 Director: Ken Annakin Writer: Bernard Gordon, John Melson, Milton Sperling, and Philip Yordan Cinematographer: Jack Hildyard Producer: Sidney Harmon, Milton Sperling, Philip Yordan, and Dino De Laurentiis by Jon Cvack Similar to good popular 90s films, I’ve coming to the bottom of the bucket in terms of the Epic World War 2 action films produced from the 50s through the 70s. A Bridge Too Far (1945), The Longest Day (1962), Van Ryan’s Express (1965), The Guns of Navarone (1961), and Kelly’s Heroes (1970) all utilized grand set pieces, with countless numbers of tanks, planes, and soldiers packed into every scene. Where Eagles Dare (1968) was the last one I watched, and while not perfect, the closing sequence is one of the most incredible action scenes ever created. It’s watching these films that you realize how inferior modern VFX are by comparison, and why a film like Dunkirk (2017) is a far more powerful cinematic experience than cramming each action sequence in with as much computer graphics as possible. Battle of the Bulge is directed by the same Ken Annakin who gave us The Longest Day; with this one in color (I was expecting black and white) and one of the few films from the sub-genre I’ve seen on Blu-Ray. Not knowing a thing about the film (beyond the obvious), an Overture kicks off and the credits begin to roll. In grand cinemascope, flying above the skies of the Ardennes Forest, we meet Lt. Colonel Daniel Kiley (Henry Fonda) and his pilot on a reconnaissance mission, eventually flying overhead of who would become Kiley’s primary villain, Nazi Colonel Martin Hessler (Robert Shaw). At the time, Allied forces had assumed the worst was behind them, and that Nazi Germany would fall in a matter of months. Kiley is convinced otherwise; believing that a massive force was hiding in the Ardennes; the place where Hessler is headed. There he meets his superior, General Kohler (Werner Peters), who walks him through an incredible series of corridors and rooms, showing everything from a mini-cooper sized Panzer tank model, to a war room with an ornate switchboard, helping them to coordinate their every move while walking us through the story. One of the best description for movies such as Volcano (1997), Twister (1996), 2012 (2009), San Andreas (2015), etc. is Disaster Porn. While I’ll stick to Epic World War 2 Action Movies, you could easily call this War Porn, as the film glorifies all manner of machines, vehicles, and guns. As a kid, this is the type of action film that’d make me jump from my seat, grab my toy weapons cache, and go play war in the backyard for a couple hours until I tired myself out and needed another dose of inspiration. Kiley admonishes his superiors officers of the suspected attack, including an old friend Gen. Grey (Robert Ryan) who while wanting to believe him, just can’t take the risk rolling out such a significant number of troops in preparation. Kiley remains committed, heading to the Siegfried Line front where he meets a battle hardened crew watching the Germans not more than a quarter mile away, led by Major Wolenski (Charles Bronson). Back in the German barracks, Hessler is put in command of a Panzer division; however, with Germany having taken on such large casualties, he’s left with only young boys fresh from the academy with little to no battle experience, determined to demonstrate their courage. Kiley then takes another reconnaissance flight, flying beneath the fog to discover the Panzer division which then shoots Kiley and his pilot down, though before he forwards the message. To complicate matters, German Command has sent in American-sounding GI’s to help sabotage the response. The tanks open at the Schnee Eifel, obliterating American forces, and forcing them into retreat. So begins the battle that defines any Epic World War 2 film in which hundreds of war machines and soldiers fight for the remaining hour, culminating in one of the most impressive final sequences I’ve seen from the genre (and any action film overall) in which dozens upon dozens of full scale tanks battle across the fields; duking it out across acres and acres of land, using trenches to gain advantage. Soon it ends up at a fuel station where hundreds and hundreds of 50-gallon drums of gas are stacked high in all directions, which you know is going to be the end Hessler. Once again you’re left desiring a return to this type of filmmaking, in which what you’re seeing - from the characters to the machinery - is entirely real. The closing sequence was so awesome in the truest sense of the word that you grow saddened by the thought that the thought that the visual arts have actually devolved. The Battle of the Bulge is not the best from the subgenre, but like Where Eagles Dare, the action and characters more than make up for it. Robert Shaw, Peter Fonda, and Charles Bronson are all fantastic; with Shaw serving as the star of the show, as even though Jaws is my favorite movie of all time, I neither knew he was English or ever played a German Nazi. While there’s not as much snow as you expect, it’s a fun film. BELOW: Robert Shaw plays one heck of a Nazi Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page
