WELCOME TO THE BREAKFAST SHOW!

Dreams have always been a mystery to me. Sometimes I felt like they were private screenings that no one would ever watch outside of myself, deep in sleep. During most of 1983 I helped to research the sequel to Kenneth Anger’s infamous HOLLYWOOD BABYLON, to be titled (what else?) HOLLYWOOD BABYLON II. This endeavor would create many dreams, some of which I will never recall and others I will never forget.

Kenneth was still living in New York at that time and had already started sending me want lists of photographs he was planning to include with the text, as well as early drafts of certain chapters he knew would be of particular interest to me. As an aficionado of the horror genre Ken knew I would want to see what he had uncovered on Lionel Atwill, so that was one of the first he sent, typed with the E.P. Dutton letterhead. In his familiar red penmanship he wrote at the top of the chapter page, “For your eyes only; do not show to my enemies like Curtis [Harrington].” Kenneth was in the midst of yet another feud with his longtime colleague and I was in the middle, being that I was friends with both of them.

Kenneth had planned for years to do a follow-up to his legendary HOLLYWOOD BABYLON, the international success of which made him more infamous than his films ever had. The great obstacle was trying to top the first one in revelations of the private lives of the stars. As time marched on, America became less likely to accommodate the author with shock and awe when pop culture itself was wallowing in scandal and gossip without any help from the Magus of Tinseltown. This situation has only worsened with time and now, nine years into the 21st century, ‘reality shows’ and the INTERNET have made Kenneth’s books, with scandalous tales of stars of a bygone era (however classic), somewhat redundant.

As Kenneth now enters his dotage with the media forever focused on his conduct, however unbecoming, it is important to emphasize what a monumental influence he has had on 20th century pop culture. His experimental films are landmarks of avant-garde and homoerotic cinema. Kenneth Anger is also the father of the music video, having created the format years before anyone really knew what to do with it. Even the Babylon books are now important references for anyone studying film history or simply curious about pop culture.

Kenneth has loved the cinema from childhood, especially as it was in the golden days of the studio system when MGM had more stars than the heavens, and its stars misbehaved not unlike the gods of Mount Olympus at their zenith.

The HOLLYWOOD BABYLON books were meant to draw attention to the futility of Hollywood trying to set a standard for moral authority where none existed. What could be more apropos than to compare Hollywood with ancient Babylon? In the twenties, even Babylon would have had a hard time catching up with characters like Barbara La Marr or Nazimova. The original French edition of HOLLYWOOD BABYLON was more of a coffee-table book, oversized with beautiful reproductions of stills Kenneth spent a lifetime collecting. Anyone who was fortunate enough to own a copy would be disappointed in the American editions, which had none of the glamour of that first notorious edition of 1959.

One of the tragic aspects of the Babylon saga as it unfolded before me that year was the lack of preparation allowed Kenneth for a proper follow-up to the first edition. E.P. Dutton had advanced him a sizable sum which evaporated before he ever got to Hollywood to spend it. A self-confessed spendthrift, advances seldom encouraged results. Ken arrived at my apartment at 9136 Beverly Boulevard with the following items in tow: a white violin trimmed in blue neon – a prop from one of the fabled “Gold Digger” films of the thirties (and it still lit up on its own white pedestal); a six-sheet (81×81) poster from Eddie Cantor’s WHOOPEE! (also from the early thirties (this poster was a hoot as it had multiple images of Cantor’s huge eyes, resulting in a psychedelic montage in dazzling colors on linen); and last, but far from least, a large framed autographed portrait of Valentino. Ken also brought a suitcase and briefcase, but no typewriter.

At this stage of the book’s development I had seen the text of the LIONEL ATWILL chapter which was culled from old movie magazines of the forties which chronicled Atwill’s fall from grace during a sensational trial regarding a Christmas party at his Pacific Palisades abode where two underage girls set the old boy up by telling all to the press. The end result was disgrace and financial ruin for Atwill and a field day for the Hollywood press, who by now had a lot of experience with these Hollywood hound dogs in Hamlet attire. Ken hired me to provide photos and background information from the usual sources like the Academy library and the AFI. He quickly settled on a portrait I had of Atwill in profile from MURDERS IN THE ZOO, a pre-Code film with lots of sadism and cruelty. This particular still had Atwill in the shadow of a mamba, which made the leering actor all the more sinister. Lionel Atwill, for those of you who may not know the name, has been forever immortalized by MEL BROOKS (of all people) in his film, and later the musical based on, YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN. In the film, actor KENNETH MARS plays an inspector with a wooden arm based entirely on Lionel Atwill’s unforgettable performance in Universal’s last classic Frankenstein with Karloff as the monster: SON OF FRANKENSTEIN.

Lionell Atwill in SON OF FRANKENSTEIN

In today’s world view, what Atwill did in the privacy of his home on that Christmas Eve over half a century ago would not even merit a nod on ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT, and I mentioned this to Ken at the time. These tales of long ago needed to be really off the charts to make them shocking, even in the 80′s. However, lodged in Kenneth’s imagination was this image of Lionel Atwill as the kink of all kinks in the Hollywood he so admired that he was to have a place in it no matter what anyone might say to the contrary.

As the days went by it became clear to me that Ken had lost his mojo when it came to putting the book to rest. He enjoyed the research and loved looking though stacks of photographs but when it came time to create a narrative, the lawyers at Dutton quickly took the wind out of his sails. He had to depend on the old adage, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” For example, he could not come out and say Cary Grant was having a sexual relationship with Randolph Scott, but he could imply it by showing a series of suggestive photos of the two men living together in Hollywood bliss with the boys at breakfast and at play in their very own playhouse.

The “coroner to the stars,” Thomas Noguchi, who was in charge of all the autopsies of the famous for fifteen years became a favored source for many of the more unsavory stills in both editions. Kenneth had made a contact in Noguchi’s office and scored many death shots, some of which remain unpublished. Noguchi loved the limelight and was very aware of Kenneth Anger and his books; whether or not the two ever met is still a mystery. Noguchi was tossed out of office for revealing too much regarding the deaths of both William Holden and John Belushi, which in its own perverse way was very Kenneth Anger, but hey–this is Hollywood after all.

Kenneth became so distraught over the book that he even at one point cooked up a plan to inform his editors in New York that the book would have to be put on hold as he was ill with HIV. It took all my powers of persuasion to talk him out of that one. He had gone so far as to ask around town for a doctor willing to go along with his plan.

Kenneth Anger

At this point I feel the need to explain just how generous a friend Kenneth was at this point in time. We had been good friends for at least five years and he was never anything but a loyal and caring person at all times, in spite of what has been written about him in print. The Kenneth Anger of the 80′s was stubborn, and insensitive to minorities, and yet he would loan money to any of his colleagues if he felt they needed assistance. The fact that he was famous never really meant much to him as this was not something he could take to the bank when the rent was due. I can’t tell you how many times at universities (of all places) he would be approached by a student congratulating him on writing LOOK BACK IN ANGER. If he felt like it he would correct them with, “Sorry, that was John Osborne.” More often than not he would just sigh at the prospect that colleges ceased to teach anything anymore.

It was not easy adjusting to “life with Anger,” and I felt uneasy when I was home because Kenneth would go for hours without saying a word. He would find a corner of the bedroom and just sit there in the dark with his thoughts. I remember one particular morning during his stay when my phone rang way too early in the morning for my taste. When I finally answered, it was Helen Bilke, my neighbor across the courtyard, who rang me up at seven in the morning to find out who that wonderful man was who was staying with me. When I asked why she needed to know–especially at 7am–she replied, “Well, honey, he is on his knees in the courtyard cleaning the wedges between the tiles in the walkway with a TOOTHBRUSH! I mean, your friend has been at it since daybreak and it looks wonderful.” This was my introduction to Ken’s drug habits and had they all been so constructive they might never have been written about at all. When Ken was on speed or uppers he was like a demonic Joan Crawford, and dirt–look out! My mother came to visit during Ken’s stay with me and when she saw my living room after two weeks with Kenneth as a house guest, the first words out of her mouth were, “Marry him. He’s a keeper!” My living room glowed from Pine Sol and window cleaner, every picture frame was so clear they looked transparent, the floors were mirror-like; the whole apartment was a showplace, especially with that neon violin glowing in one corner and WHOOPEE! lit up in another. Now this was Anger management at its best!

