remake too. The female lead of the remake had appeared with me before, in my first American film, for which I had received a Best Supporting Actress Nomination. I have played roles that run the gamut from Lawrence Olivier's wife to Rodney Dangerfield's mother-in-law. Who are we?

1. Name the two films mentioned above by Who am I (male)?

2. Who are the male and female leads in those two films?

3. Who played Who am I (female)'s husband in the remake?

4. Who was first offered (then turned down) the role for which Who am I (female) was nominated as Best Supporting Actress? What role, and in which film, did she play instead (in that same year)?

5. Who am I (female)'s son is a well-known TV and movie director. Who is he?

6. Which real-life siblings (brother and sister) appeared together for the first time in their film careers in which John Hughes film?

7. What do the films Midnight Express, Bugsy Malone, and The Commitments have in common?

8. Who were the stars of Bugsy Malone?

9. Which 20th Century Fox film stars both Veronica Lake and Linda Darnell?

10. Who was the male star of the film in #9?

No whining....you had a two week break!

This Week's Poll: What is your favorite movie about a monk?

Last month, we did a poll on films about nuns. So, it only seems fair to focus on monks for this week's poll. Alas, there haven't been as many monk movies, especially when compared to nuns. Still, monks have been played by a wide variety of performers, to include Sean Connery and Charles Boyer.

After careful consideration, the Cafe Pollsters decided to omit Friar Tuck--portrayed most famously by Eugene Pallette in The Adventures of Robin (1938). We're concerned that the Friar and Robin Hood would dominate the poll and it just wouldn't be any fun. That leaves the following monk movie nominees for your consideration:

Brother Sun, Sister Moon - Franco Zeffirelli's biography of Francis of Assisi was a big hit with the college crowds of the 1970s, who appreciated its message of hope and Donovan's songs.

Cadfael - Derek Jacobi played this 12th century monk who dabbled in solving grisly crimes. There were thirteen 75-minute, made-for-TV films shown in the U.S. on PBS. The mysteries were adapted from Edith Pargeter's popular novels.

The Garden of Allah - Charles Boyer stars as a Trappist monk who leaves the monastery and eventually marries Marlene Dietrich! Unfortunately, things don't quite work out for the couple.

The Name of the Rose - Sean Connery's William of Baskerville was a 14th century monk who, along with his apprentice (Christian Slater), investigated a murder in an abbey. The film was based on Umberto Eco's bestseller.

Rasputin and the Empress - The Russian monk Rasputin has been played by many actors, to include Christopher Lee, Tom Baker, and Alan Rickman. But the most famous portrayal is probably Lionel Barrymore's in the only film that teamed Lionel, John, and Ethel Barrymore.

Other movies with monks include Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, Luther, Francis of Assisi, and the TV-movie Kung Fu. Edward G. Robinson posed as a monk in Brother Orchid. The George Maharis movie The Monk  wasn't about a monk, but a private eye named Gus Monk.

You can vote for one of the nominees above by visiting the poll in the green sidebar to the right.

A Toast Please, to Me and My Gal

If you haven’t ever seen or heard of Me and My Gal (1932) don’t be surprised. Until recently it was rarely shown on TV (now you can catch it occasionally on FMC) and it has not made it to DVD yet. As a result, it is one of those films that has been somewhat lost in the shuffle of the countless films of the Studio Era. It’s a small film, with a small plot.

Made prior to the repeal of Prohibition in 1933, this film openly glorifies the joyful effects of alcohol consumption. There is a running gag about an always-drunk fisherman (Will Stanton) who is forever getting into comical scrapes. In one particular scene he gets in a fight with another drunk over the type of fish he has stolen. Yet, instead of using his fists he uses the fish as his weapon. Another scene finds a uproariously good time at a wedding, where guests drink beer out of a bootleg barrel and throw wirelesses out the window. The final shot of the film finds the father (J. Farrell MacDonald) of the film’s heroine (Joan Bennett) walking straight into the camera lens and asking, “Who’d like a drink, huh?” Pushing the envelope was nothing new for director Raoul Walsh, but it is still remarkable that he got away with some of the stuff he did in this film.

Working from a wisecracking script by Philip Klein, Barry Conners, and Arthur Kober, Walsh created a film that is difficult to define in terms of genre. It could be a comedy, crime drama, or an oddball romance—you pick!

Spencer Tracy stars as harbor cop Danny Dolan. Danny isn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but he has a lot of the luck of the Irish. After rescuing a dog from a man who was going to drowned it because he couldn’t afford to feed it (a nod to the hard times of the Depression), Danny goes to the local chowder house to buy some bones and meets sarcastic cashier Helen Riley (Joan Bennett). They trade mutual barbs and it quickly becomes obvious they like one another. Later, when a drunk fisherman (Stanton) falls into the harbor Danny saves him and gets a promotion to detective for it. This promotion leads him to the sidewalk outside Helen’s house, where a radio has been thrown out the window at a loud wedding reception (where lots of alcohol is consumed with great relish). Upon entering the apartment Danny finds that Helen’s sister Kate (Marion Burns) has just been married and he overlooks the drinking, which endears him to Helen. This is a fortuitous meeting in two ways: 1) Helen will go out with him now; 2) Kate is the ex-girlfriend of wanted mobster Duke Castenega. In the end, Danny will rescue Kate from the clutches of Duke and get yet another promotion and a large reward. With this large reward he will marry Helen and go to the Caribbean for his honeymoon.