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 Would go on to influence Tim Burton's Batman Director: William Castle Writer: Ray Russell Producer: William Castle Cinematographer: Burnett Guffey by Jon Cvack Taking place in the 1800s, Mr. Sardonicus follows London Physician Sir Robert Cargrave (Ronald Lewis) who visits Baron Sardonicus (Guy Rolfe) who lives in a castle far in the middle of nowhere at the urging of his ex-girlfriend who believes that Sardonicus is veering toward unethical medical practices. At the castle, we meet the film’s greatest performer and arguably the greatest scary movie henchman of all time Krull (Oskar Homolka), whose eye is sealed shut by an nauseating flap of skip that connects his top and bottom lids. Looking up his bio, Homolka never did much more than B and C-level movies, though beyond the screen he was a renowned Shakespearean actor in German theater. The film is worth watching for this performance alone. Oskar is creepy and unnerving while conveying a tremendous amount of foreboding death as he struggles with his master’s terrifying surgeries. Arriving at the castle, Cargrave discovers Krull torturing one the servant girls by sticking leeches in her face, which look real enough to give you goosebumps. Cargrave goes on to meet Sardonicus, who he discovers has a terrifying and permanent grin strewn across his face. Sardonicus explains how he developed the deformity, in which having grown up little with his parents both working long and hard hours, his dad had one day bought a lottery ticket and won, then had a heart attack and dying, accidentally buried with the winning ticket. Sardonicus’ wife urged him to open the casket in order to retrieve the ticket. Sardonicus eventually acquiesced, digging up his father’s grave, opening the casket, and discovering his father’s grinning skull, forcing the same grin onto Sardonicus’ face forever since. Sardonicus has thus been on a mission to cure his deformity, experimenting on his servants - including with leeches - to try and fix the problem. Unable to discover any solutions, Sardonicus has called on Cargrave and his expertise to fix the problem. Cargrave tries and fails, which drives Sardonicus mad. From there the film involves a brilliant play by both Cargrave and Krull as they learn that perhaps Sardonicus’ ailment is much more in his mind than anything physical; that in a quest for money, even if disrupting his father’s grave, Sardonicus might have responded to the terror of seeing his father’s skull with such a large smile on his face due to his own appetite for the money and power, knowing that what made his father smile was the potential immediate transformation of life, no different than Sardonicus’. To think that he might have lived a normal, though poor life if he disregarded the idea is something that’s stuck with me for days after. The makeup is so good and the performances so strong and the story so bizarre that the film is far above any B-Movie designation I think it’d receive. Aside from Psycho (1960) in the year prior, I can’t find many films better than Mr. Sardonicus within a five year or so period that stand up. It’s the exact type of film you hope for when picturing an old black and white horror film taking place in a castle. The images stick with you long after. A testament to how strong of a horror film it is. BELOW: Heck of an intro Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Tom Poston - a charming everyman who never got much play Director: William Castle Writer: William Castle; remake of The Old Dark House (1932; James Whale); based on Benighted (1927 novel) by J. B. Priestley Cinematographer: Arthur Grant Producer: William Castle and Anthony Hinds by Jon Cvack I don’t know much about Roger Corman or William Castle, but it seems to be that William Castle is the Dante’s Peak to Corman’s Volcano, or the poor man’s Hitchcock. I’ve been meaning to check out a few of his films, but - as I discussed in The Masque of Red Death (1964) and The Man They Couldn’t Hang (1939) - given how bland some of the Corman films were from the period, I had put off dumping them into my queue, and while I’m a bit disappointed I took so long, I also think the delay might have worked out, as a recent interest in older films over the last few years has allowed me to appreciate even the campiest of films and the ways they often tried to push the boundaries during the Code Era. The Old Dark House - a remake of the 1932 film with Boris Karloff - stars Tom Poston, who aside from Christmas with the Kranks (2004) and the fifth Beethoven movie (2003), hasn’t been in all that much and yet possesses such an everyman charm to him, veering between car salesman Tom Penderel in this film to Linguistic Professor Jonathan Jones in another William Castle horror collaboration Zotz! (1962). With an aloof look and endearing innocence, Poston has that rare ability to make you feel like he could be your neighbor or colleague, leaving me surprised and finding it a bit tragic that he didn’t find much success. Penderel has recently sold a Rolls Royce to his friend Casper Jemm (Peter Bull) who’s instructed Tom to drop the car off at his creepy mansion. However, upon arriving at the mansion, he discovers Casper dead and meets his strange and eccentric family, including his twin brother Jasper. When a terrible rainstorm rolls in, the family offers Tom a room for the night and so begins a bizarre murder-comedy story, which while far being perfect, is a bunch of fun. We learn that each of the relatives is required to remain in the mansion each and every night, as per the terms of an ancestor’s will, anyone who refuses to honor this requirement forfeits their shares. As a result many of the siblings have lived there for years. Yet with Casper’s recent passing, the night brings a killer to the house, claiming a victim per hour through exciting