One weekend afternoon I took him to the autograph collectors show over at my friend Beverly Garland’s hotel and watched as he worked the room. At one point we ran into an acquaintance of mine, Joe Dante, who, besides directing films, also is a fan at heart and collects like one. I introduced him to Ken, and Joe, who was visibly impressed, told him who he was and Kenneth smiled and said, “Oh, Joe Dante. Yes, I think I’ve seen your magic act in New York.” Joe’s smile quickly went upside down and coldly replied, “I am a film director, not a magician,” to which Kenneth shot back, “Well maybe you should try magic. People might then know your work,” and walked away, leaving Joe extremely pissed off.

Among the things Kenneth could not tolerate with admirers and fans was the mispronunciation of his idol Aleister Crowley; so many people say the last name as if it sounded like ‘cowly’ instead of ‘crow’, like the bird. To do that was grounds for banishment. He also could not stand smoking of any kind and really never had more than a glass of wine. His bête-noir would always be drugs, just like his idol, the great beast Crowley. In the glory days when Ken was house Magus for the Rolling Stones and quite the rage, he ran into a man who introduced himself as “Chemist to Her Majesty, the Queen.” He confided to Ken that the royal family got their prescriptions in giant crystal apothecary jars and the one that contained Cocaine had the instructions on it, “TAKE AS NEEDED.” Ken loved to tell that story to anyone who cared to hear it.

Anger

As the weeks worn on I began to feel some concern regarding Ken’s ability to get the book done. He really wanted it to be successful, and to accomplish that it had to be as daring and scandalous as the first had been in 1959. E.P. Dutton wanted the book to succeed as well, but they simply did not understand what Kenneth was trying to create with his off-kilter vision of Hollywood, at least the Hollywood in his imagination. They wanted tell-alls without the backlash and this was not a task even Kenneth Anger could accomplish without bringing the lawyers down on him (and ultimately the publishing house itself). Looking back, it was providential that the photographs could say what he could not. The final result is a beautiful failure, as the life was taken out early on and even Dr. Frankenstein would have had a hard time resurrecting this Babylon.

One night not long after we did our last round of libraries and bookshops, he wanted to see Marty’s new film–Marty being Scorsese, a longtime admirer of Kenneth’s films. On occasion he lent Ken his editing rooms in New York to work on his projects. Marty’s new film was KING OF COMEDY and so off we went to Westwood with my then-girlfriend Susan in tow. The film was not one of Ken’s favorites but he did respond to the obsession-with-celebrity aspect of the piece. We were all surprised at how well Jerry Lewis responded to Marty’s direction. The film placed Kenneth in an odd frame of mind, and afterwards he treated us to a ride in one of those horse-drawn carriages that used to be available for hire in Westwood to take in the sights around the square. When we arrived back at the apartment I served some wine and Susan and I got a little high and I guess the emotions that I suppressed came out sort of all at once, and I begged him to try and finish the book as it was so very important to his career, etc….Well, as soon as I started talking I knew this was not what he wanted to hear, least of all from me, so after a rather awkward silence he went off to bed and so did we. The next morning we woke up to find that Kenneth had quietly packed all his things and left before daybreak for New York. He left me a note, which said:

“David,

I tried to sleep after your comments last night and I decided that the only way to finish this thing is to go home now and just focus on the work at hand. I am very moved that you care so much about what happens to me. There are not too many people in my life that do. Thank you for all your support and especially for the use of your wonderful photos. I have left you and Susan two signed posters that my friend Page Wood made for LUCIFER RISING…. Oh, by the way, I can’t get that funny story out of my head about your favorite actor, Zucco…may have to do something about it.

Love,

Ken”

George Zucco

The letter, and Ken’s abrupt departure, left me feeling a bit guilty, but hey, if it got him to the place he needed to be to finally get HOLLYWOOD BABYLON II off and running, then so be it. His reference to Zucco–meaning the late character actor GEORGE ZUCCO–was not so surprising as we had a very amusing evening during his stay talking about how roles sometimes stay with an actor and what might happen if an actor should do a RONALD COLMAN, like in A DOUBLE LIFE, and just wig out and become their character.

I showed Kenneth an old VHS copy of a Monogram quickie starring Bela Lugosi called VOODOO MAN, which features my old pal George Zucco as a high priest dressed in a black magician’s robe while wearing the most unfortunate headdress of feathers…Well, it was a sight… The whole film was like an Ed Wood fever-dream with Zucco calling out to the god RAMBOONA for guidance–whoever RAMBOONA might have been…

When the film was over Ken and I had a great time second-guessing what happened to both Lugosi and Zucco after letting themselves go in such an undignified way. I speculated that Zucco probably went a bit off and ran out of Gower Gulch, where Monogram made their little seven-day-wonders, and went screaming down Hollywood Boulevard about the god, RAMBOONA. Lugosi, on the other hand, probably just went to his cigar shop on the boulevard and bought his usual drugs and went home, got happy, and then just crashed.

I now realize only too well to be very careful what you put in other peoples’ psyches, because Kenneth was just desperate enough for copy that he took my little fantasy and went all the way with it, creating out of nowhere a whole scenario where Zucco goes off the deep end and takes his wife and daughter with him to the funny farm. Now, this was bad enough, but not too long after his book came out I discovered that Stella Zucco was not only very much alive but beside herself over what Ken put out there about her loved ones. When I heard about all of this I managed to get a letter to her explaining that I adored her husband’s work and all this was a terrible misunderstanding… I, of course, never got a reply.

The other tale from the book that was way, way off was the one about James Dean. Now, all those tales of passing out in leather bars and having cigarettes put out on him were true–the problem was they happened to MONTGOMERY CLIFT, not JAMES DEAN! My favorite contribution to the book is the photo of Vincent Price sporting fangs for a film not many people ever saw (and that includes his horror following), a British portmanteau known as THE MONSTER CLUB. The image of Vincent smiling through his fangs seems to be in on Kenneth’s cosmic joke that Hollywood is, after all, fabrication on a grand scale. It was Vincent Price himself who told me one afternoon that, “Hollywood is one of the most evil cities on the planet,” and he had personally witnessed enough in his lifetime there not to kid around when it came to this Babylon known as Hollywood.

Not too long after all this went down I had one of my Technicolor dreams and, as luck would have it, I remembered it and always will. In my dream George Zucco was not only alive and kicking, he was also singing and dancing….at the BACKLOT at STUDIO ONE. In my dream George had a cabaret act and I was there, front row center, as he came out in a tux, just like he looked in THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES, where he shined as Professor Moriarty, giving perhaps a definitive take on the role. Anyway, here was George Zucco with a mike in one hand coming from behind the curtain as the band opened with THAT OLD BLACK MAGIC, which George handled a bit like Rex Harrison in MY FAIR LADY, with a touch of Fred Astaire. After his opening number he said to the audience, “Welcome to the breakfast show!” After a couple of jokes like, “I just finished a picture over at PRC. The salary is such a comfort as it pays all my postage,” he got a laugh from the industry crowd who knew all too well that PRC paid zip to their talent. This went on in my mind for a while and it was sooo real you just would not believe it. Then, the actor known to his fans as “the man with the neon eyes” pulled up a stool and was hit with a yellowish spotlight. With his eyes in full flood he began to sing in that cat-like purr of his the tune written by Barry Manilow, ‘MANDY.’

