Only now does it occur to me... THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN

Only now does it occur to me...  that if William Castle had ever directed a James Bond film, it definitely should have been THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN.

What would the gimmick have been?  Flying skeletons?  A full-on working fun house in the lobby?  13 GHOSTS-style Scare-o-manga-vision?   A free novelty rubber nipple with admission? (Christopher Lee's character Scaramanga has a notable extra nipple.) Something to do with a gang midgets at the theater?

Of course, with the latter, I'm alluding to the irrepressible Hervé Villechaize (FANTASY ISLAND, FORBIDDEN ZONE), whose measured performance as "Nick Nack" reaches levels of subtlety previously reached in a Bond movie only by Bruce Glover in DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER.  I'm going to choose to believe that the incongruous beauty of a little person in a Bond flick is what sparked the imagination of the makers of FOR Y'UR HEIGHT ONLY, the first of many glorious Weng Weng Agent 00 movies from the 1980s.

As far as Bond flicks from the Moore era go, this is one of– if not the– best.  I have some fond memories from childhood of seeing this on TV, and though that may color my opinion, it's got a taut storyline, a great villain in Christopher Lee's titular assassin,

those great "Dark Carnival" sets on Lee's private island, a solid 70s Bond girl in Britt Ekland (best known for THE WICKER MAN and being Peter Sellers' wife)

and it even has Bond doing an embarrassing  loop-de-loop bridge jump like something out of a DUKES OF HAZZARD episode or a Burt Reynolds movie, complete with a slide whistle sound effect.  Whew!

[Also, despite the fine opening song collaboration between John Barry and Lulu, I can't help but think Alice Cooper's unused title track would have been a nicer (and more rockin') fit.  That is all.]

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Junta Juleil's Top 100: #95-#91

95. ONLY ANGELS HAVE WINGS (1938, Howard Hawks)

I'm not sure anyone has ever matched the skill with which Hawks integrated exposition, character development, and sheer entertainment. He makes it look so damned easy, too. He often sets up a situation where men are doing a serious job, a dangerous job, and then events simply unfold. As they unfold, we learn everything we need to know about the characters because we've been there with them, in the trenches, seeing how far they can be pushed, and how hard they can push back. You don't feel as if you're watching something contrived by sheltered Hollywood-types, because it's not– he's incorporating details, the way his men act under pressure, the way he directs a picture, even, from his real-life experiences as an aviator, a race-car driver, an army man, and a factory worker. This is the sort of film to which I give my highest recommendation; I don't even think I have to tell you about the plot. Just another one of his immaculately constructed tales of men's men and ladies who pull no punches. Did I mention that Hawks' middle name was WINCHESTER?

94. MAKE WAY FOR TOMORROW (1937, Leo McCarey)

"It would make a stone cry."

–Orson Welles.

Sweet God in heaven, I'm not sure that any movie has ever jerked as many tears from its audiences, per capita, as MAKE WAY FOR TOMORROW. Leo McCarey, who won a Best Director Oscar the same year for the well-made, but far lesser film THE AWFUL TRUTH, said in his acceptance speech: "Thanks, but you gave it to me for the wrong picture." It'd be a difficult movie for audiences to 'enjoy' in any time or place because it asks difficult questions about the relationship between parents and their children; how we care for them, how they cared for us, and what fate is to be earned for all "as the long day wanes." Victor Moore and Beulah Bondi play the elderly couple at hand, delivering a couple of the most purely, emotionally reactive performances in the history of the medium. The clock ticks, the children wait, and the old couple relive youthful memories, a moment of respite before moving on. Dr. Samuel Johnson said it better than I ever could: "We never do anything consciously for the last time without sadness of heart..." And so I join the ranks of viewers who find themselves grasping for the telephone as the final reel ends, calling up loved ones, contemplating these fleeting moments, and hoping for the chance to have more of them.