The bantering relationship between Danny and Helen is fun to watch. Danny is a hard-boiled cop, who is always thinking of his next witticism. Helen is a strong-minded dame, who gives as good as she gets when it comes to Danny. There is one particular scene that stands out to me because of how cleverly it was done. While lying together on her sofa (her father had conveniently went to visit his other daughter) the subject of some film comes up. In it, the characters do voiceovers to show the audience what they are really thinking. Walsh launches off this remark to do the same with his own characters. And, so as they are saying what they think the other one wants to hear, the audience gets to hear their real thoughts via voiceover. For example, when Danny makes a comment about Helen’s father being a fun, old guy she agrees, but she thinks aloud to the audience that if her father found them on the couch like they were that Danny would have to visit a doctor.

The acting is relaxed and the story is just strong enough to keep your attention. There is no amazing camerawork to speak of—as a matter of fact, there are a few parts that seem a bit jumpy. Yet, while it’s not the greatest film you’ll ever see, it is nonetheless an enjoyable 90 minutes. Plus, you get to see a very young Spencer Tracy and Joan Bennett show why they would go on to have very long careers.

The Five Man Army: A Spaghetti Western Variation of "Mission: Impossible" Courtesy of Dario Argento

The CBS Late Movie was a viewing staple during my high school years; I watched it every Friday night during the school year and every week night during summer vacation. Its diverse menu of films ranged from Hammer horrors (always shown on Friday) to action programmers (like Darby’s Rangers) to obscure Westerns.

Among the latter was The Five Man Army (1969), a low-budget Spaghetti Western made by American journeyman director Don Taylor. Its biggest stars were veteran TV performers Peter Graves (on vacation from Mission: Impossible) and James Daly (Chad Everett’s boss on the TV series Medical Center). In short, there was no reason to harbor any expectations for The Five Man Army…and yet, I thoroughly enjoyed the film. I’ve seen it twice since—including an uncut, letterboxed version on TCM—and it holds up remarkably well.

Parts of its appeal for me is the old “rounding up the gang” theme. As in The Adventures of Robin Hood and The Magnificent Seven, we meet our protagonists one by one as a young thief informs them that “The Dutchman” (Graves) has a job requiring their services. Frankly, anything seems better than their current occupations: The Colonel (Daly) is a low-rent gambler; the Samurai (Tetsuro Tamba) throws knives in a traveling roadshow; and the massive Mesito (Bud Spencer) performs menial chores like feeding chickens.

The Dutchman’s “job” is a daunting one: These five men will rob a Mexican train carrying $500,000 in gold—which is guarded by a troop of soldiers, a machine gun, and a cannon. Except for an unlikely capture and escape sequence, The Five Man Army is basically a heist film masquerading as a Western. It’s this unlikely mixture of genres that makes the film so surprisingly diverting.

The caper, which comprises about a third of the running time, smartly blends tension and humor. A little boy almost gets The Dutchman captured before the heist even begins. An unexpected accident results in one of the five falling off the top of a speeding rail car. The arrival of unexpected visitors threatens to throw off the split-second timing required to pull off the elaborate heist.

The always likable Graves, though probably not the best choice for the main role, is believable as the never-flustered leader. The other four performers acquit themselves nicely, especially Bud Spencer in a role similar to his Bambino in the Trinity films. The memorable music score by the famed Ennio Morricone ranks among his three best (topped by Once Upon a Time in the West and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly). The screenplay, co-written by future horror maestro Dario Argento, wisely keeps dialogue to a minimum.

The Five Man Army will never be mistaken for a genre classic. But it’s smartly-made escapist fare and, like the Western mystery Five Card Stud, deserves kudos for stretching the six-shooter formula. Stripped of its Western trappings, the intricate heist sequence could have been lifted from an episode of Mission: Impossible…which I suppose justifies why Peter Graves was cast as the unlikely action hero.

The Brides of Dracula May Be Hammer's Best

Hammer Films, the British studio that revived the gothic horror movie in the late 1950s, launched its signature series with 1958's Dracula (US: Horror of Dracula). The studio's colorful reworking of Bram Stoker's vampire novel made genre stars of Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. Lee chose not to appear as Count Dracula in the immediate sequel and Hammer dared not to replace him after his popular portrayal. The studio's solution was to make a Dracula film without Dracula, with most of the focus shifting to Cushing's energetic and intellectual vampire hunter Dr. Van Helsing.

Due to Lee's absence, The Brides of Dracula never achieved the popular and critical success it deserved. It is not only Hammer's best Dracula entry, but it may also be the studio's best film. Regular Hammer scripter Jimmy Sangster and his co-writers seemed to have compensated for the loss of Lee by making Brides more of an ensemble film with Cushing providing the star wattage. The result is a horror film with surprising depth and a vampire villain who has some juicy dialogue to go along with the neck-biting.

The film opens with Marianne (Yvonne Monlaur), a young French woman traveling to a girls academy to accept a teaching position. When a coach driver abandons Marianne in a small Transylvanian village, she accepts an invitation by the elderly Baroness Meinster (Martita Hunt) to spend the night in a nearby castle. She soon meets young, handsome Baron Meinster (David Peel). His mother keeps him in shackles and you can guess why—but Marianne doesn’t. Pretty soon, there’s an outbreak of vampirism at the boarding school and it’s Van Helsing to the rescue. His climatic encounter with Meinster in a dilapidated windmill sets the stage for one of the most ingenious endings of all vampire films.

