The first Mickey Spillane novel became the first movie too. I, the Jury was filmed for 3D, but by the time it hit theater screens, the short-lived 3D craze of the 1950s was waning, so most first and second run houses showed the movie in standard 2D. Harry Essex adapted the novel (his writing credits include Creature From the Black Lagoon, Kansas City Confidential, It Came From Outer Space, and, okay, Octaman–hey, no one’s perfect).
David J. Hogan in his Film Noir FAQ doesn’t give much love to the movie, but he does point out the action scenes were well handled and that Spillane came from a comic writer background, which could explain why his character, Mike Hammer, is so super macho. Unfortunately, Biff Elliot was a poor choice to play Hammer and drags down the movie. So, dare I say it, he didn’t nail the Hammer. Trekkers know him as Schmitter from the Devil in the Dark episode of the original Star Trek. He also did episodes for Alfred Hitchcock Presents and some horrors, the Navy vs. the Night Monsters and Blood Bath. I’d like to see those on Svengooli.
The pressbook is a big deal at 16 pages. One of these days I’ll figure out the psychology behind the choice of colors used in pressbooks as it doesn’t match the one used in film colors. The color used in this pressbook doesn’t quite match to the violence and grittiness in Mike Hammer. What do you think? One last note: this pressbook must have gone a round with Hammer as two unnecessary cuts ruin two pictures.
A dying man walks into detective Michael Shayne’s office, holding onto a baggage ticket. The story unfolds from there. With Hugh Beaumont (Leave It to Beaver) as Shayne, the story is more poached than hard-boiled, but this PRC production is directed by Sam Newfield, one busy beaver to be sure as he was prolific and completed 250 feature movies beginning in the silent age and up to 1958. He also directed a lot more too, including training films, shorts, industrial films, and for television. He directed The Terror of Tiny Town 1938, an all small-person novelty western that’s best seen during a midnight show.
Producers Releasing Corporation (PRC) was a Poverty Row outfit but they had their own small studio. Sam Newfield directed so many of their movies he used two other names to make it look like PRC had more directors. Mostly producing B movies, the studio did the usual fare including westerns, horrors, and assorted action dramas. The Devil Bat and The Devil Bat’s Daughter were hits for PRC as well as many other films, and the classic noir, Detour, was also produced by the studio. They even had their own version of the Bowery Boys (Dead End Kids) called the Gas House Kids with Billy Halop. Halop’s career peetered out due to personal problems and his aging (no more playing Tommy), but he did have a resurgence in the 1970s with television’s All in the Family, where he played in ten episodes.
Cough… cough…wow…the air quality is especially bad today. If only something could be done…
That’s exactly what the producers were considering when they were looking for their next Godzilla project. Pollution was bad everywhere in Japan as various factories continued to spew their by-products into bodies of water and into the atmosphere. People were getting sick on a grand scale.
In the original Gojira (1954), Godzilla represented the dangers of atomic experimentation. Now, seventeen years later, Toho decided that Godzilla should tackle a new threat to humanity: world-wide pollution.
Godzilla vs. Hedorah was produced in 1971, and introduced a new menace: an alien which arrived on earth on a comet and fed on pollution, growing larger the more he ate. He could change shape, from a sea creature, to a land animal, to a flying stingray-looking thing. As a land animal, he could spew out acidic sludge and shoot a red laser from his eye, and as a flying creature, he could emit toxic exhaust.
The producers wanted a “darker” Godzilla movie in keeping with the dangers of pollution. Visuals were often graphic as victims of the “smog monster” were left sick, disfigured or dissolved. Unlike before, dead bodies were often seen scattered about the landscape.
When Godzilla met Hedorah in the final battle, he seemed to have met his match. Blinded in one eye by the acidic sludge, it was only with the help of massive electrical discharge machines designed by the movie’s scientist that he was able to help dehydrate the monster and the world was saved. Or was it? …
Here’s The Three Musketeers pressbook portion that covered advertising. “The Three Musketeers was an extremely personal project for [Gene] Kelly for two reasons” (from the TCM article on the movie). “The first was the fact that he was recreating the character (D’Artagnan) played by his favorite star (Douglas Fairbanks) in his favorite movie (the 1921 version of The Three Musketeers). Kelly was later quoted in Tony Thomas’ The Films of Gene Kelly: Song and Dance saying “I loved playing this part. As a boy I idolized Fairbanks, Sr. and I raised myself to be a gymnast.” The second reason is that Kelly was hoping his performance in The Three Musketeers would convince MGM to let him do a musical version of Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano De Bergerac.. Regardless of his energetic performance in The Three Musketeers, the studio brass wouldn’t go for a musical Cyrano even though Kelly pestered them for years about it.”
The TCM article goes on to say how much June Allyson disliked playing the period piece. Lana Turner also had issues with her role as it was not a starring one. After a brief suspension by MGM and a rewrite of her character, she did eventually acquiesce.