93. ROSEMARY'S BABY (1968, Roman Polanski)

From producer William Castle– yeah, you heard me right!– comes one of the finest horror films of the 1960's, or of any other era. Castle recognized his dramatic limitations (handing the reins ultimately to master of claustrophobic/metropolitan/conspiracy-horror, Roman Polanski), but he does show up for a brief, wordless, yet somehow amazingly hammy cameo during the phone booth scene. Regardless, this is really Polanski's film, and he spins the tale with paranoid gusto and eye-popping imagery; swirling, hallucinogenic dream sequences and off-kilter quotidian happenings. It's a hotbed of primal fears and existential dread: Polanski has got his finger on just the right nerve, and he plucks and twangs it unceasingly– rape, domestic terrors, body horror, the things we try to hide, the things we don't understand, our fear of doctors and the elderly and babies and enclosed spaces and antiquarian objects and of failure and of seeming crazy and of going crazy; and it all begins to collapse upon you like a black hole and a cry unto the pit– SWEET GOD, WHAT A MOVIE!!!

Also, Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer are just about the most adorably frightening and frighteningly adorable elderly actors I've ever seen (not to be confused with the elderly actors from #94!). And I have to say that John Cassavetes' "I didn't want to miss baby night" has got to rank as the most hilariously inappropriate excuse ever uttered, on or off a camera. (You'll know what I mean if you've seen the film– yikes!)

92. FAIL-SAFE (1964, Sidney Lumet)

It's difficult to incorporate methodical, systematically structured storytelling with genuine emotional stakes, but goddamn, does Lumet pull it together, and with the fate of the human race in the balance, no less! Most prefer DR. STRANGELOVE, which is sort of a loose, parodic retelling, but for my money, FAIL-SAFE's the stronger film. Some have said that STRANGELOVE's satire cuts to the bone, but I say FAIL-SAFE cuts to the bone, then fractures the bone, and then looks down at the bone, somberly, as tears well up in FAIL-SAFE's eyes. FAIL-SAFE then clenches its jaw; anguished, but with an abundance of dignity. As a side note, by and large, though your average fictional president is more appealing than your average actual president, I have to say that Henry Fonda's portrayal in this film goes beyond that– he is so sincere, so thoughtful, so determined, so damned invested, that you wish he really was the president. Also: Dom DeLuise in a serious role– chew on that for a little while.

91. BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA (1986, John Carpenter)

"Have you paid your dues, Jack– yessir, the check is in the mail." I've written a few observations about BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA before, saying "it's about the exhilaration of being ALIVE in a world of unfathomable mystery," and, of Kurt Russell's performance, "he's a runaway train of swagger, guts, and bluster...I never tire of his maniacally youthful cackle, or his proclivity toward moaning 'Awwwwww, CHRIST!'" In short, it's one hell of a time, written, directed, and performed by artists and craftsmen who are having one hell of a time. But it's no mindless shoot-em-up: it's a Hawksian ode to the bonds of friendship, the measure of character, and those ecstatic moments of temerarious action, where, against all better judgment, you feel damn near invulnerable. (Also, you just drank from the six-demon bag.) And, while we're at it, how 'bout that kickin' song over the end credits?


Coming up next...
George Romero's favorite movie, a legendary documentary, and... a movie with a lesser Baldwin!

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13 GHOSTS (1960, William Castle)

Stars: 3.5 of 5.
Running Time: 85 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Herbert (THE FLY, HOUSEBOAT), Jo Morrow (OUR MAN IN HAVANA, THE THREE WORLDS OF GULLIVER), Martin Milner (SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS, ADAM-12), Rosemary DeCamp (BLOOD ON THE SUN), Donald Woods (TRUE GRIT, THE STORY OF LOUIS PASTEUR), Margaret Hamilton (The Wicked Witch of the West in THE WIZARD OF OZ).
Tag-line: " 13 Times the Thrills! 13 Times the Chills! 13 Times the Fun!"
Best one-liner: "He doesn't mess up the kitchen often, but when he does, WOW!"