As in the earlier Dracula, Cushing's Van Helsing may be an intellectual, but he is also a man of action. He is not afraid to physically confront vampires--given the proper weapons--even though he knows they possess superior strength. In Brides, Van Helsing's zeal gets the better of him and he winds with teeth marks on his neck. The result is a marvelous scene in which he demonstrates what to do when bitten by a vampire.

Though Cushing's performance centers the film, Peel exudes evil as Meinster. His vampire may not be as physically imposing as Lee's Dracula, but he comes across as almost more threatening because he is devious and intelligent. Let's face it: the idea of spreading vampirism by means of a girls' boarding school is pretty crafty (i.e., when each girl goes home, she infects others). Meinster is also incredibily cruel--heck, he bites his own mother (marvelously played as a reluctant vampire by Hunt).

Director Terence Fisher propels the proceedings at such a lively pace that one barely notices the screenplay's obvious flaws. For example, if Meinster can transform into bat, as he does at one point, then how can shackles hold him? Also, the relationship between Marianne and Meinster is poorly developed. They meet at the castle and then they become engaged when Meinster visits Marianne for the first time at the school.

Sadly, The Brides of Dracula marked Peel's only appearance as Meinster. Christopher Lee returned as the bloodthirsty Count in Hammer's 1964 series entry Dracula, Prince of Darkness. Cushing would not return as Van Helsing until Hammer made an unwise decision to update the vampire saga to modern times with Dracula A.D. 1972. Hammer eventually made eight Dracula films, but the only subsequent entry to compare favorably with Brides was 1968’s Dracula Has Risen from the Grave.

"Police Squad!"... Making Our Streets Safer (and Also Very Funny)

In 1988, comedy writers Jim Abrahams, Jerry Zucker and David Zucker scored a hit with The Naked Gun. But, as the film’s subtitle, From the Files of Police Squad!, suggests, the movie is actually a big screen version of a short-lived comedy show. Police Squad!, first broadcast in 1982, was placed on hiatus after just four episodes. The last two episodes were shown a few months later, and the series was canceled.

Police Squad! follows -- as he introduces himself in the pilot -- Sergeant Frank Drebin (Leslie Nielsen), Detective Lieutenant, Police Squad, a special detail of the police department. (Drebin’s rank varies from episode to episode, as he sometimes calls himself Detective Drebin or Lt. Drebin.) Each week, Drebin would tackle a new case, sometimes going undercover, with the help of his boss/partner, Capt. Ed Hocken (Alan North) and Officer Norberg (a surprisingly funny Peter Lupus, who played Willy on the popular show, Mission: Impossible). Drebin is also assisted by Ted Olson (Ed Williams), the department’s lab scientist; Johnny (William Duell), the shoeshiner who provides information for cash; and an officer known simply as Al (“Tiny Ron” Taylor).

One of the many reasons this show works so well is its dedication to formula. Formula, if managed properly, can be an effective tool, especially in comedy. The first film written by Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker, The Kentucky Fried Movie, which was named after their theater group, Kentucky Fried Theater, and directed by John Landis, was essentially a series of sketches. It includes an assortment of parodies of commercials and news shows, with the “main attraction” being the film, A Fistful of Yen, a humorous take on Bruce Lee and Enter the Dragon (1973). The troupe’s style of comedy is not slapstickish, but rather broad absurdist humor full of non-sequiturs (irrelevant and illogical dialogue or action), visual gags, and wordplay (a running gag in Police Squad! is Detective Drebin offering people a smoke, asking, “Cigarette?” with a typical response of, “Yes, I know,” as if he were simply confirming that he has a cigarette).

Taking that brand of humor and inserting it into a formulaic police show, complete with a straight-faced protagonist, truly makes the comedy all the more rewarding. There is a distinct difference between watching a visual gag and seeing the same gag in the background while trying to following dialogue pertaining to the main plot. One recurring joke in Police Squad! is Drebin and Hocken in the elevator discussing their ongoing investigation. Each time a person, apparently out of place (a woman in formal wear, another in a swimsuit and swimcap), steps into the elevator. But then the next floor conforms to the person (a large swimming pool for the swimmer, and a stage and awaiting audience for the other woman), who makes an exit, while splashing water or tossed roses make their way through the open doors of the elevator. The two men, of course, fail to acknowledge anything beyond their conversation.

Each episode begins with the title and announcement of the show and actors (a direct parody of the Lee Marvin police drama, M Squad), one of the actors being “Rex Hamilton” as Abraham Lincoln, who never makes an appearance. Each week, there would be a special guest star, who would be killed during the opening credits, and the title shown would differ from what the announcer calls it (e.g., the pilot’s title is displayed as “A Substantial Gift,” while the announcer says, “Tonight’s episode: ‘The Broken Promise’”). Drebin would usually knock over a trash can or mailbox when parking his car, Olson in the lab would be conducting an inappropriate experiment with a young child, Billy or Katie (such as what hanging object will fall faster, a bowling ball or a next-door neighbor), and Johnny would give incredibly detailed information that no one could possibly know (and also be seen for advice by the likes of Tommy Lasorda and Dr. Joyce Brothers). Al, as portrayed by the seven-foot tall Taylor, could only be seen from his chest down, either adorned in a silly shirt (typically related to the case) or criticized for something on his face or head (which obviously cannot be seen until it’s pointed out, like the “headgear” that isn’t “regulation,” as Al removes a sombrero).