Universal Pictures’ Radio Patrol was taken from the newspaper comic strip of the same name. The strip, created by Charles Schmidt (artist) and Eddie Sullivan (a real-life crime reporter), picked up steam when William Randolph Hearst wanted something added to his King Features Syndicate to compete against the popular Dick Tracy comic strip. Radio Patrol was also adapted for radio, a comic book, and a Big Little book (a thick, pocket-sized, hard-covered book with text and page illustrations). The 12-chapter serial was directed by Ford Beebe (Flash Gordon Conquers the Universe, The Invisible Man’s Revenge, and lots of jungle pictures) and Clifford Smith (The Adventures of Frank Merriwell).
Radio Patrol features many sloppy-looking but energetic fights–brawls that have the lack of staging and wild-looking blows common to most 1930s serials, but also feature some good punches and some nice flips and leaps (as in the Chapter Eight office fight). However, almost all the fistfight scenes are marred by one recurring flaw–directors Ford Beebe and Cliff Smith’s decision to shoot all the fight-scene close-ups of star Grant Withers against the same backdrop (a cement steel-mill wall with the shadow of a ladder in this background); when these shots of Withers are inserted into fights that take place in locations other than the steel mill (apartments, sidewalks, etc.) they have a jarring effect on the viewer–particularly since these mismatched close-ups provide the only glimpses of Withers during the fight scenes; the star’s stunt double Eddie Parker stands in for both medium and long shots, with Beebe and Smith taking few pains to hide the switch.
One of the cool happenings of the comics scene in the 1960s and 1970s was the rekindling of interest and love for the movie serial, a weekly episodic adventure showing at your local cinema. Serials ran from 1912 (What Happened to Mary?) until 1956 (Blazing the Overland Trail). Each episode would end in a cliffhanger, an OMG scene involving a thrilling impending death along the lines of how the hell will he (usually a man) survive going off that cliff in a car, or jump out of the crashing airplane without a parachute, or not breathe his last (from toxic gas or rising water or lack of air ), or escape the insidious torture device, or avoid being crushed by (something big), or catch onto something as he falls off a building, and so on.
Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers were my favorite serials. Both had ray guns, death beams (Star Wars, anyone?), spaceships, robots, weird aliens, merciless evil adversaries, wild monsters, and sultry princesses and damsels in distress, and men and women in tights. One magazine that devoted pages to the appreciation of serials was Larry Ivie’s Monsters and Heroes. In issue 6 (1969 and only 35 cents!), he covered Flash Gordon. Here’s the article.
After the success of Frankenstein Conquers the World, Toho began a sequel. Hailed as one of the best kaiju movies, War of the Gargantuas (1966) sought to continue the Frankenstein storyline, developed to involve not one but two Frankensteins in combat with each other. The movie played on the good vs. evil theme, and was especially emotional since the brother giants were at odds with each other due to their opposing natures and thus drew sympathy from audiences despite their horrific appearance.
In the original Japanese movie, Sanda, the brown gargantua, was believed to be the Frankenstein from Frankenstein Conquers the World, although in flashbacks this young Frankenstein bore little resemblance to the feral boy found in the original movie. The green gargantua, Gaira, was believed to be Sanda’s cell offshoot. They were both referred to as “Frankenstein” until given their names. When the movie was dubbed for American audiences, all references to Frankenstein were removed and the giants simply called gargantuas. The movie was well received by fans. The special effects are top notch and the miniatures well constructed. The final battle of the two gargantuas in Tokyo and around Tokyo Bay is especially awe inspiring.
The two radio spots featured here showcase the battle of these giants as well as the awesome spectacle of the twin feature, Invasion of Astro Monster (1965), released in America as Monster Zero (1970). Developed as a sequel to Ghidrah the Three-Headed Monster, Monster Zero depicts Godzilla and Rodan teaming up to fight King Ghidorah, known as Monster Zero, at the request of aliens from Planet X who seek Earth’s help to fight him off. As might be expected, the aliens turn out to be deceivers who want to take over the earth by mind controlling the three monsters. Their plot fails, they are defeated, and Godzilla and Rodan must team up to protect Earth from King Ghidorah.
The miniatures, the split-screen shots and the fight scenes are impressive. Altogether, this was a double feature not to be missed! So, sit back and listen as these two double-feature radio spots showcase all the action these movies brought to the big screen in 1970!
Eiji Tsuburaya, center, with Yu Sekida as Sanda, left, and Haruo Nakajima as Gaira, getting ready to film the all-out fight scene in War of the Gargantuas (1966)Yu Sekida and Haruo Nakajima take a break in the miniature tankMasaki Shinohara, Haruo Nakajima, and Shoichi Hirose pose with their costume creationsExcellent composite shot of Gaira approaching Tokyo AirportOne of the impressive split-screen shots in Monster ZeroWar of Godzilla and Monster Zero Movie Poster
Do you have any radio spots you would like to share? Contact Granny (Gary Fox) at [email protected].
