Early Dors

Yield to the Night (J. Lee Thompson, 1956)

J. Lee Thompson's part crime noir, part prison drama Yield to the Night (1956)* would cause a stir (no pun intended) thanks to its mistaken association with a true crime event which occurred a year prior. Thompson's soon to be wife Joan Henry, an author with first hand experience of the the penal system, would author Yield to the Night only for it to have a striking resemblance to the case of Ruth Ellis, the last woman hanged in the United Kingdom. Ardently opposed to capital punishment, Thompson abandoned the safety net of British post-war film entertainment, and delivered a gut-wrenching, judicial tale for the masses. Thompson would produce a powerful piece of art staunchly opposed to Great Britain's death penalty (which would not be fully abolished until 1969).

With such a serious premise, Yield to the Night's biggest surprise would be in its casting of the blonde bombshell Diana Dors. Described as Britain’s Marilyn Monroe (she loathed the comparison), the actress wasn't given much variety to flex her acting chops and would often be typecast into playing superficial eye candy. Her ravishing beauty, platinum blonde hair and shapely hourglass figure had unexpectedly been something of a curse. Therefore, Yield to the Night was a rare opportunity for her to show off her acting skills, along with proving to Thompson he was right to cast her. Her portrayal of condemned Mary Hilton, committing murder in the first degree before the film's opening title's even commence, and to then turn herself into a convincingly sympathetic and utterly tragic figure, makes Diana Dors an underrated actress. Her performance is a genuine eye opener. Prior to Yield to the Night, both Thompson and Dors were involved with The Weak and the Wicked (1954), another prison drama also penned by Joan Henry and based on her first hand experience being a jailbird. Dors would play a supporting role. The Weak and the Wicked's light and optimistic tone would lack the stylish grit and emotional weight inherent in its successor. Call it a dress rehearsal!

Yield to the Night's cold opening sequence has Dors travelling through central London. It's largely shot in oblique low angles, framing a sense of purpose and intensity. Our lead reaches her destination and brutally guns down a mysterious woman outside her home. We don't know who the victim is, or the motive for her premeditated murder, but we do know that our shooter is without a shadow of a doubt guilty of homicide. From herein, Yield to the Night splits into timelines: Mary Hilton in the present day, locked inside a prison cell and awaiting her execution; the other, is a series of flashbacks recollecting how she went from working behind a perfume counter to behind bars. Interestingly, it's the prison scenes which are my favourite parts of the film, and perhaps Thomspson's too, as much of the film's real commentary stems from this section — a bleak contrast to the melodrama told via flashbacks. 

Unpleasantly ghoulish are both the door with no handle in Mary's cell, which eventually opens to a room with gallows, along with a suicide watch light, continuously staying lit until it’s time for the prisoner's execution. With both of these elements being a constant reminder, it's little to wonder our film's lead undergoes so much mental anguish. Although confined alone in her cell, Mary is surrounded by a surprisingly friendly bunch of prison guards. They fuss over her constantly. A diversion of mindless chit chat, yarn spinning and card games to pass the time. It's akin to the locked up Medieval queen inside the Tower of London and with her loyal handmaidens. The dark irony of the staff keen to want Mary to be in a physically state before she's hung, is not lost in Thompson's satirical eye. Amongst these carers is MacFarlaine (Yvonne Mitchell), a sympathetic guard who finds Mary's plight all the more tragic as she befriends her. Mitchell's nuanced performance being another strong highlight.

Diana Dors undergoes an obvious physical transformation while locked in her cell. Her glamorous appearance and socially appealing persona from the outside world is replaced with the visage of a sullen woman in prison garms. Without any make-up, her face looks puffy with beads of sweat shining off her skin. Dark roots and unkempt replace her perfectly sculpted, blonde locks. Juxtaposing all this, is the process of hope turning into despair. A torturous scene is when the prison warden enters Mary's cells apparently holding a document. Much like Mary, the viewer is under the illusion this might be the urgent governmental reprieve required to save her. Alas, this is not to be. Yet, despite the oppressive doom and gloom, Mary's generally amiable persona remains unresolved. At one point she snatches a cigarette from one of the guards to avoid her getting into trouble when her superior walks in. Credit to Dors for displaying all this in her performance; proving that she really was an underrated actress in the long run.

The flashbacks aren't quite on the same level of quality as the prison scenes, sadly. They're perfectly adequate, of course, but the time jumps feel choppy in comparison to the torturously slow days inside the prison. Some unexpected humour comes from Hammer veteran Michael Ripper as a boisterous, drinking acquaintance admirably trying his best to score with Mary. More importantly, we meet Jim Lancaster (Michael Craig — for genre heads, better known as Charles Thatcher in the Ozploitation gem Turkey Shoot (1982) no less!!!) who wins over Mary's heart, and the incentive to walk out from a loveless marriage. And yet, Jim is utterly obsessed with Lucy (Mercia Shaw) —  a downgrade, in my opinion. Are you blind, mate? When he's dumped by the socialite, he hits the skids, while Mary's affections for Jim, aren't appreciated. Thus, both Mary and Jim become two obsessed individuals. Comically, Thompson's depiction of unreciprocated love and obsession feels akin to Danny Boyle's Glaswegian heroine junkies from the overrated Trainspotting (1996). Jim can't go on living without Doris, which in turn leads to him taking his own life. Biggest insult of all, is Mary reading his suicide note left behind — and it was meant for Lucy. It's the final insult to Mary and answers the questions raised during the film's opening sequence.

Not sure if Yield to the Night would rank in any top twenty prison films list if I were ever bothered to compile one. [There are way too many definitive films  —  Brute Force (1947), Le Trou (1960) The Great Escape (1963), Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (1972), Porridge (1979), Scum (1979), Chained Heat (1983), Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky (1991), Starred Up (2013) and Brawl in Cell Block 99 (2017), would possibly be major candidates.] Regardless, Yield to the Night is still an unquestionably compelling prison drama that has earned my appreciation, along with an increased respect for its star, Diana Dors.