I can never forget hearing my favorite character actor from the 40′s singing lyrics like these: “Oh, Mandy you came and you gave without TAKING…”

WELCOME TO THE BREAKFAST SHOW!

“THE HILLS HAVE EYES…And an open bar”

It has been my personal experience, having known more than my share of contemporary “Horror Icons” personally, that most of the actors who play monsters in the movies are the kindest of men in private life. Michael Berryman is certainly no exception to this rule; you will be hard pressed to find a nicer human being in our business than Michael, an intelligent and generous man with an informed interest in safeguarding animal rights.

Michael Berryman began his acting career in much the same manner as my friend the late Reggie Nalder (MARK OF THE DEVIL, Hitchcock’s 1956 version of THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH, SALEM’S LOT), by allowing casting agents to transform his social disadvantages (i.e. real life physical deformities) into life-long film careers playing sadistic madmen and yes, occasionally monsters.

Michael was born with a rare disease with the clinical name of Hypohidrotic Ectodermal Dysplasia. This particular disease prevents the development of hair and fingernails which, coupled with a life saving operation of reconstructive skull surgery at the age of six, left him with a rather startling appearance to say the least. Before I recall my personal experiences with Michael at the Chiller Theater convention in New Jersey in 1994, let me elaborate a little on the film that brought him into the exalted realm of “horror icon”

As we look back at that bygone era of Grind house/drive-in films that populated the late sixties and most of the seventies, the name Wes Craven casts a long dark shadow against a landscape illuminated with directors like Tobe Hooper, John Carpenter and George Romero.

Wes Craven had taken the drive-in circuit by storm with his first feature, the low budget, inventive, yet decidedly nasty THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT, creating a grind house blockbuster in the process. This film did for oral sex what Hitchcock did for showers, but don’t take my word for it, see the film for yourself if your tastes follow this particular path.

Craven’s next outing, the now classic THE HILLS HAVE EYES (1977) would prove even more successful and much more polished than HOUSE, benefiting from a larger budget and upscale actors. This film, while still low budget and shot in 16mm (a decision not shared by the veteran AIP director of photography Eric Saarinen who begged Craven to let him shoot in 35mm), took full advantage of the hot house environment of a desert location, enhancing the atmosphere of dread and isolation.

The critical and box office success the same year of John Boorman’s DELIVERANCE gave substance to the growing urban myth, strong in American political and class issues, of the inbred primitive that preyed on hapless travelers in the backwoods of America. (Although Wes Craven himself has stated that the film was inspired by a real life cannibal family who preyed on travelers in the previous century in the wilds of Scotland.) Of course H.P. Lovecraft had already taken this territory and made it his own with several horror tales of backwoods folk and their ungodly rituals of evil. The stage was now set for something new to emerge from a blending of three movie genre’s: the western, the horror film and the road movie. The result became THE HILLS HAVE EYES.

Michael Berryman gave an iconic performance as “Pluto” (his character clad entirely in animal skins, while sporting a necklace made of human bones), a mutant cannibal, not to mention killer of dogs and children. He became an instant poster boy for the grind house/torture-porn generation that would follow
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I had met Michael at several of these “memorabilia” conventions in Hollywood, but just in passing, never having the time to have a conversation or really discover what kind of guy he might be behind all the “horror movie trappings” of his career. All of this changed one summer of 1994 when Martine Beswicke and I flew out to sign autographs as well as to do Q&A’s at Kevin Clement’s CHILLER THEATER, located in New Jersey just outside of New York City.

It might help to explain just a little bit about these conventions and how they tend to operate. Typically a hotel or University campus will sponsor such an event, allowing horror and Sci Fi fans to attend these three day conventions, usually held on weekends. The promoters then invite and pay the expenses of actors, writers and directors who have made their names in the field. This allows them the opportunity to promote whatever it is they are currently doing, as well as to make money selling autographs and books to the fans.

At this particular venue the convention guests were quartered at two different motels surrounding the campus where Chiller Theater was being held that weekend. I remember the convention with pleasure because traveling with Martine was like being time- machined back to my high school days and going on a field trip. Martine was at that time like my big sister while still maintaining a European teenage girl’s outlook on life, in others words lets party darling.

Among my fondest memories of Martine at that convention has to be sharing a ride with her and the completely over-the-top horror actor/director known to his countryman as Ze do Caixao, AKA ‘Coffin Joe,’ His real name is Jose Mojica Marin but his friends from Brazil simply call him “Mojica.” His interpreter explained to us how this little man with a beard and top hat, with fifteen inch finger nails, fathered 29 children while making some of the most outrageous horror films ever to come out of any third world country. I wound up giving him the Dracula ring Forrest Ackerman had given me years before, as I finally felt I had met someone who needed it far more than I ever did. Martine did not have a clue just how wild and sadistic his films were, and I felt it was my duty never to show her one of them as she was just not ready for a filmmaker as gonzo as Coffin Joe.

One of the highest moments that she and I had together was also a personal guilty pleasure. Returning to her room after the last day, we emptied the cash box filled to overflowing from three days of non-stop sales of photos and tapes from her films. Having tossed the lot onto the bed, we then rolled around in a sea of five and ten dollar bills like Bonnie and Clyde. After we finally got around to counting it all, she declared in typical Martine fashion “Darling, this calls for many margarita’s, and sweetie I have a heart on so let’s party.” (A note here – Martine always thought of the heart as her personal symbol and had several belt buckles and jewelry in the shape of hearts, hence the reference.)

Hello, readers. Another year is winding down, along with the stock market, the DVD industry, popularity for the Iraq War and our President, and box office receipts. There still seems no end in sight to re-released, re-invented, re-packaged DVD titles – everyone’s doing it, from Criterion to Synapse to the majors. Here at FIR, we’ve hopefully kept you amused and informed with timely reviews, Camp Davids, filmusic coverage, and film fest reports. And we’ve got an idea or two how to improve things even more:

We’ve just added a donation button to our homepage. As I think you know, Films in Review has never paid its writers, or its editors (!), in its fifty-seven year history. Prior to that, when we were called The National Board of Review Magazine, the same policy was in effect. All those lovely articles, all those career bios, all the film/dvd/music/book reviews, even all the fine webmastering, has been on a volunteer basis. Niche magazines such as ours are known to resort to these arrangements to keep our overhead under control.

However, we are now trying to raise money to make FIR better. Some of our new projects are: putting up the archives, all 50+ years of them; a new design for the site; competitions in which readers reap film-related gifts, and more reviews.

If you love FIR, which is a national treasure of a publication, and feel like donating to our ongoing efforts, please do. In the meantime, we struggle along, providing you with the unique insights of our creative staff.

SO LONG, ROBIN

Robin Little presents D.W. Griffith Award to Roy Frumkes

My predecessor as FIR editor was Robin Little, a feisty blond lady who undertook more than I could ever have, and spun a lovely digest-sized publication out of her rambling apartment on 72nd Street in Manhattan. Her background in the publishing world served her well. She was practically a one-woman editorial machine.

I’d been writing articles and reviews for her for many years before, in 1984, Robin was instrumental in my receiving a D.W. Griffith Award (as it was known then) for my docu-drama, BURT’S BIKERS, and immediately thereafter asked me if I would like to co-produce the annual Awards Ceremony, which I did for a decade, working with the likes of Paul Newman, Bette Davis, Sean Connery, Sidney Poitier, Richard Widmark, Morgan Freeman (who spearheaded, via some friendly-but-pointed remarks, the Award’s name-change to the “NBR’s”), Tony Randall, Shirley Temple, Jimmy Stewart, Hume Cronyn and Jessica Tandy, Jose Ferrer, and many, many others. I’ve got a book-load of stories about those years. Or at least a great chapter.

I often met Robin for lunch at a Greek Restaurant on 2nd Avenue near 72nd, where we would talk movies and FIR, and she would nurse a glass of white wine or two or three. I would indulge in at least one glass myself, and I can’t say that I clearly remember the exact nature of all those discussions. I wish I did.

