I don't have a movie tonight; I watched episodes of "Tales From The Darkside" and "Tales Of Tomorrow" instead, so rather than do a review of the shows, which are short (30 min), I think I am gonna start work on my Rappaport Kidnapping story. As reported a few weeks back, when I completed my "Dear Ann" blogs, I meant to keep going at some point and write about my experience with Jared Rappaport. I guess tonight is a good time to start, and it needs to be done, just as "Dear Ann" did. I'm gonna be 60 next year, and I know no one is gonna help me tell this story, so it's up to me. I wouldn't want to come to the end of my life - hopefully at 120 - and have the regret of not doing everything I could to bring the truth to light.
Please keep in mind that I'm not relating this story for anyone's entertainment. I'm only writing about it again in order to extract as much microscopic detail as possible, just as I tried to do in the "Dear Ann" blogs. I originally wrote about the Rappaport Incident on Myspace in 2006, when I was working on my book, which I still hope to publish one day, even as a self-published work. Since then, I have never re-explored the subject matter, except for a short blog I wrote here at Blogger around 2013 or so, that had to do with what my experience felt like from an emotional standpoint.
This time I am inspired by my recent reading of "The Rendlesham Enigma", which in the course of it's 700 pages examines Jim Penniston's landmark UFO experience in forensic detail. Every last step is looked into and cross examined, and that's what I want to do with my overall experience of the twelve day event that took place in September 1989.
I can't say that it will be a cohesive read. I might write some of it this evening and then do a week's worth of movie reviews before continuing the story, or I might write it straight through on consecutive nights, or I might try to do both things. It will come out in whatever way the mood moves me. The problem with the Rappaport Incident is that I don't have the same amount of recall as I did with the initial event that took place at the Concord Square Apartments on the night of September 1st, 1989. That was the situation I described in detail in my ten "Dear Ann" blogs. My memory of that first night is mostly intact. It gets a little foggier the next morning, on September 2nd, but I still had enough recall to take me all the way back to my house at 9032 Rathburn Avenue in Northridge, and I know that it was Ann - Lillian's older sister - who drove me there. My memory with Ann ends in the living room of that house, where my family and I had lived since 1970. Go back and read the "Dear Ann" blogs for context. She drove me home from Concord Square sometime in the afternoon of Saturday September 2nd, 1989. She helped me to lie down on the couch. Read the blogs to know what I went through the night before. I was in shock and thoroughly exhausted. I'd come close to dying. Ann was a nurse. She was in a tough position that day, but she got me home and got me situated on the couch in the living room at 9032, and I must have fallen asleep very shortly thereafter. This would've been at about 2pm.
Here is what I remember happening next, and now we will try to get forensic. Please keep in mind that the narrative may be broken into at any time to examine the evidence at hand.
The date is September 2, 1989, the time approximately 9 to 9:30 at night. In my memory there has been a knock at the door. The knock is not visceral in memory (and again, read the "Dear Ann" blogs to understand what I mean about "visceral" memories), but the next part is. I am opening the front door and a man is standing on our porch. The porch light is on, so I can see him clearly. He is tall, or at least taller than me, probably 6'1" or so. He looks about 40, solidly built and in good shape but a little dweeby, black hair slightly receding, small round glasses perched on a sloping nose. He is wearing a light jacket over a button up shirt. I don't think I have ever seen him before.
"Hello", I say.
He says, and I paraphrase "Hi, I am your neighbor and my dog got out. I'm wondering if you have seen her at all tonight"?
That was the ruse he used to engage me in conversation. It had to do with his supposedly "missing dog". This part of the memory is entirely visceral. I don't recall what he said next, but it must have been something designed to get me to come out of the house, past the porch and down our front walkway. He might've said "I think I saw her around here a few minutes ago". That would've gotten me to come out, because I love dogs. I had two of my own at the time.
So all of this happened very quickly. I answered the door, he asked about his dog, and within ten more seconds I was down the walkway and to the sidewalk, about 20 feet from my porch at the corner of Rathburn and Sunburst Avenues. I am standing there with this man, turning my head to look for his dog, when all of a sudden he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a handgun. At this point, only a minute after I'd answered the door, his demeanor changed entirely. He grabbed me by my upper arm, standing close to me to hide the gun he was pointing at my ribs.
"Start walking and don't make a sound", he told me, nudging me in the direction of Etiwanda Street, one block to the east of Rathburn.
My mind was going at 1000 miles an hour as I tried to take in what was happening. When someone pulls a gun on you suddenly - and in this case it was someone I would never have been suspicious of - you have trouble in registering what is going on. I could see that the gun was real, it sure didn't look like a toy, but I thought we were supposed to be looking for this guy's dog? He says he's my neighbor. Have I ever seen him before? I don't think I have.