and bizarre murders, before resulting in a classic bomb-defusal scene, which while completely out of left field, works with the comedic undertones. It’s not a perfect film, but for going in expecting a dull and uninspired story, I was pleasantly surprised. BELOW: A short doc on William Castle Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Short, sweet, and eerie Counter to The Masque of Red Death I knew that this film was written by Edgar Allen Poe. And while the photography was the same bland crap found in that film, the story was easy enough to follow to avoid explaining small details in a boring way. It involves a wealthy man, Guy Carrell (Ray Milland), who has an overwhelming fear of being buried alive; what is called vivisepulture when I was seeing if there was a word for it. Guy also has a cataleptic disorder in which, like his father, he can faint and appear dead, even though he’s not. He often recalls his father’s funeral where he swore to have heard his father screaming from his tomb, who allegedly died for other reasons. After his wedding day, Guy faints while listening to his wife play the piano, growing even more paranoid about being buried alive, leading him on an obsessive mission to construct a foolproof chamber vault that provides him all chance of escape, including a collapsible coffin, ladder through the chimney, and even with a poisonous elixir, if all else fails. The end is so great that it’s best to stop and avoid risking spoilers, as even early M. Knight Shyamalan would be proud. It all pieces together into a great classic tale of terror - providing the rare occasion of a film meeting the exact definition of that general phrase and explaining why the double feature was rated so high. It provided everything you’d want from a Poe story, even matching well with the photography’s limitations. There’s nothing more to say beyond the experience of watching it. It’s a perfect film for any small Halloween party that’s serving cocktails. BELOW: An early Boris Karloff adaptation Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  As usual with Corman films - the synopsis is far more enticing than the experience Director: Roger Corman Writer: Charles Beaumont and R. Wright Campbell; based on The Masque of the Red Death and "Hop-Frog" by Edgar Allan Poe Producer: Roger Corman and George Willoughby Cinematography: Nicolas Roeg by Jon Cvack The Birds (1963) and a few other films aside, I’m not sure what it is about color horror films from the early to mid-60s that makes them look so boring. Nearly every single time I return to these Vincent Price B-horror films I’m disappointed, hoping for so much more, often with premises that could have made for great material, and yet always possess that flat, bland lighting while it’s black and white peers pushed its style to the limits of creating the atmosphere necessary for any good horror film. I’m fairly certain that color film was more expensive and required more light to shoot in, and with such fast production schedules, there simply wasn’t enough time to light the scenes well. The Masque of the Red Death starts out strong, shot out in the fields surrounding a castle that sits far in the matted distance, with the trees stripped of leaves and a low hanging fog all around. An old woman meets a hooded figure dressed in red from head to toe who gives a woman a white rose which then drips with blood. We then meet Prince Prospero (Vincent Price) who arrives at a village with his guards, discovering the old woman actually has the plague and orderingg the village burned to the ground to avoid its spread, sparing the one attractive girl Francesca (Jane Asher) who he brings back to the castle. There he entertains his cronies with lavish parties and expensive meals, with all the sex and alcohol they could ask for, all while trying to seduce Francesca who later learns Prospero and his friends are Satanists and so begins a strange series of events that I’ll leave you to read the extensive Wikipedia synopsis to discover all of the bizarre story details. Essentially, the Satanists are participating in endless amounts of debauchery while thousands die outside the castle doors, all while this Red Hooded figure is getting closer, before finally getting inside the castle, approaching Prospero, declaring, “Each man creates his own God for himself - His own Heaven, his own Hell”, removing his mask and - SPOILER - revealing himself to be Prospero himself; that is, Prospero is in his own hell, having sold his soul to Satan for a brief life of hedonism that cycles on repeat. The synopsis reads like an incredible story and makes Edgar Allan Poe’s source material that much more clear. Unfortunately, the film someway/somehow buries these exciting ideas. It’s not so much that I didn’t follow them as that I was so bored with how the story looked that I couldn’t pay attention or connect the pieces all that well. Not knowing it was an Poe short story, I thought it involved a shitty Satanist Vincent Prince who eventually faces his sword, with one really cool and terrifying scene of a furry man in a gorilla suit burning alive. The issue is the complete lack of feeling in each and every scene, as though I was watching each person acting rather than experiencing what they feel; either through performance or the design. Reading a more concise breakdown, I see a story about a man driven by greed and lust while thousands of his sick and poor countrymen die outside. Beyond his lust for Francesca, the film never seems to explore