Robin passed away this Summer, and all of us at FIR, and in the National Board of Review of Motion Pictures, will long remember her contribution to the organization and the magazine.

KENNETH ANGER

Special mention goes to Fantoma for enduring the financial and emotional hardships that must have dogged them to completion of the two-volume collection of alternative (he dislikes the word ‘experimental’) filmmaker Kenneth Anger, whose short works on film influenced Marty Scorsese, me, and who knows how many other filmmakers throughout the 40s, 50s, and 60s. The second volume, recently released, contains yet another, nearly brand-new film by the maverick filmmaker who, now deep into his 70s, continues to create his visions for us.

These collections are among the most important we have been given in recent years of a major film artist’s work which, not being studio vaulted, were always in danger of perishing. Anger supplies commentary tracks for the marvelously-remastered films. For me, his crowning achievement is SCORPIO RISING (1965). Oddly, he doesn’t address how daring SCORPIO was, coming out in that period. I caught it at the Bleeker Street Cinema where it was being touted as the first theatrically booked film to show male frontal nudity in the U.S. It didn’t matter if you were gay or straight – you simply had to see it for its cutting edge impact. The glimpses were fleeting, but exciting – subliminal cuts, really. On the disc, far better balanced for exposure (J) than it was even at the Bleeker Street, there’s more frontal nudity to be seen. (And then there’s the stop-frame function…) But Anger never talks about that aspect of the film during his commentary, dwelling rather on the serendipity involved with the appearance of much of the source material. Also, I wasn’t aware that someone actually died on camera, which is even more impressive than the frontal nudity, and lends something grim and satanic to the proceedings – a kind of negative serendipity, if you will. Anger, with his Aleister Crowley connections, would understand and appreciate the compliment, I’m sure.

DREAMING DREAMS NO MORTAL EVER DARED TO DREAM BEFORE

The night before my dear friend Curtis Harrington passed away I dreamt of him for the first time in ages. Curtis was hosting one of those intimate parties in that rambling pink house of his that towered above the Hollywood freeway off Vine way. I seemed to be helping him with small chores, going from room to room looking for objects as he followed close behind advising as to where things belonged. It was an odd dream as Curtis seemed tired and complained that his house would fill up with people he really didn’t seem to know. “My library is full of strangers” he said at one point, and then I woke up.

The next morning I received the news that Curtis Harrington had died during the night in his sleep within the very house I had helped put in order in my dream. During that terrible moment reality as I knew it vanished long enough to release a flood of emotions, allowing forgotten memories to flow like Poe’s “rapid river” through my mind. For nearly thirty years this man had been a witness to my life. Curtis attended every party I ever gave during that time and I was likewise a guest in his home over the years. Both of us shared the same passion for vintage films, making our friendship easy to maintain as we were always running into one another at screenings around town. In fact one of the last events he attended before his death was my photo exhibition “NEVERMORE” at the end of 2006 honoring the Poe films of Roger Corman. Curtis was a lifelong admirer of Poe with Roger as a mentor who, besides hiring Curtis to direct two features during his career, lovingly paid for a day’s location shooting for Curtis’s final film USHER.

It was this sincere passion for film that made Curtis so easy to like. Never once was I compelled to treat him like a celebrity, which he truly was in Hollywood society.
The reason being Curtis was a Movie fan first, last and always. Before he began directing films he spent a lifetime watching them in his home town of Beaumont, near Palm Springs. It was there as a child that he began a love affair with horror films and weird fiction thanks to the town library and a local drug store that was always well stocked with WEIRD TALES and BLACK CAT MYSTERIES.

In the summer of 1973 I was still a junior in college, living in the wilds of San Francisco. One particular evening I happened to be on the look-out for a TV-movie of the week entitled THE CAT CREATURE”, a valiant effort to capture the essence of a Val Lewton film, even to the point of casting veteran actor Kent Smith who had been one of the leads in Lewton’s classic CAT PEOPLE. The director was Curtis Harrington, whose name was already well known to me thanks to many late night viewings of NIGHT TIDE which was his first and perhaps best foray into feature filming making, and also an homage to Val Lewton, with a mermaid filling in for the character of the cat woman. At the time I was preparing a trip to Los Angeles to interview Robert Bloch, always tops in his field, whose contributions to weird fiction and Hitchcock’s legacy were already legendary. Robert had written the screenplay for Harrington’s TV movie, thus setting the stage for my first real taste of “classic Hollywood” and a friendship that would last a lifetime. The Bloch’s lived in the Hollywood hills in one of those houses that you drove past with no sidewalks so it was easy to miss unless you knew where you were going. Robert and his wife “Ellie” were the nicest people you could hope to meet in a town not known for its hospitality. Bob had arranged for me to meet the director of his movie of the week the second day I was in town at a screening for the infamous “Count Dracula Society”. The film we saw that day was Tod Browning’s FREAKS, which turned out to be not only one of Bob’s favorite films, but Curtis’s as well. I was totally unprepared for meeting a film director who was such an ardent movie fan. Curtis was so unassuming and modest in his demeanor that he seemed like an old friend from the moment we met. The first thing I remember Curtis saying to me after the film was “Can you imagine what it was like for stars like Harlow and Gable to see these strange deformed people wandering around the soundstages of MGM in 1932?” This was followed by that great unmistakable laugh of his that I would hear off and on like the bells of Poe’s famous poem for the next thirty years.

I would not spend time with Curtis again until late in 1977. By then I was already living in Beverly Hills and about to start a new career as a theatrical agent. This situation made it possible for me to invite Curtis to parties and screenings for a change, to try and return the many kindnesses he showed me when I was still new to the Hollywood social scene. One of my favorite hang-outs at that time was the Backlot Theater located behind the gay disco STUDIO ONE in West Hollywood. One of my best friends was a silver-haired young man named Steve Applegate who managed the showroom, and it was through him I arranged for Curtis to see such veterans of the silver screen as Geraldine Fitzgerald who was beautifully introduced on her opening night by her co-star Bette Davis. Afterwards we went backstage to see this amazing lady who recalled her days at Warner Bros with Peter Lorre and Sidney Greenstreet during the filming of THREE STRANGERS. She was very impressed with Lorre, who she said was a real intellectual, and with what a lady’s man Sidney was in spite of his size: “Sidney was a favorite client at every whorehouse in Hollywood. Those ladies always called him a “gent.””

Curtis Harrington with James Whale

The actress who performed there next was none other than the Bride of Frankenstein, the sublime Elsa Lanchester. Curtis was thrilled to see this eccentric film icon camp her way through an evening of bawdy ballads she made famous in the English music halls of the nineteen twenties. The highlight of the evening however was a special selection of clips from THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN, followed by some very strange “home movies” of Elsa and her late husband Charles Laughton taken during their early days together in Hollywood. This was a magical night indeed as we went backstage where Curtis shared with Elsa some of the times he had spent with the great director of FRANKESTEIN James Whale. She seemed amazed that anyone would have known Whale after he quit making films in the late thirties. “Charles worked with him on THE OLD DARK HOUSE with Boris before we did THE BRIDE. I seem to recall having James to tea a few times after that, as well as attending some of his parties. Then we just lost touch as one tends to do in this business.” Elsa was a hard one to read, very eccentric, though for that evening she was on her best behavior and, being a trouper, she signed autographs and seemed more than pleased that her fame was assured thanks to a role of a lifetime, rather than just being the Bride of another monster – however sacred – the difficult and brilliant Charles Laughton.