One of William Castle's most beloved films, 13 GHOSTS gave the world Illusion-O. Illusion-O so irrevocably altered the landscape of cinema, that no one has dared to work within its eerie confines since. Illusion-O, plainly speaking, is a form of film-making, that, when observed in concert with a ghost-viewing apparatus (like the one seen below), allows us to... well, view ghosts.

It's extraordinarily complex, but I'll attempt to explain. By peering through the red cellophane on the upper end of the mechanism, the ghosts will appear, quite vibrantly. Using the blue end of the device, however, allows us to remove ghosts.

This begs the question of 'who would choose to attend a film entitled 13 GHOSTS and then decide they'd prefer not to see any ghosts?', but this is a William Castle picture, so we oughtn't to split hairs. If you elect not to use the contraption at all, you'll see ghosts all right, but faintly. Don't worry, though, all of this is adequately explained at the picture's start by William Castle himself. "Do you believe in ghosts?," he asks.

"Personally, I do," he confesses. After explaining the minutiae of ghost-viewer usage, he urges us to explain the whole thing to any late-comers who missed his special introduction. This is perhaps the only time in film history that a director has urged an audience to interrupt his film after it's begun, and it's even for the convenience of the tardy! It's sort of like Hitchcock's "No one...BUT NO ONE will be admitted to the theatre after the start of each performance of PSYCHO."

Except if it was more like "No one...BUT NO ONE will be admitted to the theatre after the start of each performance of PSYCHO, unless there are audience members ready and willing to provide a rundown of everything that's happened thus far, including the quoting of pertinent dialogue."

Anyway, I don't wish to entirely spoil the majesty that is 13 GHOSTS with a synopsis (that's probably the job of the person sitting next to you when you roll in late), so let's explore ten of my favorite things about 13 GHOSTS.

#1. Why is the family's last name Zorba? Why do some of them have 'Greek' names like Medea Zorba and Plato Zorba? Is this some kind of hi-larious gag devised to make us think, subconsciously, about ZORBA THE GREEK? Why do the other family names like Cyrus and Buck and Ben and Hilda not adhere to this principle?

#2. The paintings of the Ghosts from the opening sequence.

I'm hard-pressed to imagine anyone not falling in love with them.

#3. The way that characters refer to 'speaking about ghosts' as "spook talk." Which is exactly what Vincent Price called it in Castle's HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL!

#4. The killer pinwheel of fire ghost.

Why?, you might ask. "WHY NOT?!", Bill Castle might reply. Seriously, though, what the hell is going on there?

#5. Emilio, the murderous Italian chef who occasionally meat-cleavers the hell out of the kitchen.

And I know they had to make sure it was visible in Illusion-O, but look how overboard they went with the mustache:

It's not even hair- I think it's an enormous piece of paper cut into the shape of a mustache. God bless Bill Castle.

#6. This creepy housekeeper. She just looks kinda familiar.

Something about her and that old broom.

Like she should be riding it or something. Hmmm....

#7. The fact that the dad is not overly concerned that his 8-year old kid has a "big secret" with a random lawyer fellow. The dad merrily announces, "Buck's got a secret...I bet you could cut his arm off and he wouldn't tell!"

Buck considers the lawyer's proposition.


The skeezy lawyer in question.

#8. The way that the family pendulates between extreme horror and utter boredom. At one moment, they're dodging floating meat cleavers and screaming.

In the next, they might be calmly reading a book on the divan, wondering why the other family members are making such a fuss about these 'ghosts.' My guess?- it was probably shot so quickly (and out of order), that the actors didn't know at which points in the script they'd already had 'ghostly encounters' and ought to be acting accordingly.

#9. Not only does William Castle have a skeleton receptionist, the doorknob to his office is...a cobweb-encrusted skull!


#10. The ending. Like LET'S KILL UNCLE, Castle opts to end on a faux-cheery note of unbridled optimism which reaches such heights of absurdity that it can only be labelled as subversive.

