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Professor Kinema Archives

Book Review: Guilty Pleasures
Reviewed by Professor Kinema

Guilty Pleasures of the horror film

As a Cinema Historian, archivist, and collector, I especially enjoy being on just about everyone's mailing list. This results in an influx of catalogues. Always one of my favorites is the latest from the Midnight Marquee Press. Of the many books offered by this small, but dedicated press are two edited by Gary J. Svehla and Susan Svehla called Guilty Pleasures of the Horror Film and Son of Guilty Pleasures of the Horror Flim

The Kinema Archives houses many periodicals from the house of Gary and Susan Svehla. It makes one pine for the days of FanEx when one could visit their table and peruse the piles of literary treasures on display. Like all true MonsterKid-friendly dealers, a bargain could always be gotten. The more one bought, the more one could get a deal and all were interesting and welcome additions to any and all libraries of fantastic literature.

Both Guilty Pleasures books offer interesting insights into B movies such as Rodan, Two Lost Worlds, The Indestructible Man, The Tingler, Frankenstein's Daughter, Robot Monster and Giant Gila Monster among others.

True, as the titles of the books would indicate, as well as the catalogue descriptions state, these are far from cinematic masterpieces. Yet because they are less than perfect (or even good by any sense of the word) they are still fun to watch and entertainingly so. Personal reasons why they are treasured are given in individual essays by authors like Tom Weaver, John Parnum, Gary Don Rhodes and Don Leifert. These reasons ring true. The cover of the first book is a different design than the one housed in the Kinema Archives, but the content is the same.

These two books offer a counterbalance to how these films are written about in other books; mainly 'scholar' Bill Warren's Keep Watching the Skies. The above mentioned films, along with many others, get far less than positive individual treatments in his third (count 'em three) refurbished edition of his work. In a film genre he claims to have a true affection for he finds a variety of truly pseudo-creative ways for trashing them, as well as insulting the 'auteurs' involved.

Truly, one could view these films, research them by consulting previously published accounts and critiques, seek out and interview people involved in the making of them, and offer personal opinion, but determining them to be guilty pleasures provides refreshing insight.

Many of the other book titles offered in the Midnight Marquee Press catalogue, as well as Warren's opus, are all welcome additions to the Kinema Archives, too.

Fantastic Monsters Magazine Club
by Professor Kinema

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In the pre-flea market, pre-yardsale and pre Ebay days of my youth, a truly exciting place to visit and spend my meager allowance was the Farmer's Market. In concept it seemed to exist somewhere between a wholesale produce market and antique barn. One cubicle was always immediately searched out and perused by me. This area contained a variety of notions (such as rubber monster masks, whoopie cushions, kazoos, etc) and back issues of comics and monster magazines. These periodicals always seemed to be in pretty good condition, except for the tops of the front covers. These were savagely removed, probably by something like a box cutter. I was informed later that this was done so the individual dealer, at the time, could return these sliced off sections of the front covers for credit. The rest of the magazines were subsequently sold to vendors, by weight. Then these vendors, who occupied these cubicles in the Farmer's Markets, would in turn re-sell them, usually for the affordable price of 5 cents per copy. This was definitely within my pre-teen budget.

Perusing the monster magazines I first set my eyes on Fantastic Monsters of the Screen. Having regularly purchased copies of FM and CofF for some time before and since, these seemed almost as interesting. For the grand total of 25 cents I bought the first five (of seven total) issues. This was after carefully perusing all of the available copies. All had that cut across the top, with the titles removed, as well as corresponding portions of several pages beneath. The person who wielded the mutilating box cutter was probably in a hurry. For a nickel apiece, I wasn't planning to save these as collectibles but, rather, to further mutilate them. As did many monster magazine readers of the era, my plans for these issues was to remove the illos of the monsters. These, in turn, would either go into some sort of personal album or decorate the walls of my bed room. I wasn't planning to use anything like a box cutter, though.

As was the case in the other monster mags I acquired, the ads towards the back of the issue were of interest. These were pages filled with the usual 'cool stuff' which went beyond what the vendor in the Farmer's Market had for sale. Two small ads were unique. One was for sets of color slides of 'Hollywood Monsters' and the other was for a 50 foot reel of 8mm film and 100 foot reel of 16mm film of 'Filmland Monsters.' Both ads were illustrated with familiar monsters. The ad copy read: See the Hideous Three Eyed Atomic Mutation, the She Creature, the Crawling Claw, the Smashing Awesome Amphibian…and, the Mushroom Monster from Venus! The illos of the slides matched the subjects of the film footage. Both ads had the same address: Golden Eagle Films of Topanga, California. Of all of the items offered for sale in any of the monster magazines I had ever possessed, these interested me most.