Caught the last half an hour of Yield to the Night around 3am on Talking Pictures TV not too long ago. Obviously made a mental note of it on account of Diana Dors playing the lead in a women's prison film, along with it being directed by the mighty J. Lee Thompson - responsible for numerous gems from each respective decade in his career — Ice Cold in Alex (1958), The Guns of Navarone (1961), Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (1972) and the fantastic Charles Bronson thriller 10 to Midnight (1983) are just a few worth mentioning. Hence, this film curiosity turned out to be the most rewarding bout of insomnia since seeing Max Von Sydow running around in his boxer shorts and murdering folk in The Night Visitor (1971), also late night via Talking Pictures TV. Dors claimed Yield to the Night to be one of her best films. It's hard to argue with this opinion, given how great she is it and how successfully it drives its message home. As a child of the Seventies, I'm more aware of her as a bit part actress in classic British horror films from this era, namely Theatre of Blood (1973) and From Beyond the Grave (1974) along with various comedies. More recently, however, it's been an entertaining trip seeing some of her much earlier films like Tread Softly Stranger (1958) and Passport to Shame (1958), despite only being in supporting roles. Yield to the Night is easily the biggest standout from this era I've watched thus far and proof Dors deserved to be a lead in plenty more films. A strong recommendation from me.

* No online trailer available.

Could It Be Tragic

Looking for Mr. Goodbar (Richard Brooks, 1977)

Depressing films focusing on the protagonist's journey of self destruction, aren't exactly a major selling point for me. They tend to be one time only affairs. Witnessing Nicolas Cage drink himself to death was enough for Leaving Las Vegas (1995) was enough for me to never bother watching again. Abel Ferrara's Bad Lieutenant (1992) is possibly the only exception to this rule, but even then, I've still had to go in mentally prepared to rewatch it. For the record, I much prefer Werner Herzog's 2009 remake on account of it being lighter in tone and nowhere near requiring the same mental effort. Richard Brooks's Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977) is another downbeat film which still haunts me. Way too young to understand its theme and plot when first experiencing it on television sometime in the '80s. The film's shocking climax a permanent memory and garnering enough curiosity for me to want to revisit it once again as an adult.

Adapted from Judith Rossner's 1975 New York Times best seller of the same name, Looking for Mr. Goodbar was inspired by the horrific murder of school teacher Roseanne Quinn. The grisly crime had shone a light on the perils of cruising bars and one night stands. The film rights were already snapped up before Rossner's book was even published. Brooks was hired to adapt the screenplay and helm the film. Aged sixty-five at the time, the director may have been too old to accurately depict the lifestyles of young people hitting the bars and disco clubs of this era.  More importantly, Brooks was not a fan of Rossner's book and made significant changes, including turning the book's theme of female independence into a cautionary morality tale. Dismayed after seeing the adaptation of her novel, Rossner remarked in The Washington Post, "I feel like the mother who delivered her 13-year-old daughter to the door of Roman Polanski and didn't know what was going to happen". Ironically, Roman Polanski turned down the offer to helm the film.

Our heroine, Theresa "Terry" Dunn (Diane Keaton) is a young woman desperate to break from the oppressive roost of her Roman Catholic father (Richard Kiley). Back surgery scarring from childhood scoliosis has left Terry with both Ugly Duckling Syndrome. Adulthood has her fantasising sexual liberation. Her earliest sexual awakening manifests from her affair with a university professor, Martin (Alan Feinstein). Despite Martin's mistreatment of her, she is always wanting. Martin ending their relationship leads to her dreaming of walking into the road and being run over by the ex.

The fantasies lead to Terry seeking escapism in various bars and clubs. At first, she appear capable to balance her night life with her job as a school teacher for deaf children. But burning the candle at both ends becomes costly and harder to control. The duality of her existence bleeds into one and affects both her professional career and her personal life. During her descent she exclaims, "I'm alone! I'm alone, I'm not lonely." which comes across in Keaton's delivery as an obvious cry for help than a yell of her independence.

Terry is not the only woman in the Dunn family experiencing reckless sexual abandon. Her older sister, Katherine (Tuesday Weld and received an Oscar nomination in this film) is divorced, pregnant and eager to get an abortion in Puerto Rico. Eventually, Katherine remarries a property owner, where they watch adult films and host group sex parties. Terry's other sister, Brigid (Laurie Prange), is barely in the film, but is generally characterised as being more homely, but completely unhappy in her scenes.

The men of the film are perhaps the most exaggerated characters. If Terry's father and Martin aren't enough representations of dominating figures in her life, then they're positively tame compared to the rest of the indisputable red flags Terry hooks up with. There's Tony (Richard Gere), a precursor to his Jesse Lujack in Breathless (1983), a jack-the-lad womanizer, who she meets at a bar whilst reading Mario Puzo's 1969 novel The Godfather (obvious reference to Diane Keaton being in the Francis Coppola film), and dancing in his jockstrap with a glow-in-the-dark switch blade. Later on, he picks her door lock with it and breaks into her apartment. James (William Atherton, best known for being dickless and the odious reporter from the first two Die Hard films) is caseworker, masquerading as a do-gooder, winning over Terry's parents with his Catholic boy charm, only to be a creepy stalker. Then, there's Gary (Tom Berrenger). Introduced to us very late in the film, is a man in complete denial of his homosexuality  "I'm a pitcher, not a catcher!" he says to his boyfriend whilst dressed in drag. Perhaps his best line, "In my neighbourhood if you didn't fight you were a fruit. In prison if you didn't fight you spread ass." It's fairly evident he belongs in a psych ward when you see how wildly out of control and dangerously volatile his behaviour is to anyone with a shred of common sense - except of course, the unfortunate Terry.