While the series is strong throughout (with only the sixth episode, “Testimony of Evil”/“Dead Men Don’t Laugh,” directed by Joe Dante, faltering with an extended and dull lounge act from an undercover Drebin), none of the episodes match the pilot, written and directed by Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker. The comedy is delivered full tilt, and although the running time is only 25 minutes sans commercial breaks, the episode needs to be watched multiple times for a true appreciation. (I saw the series several times before realizing that, on the glass door, POLICE is correspondingly a mirror image inside the office, but SQUAD is not. And my wife pointed out that, in “Rendezvous at Big Gulch”/“Terror in the Neighborhood,” although the series is set somewhere in the U.S., the Eiffel Tower can be seen through a window.) The pilot includes one of my favorite lines of anything that Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker have done, spoken by Drebin to a victim’s widow: “We would’ve come earlier, but your husband wasn’t dead then.” Some have suggested that the series was ahead of its time, and this appears to be the case. In 1982, people were evidently not prepared for a television show that required viewers to pay scrupulous attention. But, particularly with the success of the Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker film, Airplane!, two years before, the resulting cult status of Police Squad! could likely have been forecast.

Following Top Secret! in 1984, Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker wrote (with David Zucker directing) The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad! The film was very successful and spawned two sequels, The Naked Gun 2½: The Smell of Fear (1991) and The Naked Gun 33⅓: The Final Insult (1994). In the films, George Kennedy plays Capt. Hocken and O.J. Simpson plays a similarly-named Nordberg. Williams and Taylor reprise their TV roles, but Duell is unfortunately nowhere to be seen. The first film and the first sequel are both hilarious cinematic excursions, but the third movie, directed by Peter Segal, falls flat in many scenes. A fourth film has been rumored for the last couple of years but, as of 2010, very few details have come into fruition. Priscilla Presley is quite charming as Frank Drebin’s love interest in all three films, and Robert Goulet, who played one of the doomed “guest stars” in Police Squad!, is the villain and Drebin’s rival for Presley’s affection in The Naked Gun 2½.

Reportedly, the role of Frank Drebin on Police Squad! was specifically written for Leslie Nielsen, who’d also starred in Airplane! But it was Nielsen’s cinematic rekindling of Drebin in The Naked Gun that solidified the actor’s reputation as a comic actor. His deadpan delivery against the backdrop of absurd and ludicrous situations and settings was so beloved by audiences that Nielsen has essentially been typecast. Time and again, he is asked to play similar characters, in movies such as 1990’s Repossessed (a spoof of 1974’s The Exorcist), Spy Hard (1996), and 2001: A Space Travesty (2000). Even Mel Brooks directed one with Dracula: Dead and Loving It in 1995. In my opinion, the only one of these films worth watching is Wrongfully Accused (1998), which was written and directed by Pat Proft, who worked on Police Squad! and co-wrote all three Naked Gun movies.

After The Naked Gun, the three men who were once collectively known as the Kentucky Fried Theater seemed to part ways. Just two years later, Jerry Zucker directed the extraordinarily successful Ghost starring Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, and an Oscar®-winning Whoopi Goldberg. His brother, David Zucker, stayed mostly in comedies, producing High School High (1996), co-writing and directing South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone in BASEketball (1998), their first film after their hit TV show, and directing the spoofs, Scary Movie 3 (2003) and Scary Movie 4 (2006). Likewise, Abrahams co-wrote (with Proft) and directed the excellent Hot Shots! (1991) and Hot Shots! Part Deux (1993), as well as helming Jane Austen’s Mafia! in 1996. He and Proft also co-wrote Scary Movie 4.

So many films of today (particularly ones starring Nielsen) attempt the type of comedy mastered by Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker, but very few (if any) have succeeded. The comedy is both frivolous and ingenious. It’s goofy fun but can only be savored with an audience on full alert, trying to see and hear every quip, every gag, every moment that makes the quick-eyed viewer laugh aloud. The three writers/directors were comedic Picassos, creating a surreal landscape that easily captures the eyes and, if stared at long enough, captures the heart as well. Police Squad! may have only lasted six episodes, but its lifespan and influence are immeasurable.

Hollywood's Tribute to the Angels of Bataan - Cry Havoc and So Proudly We Hail (1943)

In 1942 the US Armed Forces stationed in the Philippines on the islands of Corregidor and Bataan were subjected to one of the most brutal Japanese offensives of the war in their attempt to capture both American strongholds. Both islands were eventually lost as the beleaguered troops surrendered, many of whom endured the horror of the Bataan death march. Through newsreels and newspaper reports the American people learned of the military nurses who fought valiantly to offer aid and comfort to the endless stream of casualties on a 24/7 basis. Tending to the injured and dying under the hellish circumstances of constant bombardment and artillery fire was a monumental effort carried out by ordinary women performing their duties as they had been trained, in an environment unlike any other they had experienced. In their unyielding determination to leave no one behind many of them were captured by the Japanese, ending up on the infamous death march or in POW camps. Hollywood felt that the exploits of these courageous women needed to be documented on film. Two studios, Paramount and MGM, each produced their own version of the same events surrounding the fall of Bataan, both released in 1943, So Proudly We Hail and Cry Havoc. Each film boasted a strong female cast playing nurses and civilian volunteers; glamorous and popular stars appearing ragged and filthy in the mud and blood of the Pacific war zone. This was an attempt to attain the most realistic depiction of the actual conditions, but a reality tempered by the decisions of the Office of War Information, the government agency which had the power to accept or reject any proposed elements in all films about the war.