At a saddle-sized 18 by 21.5 inches, this pressbook rides the range in style. Tom Mix came from a rodeo background and was rough and tumble onscreen, providing the action and thrills that made westerns so appealing to young audiences. He also toured with the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus. The west of Tom Mix was the contemporary one for his time, with the occasional automobile riding the range along with the horses.
A surviving print of this film was found buried on a chicken farm in what was then known as Czechoslovakia in 1966. Many silent movies had been lost by their studios due to ignorance of their historical importance and to calamities from improper storage or fires, a cultural loss for all of us.
Baragon and Frankenstein meet in a battle to the death. Who will win?
Incoming from Granny Creech…
Hmmm Hmmm…one scoop of this, one dash of that…one pinch of this…one smidgen of that…one shake of this….
Oh, hello. Your Old Granny is just making up a new batch of brew. A lot of ingredients go into my brew in order for it to taste just right…with that little extra kick at the end (hee hee). It’s sort of like this week’s special radio spot offering…a little of this, a little of that.
This week I offer a three-part series featuring a hodgepodge of radio spots from Toho’s monster collection reflecting a marketing trend that studios began adopting in later years.
I’ve been collecting radio spots for some time now, including the original vinyl records that the various-length radio spots were distributed on. At some point, studios began releasing records with only two spots, one for 30 seconds and one for 60 seconds, with fewer and fewer movies getting multiple, various-length spots.
Zombos Says: All the numbers add up to imaginative terror.
If you thought you had a fear of math, wait until you get a load of these numbers, courtesy of the well assembled selection of authors and terrifying themes in Arithmophobia: An Anthology of Mathematical Horror, neatly curated by Robert Lewis, to make sure its unfortunate characters find too many lethal numbers are out to get them. From Lovecraftian inklings to multi-dimensional unknowns to the evil math teacher down the block, this anthology is an elegant and delightful sampling of abstract and more concrete plot-theorems; and you do not even need to be a Poindexter or use a pocket protector to enjoy the terminal numerical terrors popping up in each story.
The two stories you should read first are short and long in length, respectively, and refreshingly elementary in their plots and execution. Martin Zeigler’s Trains Passing, the shorter story, is like reading a script from one of the Alfred Hitchcock Hour’s episodes. A teacher and a stranger meet aboard a high-speed train for the trip of a lifetime. The teacher is fulfilling her dream of solving one of those mind-numbing algebra speed and distance problems by experiencing it. The stranger becomes her reluctant but smart student to be lectured. Cue the wonderfully shocking revelation at the end and go to Hitchcock (in your mind, of course), summing up the story with his usual sardonic wit. Short, and building the textual blocks to the point they are toppled over with a jab in your eye climax, this one is a standout in this collection of standouts. …
I would love to have the full La Horripicasa de los Monsters game, but I at least have the gameboard. Which, filled with so many classically creepy horror illustrations, is a keeper all by itself. Note the more discretely rendered Jose Gonzalez Vampirella at the lower right, and that werewolf has some crazy hairy eyebrows. Colorful terror all the way. I peg the date no earlier than 1971 (when Gonzalez started drawing the sexy vamp), but if you know more about this game, please share in comments.
I was baking some wry bread ( yes, that’s correct, because it has some “unusual” ingredients in it) the other day when I heard a knock on my front door. I went to see who it was. It was Uncle Oscar, and he held a small record in his hand.
“Another delivery from The Radio Reaper,” he said. “Another entry for your giant monster series.”
Good heavens, I thought. What started out as a five-part series has now grown to seven parts with no end in sight. But, that’s OK, because the spots that have been coming in to me are some really great and rare ones – Rodan, for example. In my years of collecting, I have never seen that vinyl record offered for sale, and I have never heard any spots anywhere! So, it is indeed a treasure, and I thank The Radio Reaper for giving the spots to me to share with you all.
And now, Ghidrah! I had one spot, not the whole complement of five spots, so I feel equally blessed now with all of them. The Reaper is indeed generous!
Ghidrah, The Three-Headed Monster came out in 1965, another Toho production which featured Godzilla, Mothra, Rodan, and a new monster threat, one that came from outer space. Ghidorah, as he was called in the 1964 Japanese release, was a formidable opponent who would later appear in other films. Technically he was a challenge for the film crew’s wire specialists who had to deal with a large body, three heads, two tails, two wings and legs! Plus, there was Rodan on wires, too! The coordination of all the wire systems must have been very taxing! As usual, the film included many great fight scenes with great visual effects and intricate miniatures. Cartoon animation provided Ghidrah’s gravity beams that emanated from each of his three mouths.
Here, then, are all the 20, 30, and 60 seconds Ghidrah movie radio spots heard in late 1965 on U.S. airwaves. Enjoy!
Crane apparatus allowing Ghidrah to fly.The elaborate, detailed miniature set constructed by Toho Technicians that will soon be destroyed by Ghidrah.The monsters attack! Godzilla, Rodan and Mothra battle Ghidrah.Shoichi Hirose inside the impressive Ghidrah costume.
Do you have any radio spots you would like to share? Contact Granny (Gary Fox) at [email protected].
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