The look of Looking for Mr. Goodbar is one that revels in its grime and sleaziness. Brooks demanded William A. Fraker, his cinematographer, to make the film look as dark as possible. This was in order to conceal the copious amounts of nudity and the explicit nature of the film. So dark, I couldn't tell if it was lint, or an unkempt lady garden protruding from Diane Keaton's arse crack in one scene. It would also possess that shabby and beat-up look one would find from other acclaimed films with an urban setting from this era, like The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (1974), Taxi Driver (1976) and Saturday Night Fever (1977). The latter receives the most comparisons with Looking for Mr. Goodbar; largely because they were both from the same year, filled with disco anthems and contained dark moments. Fortunately, Saturday Night Fever ends with an uplifting and positive scene for its protagonist, Tony Manero: can't say the same for Terry Dunn.

Not the wisest decision to include a whole bunch of recognisable '70s song anthems (see the list below) in the very opening credits to any film. Hence, the reason Looking for Mr. Goodbar was stuck in a legal quagmire over music licensing and never got a proper release beyond video until now (extremely limited release on DVD at one point, however). As a result, the film became a holy grail for many cinephiles to have on Blu-ray, even making it on a prior wish list of mine. It's also rather bizarre that boutique, distribution label Vinegar Syndrome, a label synonymous with deluxe packaging and great film transfers of absolute turds, managed to achieve the impossible and release it on 4K no less; automatically making it one of the best home releases of 2024 for me.

Top Five Songs off the Looking for Mr. Goodbar soundtrack:

Diana Ross - Love Hangover

The O'Jays - Backstabbers

Bill Withers - She's Lonely

Donna Summer - Prelude to Love/Could It Be Magic

Boz Scaggs - Lowdown 

Overall, revisiting Looking for Mr. Goodbar again after so many decades has been really worthwhile. Apart from a documentary about the actual murder case and a Madonna song inspired by it, it's generally regarded as a forgotten film.  Achieving critical acclaim upon its release, notably for Diane Keaton's performance (also winning the best actress Oscar in the same year for Annie Hall (1977)), to a worryingly problematic film by today's standards. Which makes Looking for Mr. Goodbar an appealing film for an unapologetic exploitation head like myself with the occasional flirtation in more serious cinema. 

A bleakly depressing drama with an unforgettable ending. But a film that both satisfied my curiosity and  made me more appreciative of as an adult.

Ani, Are You OK?

Anora (Sean Baker, 2024)

Despite all of its acclaim, Sean Baker's debut film Tangerine (2015) was a disappointmet to me. It was enough to put me off checking out his subsequent films. That was until Anora (2024) came along this year. The change of heart wasn't brought upon by it winning the coveted Palme d'Or this year (who honestly gives a f**k?), nor was it because Baker proved to be a one of us with his visit to the Severin cellar; instead it was largely due to Mickey Madison getting naked in it. Therefore, imagine my surprise when Anora turned out to be a legitimately great film and far more accessible than his debut. 

Anora's premise is essentially a crash and burn Cinderella story, where Mickey Madison's titular character, largely addressed as Ani in the film, is a spirited New York sex worker of Russian descent, who meets her Prince Charming in the form of the son of a wealthy Russian oligarch, Ivan (Mark Eidelstein), nicknamed Vanya. Her beauty and his money equates to the pair hitting it off and banging like bunnies. The whirlwind romance eventually leads to them getting hitched in a Las Vegas chapel. Classy! This in turn leads to Vanya's parents and handlers enforcing their powers over the newly weds.

Structurally, Anora's three acts represent a fantasy romance soured by reality. The first gear change is when Anora is forced to help the oligarch's Armenian goons in tracking down her absconded husband. It's at this point where we're introduced to Igor (Yuriy Borisov), the young Russian heavy, who might be the purest soul in saga. The third act represents Anora coming to terms with what she knew all along about her spoilt man child of a partner, along with the eventual face-off with her domineering, plastic surgery nightmare of a mother-in-law; essentially the film's matriarchal villain. The ordeal is bitter for our young protagonist. Anora is a film where you can predictably guess the final destination, but the journey there is what makes the whole experience so mesmerising.

Mikey Madison's performance is incredible. She paints her character with a battle hardened veneer, but there's a hidden side which fleetingly betrays her fragility within. It's often juxtaposed with her being so sexually confident and carefree on the outside, but there are moments of tenderness and weakness when she's alone on the screen. Which ultimately leads to the film's unforgettable conclusion. Borisov also manages to subvert by initially coming across as the typical Russian heavy you might witness in STV tier actioners, and yet, he is the most sympathetic to Anora's plight. Also, Karren Karagulian's Armenian goon Toros is a major source to much of Anora's second act coming across as a screwball comedy. This is a complete contrast to the more serious nature of the film's plot at that point.

Both wildly funny and tragic at times, Anora's kinetic energy and palpable atmosphere contribute to a fresh paced and deeply engrossing film that make its long arse run time (around two hours and twenty minutes) whizz by. Vanya's super-rich lifestyle and the eventual comedown is reminiscent to the outlier worlds of Martin Scorsese's questionable protagonists; another element to the film's draw. This is all cohesively gelled together via Mickey Madison's outstanding performance; undoubtedly one of the best this year. It's also the only film (out of three appearances) where Madison isn't set on fire.

Glad I gave Sean Baker another chance as Anora proved it wasn't the dreaded tart-with-a-heart rom-com, à la Pretty Woman (1990) that I expected. What I got was essentially a crushing take on the pursuit of the American Dream and those who fall victim to it. Remarkably, Anora also happens to be an unexpectedly entertaining comedy, so think of that what you will. 

A genuinely great film, and probably the final high note of 2024.