Mark Sandrich, director of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire musicals, saw an article in the newspaper regarding the survival of nurses who had escaped from Corregidor. He and screenwriter Allan Scott, arranged to visit these women and record their personal experiences. Sandrich and Scott originally conceived the film as a romance, but the Office of War Information dismissed this idea and wanted the film to represent a realistic account of their plight, at least one that could be tolerated by the American public without instilling them with fear. Three popular and powerhouse stars were chosen for the lead roles; Claudette Colbert , Paulette Goddard, and Veronica Lake. While conforming to the wishes of the Office of War Information to present the daily activities of the nurses in as realistic a fashion as possible, they still managed to include the romantic aspect they had originally conceived; Claudette Colbert loves and eventually marries doomed Lt. John Summers, played by George Reeves; Paulette Goddard, a love them and leave them type of gal, finds friendship and ultimately love with "Kansas" (Sonny Tufts); and Veronica Lake mourns the loss of her husband, who was killed at Pearl Harbor. The story is told in flashbacks as the women are heading home after their ordeal. Claudette Colbert's character remains in a state of shock following the news of her husband's death; the horrible irony and memories of her heroic attempts to get him safely off the island, only to have him killed while on a secret mission. A psychiatrist (Walter Abel) interviews the other nurses hoping to get some insight into the emotional demons affecting Colbert's character. While the film tended to emphasize the romantic entanglements of the three leads, there was attention paid to the savage battle going on around them. The film actually received an Academy Award

nomination for its special effects a well-deserved nod to the exceptional recreation of the devastating siege of Bataan. The response from both critics and public was positive; the esteemed critic for the New York Times, Bosley Crowther, declaring it "a shattering impression of the tragedy of Bataan." Taken in context the film was a superior example of Hollywood populist propaganda directed at convincing the American public that this was indeed their war; the audience felt they were getting an honest recreation of the hardships endured by the Red Cross nurses who had exhibited an untapped reserve of courage under fire. Later critics pointed out that the film's emphasis on the romantic plot lines detracted from the depiction of the nurses responses to the daily crises and threats that had defined their heroism. This film was one of Paramount's biggest releases of the year and received four Academy Award nominations, including one for Best Supporting Actress for Paulette Goddard.






Cry Havoc, MGM's version of the Bataan evacuation, also released in 1943, was based on the play Proof through the Night by Allan Kenward, which had a successful run in Los Angeles, but failed to attract audiences on Broadway. It told the story of a group of nurses and civilian volunteers trapped in a bunker waiting for the imminent Japanese attack. The all-female cast included well-known actresses Margaret Sullavan, Joan Blondell, Ann Sothern, and Fay Bainter; the remaining roles were played by up-and-coming talented performers Marsha Hunt, Ella Raines, Frances Gifford, Diana Lewis, and Heather Angel. There were men in the film but they appeared only briefly and had no dialogue; the emphasis remained on the women. Unlike the ethnic mix of soldiers present in most male-dominated war films, the characters here were a microcosm of America's social classes, from lowbrow to high society; a former burlesque queen, a Southern aristocrat, an aspiring writer, a switchboard operator, a factory worker. The film chronicles the relationships that develop among these diverse personalities, an often frustrating and demanding process. It is imperative that they eliminate the societal barriers which separate them in order to create an effective and cohesive unit. Eventually they do begin to reveal stories from their past which serve to dilute the suspicion and hostility which had hindered their training. Romantic entanglements are discussed, but there are no love scenes to undercut the realistic portrayal of the gritty and sometimes deadly nature of their situation. In the end they decide unanimously to stay on the island with the wounded and do not escape. The horror stories about Bataan were still fresh in the memories of Americans and they could relate to events depicted in the movie, thus making it a moneymaker for MGM.


Although both films received critical praise and were popular with audiences, present-day critics have attributed this positive reaction to the unique women's perspective of the battlefield and the public's belief that they were witnessing an authentic rendering of conditions surrounding the battle of the Philippines. At a time when the country was still reeling from the devastating loss of Corregidor and Bataan and winning the war was no longer a certainty, a film honoring the sacrifices of a brave band of Red Cross nurses provided some semblance of dignity amidst humiliation and offered Americans a chance to believe that the United States would prevail.

This Week's Poll: What is your favorite horse film?

This week's poll tries to gallop past its predecessors by focusing on horse films. This simple idea to honor horses on celluloid proved to be surprisingly difficult. Does one include horse racing films, ranging from Broadway Bill to Bite the Bullet? What about movies about people who work around horses, like Boots Malone with William Holden and The Man From Snowy River? Alas, the inclusion of these types of films would result in a poll with too many nominees. Therefore, the Cafe's poll experts (well, we're using the term "experts" loosely) decided to whittle down the list to films where the horse is "the star". The candidates vying for your vote as favorite horse film are:

The Black Stallion (1979) - A boy and a horse are shipwrecked on an island in Carroll Ballard's visually stunning adaptation of Walter Farley's classic children's novel. Mickey Rooney earned a Best Supporting Actor nomination as a horse trainer, but my favorite part of the film is the friendship between the boy and stallion forged on the island.