Anger, Del Valle and Harrington

The years from 1977 through 1983 were filled with what now seems like an endless wrap party for DAY OF THE LOCUST, and my friendship with Curtis Harrington was a major factor in all of it… It was during this period that I got to know Shelley Winters who acted for Curtis on two occasions. Curtis would organize parties around her and we would all find ourselves sitting on the floor around this ornate loveseat in his living room as Miss Winters held court from her throne, she loved to be the center of attention at all times and why not, she was a big bad mamma after all. Curtis always got a laugh from the candid observation our mutual friend Barbara Steele made regarding Winters (whom she knew from her time in Hollywood as the second wife of screenwriter James Poe): “Shelley Winters is the kind of woman who would begin a conversation with you, then go to the bathroom and leave the door open.”

We have much to celebrate this season of ’07. I’m not really a pessimist, but there are intimations of Armageddon drawing closer and closer, so let’s enjoy life – and to me that means enjoyable gatherings in front of a widescreen monitor luxuriating in the glow of DVDs – tothe fullest. There’ve also been some events in NYC that have drawn me outside the comfort of my living room…

On Saturday, February 3rd, Ennio Morricone came to Radio City Music Hall. Amazingly, the maestro has never played NYC before, nor has he performed live anywhere in the United States since his debut in 1961 – although The National Board of Review of Motion Pictures presented him with a Career Achievement award several years ago. With over 400 films scores under his belt, the tireless composer took the stage to thunderous applause, and after a concert that included ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA, THE GOOD, THE BAD AND UGLY theme (with Soprano Susanna Rigacci providing the mythic wail), ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, A FISTFUL OF DYNAMITE (aka DUCK YOU SUCKER), TG, TB&TU’s ‘THE ECSTASY OF THE GOLD’, QUEMADA, IL CLAN DEI SICILIANI, and THE MISSION, he came back out for three encores. It was fascinating to finally see how he achieved the striking effects his scores are known for.

Back in ’81, I was working on my film BURT’S BIKERS, which has a twelve-minute third act entirely dependent on music. My producer, Sukey Raphael, contacted Morricone in Italy to see if he would consider scoring the film. We hit an immediate snag because though he answered the phone and listened patiently to her plea, he didn’t speak English, so the following week we called again, this time with an Italian translator. We had wanted excerpts from his pre-existing scores, but he explained that he didn’t own the rights to those. However, given our film’s theme, about handicapped children, he offered to write an original score for free. It was an amazing offer, but the specter of
communication problems, and his being a continent away, finally persuaded us to look elsewhere.

(left to right) Kenneth Anger, Rocco Simonelli, FIR's editor, Kenneth's (now-deceased) friend Ray Schnitzer. 1997

The DVD release to beat this year is Fantoma’s two-volume collected works of KENNETH ANGER, our country’s foremost experimental filmmaker, though he adamantly told me he didn’t care for that appellation. The first volume is out, and long-time acquaintance of Anger’s, Camp David’s David Del Valle, reviews it elsewhere on this site.

In 1968 I worked on my first feature film as Co-Producer (un-credited) and Assistant Director (the first time, I’m told, an AD credit ever graced a one-sheet) – THE PROJECTIONIST (Image Entertainment). Two films influenced the style of TP as far as director Harry Hurwitz and I were concerned: D.W. Griffith’s 1916 INTOLERANCE, and Kenneth Anger’s SCORPIO RISING. I was glad to see Martin Scorsese’s glowing tribute in the DVD booklet. For an ‘experimental’, limited release work (I caught it at midnight at the Bleeker Street Cinema in Manhattan), it has had major reverberations throughout the industry. It was also heralded as the first incidence of frontal male nudity in theatrical release in the US, though you’ll probably need your stop-frame button to make the most of that element.

And anyway, SCORPIO RISING’s going to be in Volume Two. As to Volume One, when I was the head of the Tulane University Film Society back in the mid-60s, I scheduled a program of experimental films, of which FIREWORKS (in Volume One) was on the list. The day of the show, I was informed by a staff committee which had viewed the films, that Anger’s film could not be shown due to its sexually graphic subject matter. A group of perhaps two hundred people showed up for the event, including children (since one of our ‘experimental’ choices was the ‘Rites of Spring’ sequence from FANTASIA) and I couldn’t bear to face them, so I sent a friend – Terence Adams – up on stage to announce the bad news, which he did by standing quietly until he had their attention, then announcing: “Scratch number 7…” and quietly leaving the stage. Then, in the spirit that has pervaded some of my films over the years since, I locked myself in the projection booth and showed it anyway, getting in some hot water as a result.

Several years ago I had the great pleasure of inviting Kenneth Anger to present the ‘Alternative Film Award’ to the winning student at the School of Visual Arts annual “Dusty’s” ceremony, celebrating the best films from the graduating class. Anger stayed in my apartment while he was in town, which was quite an honor. That evening he wore an off-white suit, looked spectacular, and when he arrived at the theater, it was the faculty that lined up to meet him. He gave a spirited speech, extolling the students to ‘Go for it!

VOOM’s Monster’s HD channel is doing a month long Monster Marathon, and as part of the line-up, on February 15th, they’re broadcasting High Definition versions of the three CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON films. You should all tune in. It won’t be in 3-D, but High Def is probably a better way to see them, since those early experiments with the red-green glasses were unevenly successful at best.

The Gill-Man was the best monster outfit of all time. Better than The Mummy, better than the aliens from INVASION OF THE SAUCER MEN, better than THE MONSTER OF PIEDRAS BLANCAS (where’s that DVD, by the way!?!), or THE ASTOUNDING SHE MONSTER, both inspired by it. I don’t include Karloff’s Frankenstein’s monster, or Lugosi’s Dracula, or Chaney Jr.’s The Wolfman, since those weren’t body suits. Okay, maybe the sexy female robot from METROPOLIS tied it for first place, but in the sound
era, the Creature takes the prize.

Ricou Browning (left) and Makeup Artist Bud Westmore.

The Creature came alive via three (I guess you would call them) stunt men: Swimmer Ricou Browning, who did the difficult underwater sequences, and land-based Ben Chapman and Tom Hennesy, whose heights (approximately 6 ft 4 in) were required, topside, to make the creature look particularly menacing.

This is probably not Ricou Browning, but it's a great still of the Creature outfit.

I had the extreme pleasure of chatting with Ricou Browning this week – and I mean extreme, since the second installment in the series – REVENGE OF THE CREATURE (1955, 82 mins, Universal-International) was the favorite film of my youth, so much so that I was determined, when I got old enough to start making films myself, to make them all 82 minutes in length in homage to my beloved REVENGE (I had a 16 mm print
which I ran repeatedly to the utter distraction of family and friends).

I came close to duplicating the running length, but never quite pulled it off: THE PROJECTIONIST (which I didn’t direct) ran 85 minutes, DOCUMENT OF THE DEAD came closest at 84 minutes, BURT’S BIKERS’ first final cut was 78 mins, but when we decided to release it direct to TV, we trimmed it to 55. STREET TRASH was 101 mins, THE SWEET LIFE was 85 mins, and THE MELTDOWN MEMOIRS was 2 hrs. 4 mins. There were two versions of THE COMEBACK TRAIL, and I don’t know what they were, but they weren’t 82 mins. But there’s still time…

I didn’t gush about my fixation on REVENGE to Mr. Browning – other than to say I loved it during a pivotal time in my childhood – as he seemed a serious person who had moved on as quickly as he could to producing directing, and running the Ivan Tors Studio in Florida. But he responded to my questions at times with an enthusiasm suggesting vivid
emotional memories of those early days in Florida, LA, the Bahamas and elsewhere, working with dolphins, sea lions, a killer whale, and directors more difficult than all of those sea creatures combined (Mike Nichols on DAY OF THE DOLPHIN for example) and friendly guys as well (Jack Arnold – helmer of two of the CREATURE features, and Terence Young, director of THUNDERBALL).