I was wondering if this was a joke of some kind, but that notion only lasted for a moment as he then increased his grip on my arm and pushed me to move faster. It was now maybe 25 seconds since I'd answered the door, and I realized I was being kidnapped. The gravity of the situation had not yet hit me because I was still too confused. Here I will interject to say that I do not recall if I was aware, at that moment, of what I had been through the previous night. Amnesia works in very strange ways, which would take a series of blogs all it's own to explain. I am guessing that I had no memory of the night of September 1st, for if I had, there is little chance I'd have answered the door to an unknown man, and zero chance I'd have come out of my house for him. Also, if I'd been in a normal state of mind, chances are that I would've run or backed away instinctively the second I saw his gun. At the very least I would've yelled. I say this because I know how I would react in different contexts. For instance, if I was in an already threatening situation, let's say my car broke down in a bad neighborhood, I'd be mentally prepared for someone very dangerous to possibly pull a gun on me, and in that case I'd be extremely cooperative, because of the expected personality type of the gunman. But this man, though physically imposing (at least compared to me) was a mild-mannered nerd. He looked like a college professor, which in fact he turned out to be. I am an Aries, which means I am very quick to react, and what I am saying with all of this, is that - had I not been in a state of shock already - my natural reaction to this nerdy man pulling a gun, this man who did not seem threatening, would have been to run or scream immediately. "What the fuck are you doing!! Get away from me"!! And I would've run down the street, just on automatic pilot alone, without even taking time to think. A gangbanger, I'm gonna do what he says. I middle-aged nerd? Chances are I would've run away on instinct.
But that would've been if I were in a normal state of mind. Unfortunately, I was not in a normal state, and so I walked with this man, slightly ahead of him with my arm in his grasp, his other hand holding a gun to my side, and I wondered, my mind spinning wildly : "Is this for real"?
The night was pitch black and, it being Labor Day weekend, the street was quiet. Still, the man kept turning his head, scanning the neighborhood to make sure no one was watching. "Don't make a sound or I'll shoot you", he said under his breath. The next thing I knew, we were at his side gate. It was only about 50 or 60 steps from my corner. "Looks like he was telling the truth about being my neighbor", I thought.
Very quickly he shoved me through the gate. We walked a few more steps to his back door, which he opened. He pushed me inside his darkened house, turned around to lock the door, then turned on a stove light, casting a bluish tint around his kitchen. He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
"Put your hands behind your back, Adam", he demanded.
That's when I knew that this was all very real indeed. /////
To be continued.
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
Say A Prayer For Aliso Canyon Park
(this blog was begun Monday night, October 14 2019)
I am very sad tonight. If you saw my post on Facebook earlier this evening, and the photo that accompanied it, you know that I went to Aliso Canyon Park this afternoon and saw that it is all burned up from the Saddleridge fire. Grimsley called me to report this horrible news. He told me I'd be shocked when I saw it, and I was, but I was also deeply saddened because I have loved that place so much, and I'm not sure it's ever gonna be the same, even when it grows back. The one bright spot, for which I am grateful beyond words, is that the forest section of Aliso - comprised of closely grouped old growth oaks (which must be hundreds of years old) - is still intact. I saw, after last year's horrific Woolsey Fire, that the oak trees in El Scorpion Park and also at Corriganville withstood the flames in both places. When I visited those parks last Spring, after strong Winter rains, I was heartened to see green leaves emerging from the branches of trees that were charred and looked dead, but were not.
The loss at Aliso is far worse than even at El Scorpion, which I documented with photographs at this same time last year. One thing especially breaks my heart, and that is the fate of all the critters who lived there. On my exploratory hike today, I walked past a formerly overgrown side trail that forks off into a part of the creek bed that was inaccessible to hikers because of the thick wall of brush. That was what I used to call "The Coyote's Lair", because on the occasions I saw him, he would be snooping around on the main trail and then, seeing me coming, would trot away down his "personal trail" to his home, beyond the impenetrable thicket.
Now, all of that is gone, burned to the ground. I walked past The Coyote's Lair and only recognized it by the angle of it's thin trail -which was now fully exposed like a line in the sand - and the fact that I'd passed it hundreds of times before. I thought of the coyote, who I considered one of my Aliso friends, and I prayed that he made it out of the park alive. There is really nowhere he can live now, at the park. No place he can call his own because most of the canyon is now just a wide open space of black dirt.
I also thought of the hundreds of bunnies that live there, who I would see hopping across the trail in the late afternoons. I used to say to them, under my breath, "aww, bunnies, what are you doing? Are you goofing around again"? When they would hop and hide, and then hop out again, I liked to imagine they were playing a game with me.
I have photographed the Aliso bunnies dozens of times. They are my friends too, and I hope they are okay, though I don't know how they can live there anymore either, as there won't be anything for them to eat.