Misty (1961) - Marguerite Henry's award-winning 1947 children's book Misty of Chincoteague provided the basis for this film about two children who capture a mare on an island off the coast of Virginia. It starred David Ladd, Alan's son and a future Hollywood executive.

National Velvet (1944) - An English lass named Velvet Brown (Elizabeth Taylor) saves a horse, names him The Pie, and eventually rides him in the Grand National steeplechase. Anne Revere won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar as Velvet's mother and Mickey Rooney played another trainer. This one was also an huge hit, this time for MGM.

My Friend Flicka (1943) - Roddy McDowall plays young boy who learns responsibility by a raising a young filly he names Flicka (Swedish for "little girl"). This adaptation of Mary O'Hara's book proved to be a big hit for 20th Century-Fix and spawned two sequels, plus a later TV series.

Phar Lap (1983) - This import from Down Under traces the exploits of Phar Lap, a phenomenally successful race horse who captured the public's imagination. Tom Burlinson, from The Man From Snowy River, played the horse's strapper (hey, can a horse lover please post a good definition of "strapper"?).

Smoky (1946) - There are several versions of Will James' horse tale, but this one is the most famous. Fred MacMurray plays a cowboy who captures a wild horse and forms a friendship with it. The two are separated, but reunited in the film's poignant climax.

Any quibbles with the above nominees? Please leave a comment below. You can cast your vote by clicking on your choice in the green sidebar on the right.

Ruggles of Red Gap: What Price Freedom?

Freedom isn’t free. There is always a price that must be paid.

An excellent example of this is on display in this lesser-seen gem starring the phenomenally talented Charles Laughton as Ruggles of Red Gap. Ruggles is a very proper manservant to Lord Burnstead in England. His employer, however, offers him as chattel as part of a bet that he loses in a poker game to some unusual Americans, Egbert and Effie Floud (Charles Ruggles and Mary Boland). Effie is thrilled beyond belief that this valet will be able to influence her wealthy, but decidedly uncultured, husband. But Egbert has other ideas. He is glad to have a new buddy and introduces Ruggles as “the Colonel” to the townsfolk back home in the U.S.

Ruggles is like a fish out of water. He doesn’t quite know what to make of this situation. He is an excellent servant but confused as to what his responsibilities are supposed to be in this household that is so decidedly different from the one he has known in England. Still, he is impressed with something he never quite grasped before. There are opportunities in this new country for everyone who is willing to work hard.

Ruggles befriends Mrs. Judson (ZaSu Pitts) and demonstrates his remarkable cooking abilities. Soon, the man who was displaced from his comfortable employment into a brand new environment is learning what it means to be a free man.

In the most touching scene of a movie that is mostly filled with humor, Egbert attempts to quote Lincoln’s Gettysburg address in the Silver Dollar Saloon when the quiet and gentle voice of Ruggles eloquently recites it in full. It is a remarkable moment and one that always makes me thankful for the many blessings afforded to us in our beloved country.

Like Ruggles, Charles Laughton began his career in England, but traveled to America to enhance his acting opportunities. He made his Broadway debut in 1931 and enjoyed almost immediate success in both American and British talking pictures. By 1933, he already won a Best Actor Oscar for the title role in The Private Life of Henry VIII. Following the release of Ruggles in 1934, Laughton enjoyed a remarkable period in his career, starring in Les Miserables (1934), Mutiny on the Bounty (1935), Rembrandt (1936), and The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939).

The supporting cast sparkles in Ruggles of Red Gap, especially Charles Ruggles who plays the endearing Egbert. It’s the “nouveau riche” Egbert who personifies the American spirit in the film. He accepts every person as his equal, never forgets a friend, and ignores any distinction between classes.

It’s interesting that the film’s most powerful scene—Ruggles’s reciting of the Gettysburg address—wasn’t in the original 1914 novel. But that scene and the strong performances give Ruggles a depth that’s totally missing in the 1950 Bob Hope remake Fancy Pants.

If you’ve never seen Ruggles of Red Gap, it makes for excellent viewing on this patriotic holiday. I truly hope that each and every American celebrates today with thanks given to our Lord and to those who made our freedom possible. Happy Fourth of July!