what drives Prospero, or the type of pleasure he receives from living out his every desire. BELOW: A far better - and shorter - adaptation Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  How many people can you get into a frame? Director: John Ford, Henry Hathaway, George Marshall Writer: James R. Webb Cinematographer: William Daniels, Milton Krasner, Charles Lang, and Joseph LaShelle Producer: Bernard Smith by Jon Cvack Accompanying the BluRay of this film was a documentary produced by the American Society of Cinematographers exploring the history of Cinerama - a format that recorded via three 35mm film cameras, which when combined, spanned 146 degrees around the handful of theaters equipped to handle it, filling the peripheral vision of its viewers. Many of the subjects equated the format to an early rendition of Virtual Reality. Unfortunately, due to both the production and exhibition technology required, few theaters were able to properly screen the format, while studios were inhibited from producing the content due to the high costs. While most of Cinerama’s productions revolved around adventure and exploration documentaries, exploring everything from Native tribes to the Grand Canyon, there were two narrative films that got made during its brief lifespan - The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm (1962) and How the West Was Won. I had first experienced an HD version of a western after watching both El Dorado (1966) and The Sons of Katie Elder (1966) on Netflix. You can read about either for the details, but for the first time I understood what the filmmakers had achieved, as the remastering looked as though they were shot today. Since seeing those two films, my interest in westerns has grown exponentially, no longer seeing them as the antiquated films they were often broadcasted as, but rather gorgeous works of heart, containing some of cinema’s greatest photography. And with three 35mm cameras capturing three images simultaneously, How the West Was Won is arguably one of the most beautiful films ever created within the genre. I’ve grown more fascinated with the Wild West period. Although it occupies such a tremendous space in our history, it’s actually only defined as existing from 1865-1895; serving as thirty years between the era of moving out west into a relatively lawless and displacing countless Native tribes, and the period when government would situate itself. California wasn’t even a state until 1850, which is only 80 years older than my grandmother; approximately one human lifetime. The wild west embodies the manifest destiny spirit, where through hard work and perseverance, anyone can find success. Nowadays, in an age of rampant social and economic inequality, fewer believe the American Dream is attainable. While there has always been an American aristocracy, a hundred plus years ago there was more land to discover than we could ever imagine; to think Alaska and Hawaii were made into states during my father’s lifetime just goes to show how young the nation truly is. How the West Was Won very much embodies the idea of tabula rasa. The story begins with what Cinerama had been known for - soaring above the earth, capturing epic vista, looking down upon some gorgeous snow-covered Rocky Mountains. Spencer Tracy’s voice over kicks in, explaining that what we’re about to see is a story of America and its expansion. The film opens up strong, with John Ford taking the first chapter, with the camera driving down some busy western street, up to the end of a valley where it looks down upon the river where two old steam ships are pulling into port. We first meet the Prescott family in 1839 who’re making their way down the Ohio River on some makeshift rafts, eventually meeting Linus Rawlings (James Stewart) who’s a fur trader, heading east to Pittsburgh. Although an odd role for Stewart, the character was fascinating, making you wonder about all the mountain men throughout history who journeyed out west on their own, with nothing much beyond the Native Americans and other local cultures to discover. Linus ends up sleeping with one of the Prescott daughters Eve (Carroll Baker) who wishes for him to settle down and marry her, but far from ready, he denies her, continuing on the journey. Soon Linus stops at a riverside trading post where he meets another attractive woman who lures him to the bar for a “show”, discovering the place taken over by a brigand who stabs Linus leaving him to narrowly escapes. He returns to warn the Prescott, when they eventually show up, forcing Linux to kill them. The Prescotts then take off on their rafts, turning down the wrong river and hitting rapids which go on to kill Eve’s parents. The rest of the family then decides to stick around to always be near their bodies and Linus agrees to stay with them. From there the film progresses over fifty years, as industry and business begin making their marks and America descends into Civil War, providing everything you could ask for from a western. The images are so large, with essentially every frame packed with beauty. From the simplest close up to the grand vistas of battlefields and nascent towns and railroad lines, every single image packs in as much to look at as possible, often pulling my attention away from the narrative, in awe of each and every image that came on screen, where you just feel how much was poured in; you could see the primary note being to make each shot bigger and more intricate, allowing the eye to wander around unlike any film