If you have seen my FB photos over the years, you know I love the Aliso spiders and their magnificent webs. Every August, when it gets really hot they come up from underground and display their handiwork. I imagine they will be okay after the fire - insects can live through anything - but they won't have the same shady environs in which to weave their webs, not until things grow back.
I know the place will grow back, because I saw it happen at El Scorpion Park after only a single Winter's worth of rain. That park, which houses the ancient Cave of Munitz, was devastated by the Woolsey Fire, suffering almost the same amount of damage as Aliso, including the loss of some trees. But by Summer 2019, just a few months ago, you'd never know it had been burned at all. The flowers and greenery were lush and thick.......but if you had been there before, enough times to remember what it used to look like, you could tell that it wasn't quite the same, despite the regrowth.
The destruction at Aliso is worse than it was at El Scorpion, and even though I know it will grow back, many of the former landmarks will be gone, like the Coyote's Lair and the bushy Hideaway in the middle of the park. The underbrush has been completely burned away in 90 % of the park, and I worry about erosion if the rains come down too hard this Winter. I worry about large barren patches forming. Before the fire, the entire park and was lush and overgrown with nature. It's appeal was that it looked like a place from centuries ago. I worry that parts of the creek bed will erode and cave in.
And I worry that the animals won't come back, or at least not for several years.
Sigh. So many of my favorite places have burned in the last few years in the seemingly endless series of fires we have nowdays. Placerita Canyon was the first to go; it burned down in July 2016. The good news is that it is set to reopen in 2020. My fingers are crossed that it will look at least partially the same as it did, and not be simply remade with all new plantings. Last year, both El Scorpion and Corriganville were badly burned. El Scorpion has recovered, as noted, but with a significant loss of favorite trees. And at Corriganville, the old Devil Tree that I used to photograph over and over again, was lost in addition to others. As I say, Aliso suffered worse than either of those parks, but the great, great news is that the central forest was mostly unaffected. Thank You Lord.
On my hike yesterday, I ran into a couple of firefighters who were walking around checking for hot spots. They asked me some questions about Aliso, the length of the trail, how long the park had been in existence. We had a nice conversation, and of course I thanked them profusely for all they have done for us. "I tell everybody we have the best firefighters in the world", I said, and it's true. They told me not to worry, that the place would be fine "even though it might take a few years". They too marveled at the resilience of the oak trees, and also pointed out that a couple of their colleagues came across a pair of tortoises who were crawling along the creek bed. "Wow", I replied. "I've been up here a couple hundred times in the past few years and I've never seen them before". We figured that they must have lived in some inaccessible part of the underbrush, just like the coyote. Being tortoises, there was no way they could've run from the fire, but they somehow made it through anyway.
And maybe the hares escaped.
The news of the tortoises gives me hope. Maybe all the animals will eventually come back. They still have the forest to live in, although I don't know that they could be comfortable there, as it is usually filled with hikers. I suppose I will be going up to Aliso a lot this Fall and Winter, to monitor it's progress of renewal. I probably won't see any results until at least next Spring, but I just feel the need to be up there, to keep an eye on the place and give it back some of the good vibes it has given me. Aliso has been my very favorite nature spot, and my favorite hiking place for over five years now. I pray that it comes back strong. ///
I did watch a movie tonight, the original "Friday the 13th" (1980), because I needed something mindless that I could just kind of stare at. I was too numb from what I saw at Aliso to pay attention to any involved plot, and thank goodness that "Friday" was just as devoid of story as I remembered it being when I saw it in the theater nearly 40 years ago. Back then, I thought it was a "Halloween" rip-off, and after seeing it again last night I will double down on that conclusion, but in fairness I must say that this time, I did notice some positive attributes. The photography was very good, even artistic in places, and the young actors were likeable and uniformly effective. They made me once again wish I could go back to the 1980s. What a fun decade it was, just so long as you didn't have a psychotic slasher chasing after you. :):)
Well, it's now Tuesday Afternoon, and you know what you have to do. I trust you have your "Days Of Future Passed" CD at the ready? Okay then.......cue it up.
I am gonna head over to Super King for a truckload of veggies, and then back to Pearl's. I will see you again tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
I am very sad tonight. If you saw my post on Facebook earlier this evening, and the photo that accompanied it, you know that I went to Aliso Canyon Park this afternoon and saw that it is all burned up from the Saddleridge fire. Grimsley called me to report this horrible news. He told me I'd be shocked when I saw it, and I was, but I was also deeply saddened because I have loved that place so much, and I'm not sure it's ever gonna be the same, even when it grows back. The one bright spot, for which I am grateful beyond words, is that the forest section of Aliso - comprised of closely grouped old growth oaks (which must be hundreds of years old) - is still intact. I saw, after last year's horrific Woolsey Fire, that the oak trees in El Scorpion Park and also at Corriganville withstood the flames in both places. When I visited those parks last Spring, after strong Winter rains, I was heartened to see green leaves emerging from the branches of trees that were charred and looked dead, but were not.