A Real American Hero: Sergeant York

World War II had been going on for over two years when Sergeant York was released in the United States on September 27, 1941. The Germans had defeated my beloved French quite handily in the spring of 1940 and they had tried to obliterate the British throughout the fall of 1940. As this film entered American theatres the Russians were preparing themselves for a German push toward Moscow. And, in the Pacific, the Japanese had had enough of the US trade embargo that limited their access to petroleum and mineral ores—they decided to fully prepare for a war in the Pacific and began war games which would eventually lead to the event that transpired on December 7, 1941: Pearl Harbor. The United States, of course, was still a “neutral” country when this picture came out, but it was becoming quite obvious that it was only a matter of time before they too would enter the fray.
Producer/director Howard Hawks had the perfect vehicle to submit to a traditionally isolationistic nation. Just like the hero of this film, Alvin York (Gary Cooper), the United States was usually peace-loving. Yet, when the Germans went crazy in 1917 and sent the Zimmermann Telegram to Mexico and reengaged in unrestricted submarine warfare, America had to defend itself and its principles against tyranny. Thus, the nation entered WWI and the real-life Sgt. Alvin York had to become a Dough Boy and go “Over There”. Everyone knew in 1941 that we would be going “Over There” very soon, so why not make a picture that reminded Americans that sometimes you have to fight to ensure peace?
Nominated for eleven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, this film follows the exploits of a backwoods Tennessee farmer to the trench-filled Western Front. Alvin York is an ambitious young man who only wants to raise enough money to buy bottomland from Mr. Tomkins (Erville Alderson) and then marry Gracie Williams (Joan Leslie). Given 60 days to come up with the necessary funds, York works himself like a dog. Yet, as time starts to run out he has to come up with some way to make fast money, and so he enters a turkey shoot hoping to win a prize steer. In a remarkable show of marksmanship, York wins the contest and raises the necessary money to buy his land. The problem is Mr. Tomkins has already sold the land. Feeling betrayed, York gets drunk and seeks revenge against those who stole “his” land. Riding out into a wild thunderstorm, York finds himself and his gun under assault by lightning bolts. One in particular hits his gun and knocks York off his horse. When he picks himself up off the ground he hears singing coming from the local church. When he stumbles into the church, Pastor Pile (Walter Brennan) and the congregation welcome York to his new Christian life. Believing Divine Intervention has stepped in the way of his committing murder, York become a Christian pacifist.
After turning over a new leaf, York finds his fortunes changing: he works out a sharecropping deal to buy the land he lost and Gracie agrees to marry him. But then the war in Europe steps in the way and York finds himself in a difficult situation. How can a Christian go to war when the Good Book is against killing? Even though York declares himself a conscientious objector, the Army still reluctantly wants him. Once the Army sees what York can do with a rifle they no longer have any reluctance at all. Yet, after having a discussion with York about what the Bible says about war, the camp commander, Major Buxton (Stanley Ridges), gives him a 2-week pass to reconsider his position. If he still wants out of the Army after his leave is up, the Major will allow it. On leave, York has another moment of Divine Intervention when the wind blows his Bible open to Matthew 22:21: ““Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s, and unto God the things that are God’s”. Seeing this as a sign, York returns to the Army ready to serve his country.
In the trenches of France (specifically the Meuse-Argonne Offensive of 1918), York finds himself surrounded by death and killing. Menacing machinegun fire just rips to shreds anything that peaks out of the trench or tries to cross the dreaded “No Man’s Land”. When York’s unit tries to flank a German machinegun nest, both the commanding officer and first sergeant are injured so severely that York must take command of the few men who are still alive in his unit. Virtually single-handedly York picks off the gunners by crawling around the machinegun nest. In the end, the few remaining German soldiers surrender to York. Behind enemy lines,York and his men work their way back to the American position by taking unsuspecting German soldiers prisoners. Eventually German soldiers positioned on a ridge notice what is happening and start to fire on York and his men (and their prisoners nonetheless!). Again, York outsmarts his German adversaries (using a turkey call of all things) and they surrender to him. When York and his handful of men return to the American position, they have captured over 130 German soldiers.
His daring exploits are rewarded with the Medal of Honor and the Croix de Gurre. He is also sent back to the States to show Americans what a real hero looks like. When he returns to Tennessee he finds that the state has turned his undeveloped bottomland into a farm as a reward for his heroism.
Gary Cooper’s portrayal in this film earned him his first Academy Award. Playing a stereotypical country bumpkin with a very strong conscious, Cooper is at times a bit too earnest for my liking. However, very few men could play the reluctant hero as well as him. His scenes with Walter Brennan (who was nominated for Best Supporting Actor) where they discuss the Bible as it relates to the modern world are the most enjoyable to watch. It is interesting to note that the real Sergeant York handpicked Cooper for this role and served as an adviser on the film. When you read excerpts of his diary (which he kept while in the Army), it is not difficult to see why Cooper played him so humbly.
The battlefield scenes were expertly filmed and edited by Sal Polito and William Holmes respectively. Holmes won an Academy Award for his deft editing and Polito was nominated for his photography. When I was a middle school teacher I would show this film as an example of what warfare was like in WWI. The constant bombardment and never-ending trenches, with mangled barbed wire strewn everywhere, are something to behold. You combine these elements with a terrific Max Steiner score (another Oscar nominee), and you have, at times, a visually stunning film to watch.
This film could not have come out at a better time. It was a reminder of what war really looked like and how ordinary men could be compelled to do extraordinary things.

The House on Telegraph Hill: A Glass of Orange Juice Before Bed

Two women, Victoria (Valentina Cortese) and Karin, become friends in a concentration camp during World War II. Karin, who is frail, talks about her son, whom she sent to America at the outbreak of the war to live with a wealthy aunt. Karin's dream is to be reunited with her son. But, despite Victoria's efforts to keep her friend alive, Karin dies on a cold winter night. Victoria--who has lost her entire family during the war--makes a sudden, fateful decision: She takes Karin's papers and assumes the dead woman's identity.

When Poland is liberated, Karin (the former Victoria) writes a letter to “her” Aunt Sophie in the States. A few weeks later, she receives a telegram from a lawyer informing her that Aunt Sophie is dead. Five years pass before Karin can travel on her own to America. When she arrives in New York City, she demands custody of “her” nine-year-old son Christopher. She anticipates a legal battle, so she is surprised when the boy’s guardian, Alan Spender (Richard Basehart), decides to be reasonable.