I’ve seen. Watching it on my 65” television was a decent introduction, but I can only imagine what it’d be like to see the film in an actual Cinerama theater; where you’re truly surrounded by the beauty. There’s something bittersweet in it being only one of two narratives from the medium, soon replaced by 70mm and other large film formats. Though for how beautiful they often are, I’m left wondering what this experience would have been like. A Bridge Too Far (1977), Lawrence of Arabia (1962), and Ben-Hur (1959) are some of the epic films that first come to mind. There’s something innately physical about the definition. When you watch films like this you see how much people were willing to invest in a piece of visual art; hoping to outdo all other films by offering an immersion unlike anything yet experience. Dunkirk came pretty close to the experience, though even that film and its set pieces pale in comparison to the extravagant moments from this film. How the West Was Won has the strange position of being the type of film that they do not make anymore. I think VR is the only thing that could possibly outshine what this film achieved. BELOW: An example where watching on a laptop prevents the viewer from grasping how massive these images were Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Containing images that burn into your mind Director: Hiroshi Teshigahara Writer: Kobo Abe; based on Tanin no kao by Kobo Abe Cinematographer: Hiroshi Segawa Producer: Hiroshi Teshigahara by Jon Cvack Face of Another closed out Hiroshi Teshigahara’s trilogy, where I first started with Woman in the Dunes (1964) years and years ago, if not in college, where I think I fell asleep the first time, invited a friend for the second, where he then fell asleep and I finished, not entirely sure of everything that happened, but fascinated by the plot of a schoolteacher missing the last bus home, finding a room down inside a dune pit, where he then gets stuck with a crazy young widow. After a first round with the trilogy, Pitfall (1962) is my least favorite, though still a powerful film examining a small mining town and involving a young boy, some union leaders, and a ghost. While none of the films are perfect, with great and challenging ideas that never go exactly where you hope, there is a distinct voice behind them. Watching a video essay (linked below), film scholar James Quandt, I learned that director Teshigahara came from a diverse artistic background, creating extraordinary work in everything from painting and pottery to bamboo modeling and traditional architecture. It makes the work make all the more sense, as with this Quandt breaking down each reference we see an extraordinary range of influences, from Magritte’s "The Lovers" to Dali and his surrealism. The story involves Mr. Okuyama (Tatsuya Nakadai) whose face was grossly disfigured in an industrial accident, now determined to do spend whatever means necessary to fix it. He works with Dr. Hira (Mikijirō Hira) who works out of a bizarre minimalist office, with glass walls and strange anatomical sculptures, with tools and equipment sticking out of random places. Mr. Okuyama is out of his mind, wanting to use the mask to seduce his wife Mrs. Okuyama (Machiko Kyō) who he’s confident finds him absolutely hideous. The film then cuts to a B-story, following a beautiful and unnamed woman (Kunie Tanaka) whose face is half disfigured due to the Atomic bombing of Nagasaki, where she attracts boys until they see the other side of her face, deriding her and running off. Completely overwhelmed and embarrassed by her disfigurement she has an unwavering fear of another atomic bombing - with imagery straight from Terminator 2. Eventually Mr. Okuyama gets the mask, with Dr. Hira warning him of what it could do, allowing him to lose all sense of morality - which in fact happens as he reintegrates himself into society, successfully seducing his wife (or so he thinks), amongst other women. Like Woman in the Dunes, the ideas behind the story are a bit more interesting than the actual story, as for all of its references, it falls into what I discussed just prior with The Castle (1997) - in that it’s relying on the understanding of third party elements to fully appreciate the story. Even the Quandt mentions that none of the films from the trilogy provide solid narratives, as they often get lost in style in order to make up for poorly constructed plots. It was great to watch Nakadai move from a cloth mask to become an actual human, all while he expressed his excitement and malevolent plans and intentions. Perhaps a few more viewings would help to fully appreciate the details, but except for the wife and the awkward moment where he believes he seduces her until she admits she knew the whole time, there was little that helped to build up to the climax. The second story is fascinating as well, providing an intriguing portrayal of damaged beauty, and the ways in which self-consciousness can take on other meanings, but ultimately the story doesn’t get anywhere beyond the fantasies. I would have appreciated seeing more of a struggle between disfigurement with no means to remedy it like Mr. Okuyama, and how she would continue on, rather than leaving a more ambiguous conclusion about another nuclear holocaust. Personally, I saw the film as far more an experimental reflection of post-Atomic Nagasaki, with everyone attempting to fit into a new world and economy, all while tens of thousands were destroyed, with millions still dealing with the