Juvenile Hell: Part 8

Pump Up the Volume (Allan Moyle, 1990)

Needed to cleanse the palate after watching some absolute abominations last month. Allan Moyle's Gen X classic Pump Up the Volume (1990) is the perfect solution. This is the second entry in what is unofficially dubbed the Christian Slater Holy Trilogy around this part of the internet. The other films being Heathers (1988) and True Romance (1993). Being that True Romance doesn't fit in this Juvenile Hell series, and skipping Massacre at Central High (1976) for its spiritual ancestor, is akin to running before learning to walk, the sensible option is to revisit Happy Harry Hard-ons pirate radio shenanigans. Besides which, the Heathers 4K I ordered the other week hasn't arrived yet.

If ever a film encapsulated the pent-up frustrations of the disillusioned generation beset by conservative authoritarianism, Pump Up the Volume would be it. Set in a suburb of Phoenix, Arizona, lonely newcomer Mark Hunter (Christian Slater), turns his parents' basement into a pirate radio show where he anonymously expresses all his teen angst and and music tastes over the radio waves. His fellow students of the oppressive Hubert H. Humphrey High School are eager listeners of the show and tune in every night to hear his antics.

The increasing popularity of the pirate radio show encourages the students into becoming more expressive and rebellious. The results range from suburban white kids gathering around a tape deck and nodding in appreciation to Ice-T's explicit Girls L.G.B.A.F, to the school's very own Claire Standish hilariously blowing up her parents' microwave, to that one random black student always in the background eventually wearing a kufi on his head. In the case of  Hubert H. Humphrey's resident Pam Ayres, Nora Diniro (Samantha Mathis) AKA the "Eat me! Beat me!" Lady, it's sending dirty poems and being potential serial killer bait to Happy Harry Hard-on with letters like this:

"You're the voice crying out in the wilderness. You're the voice that makes my brain burn and my guts go gooey. Yeah, you gut me. My insides spill on your altar and tell the future. My steaming, gleaming guts spell out your nature. I know you, not your name, but your game. I know the true you. Come to me, or I'll come to you."

Other than that one strike against her, Nora is pretty much the dream around the way emo girl from this era: Angela Franklin may have been demonically hot, but  I'll take Nora being everyday hot and not having to worry for my life; plus, she still looked art school bird fit even in old granny dresses and striped stockings; also, she didn't have dandruff like Allison Reynolds. Thus, Nora Diniro is the gateway goth girl of that era. The only other major drawback is the sad reality of her being an entirely fictional character. It's the only explanation as to how any person living in their parents' basement with a penchant for chronically fake fappin' and dry humping a dress for the entertainment of their listeners, manages to land a beauty like her - even if they're cool like Christian Slater. Only in the movies. Interestingly, Slater and Mathis were already a couple during the production of the film. That explains their chemistry feeling so authentic.

The plot involving a tyrannical school regime, headed by Principal Loretta Creswood (Annie Ross) suspending and expelling potential problem/underperforming kids and syphoning their funds to achieve the school's impeccable record, is very much secondary in the grand scheme of the film. It's really all about how one voice can rally others against their oppressors. This makes the film still poignant today. Alternatively, it's also all about Christian Slater's incredible charisma and acting chops. Interestingly, Slater's earliest films performances often draws comparisons to Jack Nicholson. This is the perfect litmus test for any seventies baby, as he comes across as a hyper-realistic version of the actor.

Young ‘uns, take note: the film's social message comes well before the rise of dullards posting cat memes and the existence of echo chambers. Therefore, if scenes of H.H.H and Nora broadcasting in a jeep to outwit the Federal Communications Commission (F.C.C), sounds a tad far fetched and antiquated for you, then please consider, that's far more noble than terminally online folk pretending to care about our freedoms.

Other noteworthy scenes and observations related to the movie are: the fat, entrepreneurial kid selling tapes of the show for $5 while Above the Law's Freedom of Speech is playing on the school speakers; a very young Seth Green not being annoying as his mate; the superior Pixies' Wave of Mutilation (UK Surf) heard in the film; the dumb Pauly Shore lookalike getting punched by Principal Creswood's rottweiler; and finally, the girl who played Cheryl Biggs (Holly Sampson) eventually winding up as an adult film actress.

Pump Up the Volume may be regarded as a nineties classic, but it's timeless for me as it became the go to movie whenever your host was undecided about what to watch to kill time. It was a staple, until my DVD got lost when lending it out to a mate. The disc was already out of print at the time, and it was far too expensive to replace. The pain. From that point on, I stopped lending any films out. Fortunately, I managed to eventually replace it with a a blu-ray upgrade (albeit, a bare bones disc), that was released last year. It's a treasured film here at Case de Spartan.

An undeniable classic.

House of Glazer

The Zone of Interest (Jonathan Glazer, 2023/2024)

Jonathan Glazer's long awaited film, The Zone of Interest, a loose adapatation of Martin Amis's titular novel, is a powerful viewing experience. Horrific atrocities that occur in the film are largely implied, heard and viewed from afar. Therefore, much of the horror is left to our imagination. Adjacent to the unseen nighmare, we're privvy to the domestic life of  Rudolf Höss (Christian Friedel), commandant of the Auschwitz concentration camp, living next door to "the zone of interest" with his family.

Witnessing the commandant's family living with complete apathy right next to what can be best described as Hell is what makes this an incredibly powerful and chilling film. Höss isn't portrayed as some completely deranged pyschopath making it easy to differentiate from. He behaves like a normal individual towards his family; even feeling sad for his horse who he needs to leave behind due to work commitments. That's what makes this such a compelling experience; what appears like a normal individual being capable of committing monstrous actions. Two scenes which really highlight this is where he's having a mundane chat in bed with his wife, Hedwig, about a possible vacation in Italy, and it's immediably followed by a close shot of him overseeing prisoners being processed after their arrival at the death camp. The sounds are truly distressing and haunting. Not something that will be easy to forget any time soon.