The loss at Aliso is far worse than even at El Scorpion, which I documented with photographs at this same time last year. One thing especially breaks my heart, and that is the fate of all the critters who lived there. On my exploratory hike today, I walked past a formerly overgrown side trail that forks off into a part of the creek bed that was inaccessible to hikers because of the thick wall of brush. That was what I used to call "The Coyote's Lair", because on the occasions I saw him, he would be snooping around on the main trail and then, seeing me coming, would trot away down his "personal trail" to his home, beyond the impenetrable thicket.
Now, all of that is gone, burned to the ground. I walked past The Coyote's Lair and only recognized it by the angle of it's thin trail -which was now fully exposed like a line in the sand - and the fact that I'd passed it hundreds of times before. I thought of the coyote, who I considered one of my Aliso friends, and I prayed that he made it out of the park alive. There is really nowhere he can live now, at the park. No place he can call his own because most of the canyon is now just a wide open space of black dirt.
I also thought of the hundreds of bunnies that live there, who I would see hopping across the trail in the late afternoons. I used to say to them, under my breath, "aww, bunnies, what are you doing? Are you goofing around again"? When they would hop and hide, and then hop out again, I liked to imagine they were playing a game with me.
I have photographed the Aliso bunnies dozens of times. They are my friends too, and I hope they are okay, though I don't know how they can live there anymore either, as there won't be anything for them to eat.
If you have seen my FB photos over the years, you know I love the Aliso spiders and their magnificent webs. Every August, when it gets really hot they come up from underground and display their handiwork. I imagine they will be okay after the fire - insects can live through anything - but they won't have the same shady environs in which to weave their webs, not until things grow back.
I know the place will grow back, because I saw it happen at El Scorpion Park after only a single Winter's worth of rain. That park, which houses the ancient Cave of Munitz, was devastated by the Woolsey Fire, suffering almost the same amount of damage as Aliso, including the loss of some trees. But by Summer 2019, just a few months ago, you'd never know it had been burned at all. The flowers and greenery were lush and thick.......but if you had been there before, enough times to remember what it used to look like, you could tell that it wasn't quite the same, despite the regrowth.
The destruction at Aliso is worse than it was at El Scorpion, and even though I know it will grow back, many of the former landmarks will be gone, like the Coyote's Lair and the bushy Hideaway in the middle of the park. The underbrush has been completely burned away in 90 % of the park, and I worry about erosion if the rains come down too hard this Winter. I worry about large barren patches forming. Before the fire, the entire park and was lush and overgrown with nature. It's appeal was that it looked like a place from centuries ago. I worry that parts of the creek bed will erode and cave in.
And I worry that the animals won't come back, or at least not for several years.
Sigh. So many of my favorite places have burned in the last few years in the seemingly endless series of fires we have nowdays. Placerita Canyon was the first to go; it burned down in July 2016. The good news is that it is set to reopen in 2020. My fingers are crossed that it will look at least partially the same as it did, and not be simply remade with all new plantings. Last year, both El Scorpion and Corriganville were badly burned. El Scorpion has recovered, as noted, but with a significant loss of favorite trees. And at Corriganville, the old Devil Tree that I used to photograph over and over again, was lost in addition to others. As I say, Aliso suffered worse than either of those parks, but the great, great news is that the central forest was mostly unaffected. Thank You Lord.
On my hike yesterday, I ran into a couple of firefighters who were walking around checking for hot spots. They asked me some questions about Aliso, the length of the trail, how long the park had been in existence. We had a nice conversation, and of course I thanked them profusely for all they have done for us. "I tell everybody we have the best firefighters in the world", I said, and it's true. They told me not to worry, that the place would be fine "even though it might take a few years". They too marveled at the resilience of the oak trees, and also pointed out that a couple of their colleagues came across a pair of tortoises who were crawling along the creek bed. "Wow", I replied. "I've been up here a couple hundred times in the past few years and I've never seen them before". We figured that they must have lived in some inaccessible part of the underbrush, just like the coyote. Being tortoises, there was no way they could've run from the fire, but they somehow made it through anyway.
And maybe the hares escaped.