A whirlwind courtship ensues, with Karin and Alan getting married within two weeks of their first meeting. All seems to be going well until the newlyweds arrive in San Francisco to live with Christopher in the family mansion on Telegraph Hill. Karin and young Christopher hit it off immediately, but Karin quickly senses that she is not welcomed by Margaret, the boy’s attractive governess. Furthermore, Alan has begun to act strangely towards her…and then there’s the old playhouse in the backyard where that explosion took place.

The House on Telegraph House shares more than a passing resemblance to Hitchcock’s Suspicion, except with a twist. Karin may or may not be married to a murderer, but there is no doubt that she is deceiving those around her. At the core of her deception, she is lying to a young boy and allowing him to believe she is his presumed-dead mother. To be sure, Karin exudes guilt—there are several shots of her staring remorsefully at Aunt Sophie’s portrait. Still, she never tries to remove herself from the situation by telling the truth about her identity. Her apparent reason for doing this is because she has grown to love Christopher…and yet, she is only prolonging the hurt that she may cause him in later life.

The complexity of Karin’s motives makes it a tricky leading role and Valentina Cortese pulls it off fairly well. She excels in scenes such as the one where Karin meets Christopher for the first time—her subtle fear a result of wondering if the boy will somehow sense she is not his mother. Still, Cortese lacks warmth overall, making it difficult for the audience to totally pull for her in a way they might have for a more engaging actress, such as Ingrid Bergman.

Daryl F. Zanuck “discovered” Valentina Cortese in Italy in the early 1950s (she was already appearing in films) and brought her to America in hopes of making her a star. She never connected with American audiences, though, and returned to Europe in 1955. She enjoyed a long acting career there, working with acclaimed directors such as Fellini, Antonioni, and Truffaut. Cortese earned an Oscar nomination in 1973 for Best Supporting Actress for Truffaut’s Day for Night; she lost in that category to Ingrid Bergman in Murder on the Orient Express.

Cortese married her House on Telegraph Hill co-star Richard Basehart in 1951 (they divorced nine years later). Basehart wasn’t the first choice for the role of Alan Spender; Dana Andrews, Richard Conte, and James Mason were among those actors also considered for the part. Basehart was always a solid performer and he’s quite convincing as a murky character that may have ulterior motives. Without giving away any plot spoilers, I will say this: I will never accept an offer of a glass of orange juice before bed.

The ever-versatile Robert Wise directed The House on Telegraph Hill the same year he did The Day the Earth Stood Still. The former film isn’t a beloved classic like the latter one, but The House on Telegraph Hill hold ups nicely today and remains engrossing from start to finish. The title house, by the way, doesn’t really exist—but you can visit the top of Telegraph Hill in San Francisco.

Underrated Performer of the Month: Diana Rigg

Every time I mention Diana Rigg in a blog post, she generates a plethora of positive comments. So, for all we Dame Diana fans, I wanted to pay a brief tribute to one of the most versatile and reliable actresses of her generation—both in the cinema and on the stage.

After guest stints in a handful of TV shows, Diana Rigg secured lasting fame as Mrs. Emma Peel (the name a play on “man appeal’”) in the classic British series The Avengers. I’m convinced that if she had done nothing else, there would still be plenty of Diana Rigg fan clubs around the world. (And if you think the role was easy, watch Uma Thurman struggle with it in the 1998 big screen adaptation of The Avengers).

Regarding her famous first-season costume, she once said: “The leather catsuit I wore in The Avengers was a total nightmare. It took a good 45 minutes to get unzipped to go to the loo. It was like struggling in and out of a wet-suit….I got a lot of very odd fan mail while I was in that show, but my mum used to enjoy replying to it. Some of the men who wrote to me must have been a bit startled because she would offer really motherly advice. I would get a letter from a teenage boy, say, who was overexcited and my mother would write back saying: ‘My daughter is far too old for you and what you really need is a good run around the block.’ "

Her post-Avengers film career included the tongue-in-cheek The Assassination Bureau (with Oliver Reed), the witty theatrical satire Theater of Blood (she plays Vincent Price’s daughter), and a portrayal as the only Mrs. James Bond in On Her Majesty’s Secret Agent (in spite of George Lazenby, this is one of my favorite 007 films). Concurrently, she gained acclaim on the stage, earning Tony nominations for Best Actress in 1972 and 1975 (she would eventually win a Tony in 1994 for Medea).

For the rest of her acting career, she moved back and forth among the theatre, the big screen, and the small screen. She earned kudos for dramatic parts in the TV miniseries In the House of Brede, Bleak House, and Rebecca (as Mrs. Danvers). She showed off her singing voice in the 1977 film version of Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music (my wife and I were in London when she did Sondheim’s Follies on stage, but a ticket was not to be found). In 1982, she expertly pulled off the Marlene Dietrich role in an entertaining TV version of Witness for the Prosecution and brought sparkle to the part of a murder suspect opposite Peter Ustinov’s Hercule Poirot in Evil Under the Sun.

The only significant blight on her stellar resume is the ill-advised 1973 American sitcom Diana, in which she played a divorcee living in New York. She has much more success with her other U.S. TV series gig—hosting PBS’s Mystery! from 1989 to 2003.

At age 71, she continues to act, most recently appearing as a nun (as she did in House of Brede) in the 2006 version of The Painted Veil.

So, Dame Diana fans, it’s your time to chime in!