What was it like, I wondered, wearing, and swimming in, that studio-manufactured full-body creature outfit? “It was kind of like swimming in your overcoat, but the more I did it, the more I got used to it. It was like wearing a football uniform for the first time; once
you start playing the game you don’t know you have it on. It didn’t keep you warm, like a wet suit; I got colder than hell. We shot in the wintertime on the first movie. The weather was in the 30s, the water was 71 degrees, and we shot all day long, in and out of the water. Jim Havens, the second unit director on the first one, directed my scenes, and he couldn’t swim. He had an inner-tube, and he’d get in it with a face mask and look down in the water. The cameraman, Scotty Welbourne, also did some directing under the water. He built the housings for the two 3-D cameras, which were placed beside each other, and they flooded twice, and had to be overhauled overnight to have them ready to go the next day.”

A detail which fascinated me was the way the creature breathed. “You mean the gills moving? They had a little bulb you held in your hand, and it would go up the suit into the gills, and you would squeeze it, and it would make the gills move.” Commenting further on the realism of the suit, he added, “There were no promotional appearances when the
films came out, because they didn’t want people to know the creature was a human being.”

Browning later doubled Frank Sinatra in LADY IN CEMENT, and directed the sequences involving the shark, and he found the actor very professional. “When they called him, he wanted to work, and if they weren’t ready, he just turned around and walked away. Very
professional…and very nice.”

As someone who has worked more with dolphins than probably anyone but Dr. Lilly , I was curious about what his feelings were about these unique creatures. “As far as their intelligence is concerned, I think we have yet to scratch the surface. When you’re training them, you see them thinking, which scares you. They’re a very strong animal, and you have to be careful handling them. When they don’t want to do something, they’re like a cat, very independent, and you let them do what they want. You film at their pace. They never really get to know you, like a dog does. The only association you have with a dolphin is when you’re in the water with it. The navy supposedly used dolphins as weapons, and after five years training Flipper, I can assure you that you could train a dolphin to kill somebody very easily. I’m sure you could make a good horror film with them.”

In all the films, there’s a scene where the creature swims below the leading lady, spinning around and around, almost in sexually ecstasy. This was Browning’s idea, as was the incredible sequence where the creature captures the Ibis in REVENGE OF THE CREATURE at Chapter 3 on the Universal Home Entertainment DVD. “The creature’s gotta eat; why not have him grab a bird. And so we got a tame bird, and I grabbed that sucker, pulled him under water, didn’t hurt him, and let him back up, and that was it.” The scene completely establishes the reality of the creature’s world. “There was an animal guy who had all kinds of birds, and that’s the one we used. The bird didn’t know I was coming. I took him out in the water, set him on the log, ducked under, popped up and dragged him down.”

“Evil Dead the Musical” is spewing blood into the air nightly at the New World Stages on 50th Street off 8th Avenue in Manhattan, and if you’re an EVIL DEAD lover, a Bruce Campbell lover, a musical-comedy lover, or just love a raucous stage experience, you must catch this show.

Based on Sam Raimi’s immortal film trilogy, the play slathers homage upon homage, evoking a spirit of great fun, using the alchemic possibilities of the stage every bit as well as PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, but retains the intimacy of LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS, and that play’s kinetic sense of audience participation. Ryan Ward is a fabulous ‘Ash’, conjuring Bruce Campbell’s legendary performance both in physical appearance, vocal deliverance, and physicality. He also, if one is willing to journey further back than Campbell’s ethos, evokes Ray Bolger‘s awkward, limbs-askew poetry. The supporting cast that swirls around him are all terrific, sexy, game to take physical
chances,.. An ensemble worthy of re-visitation. The second act climax – which is what the plastic bags that the first three rows are supplied with are for – sends the audience into a frenzy of screaming laughter.

The score is not memorable, but never boring, and works its wonders while you’re in the midst of it. However, special mention must be made to the use of that breakaway stage. I don’t know, really, who to single out, so: David Gallo (Scenic Design), Louis Zakarian (Special Effects & Makeup Design), B.H. Barry (Fight Choreographer), Michael Laird (Sound Effects Design), Hinton Battle (Co-directed & Choreographed by). You should follow these folks from play to play.

Photo by Nia Mora

And then there’s “Stairway to Hell,” a rock-shock show evolving in clubs around Manhattan, currently at Snitch Lounge in West Chelsea. The story concerns a rock band that dies and goes to heaven…much to their horror. They’d all been hoping for an eternity in hell, and use every decadent means at their disposal to convince the devil to take them back out through the pearly gates and deposit them where they belong.

It’s loud, rude, sexy, vile, has a few profane surprises I won’t reveal, but one of them outdoes “Evil Dead The Musical” for what stage denizens are willing to perpetrate on the audience… And the audience is a young, loud, sexy gang…not unlike their counterparts on stage. Since it’s changing venues week by week, you should check them out, I think,
at www.myspace.com/warthogsth, or call Associate Producer David Delzio at 917-279-7427.

Incidentally the rock group – WARTHOG – includes three members of NYFC cult favorite 80s metal band, ‘Cities’; it’s their first reunion in over two years, as guitarist Steve Mironovich was only recently released from jail, and ‘Twisted Sister’ drummer, AJ Pero, appears fresh off the ‘Twisted Christmas Tour.” So you’re not just dealing with any metal cover band here; these are the real dudes and dishes. Also slinking around the premises the night I was in attendance was the ever-sensual Nia Mora, ace photographer, one of whose shots accompanies this review with her kind permission. Myself, I might just have been out of my element. One of the female band members was stroking my alpaca sweater and I thought for a moment fate was drifting in my direction until she remarked – referencing said garment – that it gave her her fond memories of the Bill Cosby show… Yeah, I guess I was just a decade behind the times…

I was also concerned at not having brought along ear-plugs, but my fears were unwarranted; within two days my hearing had returned completely to normal.

(Fantoma)

There is a moment in Ken Russell’s film of THE MUSIC LOVERS where Madame von Meck is commenting on Tchaikovsky’s destructive lifestyle as his friend and patron. “I don’t care if he chooses to stumble through life like a blind man, what does it matter. His music will live on long after my estates. We must help him if we can.” I always think of these words when the subject of Kenneth Anger comes up in conversation these days.

Our editor Roy Frumkes sent me the DVD boxed set that Fantoma recently released of the first five of Kenneth’s short films, complete with a 48-page booklet including an appreciation by Martin Scorsese, some storyboards from the productions themselves, and an excerpt from Anais Nin’s diary regarding her participation in the pleasure dome. This collection will undoubtedly pave the way for a full-scale revival of Kenneth Anger and his work, and it is about time.

The very good news is this is a masterful DVD presentation with newly restored prints of FIREWORKS (1947) – the debut of a master film maker seeing his life, past, present and future, RABBIT MOON (1950) – Cocteau interplayed by Anger on a gorgeous dreamscape , PUCE MOMENT (1949) – Douglas Sirk on acid, EAUX d’ ARTIFICE (1953) – a stunning and wondrous work of art, and INAUGURATION OF THE PLEASURE DOME (1954) – where Gods and mortal lovers roam.

Each and every film is presented with a commentary by Anger, who is both thorough and candid without resorting to gossip, remaining true to the films in describing how they came to be made, and the circumstances surrounding the filming of each production. Since Kenneth cannot finish with any of his work completely, there is a disclaimer before each “version” of what you are about to see, however these are definitive prints, make no mistake, as no other company will likely go through what Fantoma did to insure this superb presentation of Anger’s genius.

The professionalism Kenneth displayed on these commentary tracks was quite surprising, since it could have just as easily gone the other way. I thank whatever sublime forces were at work on the days these tracks were recorded to insure that he was in the right mood and space to get it right, and he did just that, making this boxed set all the more precious as a document of his talent.

In time, only the films themselves will survive, allowing Kenneth Anger’s art, and not his reputation, to be restored to the lofty pedestal the gods of cinema have bestowed on this artist, who single-handedly reinvented the American avant-garde cinema as we know it in the 21st Century.