Hedwig Höss (Sandra Hüller), the matriarch of the family, is also complicit with the horror. She takes extreme pride of her dream home. She even considers herself  "the Queen of Auschwitz", claiming that she would have to be dragged away the paradise she lives in. Her staff, work in abject fear. One of whom bearing the burden of Hedwig's annoyance is threatened with, "I could have my husband spread your ashes across the fields of Babice." Chilling. There are hints throughout the film that Hedwig came from poverty and is of a low class. Prisoners' personal belongings are amusingly said to come from "Canada" by Hedwig and her friends. Her callousness is spawned from the jealousy and resentment she harboured before fascism gave her and her family prosperity.

Smoke from steam engines carrying its human victims can be seen from the walled perimeter of the Höss's home. The dark and acrid smoke from the crematorium chimney can be observed both day and night. It's the final straw during a restless night for Hedwig's visiting mother. She realises that her former employer, Esther Silberman, might have suffered a horrific fate on the otherside of the wall. Ash is mixed with top soil by a prison labourer in the commandant's garden. The flowers looks beautiful. These sequences respectfully allow the audience to fill in the gaps.

Sound is integral to the film's disturbing atmosphere. Our eyes might not witness the horror, but our ears ghive some insight with what might be occuring offscreen. Barking guard dogs, crackfire from a gun and the screams of helpless people are very harrowing. The ghastly gutteral sound of furnaces at work is also unsettling. These are all ambient sounds in the background of the Hoss family dream home. What's more, it's the norm for the children. Claus the oldest son, a collector of gold teeth, has fun at the expense of his younger brother, Hans, by locking him in the greenhouse and mockingly making the sound of hissing gas. It's rather obvious, the children know exactly what is going on beyond the proximity of their grounds.

Micha Levi's soundtrack also plays a huge part. It's minimal, and otherwordly modern, but complimentary and never out of place. Glazer bravely begins the film by focusing on nothing but a black screen for a few minutes. Once the viewer begins to adjust to the cinematic depravation, a haunting choral and a strained string arrangment can be heard in the darkness. It's followed by chirping birds and other familar woodland sounds, before the opening shot of the Höss family enjoying a day out by a picturesque lake. 

While sound plays such a large part, visually, it's a stunning looking film. For such a horrific event in history, everything looks sharp with some superb composition. High resolution close-up shots of various flora in the garden show beauty all while you're hearing the horrors past the garden wall. Another example of the contrasts Glazer utilises in the film. Certain scenes involve a young Polish girl placing apples and various other food around a construction site in the darkness of night for the starving prisoners to eat. These moments are shot with the aid of thermal vision cameras. The effect looks ultra modern and somewhat alien for a period piece, but it works remarkably well within the context of the film. 

Always annoying when all the wannabe Eberts, all-access shills, culture journos narcissists spew massive heaps of praise towards undeserving films. Words like "classic" and "masterpiece" are often unwarranted and used far too liberall. Jonathan Glazer's The Zone of Interest exemplifies these two descriptions during a time when they had real value. This is a tough and harrowing film to watch, but a supremely powerful story in modern cinema.

Fallon Angel

The Lady in Red (Lewis Teague, 1979)

Preface: This isn't a film about the Chris de Burgh song.

Arthur Penn's 1967 crime drama Bonnie and Clyde might be considered one of the earliest examples of New Hollywood breakthrough into the mainstream. It also kicked off a spate of outlaw themed hicksploitation films via legendary producer Roger Corman; Bloody Mama (1970) and Big Bad Mama (1974) being the obvious titles. It turns out Corman's daughter was a chip off the old block as she  produced a gem of a gangster story, The Lady in Red (1979).

Based on the life Edythe "Polly" Hamilton, the girlfriend of The Great Depression outlaw John Dillinger, The Lady in Red (1979) chronicles various events in her life which lead up to her becoming an outlaw herself. From a simple farm girl, to prostitute to a gangster moll, this loosely based biopic doesn't pull its punches with the our heroine's, renamed as Polly Frankin in the film, rough life.

Each chapter of Polly Franklin's life is compelling viewing. The film features a generous amount of female nudity and nasty violence - something current Hollywood might too afraid to repeat now. Also, despite its producers and the studio its born from, The Lady in Red is less of an exploitation and more of a tough drama. The film impressed me with how it managed to go in a direction that I didn't expect, and wound up being a positive surprise.

Actress, Pamela Sue Martin, better known for playing the OG Fallon Carrington from the eighties soap opera Dynasty, plays the destitute Polly Franklin in the film. She delivers a great, no holds barred performance; going from simple farm girl, to prostitute, to an actual gangster by the end. Her character development is remarkably compelling. The rest of the cast include Robert Conrad as John Dillinger, Louise Fletcher as the bordello madam Anna Sage and an uncredited Robert Forster as Turk, a suave hitman. The biggest surprise is seeing Christopher Lloyd in his scene-stealing role, the dangerously psychotic gangster Frognose.

Not sure if The Lady in Red is the kind of film that would be made today; at least on the same impactful level. A modern adaptation would likely be absurd and exaggerated, with Margot Robbie to famous to get her kit off, and a bunch of modern songs thrown in à la Peaky Blinders. Also, if we're talking about Hollywood, it would obviously cower away from the numerous violent scenes inflicted upon women. This film does not shy away from violence at all.

Director Lewis Teague and writer John Sayles worked together on another film after The Lady in Red, the cult classic Jaws-rip-off Alligator (1980). Browsing online for any other films they might have worked together on was how I discovered this gangster gem. Too bad there weren't any other projects, as they were a strong combination.