Then William Castle appears once more, and challenges us- should we still refuse to believe in ghosts– to take our ghost-viewers home, get up in the middle of the night, and look through the red end of the device...if we dare!
Amen.

-Sean Gill

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Film Review: 13 FRIGHTENED GIRLS! (1963, William Castle)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 89 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Kathy Dunn (RIDE WITH TERROR, KINGS OF BROADWAY), Lynne Sue Moon (TO SIR, WITH LOVE; 55 DAYS AT PEKING), Murray Hamilton (The Mayor in JAWS, THE GRADUATE, THE HUSTLER), Joyce Taylor (TWICE TOLD TALES; ATLANTIS, THE LOST CONTINENT), Hugh Marlowe (ALL ABOUT EVE, THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL), Khigh Dhiegh (THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE, SECONDS), Charlie Briggs (CHARLEY VARRICK, THE BEGUILED).
Tag-line: "13 TERRIFIED TEENAGERS ON THE RUN!"
Best one-liner: "I definitely shall." (See context below).
AKA: THE CANDY WEB.

What's better than 13 GHOSTS? How 'bout 13 FRIGHTENED GIRLS!

William Castle is a genius. Remarkably, it took me a some time to come to this realization. (And not necessarily quite in the same sense I mean when I make wild claims that Golan and Globus, or the people who created THE LETTER PEOPLE, or those who wrote the CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE novels are geniuses.) The zany shocks, the silly gimmicks, the unabashed joy of filmmaking: they're all genuine, but they're also a smoke-screen. Castle puts on his big jester's cap, tokes on his cigar, and wows us with some trivial, childish entertainments– or so he'd have us think. From HOMICIDAL to LET'S KILL UNCLE, Castle has snuck all sorts of startlingly subversive material into his films, camouflaging it beneath a noisiy, tramping parade of doe-eyed teenyboppers and dopey-grinned whippersnappers.

Ostensibly Castle's take on the Hitchcockian espionage subgenre (see: SABOTAGE, SABOTEUR, FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT, THE THIRTY-NINE STEPS, THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH, NORTH BY NORTHWEST, etc.), 13 FRIGHTENED GIRLS! delivers silly thrills, cheap scares (i.e., a cat is thrown onto our protagonist by a stagehand),

and more double-crosses than you can shake a stick at. The plot concerns thirteen (actually, fifteen) girls from a Swiss boarding academy who go on holiday to London. The twist: all are daughters of top brass diplomats, each from a different country. The gimmick: all except our two main characters- 'Candy' Hull of America (Kathy Dunn) and Mai-Ling of China (Lynne Sue Moon)- were William Castle contest winners from such varied nations as Sweden, Australia, Liberia, and Argentina. Most of them have very few lines- if any- and while some have character names, most are billed in the credits simply by the nations they represent: "Venezuela." "Japan." "Canada." They all get a great moment at the end where they soullessly wave at the camera like a jaded law office in one of those cheapie late-nite TV commercials.

'Wave to the camera, girls....perfect.'

The gimmick went a step further, too– allow me to explain. Now, the opening sequence depicts Candy- having just taken first prize in the school's Latin competition- earning the wondrous and much-sought-after privilege of driving the school bus to the airport. A ginormous arachnid descends upon the windshield, causing Candy to swerve the vehicle like a drunken banshee down the perilous mountain roads. She crashes (relatively safely), and the opening credits roll.



[They filmed this sequence at least five times over, each time with a different contest winner taking the wheel for the wild ride, releasing those alternate versions only in the home countries. The new DVD shows us what they saw in England, Sweden, France, and Germany.]