FanMo01 However, since it was a year or two past the publication dates of Fantastic Monsters (which appeared between 1962-63) I thought the magazine had stopped publishing, and the company – Golden Eagle Films – had long since gone out of existence, along with all of these precious items.. That was that, I surmised.

A friend, and fellow collector, years later lamented that I should have at least dropped a note to Golden Eagle Films at the Topanga Canyon address and inquired if any of the advertised treasures were still available. Thinking back, I figured what a totally logical and terrific idea. It would have been a 50/50 chance. Paul Blaisdell, editor of Fantastic Magazine and seller of the desired items, still lived in Topanga Canyon. He died there in 1983 at the 'youthful' age of 55.

In the few brief, but pleasant, conversations I had with collector Bob Burns, he told me that along with being an accomplished illustrator, sculptor and model maker, Paul Blaisdel was also an accomplished photographer. He often made photographic records during the planning, constructing and usage of his monstrous creations. His medium included color slides and film, 16mm film and stereoscopic photos. American International allowed him to market any and all color slides that he personally took of his 'creations' as well as a limited amount of the film footage that was used in their feature productions. The limitation was that footage of the creatures could be included as long as the featured players were not. This is what comprised the 5 sets of slides as well as what was featured in the 50ft and 100ft of 8mm & 16mm film – in 'sparkling black and white.'

Had I managed to track down these mail order items they would truly be valued collectibles.

All that would be needed next to create the ultimate collectible package would have been the Fantastic Monsters Club package. This consisted of a 'blood red membership card,' a free monster photo (of a Blaisdell creature, natch), an exclusive member's bulletin complete with a secret message and strange facts, plus a year's subscription to Fantastic Monsters. All this for $3! Including the 5 sets of monster slides @ $1 apiece and the 8mm film @ $2–I would also have had to acquire the 16mm film @ $6–this monsterkid would have had to shell out a grand total of $16 (not counting postage) at the time.

The value of all of this in today's collectibles market? Who knows?

Professor Kinema’s Favorite Movie Toss Off Lines

Theda-bara-cleopatra A Fool There Was (1915)

The Vampire (Theda Bara) to one of her victims: “Kiss me, my Fool!”

Hold Your Man (1933)

Eddy (Clark Gable): “Listen, Sweet Meat, how about you and me getting together tonight, huh?”

Ruby (Jean Harlow): “I like your nerve!”

Eddy: “That ain’t all you’re gonna like. Wait’ll you see how I grow on you.”

Ruby: “Yea, I can imagine, just like a carbuncle.”

A Night at the Opera (1935)

At the beginning of the Stateroom scene, Ravelli (Chico) to Tomasso (Harpo): “Hey Tomasso, wake up, they’re gonna fix-a the bed.”

Room Service (1938)

Miller (Groucho Marx) to Davis (Frank Albertson) introducing Faker (Harpo Marx), who is standing with his mouth agape: “This is Mr England, the brains of the organization. That’ll give you an idea of the organization.”

The Thing From Another World (1951)

Scotty (Douglas Spencer) to Captain Hendry (Kenneth Toby): “Let me get a picture, before someone makes a salad out of him (the Thing).”

La Strada (1954)

The Fool’s (Richard Basehart) final words after a fight with Zampano (Anthony Quinn), while clutching his head: “Hey, you broke my watch!”

Dr Strangelove, or, How I Learned to Stopped Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)

General Ripper (Sterling Hayden): “Mandrake, were you ever a prisoner of war?”

Mandrake (Peter Sellers): “Yes, Jack, I was.”

General Ripper: “Were you tortured, and did you talk?”

Mandrake: “I don’t think they wanted me to talk, really. It was just their way of having a bit of fun, the swine. It’s just that they make such bloody good cameras.”

Bonnie and Clyde (1967)

Clyde (Warren Beatty) to CW (Michael J Pollard): “Go get your pants on, boy. We’re gonna take some pictures.”

Point Blank (1967)

Brewster (Carrol O’Conner) to Walker (Lee Marvin): “This is a corporation, we deal in figures, we never see cash! I’ve got about $11 in my pocket.”