Carry on in All Seriousness

British film producer Peter Rogers might be synonymous with the legendary Carry on... films, but on rare occasions he broke from the saucy postcard humour for more serious and edgier productions. From 1971 - 1972, Rogers was the executive producer on four films which ranged from thrillers, sci-fi romance and kitchen sink drama. Curiousities for anyone with a passing interest in British film from this particular era, but for the more observant, they're oddly appealing for incorporating various recognisable visual and audio elements featured in the Carry on... comedies.

Bless the rippers who uploaded these hard to find rarities to YouTube. These films are even more invaluable now since Network Releasing, the slept-on film distributor who originally released them, went under this year. 

Decided to rank them from best to worst:

Revenge (Sidney Hayers, 1971)

When a suspected child killer is released on the same day as pub landlord Jim Radford's (James Booth) daughter's funeral, the entitre family is outraged by it. The Radford's along with another victim's father decide to take justice into their own hands on the pathetically vile Seely (Kenneth Griffith) by abducting him and becoming his executioners.

What makes this a compelling watch is not only the understandable empathy the viewer would feel for Jim Radford and his family, but also the mental and emotional toll the revenge takes on them. Bizarrely, there's some repressed sexual attraction between Jim's wife, Carol (Joan Collins) and her stepson. Ultimately, this a film which charts the demise of what was already a dysfunctional family heading into ruin. 

The cast are exceptionally good, particularly Booth, Collins and Griffith, with some genuine moments of tension whenever Griffith's character might be discovered in the cellar. One stand out part in the film is the disturbingly creepy scene of Seely's mother's bedroom. There's also the recurring question whether their abductee is guilty or not. The seeds of doubt eventually route their way into Jim's conscious making revenge all the more difficult. 

Spartan says: Revenge features one of my dream pubs, the Whippet Inn from Carry on Abroad (1972), although it has the less comical name The Crown in this film. Sadly, it lacks the same cozy atmosphere created by Vic and Cora Flange taking over the boozer. In my head cannon, Revenge might serve as a possible prequel to Carry on Abroad, where after the violent escapades, it leads to a new name for the pub, similar to how Crystal Lake became Forest Green in Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives (1986).

All Coppers Are... (Sidney Hayers, 1972)

What potentially kicks off as a British crime thriller about a young bobby on the beat winds up as a kitchen sink drama focusing on a lovers triangle. The players in this ménage à trois' include: Joe, a newly wed police officer (Martin Potter); Barry (Nicky Henson), a jack the lad with hopes to make it in the big league by pulling off an armed robbery and Sue, cynical working class girl, played by Ben Fogle's mum (Julia Foster).

All Coppers Are... dabbles in some social commentary concerning working class living and attitutes towards the police.

The characters are rather likeable despite some of their actions. It goes along away in not adhering to two dimensional profiles and puts them all under a morally grey spotlight. That goes a long way, particularly when Joe is an adulterous man abandoning his wife at a wedding reception to score with Sue. This focus on character complexities seems to come at the cost of the rest of the subplots in the film, however. As a result, Barry's big robbery and the violent riot between the Old Bill and hairy hippy protestors is crudely wedged into the very last leg of the film.

A flawed, but decent drama. It's way more Up the Junction (1968) than the hard boiled British crime thrillers from that era like Get Carter (1971).

Spartan says: Cult British actor, Ian Hendry has a small role as a gangster with a surreal Cockney accent in the film. The scene where he menacingly muches on a packet of Golden Wonder crisps in a bowling alley is hilarious and my favourite part in the film. All Coppers Are... also uses some of Carry on... composer, Eric Rogers' music. If you're familiar with Eric Rogers works, then listen out for Mike's theme from the film adapatation of Bless this House (1971) and Sid James' criminal gang theme from Carry on Matron (1972).

Quest for Love (Ralph Thomas, 1971)

Adapted from sci-fi writer John Wyndham's story Random Quest, Quest for Love (1971) is a tale of physicist Colin Trafford (Tom Bell) being transported to an alternate Earth after a freak lab accident. This other world is very much like our own, only major historical twentieth century events such as World War II and the assassination of John F. Kennedy never happened. Trafford discovers he's a highly successful and womanising author in this alternate reality. He also falls for his alternate self's wife, the unloved and neglected Ottilee Harsham Trafford (Joan Collins). 

It's a real shame the alternate reality premise isn't totally explored, and rather the film dedicates its focus on the romance plotline. The science fiction part is the most fascinating. Eventually, Ottilee begins to believe old Trafford isn't new Trafford and falls in love with him. The clincher in this loved up storyline is the romance is doomed as Ottillee suffers from an inoperable heart condition. What a stroke of luck for old Trafford when he ends up back in his world again, for if Ottillee exists in an alternate reality, then she might exist in his own. A reality that's far more progressed due to technological advancements discovered during WWII and the space race. She can be saved. Trafford goes on a rampage searching for Ottilee which has him running around Heathrow airport like a complete loon trying to find her. Comes across as obsessive stalking than romance, in my opinion.

The really tragedy is the audience's knowledge that new Trafford is going to break Ottillee's heart again and she won't survive. She's doomed to an off-screen death.

Bell and Collins have great chemistry together and make this love story with a sci-fi twist the kind of tolerable watch if you ever caught it airing on TV. It's all very effervescent, but it's at least watchable for what's essentially a tear jerker turned happy ending (ooh err, missus!).

 

Perhaps the biggest drawback is Eric Rogers on soundtrack duty again. His music compliments the bawdy humour of the Carry on movies with sheer perfection, but on Quest for Love, it's a wrong fit. It doesn't work at all.

Spartan says: Beggars can't be choosers. I would rather watch this version of Quest for Love than any eventual Hollywood remake where an annoying Owen Wilson falls head over heels with an insufferable Jennifer Lopez, and you're praying they both die, along with every other alternate incarnation of them that might exist in space and time to maintain cosmic dimensional karma.

 

Assault (Sidney Hayers, 1971)

A legit British giallo featuring Suzy Kendall, a bonafide queen of giallo cinema. How could it go wrong? Spectacularly! 