In addition to being a possible inspiration for A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2's opening sequence, this is just one of many insane adult situations foisted upon our sixteen-year-old heroine. Let's look at a few other things which would likely not pass muster today in a children's movie:

Candy's attempts to seduce her father's forty-something co-worker and friend (Murray Hamilton), insisting that though he's known her through childhood, now she is a woman:


Candy's Chinese Embassy shenanigans interrupted by the brutal discovery of a body skewered on a meat hook:



Candy further employing her skills of seduction, first on a fellow diplomat's son from Spain–

and then on a Russian-spy-posing-as-a-Dutchman, which gets her into hot water when he drugs her, forcefeeds her scotch, and prepares to fling her off of a precipice:

which naturally leads to an ole 'tables are turned' scenario, and some schweet dummy-flinging:


Now all of that is certainly edgy for a kid's movie, but I'm sure most of you would hesitate before labeling it 'subversive.' So let me tell you a bit about the plot: Candy, wishing to save the neck of her dad's spy buddy Murray Hamilton, becomes an amateur spy herself, Code Name: Kitten. She accomplishes more in a few short days than the entire CIA has in the preceding year. She's spunky, she's zany, and she's thwarting World War III.

When asked about the romantic notions of spydom early in the film, Murray Hamilton explains that they're merely glorified poker players, bluffing at a fancy table with little knowledge of the big picture. Castle proceeds to draw parallels between the folly of nations and the vagaries of little girls–



general fickleness, whiny phone calls, catty cliquishness, bellyaching about prior commitments, needlessly bitchy behavior, pretending to be a know-it-all: it's all par for the course for teenage girls... and world governments. The fearless, simple bravado with which Castle draws these parallels is nothing less than goddamned great. At a time (like any other, I suppose) when the masses are trained to believe that the men with the fingers on the doomsday buttons are crack decision makers and the most rational of human beings, Castle dares to drag them into the mud, to tear off their pompous uniforms, and to reveal the infantile petticoats beneath. We look deeply into the eyes of the men who rule the world, and see not the stalwart visages of Uncle Sam or Chairman Mao, but the scowling faces of catty, spoiled children who have all the integrity of a back alley dealer in Three-Card Monte. (And vote today, by the way!) When the dust settles, we have more faith in a whacky kid with a lotta verve than the stuffy hordes of professional chowderheads. William Castle gives the finger to the government- all governments– throws back his head, laughs heartily, and puffs on that cigar once more. Go ahead, Bill- you earned it.

Four stars.

[And one final, semi-spoilery side note of inappropriateness– ]

In continuing with my observations of what wouldn't quite pass muster in a kid's movie these days–

After an international incident involving the American and Chinese governments, Candy is unveiled as the master spy, and a Mexican standoff ensues, between agents from both nations (China- in a stroke of casting brilliance- being represented by THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE's Khigh Dhiegh).

Murray Hamilton calls for leniency in the name of it being embarassing to China to be outsmarted by a teen girl. Khigh calls for DEATH. Finally, a deal is struck: instead, only a harsh spanking will be delivered to Candy. Wait, WHUTTTTTTTTT?!

As the Americans back away, Khigh calmly drives the point home:

"The spanking- administer it with vigor."


"I definitely shall."


...


And, on that note...

-Sean Gill

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Film Review: THE NIGHT WALKER (1964, William Castle)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 86 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Barbara Stanwyck (DOUBLE INDEMNITY, THE LADY EVE, BALL OF FIRE), Robert Taylor (QUO VADIS, PARTY GIRL), Lloyd Bochner (POINT BLANK, THE DUNWICH HORROR), Marjorie Bennett (MARY POPPINS, MY FAIR LADY), Rochelle Hudson (REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE, STRAIT-JACKET), Judi Meredith (JACK THE GIANT KILLER, QUEEN OF BLOOD), Hayden Rourke (ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS, AN AMERICAN IN PARIS). Written by Robert Bloch (PSYCHO, STRAIT-JACKET). Music by Vic Mizzy (composer of the themes to THE ADDAMS FAMILY and GREEN ACRES). Cinematography by Harold E. Stine (M*A*S*H, THE POSEIDON ADVENTURE).
Tag-lines: "It will drive you to dream of things you're ashamed to admit!"
Best one-liner: "I CAN'T WAKE UPPPPPPPPPP!"