The Flim-Flam Man (1967)

Curley (Michael Sarrazin) to Sheriff Slade (Henry Morgan) about Mordecai Jones’ (George C Scott) release: “Give him his suitcase. He needs it to keep his balance.”

Glen or Glenda’s Dolores Fuller

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From Professor Kinema:

I had a very brief encounter with Dolores Fuller. On camera, during the lensing of a Professor Kinema show, I felt one of the angora sweaters she's worn and passed it around for all to touch. I snapped these two photos of her at a Chiller Convention (shown here and below).

On the table in front of her is a print of a nude photo that Ed Wood himself snapped of her. Conrad Brooks gave me a copy of the photo.

 ZC Note: PK was kind enough to send the photo to me, but it's too risque to show here. 

Bride of the Monster group shot is inscribed by Paul Marco (standing on her right).

 

 

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Attack of the 50-Foot Woman’s
Yvette Vickers

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From Professor Kinema…"I dug deep into my cave and unearthed these photos I took of her a few years ago at a Monster Bash. The first is her signing autographs, the second is the cake they prepared for her, and the third is of her displaying the Playboy centerfold she autographed to me.

Bash0602b "Quel dommage! In the very brief moments I had with her we had a very pleasant talk. She was a sweet person."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yvette Vickers

An Examination of Fahrmann Maria (1936)
and Strangler of the Swamp (1946)

Schmits by Professor Kinema

For all practical purposes a cycle of German films dealing with supernatural themes, beginning with Der Student Von Prag in 1914, ended with Fahrmann Maria (Ferryboat Maria) in 1936. Reaching into folk legends, superstitions, and popular beliefs German filmmakers were fascinated by tales of alchemy, deals with the devil, battles with mythical beings, and, especially, appearances of the personification of Death.

In 1921 Fritz Lang’s film Der Mude Tod (Destiny) featured a character with ashen features dressed in a dark robe: Death itself. The figure of the stranger who appears out of the fog shrouded shadows and is ferried across the river late at night in Fahrmann Maria is a direct descendant of Lang’s Death character.

An occasional twist to these old tales was the concept of Death being defeated (usually through the power of love) and one’s ultimate fate being postponed. Historically, variations on this element carried over a few decades later into Cocteau’s Orpheus and Bergman’s The Seventh Seal.

Frank Wisbar (born Franz Wysbar) was born in Tilsit in 1899. He acquired technical training from Carl Boese and Carl Froelich, and in 1932 directed his first film, Im Banne des Eulenspiegels, (Spell of the Looking Glass). Before directing what is considered his masterpiece, Fharmann Maria, his most noted film was Anna and Elisabeth (1934). The year of this film’s release was the peak year in the history of the German sound film up to the end of World War II, and totaled 147 releases. By this time the National Socialists were in power with Joseph Goebbels appointed as Minister For Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, and filmmakers were suddenly losing their artistic freedoms.

The loss in entertainment value was noted in a New York Times review of the cinema in Berlin (July 2, 1933, IX, 2:2). The reviewer praises Anna and Elisabeth, making special note that it was made before NS control. The reviewer states “…And maybe by next season the cultural politicians (not mentioning Goebbels by name) of the Third Reich will have come to the realization that the public pays money to the box office to be entertained, not to have party publicity crammed down it’s throat.”

Fahrmann maria photo
By the second most proficient year, 1936, with 143 releases, the quality of the German cinema predictably had fallen. Only two features of this batch approached any merit: Die Klugen Fraue, directed by Arthur Maria Rabenalt, and Fahrmann Maria. By 1945 the only other true fantasy film to be produced was Munchausen (1943). This film was presented as a lighthearted, overproduced, purely escapist color extravaganza. No other films of this era explored the darker side of undying love, sacrifice, and death defeated.

Wisbar and several of his associates, described as a group of first-rate Teuton film players, formed a cooperative. It functioned under the banner Pallas-Film GambH. Having interest in folk legend and the supernatural, Wisbar initially planned to make a film titled Der Werewolf, but was halted during production. Had this film completed it would have been one of sound film’s earliest forays into the world of cinematic lycanthropy, predating Universal’s The Werewolf of London (1935). The locale that was to be used, a favorite setting of the director’s, was Luneberger Heath near Hamburg. This heath was appropriately eerie with its watery bogs and foreboding looking poplar trees. Although an ideal setting for a werewolf story, the location would be subsequently used as a setting for a confrontation and resultant struggle with the personification of Death. Traveling far from the studio, Wisbar moved cast and crew here to lens Fahrmann Maria.