School girls are being targeted by a rapist killer that preys on them whenever they trek through the nearby woods going home. Art teacher, Julie West (Suzy Kendall) fleetingly witnesses the killer, and with the aid of the police and the press, uses herself as bait in catching the foul fiend. 

A supporting cast which includes Frank Finlay as the detective chief super intendant, an over the top Freddie Jones as the unscrupulous reporter, a very young Leslie Anne Down, and the actor who played the Shadmock from The Monster Club (1981) can't really save this highly problematic and shambolic thriller. 

 

The film spends way too much time on overly touchy doctors and nonce vibe blokes posing as suspects for the film's sick antagonist. Red herrings or not they ought to be serving time, regardless. Assault also commits the cardinal sin of introducing a major player very late into the game, the Doctor's nemesis, an unrecognisable Anthony Ainley, AKA the Master - sans the trademark evil goatee.

Eric Rogers is on soundtrack duty here again and any potential moments of dread and suspense (there really aren't many) are squandered by his bombastic and inappropriately comical music. It really does sound like a Carry on film rather than a giallo. Would have been better off being treated as an actual comedy spoofing the giallo - Carry on Solange!

 

Admitedly, there's plenty of unintentional comedy brought about by its misjudged tone to its dark subject matter. The film’s only real appeal is to view it as the train wreck that it is, or the for desperate fans craving another giallo fix,. Historially, Assault is another title charting the popularity of psychosexual killer themed films from this era, but there are far better films out there in this vein.

 

Spartan says: Assault features the same girls school that Barbara Windsor and her friends were students of in Carry on Camping (1969). This somewhat taints the classic comedy since Sid James and Bernard Bresslaw now look like a pair of predatory nonces now. Gutted.

 

 

Overall, Revenge was the best film produced by Peter Rogers during his 1971 - 1972 stint with serious cinema. It's also the one film in the bunch I wouldn't have minded coppin' on physical media. Credit should also go out to its director Sidney Hayers, and its composer Eric Rogers, for not repeating all of Assault's failures in the space of a just a few months.

All the films have working YouTube links (at the time of posting) in their respective titles.

Love and Rockets

Miracle Mile (Steve De Jarnatt, 1988)

2023 have proven to be a year where I still haven't uncovered everything the eighties has unleashed in terms of films which appeal to me. Steve De Jarnatt's thriller Miracle Mile (1988) is the latest example of this. It's not often when a film discovery has me dwelling on it days after the end credits have scrolled by.

De Jarnatt's script for Miracle Mile was completed in 1979 and spent much of its time in the eighties languishing around as one of Hollywood's greatest unmade films. The script was once considered for The Twilight Zone (1983) movie, but it never came to be. Big studios were interested in producing the film and offered a higher budget, but the changes they demanded would have ruined the tone and plot of the film. De Jarnatt managed to eventually helm his baby the way he wanted it, but at a much lower budget. The end result is a powerful and heart-wrenching film that deserves a spot in the Alternative Valentine's Day Movies list.

The film misleadingly kicks things off in the guise of your typical, vibrantly colourful, eighties rom-com where Harry (Anthony Edwards) meets Julie (Mare Winnigham) at L.A's  La Brea Tar Pits. It's love at first sight. Hitting things off so well, the two arrange late night date. In true film farce fashion, a power outage caused by Harry's discarded cigarette, leads to him oversleeping and missing the date. Well past the arranged rendezvous time, Harry dashes to Julie's place of work, an all-night diner,  and leaves a message for her via the payphone (because not everyone owned a mobile phone back then, kids) outside hoping she'll call back. What follows is the mother of all wrong numbers once he picks up the ringing phone: an impending nuclear strike is about to occur. 

Watching how events snowball out of control is part of the film's allure. It focuses on Harry and Julie's plight throughout the whole ordeal, but it certainly feels like some of the supporting characters have experienced their own personal hellish experiences between their first onscreen introductions and reappearances. There's also the recurring question whether the phone call scenario was all a random prank that Harry fell for. Indeed, Harry even doubts himself when he sees the cost of all the panic and hysteria that he has achieved spreading the news around L.A. like wildfire. What's even more remarkable is when the film eventually answers this all important question, the survival of the film's hapless couple becomes an even greater concern.

Miracle Mile (Phone Call Scene)

Steve De Jarnatt, 1988

 

Miracle Mile is an impressive, yet chilling film, blessed with a sublime score by Tangerine Dream. The switch from an apparent rom-com to apocalyptic thriller deliberately puts the viewer on the wrong footing. Each precious moment appears to happen in real time, with Harry being the main anchor point. Once the pivotal phone conversation rolls on screen, the film never lets go. It's an intense and compelling viewing experience - even after revisiting it a couple of days later. The neon-lit signs and colourful fashion choices might date it as an eighties film, but that's also applicable to the very real mind state of World War III kicking off at any moment. De Jarnatt manages to capture that latent woe and fear that we've been trying not to depressingly dwell on for much longer than a minute. Pitting that fear factor in the confines of a romance story is oddly riveting. The end result is a film that feels like a mash-up of After Hours (1985) with Threads (1984), which puts it amongst my fave films discovered this year. Much like Miracle Mile's onscreen couple eventually tieing the knot decades later, why did I leave it so long?