His hallucinatory non-narrative film-making, based on several variations of influences both subversive and childlike – everything from Aleister Crowley to Mickey Mouse – has been recycled into the decayed dreamscape of Kenneth Anger’s personal vision. Yet isn’t it remarkable that he has such an impact with less than three hours of film over the past three decades. This first boxed set clocks in at just under an hour and a half, with part two to follow, which will include the amazing LUCIFER RISING.

Kenneth Anger regards his films as forces of nature with real power to transform and invoke primal forces that can affect the audience as well as the film-maker — the film- maker as terrorist if you will. ‘Film itself is an evil medium and as a director of film I am creating evil from it.” The demons of film that could destroy those who cross their path was well documented in his infamous ‘Babylon” books about Hollywood scandal and excesses.

Those of us who know him personally usually find it impossible to think of him as this iconic personality or maverick film-maker, when in reality his persona is more in keeping with the most negative creature you can imagine on earth. I have been told time and again by countless people that have crossed his path what dark and malevolent vibes he puts out. Kenneth literally wills all this darkness and negativity to surround him, creating a depression that must be a Hell unto itself. The impossibility of happiness and the bliss of despair… welcome to the pleasure dome.

To even begin to describe his day-to-day way of living is to envision the creature from LORD OF THE RINGS that follows Frodo to the mountain of doom, looking for the “precious, precious.” Kenneth has allowed his own hatred to devour him from within. For me it would be akin to having known Wagner personally and having to keep secret the knowledge that he is an anti-Semitic-Satanist-vampire. In fact I think Ken Russell had something to say about that as well in LISTOMANIA.

I had managed, much to my own surprise, to maintain a friendship with Kenneth Anger for over 25 years, from New York to Hollywood, In fact he stayed in my apt in Beverly Hills while he worked on the second Babylon book. In those days his personality was decidedly Jekyll/Hyde, most of his time with me being on the side of the good doctor, so we managed quite nicely.

By the time Fantoma started this DVD project, Kenneth was living in a small cottage in a rough Hispanic neighborhood which he detested. Having lived so many years in New York, he never drove a car, so the transit system also became his bete noir. All of this made him less and less able to cope with his fame; he had no money to live the way he could have if he had sold out to commercialism all those years ago.

There were many times during the preparation of this project that I feared Fantoma would pull out. There were Kenneth’s demands for more money and, far more seriously, the obstacles of finding all the elements from a film-maker who perpetually moved on, leaving his possessions with first one person and then another on two continents, things tending to get lost.

Kenneth once described his situation to me by comparing himself with fellow avant-garde film-maker Curtis Harrington: ‘Curtis is a miser and I am a spendthrift; that is why he lives in a mansion and I am on the street.” Kenneth could never have had the life Harrington chose for himself, working for producers like Jerry Wald within the studio system, and can you imagine Kenneth Anger directing an episode of DYNASTY?

Well, as Madame von Meck said earlier ‘let him stumble through life like a blind man,” he is still Kenneth Anger, who has spent his life living in Hell, but filling the screen with art, beauty, and most of all, magic.

“ANGER OVER HOLLYWOOD”

As the year begins to unwind, we witness the departure of Kenneth Anger for Paris as he begins a new chapter in this surreal saga we have come to know as “Babylon in Progress”. Long a critic of all things “Hollywood”, Kenneth made his plans known on Halloween night 2004. Camp David wishes him “bon chance” as France plays host to the elder statesman of the avant-garde

“IN YOUR FACE”

One of the films on my must-see list has always been Sam Fuller’s revisionist western FORTY GUNS with Barbara “The Whip” Stanwyck. A brand new print surfaced a few weeks ago at the Aero Theater in Santa Monica, the second Cinema used to run prints for the American Cinematheque this season.

The stud as it were

FORTY GUNS was presented by director Guy Maddin, who cited the western as a major influence on him as a youth living in Canada. Also present at the screening was actor Gene Barry and his noisy wife. Barry had a secondary role in the film and, as it turned out, had not seen it since it was made! Camp David’s editor was seated in front of the pair during the screening and has this to report: GB’s wife kept a running commentary of the film in spite of several patrons telling her to please respect the fact that others were trying to watch the film and reminding her that they were not at home in front of their own ‘Big Screen’. Mrs. Barry could have cared less and made sure her hubby was aware just how sexy she thought he was in FORTY GUNS at every opportunity, saying out loud “Oh, Gene you are such a stud!… Oh Gene you are really so handsome!” Bear in mind that Mr. Barry is now in his 70’s,with his basic animal husbandry well behind him. She had to keep Gene abreast of the action as his attention span ended when he wasn’t on screen.

Gene Barry today

At one point early in the proceedings Barry asked how much his wife paid for the junior mints and when she replied $3.50 Gene yelled “Don’t they know who I am?” Never did he comment on any of the other actors except one, whom he reminded his wife he put in the film and kept him working as the years wore on. Midway through the film his character dies, and at that point Mrs. Barry exclaimed, “Oh Gene, there goes the film!” I had always been told Gene Barry was a Prima Donna and he did not disappoint, nor did his number one fan, the ever-present Mrs. B!

Fortunately the same can also be said for FORTY GUNS, which contains the scene in which Barry Sullivan offers his gun to Stanwyck as she asks, “Can I hold it?” Without missing a beat Sullivan replies “Careful it might go off in your face!” Now that’s a western if you ask me!!!

Barbara La Timide

“WHITMAN’S SAMPLER”

Cult Queen Barbara Steele honored Camp David recently with an exclusive bit of gossip regarding her old friend Stuart Whitman concerning the impending marriage of one of his four sons. It seems that Justin Whitman has asked one of Dallas, Texas’s richest young ladies, Kimberly Schlegel, to be his wife. (Stuart is Godfather to Barbara’s only son by the late screenwriter James Poe.) Justin had spent some of his youth in Switzerland learning hotel management, only to relocate to Big D and try his hand at investments, as it were… Stuart’s-ex, Carolina, has long resided in Paris in great style! Barbara is a favorite houseguest when in the City of Lights, and with real Horror-Queen aplomb exclaims, “Carolina’s phone nevah evah stops ringing! She is connected to ALL that is important in the Vanity Fair orbit she inhabits!”

Barbara was simply beside herself as she related the upcoming event to be held in Dallas, as literally thousands of bridesmaids, grooms and choirboys make their way to Big D! “It will be bigger than any wedding this year; even the President may attend!” “Anyone I know would kill to be there!!” “Who knows I might just meet a millionaire or two myself!” Barbara will be seated next to former neighbor Nick Dunne, that’s Dominick to those of you not in the social register these days. Stuart himself is no stranger to wealth, as his personal fortune is well over $100 million. Barbara had a laugh as she noted that the only person Stuart had invited was his accountant! “He used to be my accountant but I fired him in a weak moment over some minor detail!” Justin will have his pick of locations to operate his new investments, as the new Mrs. Whitman is also well connected.

Steele asks advice for wedding trip

“DEE-LOVELY”

The passing of Sandra Dee was a sad occasion that marked the end of an era and on a rather personal note for me as our paths crossed a year ago. I found myself at Cedars-Sinai emergency waiting with several other people to see a doctor. Sitting in a wheelchair DIRECTLY ACROSS FROM ME was a very frail woman with a coiffed hairdo who looked very confused and rather tired. The nurse called out the name” Dee” twice and then this time “Dee… Sandra Dee?… No one seemed to make the connection except me, of course. I watched as she was wheeled past me and a dozen images went with her….moments with Lana Turner and Bobby Darin as well as the last film I remembered, THE DUNWICH HORROR, with a very stoned-looking Dean Stockwell. It was a moment I will always think of as she past me on her way to yet another appointment all of which came to a very premature end a few weeks ago with her death at age 62. I was happy to know that Sandra Dee lived to see a film made about her life with Bobby Darin and that she knew how loved she was by her fans. Farewell to a beautiful and talented lady.