Diabolical Professor Kinema Reflections
On Diabolique (1955)

les Diaboliques

by Professor Kinema

Underneath the opening credits is an image of something dark and murky. It is revealed to be a mud puddle in the courtyard of a seedy boarding school for boys just outside of Paris. The dark and murkiness establishes a motif and sets the tone for the story to follow, a tale of mental as well as physical abuse, a plot of murder gone wrong, and all the diabolical intrigue that follows. Much of the cinematic imagery mirroring these elements consist of dimly lit interiors, long shadows and grey exteriors.

Reaching into international film history, one can see the influences for les Diaboliques. A true autéur, director/screenwriter Henri-Georges Clouzot exercises a masterful control of the extreme darks and lights which hark back to the German Expressionism (with surrealism touches) of works like Cabinet of Caligari (1920), Nosferatu (1922) and Warning Shadows (vt, Schatten – Eine nächtliche Halluzination, 1923). The movie’s key shock scenes are the drowning of the abusive husband, his ’dead’ body being transported from the apartment to the swimming pool and his eventual rise from the dead – with totally blank eyes. This is all accomplished in the truest sense of film noir intermingled with heavy doses of le Grande Guinol. The title is translated as either ‘The Devils’ or ‘The Fiends.’ All involved in the diabolical plot can be defined as devils or fiends, for sure. With the retitling for the US release, Diabolique, there is an emphasis on an intangible plot element; something diabolical is going on here. In either interpretation, the title works.

Diabolique The thematic element of placing the setting at a boy’s boarding school, that has definitely seen better days, is reminiscent of Jean Vigo’s Zero de Condiute (Zero For Conduct, 1933). As pre-teen and teenaged schoolboys do, they laugh, joke around, complain, and yet are reluctantly obedient to their adult supervisors. This is played out among these same adults who are experiencing emotional turmoil. While plotting the intrigue that would go with a murder and it’s sinister aftermath, they must function in their every day routines as educators and administrators.

This play between what we, the audience, are shown, what we are told, and, consequently, what we are led to believe is the essence of the suspense of the story. Along with the fragile Christine and stoic Nicole, all present are also victims of the abusive and insulting headmaster Michel. If ever a character in a story was being groomed for elimination, it’s this slick, chain-smoking lothario: students and staff are compelled to dine on bad fish; Christina is humiliated by being forced to swallow this very same bad fish with everyone looking on. Yet, being adolescents, the students rebel by ending up not eating their meal, instead using it for an impromptu food fight. Rebellion is definitely in the works, but it’s not only the students who rebel.

Because of her weak heart, Christina’s physical state is established early on as a ‘petite ruin.’ The question as to whether or not she and Nicole truly managed to murder Michel, or if he’s ‘risen from the dead,’ causes much on-screen tension. Two interesting exchanges containing ‘death’ lines occur in les Diaboliques.

Christina to Nicole: “If only I could die and not see him any more.”

Michel: “Why don’t you dear? Go and die. We‘ll bury you, and good riddance”

Christina and Nicole arguing whether their victim Michael is truly dead:

Nicole: “There’s an explanation for everything, there are no miracles”

Christina: “Each time I shut my eyes – I think I see him come in.

Nicole: “Will you be quiet! He must be in a pretty state by now.”

Christina: “If he’s dead!”

Nicole: “I’ve seen dead people before. Michel is very dead.”

Faces of Boris Karloff
Le Monstre Sacre…Behind the Mask…

Boris Karloff: Le Monstre Sacre, Behind the Mask…Collection Horror Pictures from Gerard Noel faneditions, copyrighted 1989.  I found this digest-sized book in Professor Kinema's Boris Karloff file. Picture comments are in French, by Jean-Claude Michel. (click to enlarge)

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1984 Dark Shadows Festival Program

20110214163142_001 Professor Kinema (Jim Knusch) attended the Dark Shadows Festival of 1984, with Jonathan Frid in attendance. The professor was a guest speaker, delivering a presentation on 'The Cinema of the Vampire." He was an 11th hour replacement for author Leonard Wolf. The convention and Jim are mentioned  in the Dark Shadows chapter (#20) of True Tales of the Unknown, the Uninvited.

Here's the Festival Program (pdf), and Jim's mementos from the event.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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