The news of the tortoises gives me hope. Maybe all the animals will eventually come back. They still have the forest to live in, although I don't know that they could be comfortable there, as it is usually filled with hikers. I suppose I will be going up to Aliso a lot this Fall and Winter, to monitor it's progress of renewal. I probably won't see any results until at least next Spring, but I just feel the need to be up there, to keep an eye on the place and give it back some of the good vibes it has given me. Aliso has been my very favorite nature spot, and my favorite hiking place for over five years now. I pray that it comes back strong. ///
I did watch a movie tonight, the original "Friday the 13th" (1980), because I needed something mindless that I could just kind of stare at. I was too numb from what I saw at Aliso to pay attention to any involved plot, and thank goodness that "Friday" was just as devoid of story as I remembered it being when I saw it in the theater nearly 40 years ago. Back then, I thought it was a "Halloween" rip-off, and after seeing it again last night I will double down on that conclusion, but in fairness I must say that this time, I did notice some positive attributes. The photography was very good, even artistic in places, and the young actors were likeable and uniformly effective. They made me once again wish I could go back to the 1980s. What a fun decade it was, just so long as you didn't have a psychotic slasher chasing after you. :):)
Well, it's now Tuesday Afternoon, and you know what you have to do. I trust you have your "Days Of Future Passed" CD at the ready? Okay then.......cue it up.
I am gonna head over to Super King for a truckload of veggies, and then back to Pearl's. I will see you again tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Monday, October 14, 2019
"The Ghost" starring Barbara Steele + Choir News
Tonight we were back with Barbara Steele, this time in "The Ghost" (1963), which was director Riccardo Freda's sequel - well, sort of - to "The Terror of Dr. Hichcock". You will recall that we watched that film last week and quite enjoyed it. I discovered "The Ghost" at the same source, West Valley Libe (open on Sundays, yessiree). I saw Barbara Steele on the box and that was good enough for me, but didn't know until the movie started that Freda was the director. Afterward, I read on IMDB that it was a sequel to "Dr. Hichcock" and that the two films were shot back to back.
I'm not sure how "The Ghost" could be considered a sequel, as there are a few discrepancies in the continuity and plot lines of the two films. "Dr. Hichcock" took place in London in 1885, and "The Ghost" is set in Scotland in 1910. Okay fine, I suppose the timeline is no biggie because only 25 years have passed, and in "The Ghost" Dr. Hichcock is now elderly and confined to a wheelchair. If you want to get technical you could maintain that he looks no older than he did in 1885, and possibly even a few years younger. He is played by a different actor, but we will let all of that pass for now. The bigger problem is that he is still married to Steele, whom he tried to kill in the first movie, and who fled his burning mansion - with Doc Hichcock still inside it - after being rescued by the handsome young doctor from the hospital.
Now wait just a minute here : I would have thought that Dr. Hichcock perished in the flames that overtook his house at the end of the movie. And even if he survived, why in the world would Steele have stayed with him?
We can think of "The Ghost", then, as a sequel in name only, or maybe a sequel from a parallel universe.
As noted, the Doc is now in a wheelchair, sickened by a mystery illness that may have to do with his experimentation with curare.
Wow, first we had a grave robbery theme running through several recent films and now we have curare, the coma-inducing poison that we saw being used in "The Oblong Box".
In his crippled state, Doc Hichcock hasn't many pleasures left in life, except for gin and seances. He loves to contact the spirit world as he feels he is nearly there himself. His wife Barbara Steele tries to rouse him from his depression, as does his doctor, a handsome young man who practically lives at the house (he is not the same doctor who rescued Barbara at the end of the first movie). The young doctor also stops Hichcock's attempts to end his own life with poison, taken from a bottle marked with the word "Poison" - just so you won't mistake it for a non-poisonous substance haha - and which is likely curare. Dr. Hichcock is very depressed. Miss Steele and the young doctor are only trying to help him.
Or are they?
Is there a chance they could be having an affair instead, and concealing a different motive? One person who may know the answer to that question is the actress Harriet Medin, who played the Sinister Housekeeper "Martha" in the first movie, and who plays the Sinister Housekeeper "Catherine" in "The Ghost". Behind her poker face and stone wall hairline lie the secrets of all the plotters, including Dr. Hichcock, who may be aware of what is going on behind his back. Is he planning his revenge? You might ask the grim Catherine, for she definitely knows of the affair. But is she as loyal to the Doc as she appears? Or does she have a motive of her own?
There is a lot of scheming taking place in "The Ghost", which could be thought of as a mystery thriller in a horror setting. Director Riccardo Freda once again demonstrates a great ability to create mood and atmosphere, using slow camerwork and specific movement from his actors (a head turn, a walk across a room with clasped hands, you get the idea) to build tension. Again he makes great use of light and shadow, just as he did in "The Terror of Dr. Hichcock, and he has another excellent dramatic score to heighten the chills.
I would love to see more of Freda's work. I had never heard of him prior to discovering "Dr. Hichcock" at the Libe. The only trouble is that both films I have seen were substandard in picture quality. "The Ghost" was released by Alpha Video (aka "The Anti-Criterion"), so I knew what to expect, and it was at least watchable, but I think that Freda's movies deserve restoration so that we could better appreciate the artistry he displays. He also knows how to get the best out of his actors with the slow and deliberate pace of the story. Barbara Steele is like a tightly coiled spring slowly unwinding. This is one of those horror movies in which the characters feel isolated and cut off from the outside world, so Steele has no one to turn to, and no one she can really trust. Is anybody on her side? What about her husband, Dr. Hichcock? Her boyfriend, the young doctor? How about Catherine the Evil Housekeeper? Or even the local priest who occasionally pays a visit?