Hitchcock/True Foe

The Bride Wore Black (François Truffaut, 1968)

François Truffaut might very well be known to cinephilles for being part of the Nouvelle Vague, potentially pornographic sounding movies like Jules et Jim (1962) and The 400 Blows (1959), he's probably more likely to be known to sci-fi heads for his adaptation of Ray Bradbury's Farenheit 451, and for playing the French bloke in Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977). Truffaut also happend to write a book about the portly master of the macabre Alfred Hitchcock's films and craftmanship; subsequently, it followed with him helming the revenge thriller The Bride Wore Black (1968) a couple of years later. The Hitchcockian influence is abundantly evident.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and in the case of Jeanne Moreau's newly wedded bride, her joyous day is instantly ruined as her other-half is shot dead while they're both exiting the church. With the love of her life gone, she's left feeling suicidal and comes up with a new set of vows: to eliminate those responsible for her husband's dead. Truffaut's film focuses on our vengeful bride's determination to hunt down her husband's killer(s); travelling all over the country, befriending or seducing her prey and then killing them. As a result, The Bride Wore Black plays out like a series of chapters focusing on the last days or hours of  her enemies.

Based on Cornell Woolrich's 1940 pulp novel (who also penned Hitchcock's seminal Rear Window (1954) and Mississipi Mermaid (1969), another Hitchcockian style film by Truffaut), the film adaptation entirely omits the on-going police investigation, as well as the protagonist's unhinged mental state resulting with the murdering of innocent men, à la Ms .45 (1981). Therefore, the film can leave the viewer perplexed with just how Moreau is able to track down the persons on her hit list, along with how freely she is able to operate in achieving her goals.

There's a lot to like about The Bride Wore Black: it's well shot and breezily paced above all else. The modern architectural shots and sixties decor remind me of a Jess Franco film without all the unnecessary hairy muff, but, much like Red Sun (1970), the German New Wave film covered here recently, it's another film where its unintentional comedy has me drawn to it like a moth to a flame. The fact that her victims are completely trusting brainlets is a major example of this. The first one hilariously climbs over a high-rise penthouse balcony to retrieve her scarf before he's predictably dispatched. Another ends up being locked under the stairs and is suffocated. Also, beauty might proverbially be in the eye of the beholder, but in the case of our victims, they definitely should have gone to Specsavers. A short, doughy, middle aged looking woman doesn't exactly pose in the head cannon of a French femme fatale, like say Brigitte Bardot or Catherine Deneuve. This especially rings true when she poses as an artist's model and has to dress up as Diana, the Roman goddess of hunting and looks completely ridiculous. However, what's beyond criticism for me is Moreau's actual performance, it's legitimately great as her immense bottled rage feels so tangible on screen.

Veteran composer and Hitchcock collaborator, Bernard Herrmann provides the score for Truffaut's film and it's laced with all his typical idiosyncracies. Worth stating that he also provided the score for another Hitchcockian thriller during the same year with the Boulting brothers' Twisted Nerve. I much prefer the latter film's score, but Herrmann composing any thriller is a win, in my opinion.

Finally, I can't really sign off without the obligatory comparisons to Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill (2003 - 2004) duology being evidenet. The bride's revenge plot line is the obvious one, of course, but there are also the scenes where the bride crosses out the names of her victims that are notable, too. Let's be honest, The Bride Wore Black isn't exacty the only film to inspire Tarantino's work, particularly one that serves as a massive geek-out for genre film fanatics.

Man About the Haus

Red Sun (Rudolf Thome, 1970)

What bugs me about new wave cinema is this whole notion that its rejection of traditional film making fundamentally makes it an intelligent art form. Thus, pretentious art house films are treated like the emperor's new clothes. Straddling the thin line between art house and exploitation is the appropriately coined tern - artsploitation. Rudolf Thome's Red Sun (1970) is an example of this category and not to be confused with the testosterone loaded, east meets west western Red Sun (1971).

Red Sun's trailer instantly grabbed me as a film I very much need to check out as it gave me strong Jerzy Skolimowski's Deep End (1970) vibes. Turned out to be a correct assumption. Despite its different subject matter, it proved to be an entertaining offbeat comedy. Red Sun isn't quite as good as Skolimoski's film, but it does have enough charm which won me over.

Thomas (Marquand Bohm) is an obnoxious layabout and a sponger, who crashes the crib of his ex girlfriend Peggy (Uschi Obermaier). While dossin' there, he learns that Peggy and her housemates are a radical feminist, bomb-making collective, who murder their boyfriends after five days.

The beauty of Red Sun is watching Thomas, the German equivalent of Robin Askwith, raid the fridge and ponce money off the deadly terror cell to buy cigars and moan about the tedium of having to work. What's even more entertaining is how nonchalant he is regarding the dangerous predicament he finds himself in. The fact that Peggy and her criminal cohorts are remarkably dumber than Thomas is the icing on the cake for me.

Intentional or not, Rudolf Thome's film has so much levity that it looks and feels like a seventies sex comedy rather than a feminist laced crime thriller. There's no real depth or emotion to the characters either, save for Isolde from the death-dealing sisterhood, who sheds some remorse occasionally. Supposedly influenced by Jean Luc Godard’s work. I would say this trumps any of his films as this is art house cinema I can watch without being bored to tears. The film does lose its way around the midway point, but I found enough entertainment from Red Sun to forgive its mistakes.

For a German film from the early seventies, I presumed krautrock or German psychedelia would be the soundtrack to the film, but it turned out to be some choice British prog rock instead thanks to The Nice's Rondo and The Small Faces performing Rollin' Over along with the legendary Grand Theft Auto V trailer tune Ogden's Nut Gone Flake. To tie Anglo German relations further, Georg Friedrich Händel's funeral parlour choon Adagio (Messiah) is repeated throughout the course of the film, thankfully without Jim Morrison's spoken word poetry ruining it. 

Lastly, how fit was Uschi Obermaier back in the day? Jimi Hendrix was like a rat up a drain pipe and made the effort to travel to the hippy shit-hole she was living in known as Kommune 1 just to score with her. This blogger hates hippies with a passion, but in the case of Uber Uschi, going incognito like Sid James once did when he sabotaged the crusty hippy gig in the adjacent field to him in Carry On Camping (1969), is a worthy effort.

"Ich bin ein hippy, Uschi!"