effects. Rather than attempting to devise ways to brush aside the history (the bombing happened 20 years prior to the film), it was important to accept the deformities. In some ways I wished, for as uninspired as it would have been, that the film could have had the young woman and Mr. Okuyama meet, and without falling in love or anything romantic, they simply appreciated each other for a moment - even if the same conclusions occurred. As is, the story’s so cynical, though given the time frame, perhaps deservedly so. Hiroshi Teshigahara’s trilogy has been one of my favorite film series I’ve visited in a long time, up there with Bergman’s Glass Darkly and Rosselini’s War Trilogy, and while not as great, are films I’m sure I’ll revisit soon enough. BELOW: Another great Criterion essay (which I recommend watching before the film) Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  As close as I can find to the crisp remastered images and it still falls short Director: Irwin Allen Writer: Irwin Allen and Charles Bennett Cinematographer: Winton Hoch Producer: Irwin Allen by Jon Cvack Although Netflix streaming is rapidly losing its movie streaming market share, one thing they are doing right is providing Ultra-HD 4k versions of classic films. I first noticed the quality when checking out El Dorado (1966), which looked as though it had been shot only years ago, allowing the movie to look precisely how Howard Hawks intended, and making you realize how abysmal the compression has been. Often older movies have that fuzzy, faded, and compressed look that reminds me of seeing the endless slate of westerns playing on TMC. After El Dorado I checked out The Sons of Katie Elder (1966), and while not nearly as crisp, provided another solid transfer, providing another modern feel to it all. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea soared with it this remastering, in which the CinemaScope allowed the technicolor blues and reds to pop from the screen. Again the film looked as though it had been shot only years with ago, with nothing except the cast and effects to show off its age. The story involves a submarine crew aboard the state of the art Seaview, led by Captain Lee Crane (Robert Sterling) who commands a dangerous mission in which the sub fell out of radio contact for 96 hours in order to study the underbelly of the Arctic ice cap. Soon the mission takes a nasty turn when the ice sheet above begins to crack apart and fall upon the ship. Narrowly escaping, they receive word from Mission Control that a meteorite has broken through the Van Ellen Radiation Belt (a real thing), spreading a miasmic heat wave across the world. The Seaview scientists then devise a plan to launch a nuke into the Val Ellen Ring which would somehow cause it to cave in on itself and stop the heat barrage. I’m not sure if it was the crisps colors and the bizarre world they created (it’s hard for me to compare this to anything but a Wes Anderson film) which allowed me to buy into the ridiculous premise, but it doesn’t play as crazy as it sounds. Discord grows between the men, with some arguing a nuclear explosion could hasten the heat wave. Eventually factions form and the divisions widen, with Captain Crane mutinying against his superior Admiral (Harriman Nelson; who in a bizarre coincidence I had just a watch a film ago in Command Decision (1948), thinking he was amazing and the perfect General archetype). It’s upon revisiting the synopsis and seeing the details written out with such brevity (admittedly I broke the movie into three parts due to starting a new gig, causing me to forget the more minor details), but the film deals with everything from religious zealots to saboteurs to psychologists, all while they battle giant squids and travel into underwater minefields. The film is fun to look at that the style fills into all of holes and bizarre developments, as it all works because it’s all rooted in a caricature of reality; taking place in a climate changed world. It’s far from the greatest sci-fi film from the period, and while worth checking out, makes me more excited to see others receive such a crisp update where the world can fully shine. BELOW: Imagine this except with a clean print that looks like it was produced today Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A 35 year old McQueen playing an 18 year old who's supposed to be half-Native American. Looks the part, right? Director: Henry Hathaway
Writer: John Michael Hayes; based on The Carpetbaggers, 1961 by Harold Robbins Cinematographer: Lucien Ballard Producer: Henry Hathaway and Joseph E. Levine by Jon Cvack Nevada Smith is the third Netflix Western I’ve watched, following both El Dorado (1966) and The Sons of Katie Elder (1965), serving as a fitting example of how a bad transfer can affect the experience. While there was some really great stuff photography, particularly with some of locations, it took on that typical muddy, antiquated look like most western films contain. Unlike the more cerebral stories offered in the above, this is very much an action film, with just a little bit of heart to make it forgivable. I haven’t seen the original Django (1966), and coincidentally Nevada Smith was made in the same year, but both films have clearly affected Tarantino’s story. The story starts off in some far Western town, likely Nevada, though looks closer to the California Sierras, where a trio of bandits approaches Max Sand (Steve McQueen) who’s a “half-breed” (that is, half American/half-Native) which is so entirely