You can almost feel what is going on inside Steele's pretty head as she shifts her big dark eyes from side to side, scanning a room to see if anyone is hiding in there. There does seem to be a ghost on the premises........
"The Ghost" doesn't have quite as much story as did "The Terror of Dr. Hichcock", and therefore it slows down just a tad in the final half hour. Freda probably could have cut the running time by 10 or 15 minutes and had a very tight 80 minute picture. That might have changed the pace, however, and disturbed the sense of slow-burning claustrophobia he had worked to build up. This is only a minor quibble on my part, as I enjoyed "The Ghost" very much. I recommend watching it in tandem with "The Terror of Dr. Hichcock", perhaps on successive nights, and I'm hoping that Kino (if not Criterion themselves) will consider a proper restoration of these films.
Two Big Thumbs Up for "The Ghost". ////
It's me again, and it is now Monday afternoon. The choir news I meant to tell you about is this : our director, Bob, will be leaving us after next Sunday's service. He broke the news yesterday morning, and we were all a bit shocked by the suddenness of it, but it seems that Bob has been offered an opportunity at another congregation that will be better for him overall. We all love Bob. I have been in the choir for five years next month; Bob has been the director for 4 1/2 of those years, and he has taught us so much about singing. My own vocal ability has improved by leaps and bounds under his tutelage, and he has really whipped us into shape overall. We are a "small but mighty" little group, as we like to say, and a lot of the credit is due to Bob, who really knows his music and the nuances and technical details therein. We are gonna miss him, and we wish him well. For the immediate future we will be without a choir director and also without an organist, as Bob played that role also. We will work with our pianist, a capable young woman from CSUN, and we will go it alone for now, directing ourselves until a replacement can be found. However, money has been a problem at the church, and we are only hoping that we will be able to have another choir director, and that nothing will happen to the choir. /////
So that's the news. Keep your fingers crossed. I am gonna head up to Aliso real quick before returning to Pearl's. Grimsley called to report that the park has been burned in the fire. He said I will be "shocked" to see it. I am very worried, but will report back my findings tonight at the usual time.
See you then. Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
I'm not sure how "The Ghost" could be considered a sequel, as there are a few discrepancies in the continuity and plot lines of the two films. "Dr. Hichcock" took place in London in 1885, and "The Ghost" is set in Scotland in 1910. Okay fine, I suppose the timeline is no biggie because only 25 years have passed, and in "The Ghost" Dr. Hichcock is now elderly and confined to a wheelchair. If you want to get technical you could maintain that he looks no older than he did in 1885, and possibly even a few years younger. He is played by a different actor, but we will let all of that pass for now. The bigger problem is that he is still married to Steele, whom he tried to kill in the first movie, and who fled his burning mansion - with Doc Hichcock still inside it - after being rescued by the handsome young doctor from the hospital.
Now wait just a minute here : I would have thought that Dr. Hichcock perished in the flames that overtook his house at the end of the movie. And even if he survived, why in the world would Steele have stayed with him?
We can think of "The Ghost", then, as a sequel in name only, or maybe a sequel from a parallel universe.
As noted, the Doc is now in a wheelchair, sickened by a mystery illness that may have to do with his experimentation with curare.
Wow, first we had a grave robbery theme running through several recent films and now we have curare, the coma-inducing poison that we saw being used in "The Oblong Box".
In his crippled state, Doc Hichcock hasn't many pleasures left in life, except for gin and seances. He loves to contact the spirit world as he feels he is nearly there himself. His wife Barbara Steele tries to rouse him from his depression, as does his doctor, a handsome young man who practically lives at the house (he is not the same doctor who rescued Barbara at the end of the first movie). The young doctor also stops Hichcock's attempts to end his own life with poison, taken from a bottle marked with the word "Poison" - just so you won't mistake it for a non-poisonous substance haha - and which is likely curare. Dr. Hichcock is very depressed. Miss Steele and the young doctor are only trying to help him.
Or are they?
Is there a chance they could be having an affair instead, and concealing a different motive? One person who may know the answer to that question is the actress Harriet Medin, who played the Sinister Housekeeper "Martha" in the first movie, and who plays the Sinister Housekeeper "Catherine" in "The Ghost". Behind her poker face and stone wall hairline lie the secrets of all the plotters, including Dr. Hichcock, who may be aware of what is going on behind his back. Is he planning his revenge? You might ask the grim Catherine, for she definitely knows of the affair. But is she as loyal to the Doc as she appears? Or does she have a motive of her own?