Now most William Castle horror flicks had a gimmick of some sort, but by '64, some would say that they were wearing a bit thin. ZOTZ! handed out plastic gold coinage, and STRAIT-JACKET wasn't even supposed to have one until Castle had some cardboard axes printed up at the last minute. THE NIGHT WALKER doesn't quite have a gimmick, but the trailer provides us with some ideas of what might have been...

We begin with some subjects (actors? though we are assured by voiceover that they are not) reliving their dreams under hypnosis- "All of a sudden we walk into a room, I turn around, there's no doors, there's no windows and I HAVE TO GO HOME!," "And as I go and kiss her...it seems as though we're surrounded by mosquitos," or "...Only he's not wearing any clothes!" are a few of the gems. "What are dreams? What do they mean?"

Next, William Castle appears with a special warning:

"Do you know that a dream... CAN KILL YOU? Gruesome thought, isn't it?"

The warning continues, via title cards.





"IF YOU DO, DO NOT SEE THE NIGHT WALKER. IT MIGHT BE TOO MUCH FOR YOU."



Now that's harsh. Farewell, 50's optimism. Farewell, "Scream at this movie, lest you become a victim of 'The Tingler'!", "Watch out for flying skeletons!", "Look through the 'Ghost Remover' pane of your glasses if you can't handle the ghosts!", and "Leave during the 'Fright Break' if you're too afraid!" They've given way to: "This movie will unearth your secret shames and leave you broken, depressed, and wishing the world would swallow you up." It's some rough stuff, but good 'ole Bill Castle is eager to lay it on us. Been taking some notes from Bergman, I presume. But it's sort of a metaphysical way to promote a horror movie- "this movie is only as scary as your subconscious... which is real scary."

Speaking of Bergman, THE NIGHT WALKER's opening scene is an avant-garde montage of ghostly, dream-like imagery nearly worthy of PERSONA.



We see ethereal, wind-blown hair, yawning nightmare-cavities, drifting human bodies, the leafing through of pages... While it's a bit heavy-handed at times (there's a giant floating Freud head!), I feel as if this sequence could be presented as evidence that William Castle is definitely not just a schlockmeister- he's a genuinely talented artist and craftsman whose interests happened to be ghostploitation.


"I know why my dreams seem real- because when I'm awake, my life with you is like a nightmare! My lover is only a dream, but he's still more of a man than you!"

THE NIGHT WALKER certainly flirts with 'Hag Horror,' and, as her interminable screams attest, Barbara Stanwyck has got the screechin' pipes to prove it. Stanwyck is taking her role (that of an aging, long-neglected wife whose nighttime fantasies are her only respite) very seriously, and as you all know, I really appreciate that. At one point she screams in the following manner:

"YAHHHHHHHHHH! YEAAAOOOOOOOO!! (long pause) ... YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

I'd rather not waste time explaining the Gordian plot, which involves exploding laboratories, a horrific mannequin wedding:

handsome night callers who might be dreams...or they might be REAL:

some random rip-offs of DIABOLIQUE, spinning candles, a blind man who's always making remarks like "I'll see you around...well, of course I can't see you":

and repeated use of the line "I CANNNN'T WAKE UPPPPP!" Suffice it to say that a major element involves Robert Taylor being absolutely irresistible.

Readers: try not to hit your head on the keyboard mid-swoon.

In terms of other audiovisual talent: Vic Mizzy's spooky harpsichords, swingin' horns, and Dick Dale-style guitar riffin' make for a great (and severely contagious) score, even if it sounds a bit much like "Food, Glorious Food" from OLIVER! at times. Harold E. Stine's cinematography even accomplishes the Herculean task of occasionally approximating Antonioni!

In all, this is a solid piece of work. Not content to make the same picture again and again, Castle shows that he's capable of growth as an artist, as a craftsman, and above all- as a showman. Four stars.

-Sean Gill

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