ridiculous and offensive that I had trouble keeping the movie on. There are countless moments in history where white actors played people of color - Charlton Heston in Touch of Evil and Mickey Rooney Breakfast at Tiffany’s - and while those were wildly offensive, there was at least an intention, however offensive, to look like the race these white men were depicting. In Nevada Smith Steve McQueen has no makeup, there is no costume, there are no ethnic characteristics. It was just a white person expressing the title of another ethnicity, as though no one would notice or mind. Added, Max’s character is a “boy”. And while it could have been at times that friendly and sarcastic condescension (at times bigotry) that make for some Western tough talk, I honestly think McQueen was meant to be under 18 years old. He was 35 at the time of filming and looks old; having wrinkles and a receding hairline. Any way - some brigand kills Max’s Native American mother and his white father; not just shooting them dead, but then skinning their scalps. Nevada swears to avenge them, heading off on a mission to hunt down and kill the trio, except he can’t read, write, or shoot a gun. He finds the help of one of the great Before-the-Journey mentor characters, Corn Sr. (Brian Keith), who trains Max how to be a sharpshooting gunslinger - capable of hitting a rock thrown into the sky while riding a horse - all in the matter of a few days. He also warns him to beware of getting wrapped up in banditry. So he heads off and the first death is Jesse, played by a young Walter Landau, whose strong features are absolutely terrifying. The big struggle ends in the middle of a fenced in cow herd, taking on a very Tarantino-like style. I want to pause here for a moment in that I think that we’ve entered a time where every badass action scene is now compared to Tarantino (or the Coen Bros). He’s one of the greatest filmmakers of all time who was able to look to movies like this and improve and modernize the scenes. The same type of Tarantino scenes existed in both El Dorado and The Sons of Katie Elder, and I think if enough people saw these incredible transfers their scenes would be shared just as much as any others; precluding the need to constantly compare cool and badass scenes to Tarantino (or the Coen Bros). The film starts strong, and then around the forty minute point it got kind of boring for about twenty minutes, just falling into old Western tropes, culminating in a ridiculous scene where seemingly out of nowhere Max decides to go and rob a bank, getting caught, with the whole episode lasting for maybe a minute, making me wonder if it was only included to get to the best part of the movie which is Max being sent to hard labor at a swamp jail; providing the film's greatest set piece. We get to see a bunch of old boats and cool machines that they use to chop down the swampland. This is where I was longing for a better looking, remastered picture because this mixture of machines, the swamp, and prisoners was incredible. It’s a hard run place with no walls, but as the Warden says, “The swamp are our walls,” then punching Max in the head. But it’s a really cool plot device. They don’t need walls due to the swamp’s abundance of quicksand, malaria, mosquitoes, and poisonous snakes no one could survive if they tried to escape. Although the place is run like a slave labor camp (which I guess it is), the Warden has an arrangement with a nearby brothel, where the women are - I believe - sex slaves in service to the prisoners in order to further prevent their involvement. Max meets one woman Pilar (Suzanne Pleshette) and they fall in love or maybe Max pretends he does in order to use her knowledge of the swamp to get him out of there and to kill the last of his parent’s murderers. They use a boat, which is so noticeable and in the middle of the entire camp that, like the bank scene, it had to have been developed as a device to get Max out of the prison. Nevertheless, Pilar gets bitten by a snake. They meet another man who turns out to be one of the guys who killed Max’s parents. Max survives the swamp, heads back to town, and waits to join up with the gang of the last man he has to kill, Tom Fitch (Karl Madden). This part was kind of just a longer version of the same plot-serving problem, albeit not as ridiculous, but it felt like it simply provided the groundwork for the climatic Big Western Shoot Out. I actually think it would have been far cooler if Max discovered him at home with his wife and daughter or something; kind of like what happens in Sicario (2015). All morals about gross killings in action films and why people like them aside, revenge films are fun movies. And because this film was celebrating a more despicable form of justice - again, they skinned his parents alive and shot the father’s head off at point blank - I understood the sense of duty to kill all of them. That’s not some Western gunslinging murder; those are disturbing and psychotic slaughtering. And Max then let's the last guy go; who very well might recover and go off and do it again. He should have at least loaded him on a horse and brought him to prison to prevent Fitch from ever doing anything like that again. Instead he let him go. I don't even understand what Max learned to generate such sympathy. Aside from the bummer ending and some uninspired devices, there’s a decent amount of cool stuff to check out. BELOW: Great western death scene Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Worth seeing for this