There is a lot of scheming taking place in "The Ghost", which could be thought of as a mystery thriller in a horror setting. Director Riccardo Freda once again demonstrates a great ability to create mood and atmosphere, using slow camerwork and specific movement from his actors (a head turn, a walk across a room with clasped hands, you get the idea) to build tension. Again he makes great use of light and shadow, just as he did in "The Terror of Dr. Hichcock, and he has another excellent dramatic score to heighten the chills.
I would love to see more of Freda's work. I had never heard of him prior to discovering "Dr. Hichcock" at the Libe. The only trouble is that both films I have seen were substandard in picture quality. "The Ghost" was released by Alpha Video (aka "The Anti-Criterion"), so I knew what to expect, and it was at least watchable, but I think that Freda's movies deserve restoration so that we could better appreciate the artistry he displays. He also knows how to get the best out of his actors with the slow and deliberate pace of the story. Barbara Steele is like a tightly coiled spring slowly unwinding. This is one of those horror movies in which the characters feel isolated and cut off from the outside world, so Steele has no one to turn to, and no one she can really trust. Is anybody on her side? What about her husband, Dr. Hichcock? Her boyfriend, the young doctor? How about Catherine the Evil Housekeeper? Or even the local priest who occasionally pays a visit?
You can almost feel what is going on inside Steele's pretty head as she shifts her big dark eyes from side to side, scanning a room to see if anyone is hiding in there. There does seem to be a ghost on the premises........
"The Ghost" doesn't have quite as much story as did "The Terror of Dr. Hichcock", and therefore it slows down just a tad in the final half hour. Freda probably could have cut the running time by 10 or 15 minutes and had a very tight 80 minute picture. That might have changed the pace, however, and disturbed the sense of slow-burning claustrophobia he had worked to build up. This is only a minor quibble on my part, as I enjoyed "The Ghost" very much. I recommend watching it in tandem with "The Terror of Dr. Hichcock", perhaps on successive nights, and I'm hoping that Kino (if not Criterion themselves) will consider a proper restoration of these films.
Two Big Thumbs Up for "The Ghost". ////
It's me again, and it is now Monday afternoon. The choir news I meant to tell you about is this : our director, Bob, will be leaving us after next Sunday's service. He broke the news yesterday morning, and we were all a bit shocked by the suddenness of it, but it seems that Bob has been offered an opportunity at another congregation that will be better for him overall. We all love Bob. I have been in the choir for five years next month; Bob has been the director for 4 1/2 of those years, and he has taught us so much about singing. My own vocal ability has improved by leaps and bounds under his tutelage, and he has really whipped us into shape overall. We are a "small but mighty" little group, as we like to say, and a lot of the credit is due to Bob, who really knows his music and the nuances and technical details therein. We are gonna miss him, and we wish him well. For the immediate future we will be without a choir director and also without an organist, as Bob played that role also. We will work with our pianist, a capable young woman from CSUN, and we will go it alone for now, directing ourselves until a replacement can be found. However, money has been a problem at the church, and we are only hoping that we will be able to have another choir director, and that nothing will happen to the choir. /////
So that's the news. Keep your fingers crossed. I am gonna head up to Aliso real quick before returning to Pearl's. Grimsley called to report that the park has been burned in the fire. He said I will be "shocked" to see it. I am very worried, but will report back my findings tonight at the usual time.
See you then. Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Sunday, October 13, 2019
"The House That Dripped Blood" starring Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee
Tonight I watched "The House That Dripped Blood" (1971), starring Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, and unlike last night's cinematic debacle, it really did star Cushing and Lee, instead of falsely promoting them as stars. The movie is a horror anthology featuring four separate stories that all revolve around the House of the title. Something bad happens to everyone who moves in there, and now a detective from Scotland Yard is on the case. As the movie opens, we see him in the office of a real estate agent - a "Mr. Stoker", haha - who is in charge of leasing the house to prospective tenants.
The Scotland Yard guy doesn't buy any of the supernatural crap that Mr. Stoker suggests to him. "Just give me the facts", he says in true Jack Webbian style. The detective is interested primarily in the most recent death that has occurred in connection to the house, but because he wants all the details, Mr. Stoker fills him in on the strange demise of each of three previous residents before relating the particulars of the fourth. Stoker is trying to show the skeptical detective that there is something alive about the house, but will he listen? Probably not. He's a no-nonsense British Copper (and you already know how to pronounce "British") who would haul you to the clink for looking at him sideways, and besides that, he looks like Count Dracula, if Drac worked for Scotland Yard. With facts in hand, he sets out to investigate the latest death at The House.
I'll not describe to you every plot point of the four stories contained in this film, for it would take me too long. Tonight is a Church Night and I must get something resembling a few hours sleep before the morning service. But I'll try to provide you with an overview, so that you will have a sense of the movies' appeal.