As March goes out like a lion, yours truly will take stage center to introduce two very entertaining films at the Egyptian on the 26th. The American Cinematheque honors the late Vincent Price with new 35mm prints of HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL and THE TINGLER. Price enjoyed his association with William Castle, whose gimmicks made him the talk of the day in Horrorwood. Camp David’s own saw both films first-run and will recount the effect it caused on the monster kids of the time. The rest of you go out and rent Joe Dante’s wonderful MATINEE to get the picture.

Camp David extends a warm get well to director Curtis Harrington who is now at home recovering from a hospital stay from a stroke. Feel better Curtis!!

Until next time, may all your nightmares be in 70mm.

The events of September 11th made this column almost irrelevant as everything except the basic fundamentals of living seemed trivial and ultimately without meaning. Fortunately, life must go on and I feel that in order for us to truly persevere in this moment of darkness we must carry on with our lives as best we know how. It is in that spirit that I begin this column for this Brave New World.

The Silverlake Film Festival was a welcome event coming when it did and it reunited me with an old colleague, filmmaker Kenneth Anger. After seeing him at the closing night party on the grounds of the fabulously decaying mansion of silent film great Antonio Moreno, we exchanged phone numbers and promised to catch up the next day. Moreno’s estate, now called The Paramour, bedazzles the visitor with a spectacular 360-degree view of the City of the Angels.

Kenneth called me promptly the next morning and invited me to visit him on what turned out to be my birthday and the story he was compelled to relate not only is the most bizarre take on the WTC disaster but confirms one’s belief in prophecy this side of Nostradamus.

It is a well-documented fact that for a period of time in the late Sixties, Kenneth Anger was the official astrologer and flavor of the month for the Rolling Stones. Mick Jagger composed music for one of Kenneth’s films (INVOCATION OF MY DEMON BROTHER, 1969) and Keith Richards relied on Kenneth’s reputation as a Magus. Keith’s lady, Anita Pallenberg, was already considered a black queen in occult circles but did not impress Kenneth in the least.

The story I am about to tell involves a weekend in late 1969 in which Anita was out of the UK. Kenneth and Keith were on their own at the palatial estate Richards leased at the time.

Keith owned a large black alchemist’s stone, smooth and shiny, with a depth that depending on how stoned one was could produce a hallucinogenic effect. Both men were using opium and perhaps a bit of LSD and Keith decided to work on a song that had been overwhelming his subconscious. He told Kenneth “I’m writing this song for you although after it’s finished the tabloids will say it was for Anita. But you will always know better.”

As Keith worked on committing this tune to paper, the two men, very high, began staring into the onyx stone and it was at this point that Keith remarked he was seeing drops of blood, bright red drops of human blood accentuated by the velvet blackness of the stone. Keith then went into a vision and told Kenneth that at the beginning of the New Millennium, a terrible catastrophe would occur. He saw high towers raining blood but could make no more sense of it except to say it was in the distant future, and that the 21st Century would have a very dark cloud over its beginnings.

At this point Richards returned to the song he was working on. And Kenneth would never forget what his friend had seen in his vision.

Flash forward to Tuesday morning, September 11th. Kenneth awoke at 6:30 AM (Los Angeles time) and as was his ritual, welcomed the sun. He felt compelled to go to his Aleister Crowley Tarot deck. At this point, Kenneth reminded me that the Tarot cannot tell your own future but on a broader scale can predict world events. As he laid the cards before him, The Tower appeared followed ultimately by the Death card.

Kenneth has never owned a television in his life. But at that moment he knew he had to be near one. He raced down the street to a little market where he purchased his daily breakfast of freshly squeezed orange juice and knew the owners kept a small television over the cash register. It was there in the early hours of September 11th that Kenneth Anger realized the prophecy in Keith Richards’ landmark tune that achieved worldwide acclaim as “Ruby Tuesday.”

Mann’s Chinese is not the only location in Tinseltown for immortalizing one’s footprints and signatures. The Vista Theatre, a Los Angeles landmark from the Twenties, has been lovingly restored to its original luster and has been a functioning cinema for some time. For the second year in a row it has created its own ceremony by preserving handprints and signatures of such off-the-wall celebrities as Kenneth Anger, Mary Woronov, Penelope Spheeris, Ray Harryhausen, Elvira (Mistress of the Dark) and as of the other day, the cast of both HOUSE and NIGHT OF DARK SHADOWS. The klieg lights scanned the night as Lara Parker, David Selby and John Karlen held court in front of the Vista. The theatre and its foreground are Egyptian Deco in design and look absolutely ‘breathtaking.’ It was the 30th Anniversary for NIGHT OF DARK SHADOWS and since Halloween was less than a week away the fans stood knee-deep in the evening to see their favorites arrive by limousine and get funky in the cement. It took Selby and company three tries in the gooey stuff to get it right. The year before was the 30th Anniversary for HOUSE OF DARK SHADOWS and with the exception of Jonathan Frid, all were present to do the honors for the first year that the Vista became its own ceremonial shrine.

Sadly Hollywood loses yet another unique personality in the untimely death of actress/comedienne Pat Ast. She was best known for her appearances in such underground fare as Warhol’s HEAT with Joe Dallesandro, REFORM SCHOOL GIRLS (both on stage and in film) and the most unlikely spokesperson for the designer Halston. Pat Ast started in New York and after achieving notoriety there came to Hollywood ready to divide and conquer. She quickly became a staple at parties and befriended both Divine and director/actor Paul Bartel. Pat Ast will be remembered by her legacy of humor and outrageousness.

As we await the opening of Anne Rice’s second film adaptation of her vampire series, QUEEN OF THE DAMNED (incorporating THE VAMPIRE LESTAT), the star of the film Aliyah was tragically killed in a plane crash making the opening more macabre than anything the author could have dreamed of. This film has had so many problems (not just with the script) but with the legion of fans that want it to be on the same level with INTERVIEW. Yet word of mouth has been less than enthusiastic. It seems the studio skimped on the effects and also credibility in taking on two novels and condensing them into one less than coherent piece.

The winner of the year 2001 DVD competition has to be Arts & Entertainment’s spectacular megabox complete collection of THE PRISONER, transferred from impeccable elements with production values beyond compare. It is an utter delight to have this cult classic in its entirety for the first time in the DVD format. Those of you that can’t get enough of Patrick McGoohan will also be pleased that A & E is at the same time releasing SECRET AGENT/DANGER MAN in sets of two discs at a time. Set One is a revelation as these early episodes were not broadcast in the US and are being viewed for the first time in the finest way possible. Run, don’t walk, to your nearest video store and do yourself a favor and grab these treasures while they last! Oh, by the way, to my own Miss Lemon, thanks again for bringing Christmas a little early this year (if you know what I mean!)

Special kudos to Criterion Collection for its definitive release of HAXAN: WITCHCRAFT THROUGH THE AGES. The prints shown include the original with color tints as well as the one narrated by William Burroughs with a modernist score to keep those goblins hip! Silent Danish director Benjamin Christiansen puts his own indelible stamp on the Horned One. This is easily hands-down the most bizarre must-have of all the silent films currently available on DVD.

Yours Truly is represented at the end of this year by appearances in Columbia/Sony’s documentaries included in the DVDs of William Castle’s HOMICIDAL, MR. SARDONICUS and STRAIT JACKET with the Divine Joan due out early 2002. Also following up the Halloween release of BONES starring rapper Snoop Dog and exploitation queen Pam Grier will be the DVD release of the film with a documentary about Italian gothic horror, all of this from the stable of Automat Pictures and Jeffrey Schwartz. Thanks guys for making my return to L.A. so memorable and spooky!

My last words to those of you who have not decided whether or not to travel during this Holiday season, take the advice of CAMP DAVID and go see David Lynch’s MULHOLLAND DRIVE and then get on that plane and do a Naomi Watts and leave your fear behind you. As for me, I’m going to start the New Year with a trip to the Big Apple so remember, we’re all in this together and let’s not let anything spoil that! See you in 2002!