trio alone Director: Howard Hawks Writer: Leigh Brackett; The Stars in Their Courses by Harry Brown Cinematographer: Harold Rosson Producer: Howard Hawks by Jon Cvack From the opening frame, I was absolutely blown away by the transfer. This is one of the best looking classic era HD films from the period that I’ve seen, utilizing 1080 to make it look as though it was just shot today and taking on the western aesthetic. It was particularly during the night scenes that emphasized the beauty, as the men wandered along the city streets, with the glow from inside the stores striking across the characters, with other pools of cool blue light coming either from the moon or a different source. When done well, the best part of westerns is their ability to transport you back in time, where you don’t just think you’re watching a moment from the past, but actually feel it. Watching this film (followed by The Sons of Katie Elder, which while not as close, was an incredible transfer as well), I felt as though I was rediscovering the genre, in which all too often, the poor look would diminish the experience. If I watched this on DVD, I’m sure it’d play like just another western. In HD, it was like seeing the world come alive; an experience I’ve rarely had with BluRay. The story involves Cole Thornton (John Wayne) as a professional gunslinger, hired by a ranch owner Bart Jason (Ed Asner) to help him in a range war in El Dorado. He heads over, discovering his old friend and tosspot sheriff J.P. Harrah (Robert Mitchum), who warns Cole that the range war will likely force the two old friends to fight against each other. Cole then quits. Bart Jason hears the news, fearing that Cole flipped sides. He puts his son on guard who tries to shoot Cole dead, missing. Not knowing who the shooter is, Cole returns fire and strikes the son. Cole brings the boy back, explains what happened, but the well has been poisoned. In vengeance, Bart Jason's daughter ambushes Cole, landing a bullet right near Cole’s spine. He lives and let’s the girl go, but the bullet can’t be removed without a better surgeon, which begins to affect his motor skills. Months later, Cole returns to town, meeting the young knife-slinging hothead Mississippi (James Caan). The duo pair up to help out Thornton, who after a love affair gone wrong, has turned even more to the bottle. Fearing that Thornton will be killed by the Jason and his family, the trio return to town to help him out. First off, it's important to take a moment to appreciate that Robert Mitchum, James Caan, and John Wayne were all in a movie together. Reading the plot on Wikipedia, I’m actually a bit surprised at how complex it is, as the story plays with such grace and ease - often going off on tangents that are enjoyable and fun, before heading back to the action - that you never get the impression of a complex web.* We get to explore the characters of this powerhouse cast, rather than rushing to the next shoot-em-up scene (of which there are many). For instance, when returning to the town, Thornton has become so inebriated, that Mississippi concocts a disgusting black sledge of sauces, herbs, and pills that Thornton's unable to drink without requiring the bathroom.** The whole scene is equally hilarious and sad, especially when Thornton basically just waits until the potion subsides before looking for his bottle once again. He heads over to the local saloon, his clothes torn, his five-o’clock shadow heading to midnight, and sweat pouring out of his every pore as he struggles to control his shakes. Entering the bar, he has no respect, chastised by the men, who send him home, pathetic and disgraced. Later, Wayne and Mississippi will return with him to the bar, and provide the movie’s greatest scene, up there with any Tarantino oeuvre. It’s here that the transfer really lent its power, demonstrating the ability of film from fifty years ago to compete with anything today, if not exceed. There’s a mixture of antiquity and superiority, in which that classic western anamorphic and technicolor frame is utilized to the fullest, blocking characters to make each shot looking like a painting. It’s the finest example of how lackluster transfers diminish the power of a scene. For reason beyond my understanding, if something looks old, it’s hard to appreciate it as equal to what’s modern. This shows you what happens when the two are matched. I often enter into and out of infatuations with genre - the most recent one being mumblecore. I’ve never loved westerns, and I think it’s because I never really was able to see them the way they’re supposed to be seen. I watched The Sons of Katie Elder after this, providing another great transfer that provided just as much depth and detail in each frame, and now I want to find as many remasterings as possible. Recently, I watched How the West Was Won which is one of the most beautiful films I've ever seen. If I was a betting man, I'd count on a revival. * In fact, Mitchum later said about the film, "When [the director] Howard called me, I said, 'What's the story?' and he said, 'No story, just characters' and that's the way it was. Did one scene, put it away, did another, put it away." **The ingredients include (among others) Cayenne pepper, ipecac (an emetic), mustard, croton oil (which induces diarrhea), asafoetida (often misspelled acifedida) and gunpowder. BELOW: James Caan and John Wayne in a really badass scene Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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