The first story concerns a writer (Denholm Elliott) and his wife. Elliott specializes in horror stories (who would've guessed?), and tells his wife that The House would be the perfect place for him to break his writer's block and complete his latest novel. They move in, and as Elliott begins to write, he starts having visions of the murderous character he has created for his book. The character finally shows up inside The House, but is he real or only fictional?
The second story stars Peter Cushing (hooray! Finally...see yesterday's blog) as a retired civil employee who wishes to live in the house long term. Just a sec while I turn off the italics. Yes, Cushing wants to spend his time gardening, reading books and listening to music. He plays a Beethoven symphony on his stereo as soon as he moves in. All in all, he's a man after my own heart. for I too would like to retire to the countryside to garden, read books and listen to music. Cushing also likes to walk down to the village on occasion, which I do too when I need chips or avocados, but he visits a local wax museum, and becomes fascinated with a figure of Salome, the beautiful daughter of Herod who in the Bible demanded the head of John the Baptist. In the wax museum, she stands holding his head on a silver platter. The thing that weirds Peter Cushing out is that she looks exactly like an old girlfriend of his. Later, a friend of Cushing's arrives at The House unexpectedly. He too visits the museum and becomes fascinated with Salome. Something tells me that this situation isn't gonna turn out well for the two gents. I mean, a chick who demands heads on a platter? Aren't there any other nice ladies in the area?
The third story stars Christopher Lee and is the best of the bunch. He moves into The House with his little daughter following a nasty separation from his wife. He won't talk about it, or her, and he is very strict with his daughter, for whom he hires a tutor because he won't allow her to attend school or play with any of the local children. When the tutor questions Lee's cruel treatment of the young girl, he snaps at her, telling her "there's a reason for it, which you shall come to see for yourself in good time"! The daughter seems like such a sweet child. She comes out of her shell with the help of the tutor, and we are rooting for her happiness and self-confidence to increase. But one day she takes a strange book off the shelf and begins to study it, keeping it well hidden from her father. A set of candles goes missing, and.........oh man, maybe we should've given Christopher Lee a fair hearing. Could it be that his daughter is a wi..........um, er.....a wi.......Oh, I can't bring myself to say it. Let's just say that she takes after her mother.
The fourth story is somewhat comedic, the tale of a pompous actor and his buxom co-star who are renting The House while they work on their latest horror epic at nearby Shepperton Studios (where the actual film was made, haha). The actor demands realism, and he is appalled at the cheap sets of the production. Most of all, he is offended at the lousy, non-scary vampire cape he is given to wear. So he sets out to locate a better one, and happens upon an Antique Shoppe, run by a gaunt old gentleman who resembles.........well, you can guess. He's a bit on the cadaverous side, but is very helpful to the actor. In fact, he does happen to have an authentic cape in stock, and he will be happy to sell it for a nominal fee, for by selling the cape he will finally be able to close his shoppe for good and retire to his basement. The actor is pleased to acquire the cape, and he returns to the studio to continue the production. Let's just say that, from this point on, his performance will be much more realistic. :)
So there you have it, your four stories from The House That Dripped Blood. I originally saw this movie in 1971 or 72 with my late, great friend Mike B. We saw it at the Parthenia Theater as part of a double feature with "Tales From The Crypt". Talk about getting the bejeezus scared out of you! Mike would've been 13, I was 11 or 12. We must've bought tickets for a PG film and then snuck in to the horror show. I never forgot it, and have been meaning to see "House" again for a long time. There was something about that title that always got me. I think it was the fact that The House "Dripped Blood". I mean, if it would have "poured blood", or "leaked blood" or even if it was just called "The Bloody House", I don't think it would've had the same effect. But Good Lordy Moses, to be 11 years old and hear that it "Dripped Blood".......the key word being "Dripped"......now, man-oh-man that's really scary!
I'm still scared!
Two Big Thumbs Up for "The House That Dripped Blood". A classic of English Horror. /////
That's all for now. The fire seems to be mostly overwith from my vantage point here in Northridge. The air is still a little smoky but hopefully I can get in a little mileage tonight. We had good singing in church, and also some very big news that has to do with our choir. I have to leave for the store right now, but I will relate it to you tonight at the Usual Time.
See you then!
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
The Scotland Yard guy doesn't buy any of the supernatural crap that Mr. Stoker suggests to him. "Just give me the facts", he says in true Jack Webbian style. The detective is interested primarily in the most recent death that has occurred in connection to the house, but because he wants all the details, Mr. Stoker fills him in on the strange demise of each of three previous residents before relating the particulars of the fourth. Stoker is trying to show the skeptical detective that there is something alive about the house, but will he listen? Probably not. He's a no-nonsense British Copper (and you already know how to pronounce "British") who would haul you to the clink for looking at him sideways, and besides that, he looks like Count Dracula, if Drac worked for Scotland Yard. With facts in hand, he sets out to investigate the latest death at The House.
I'll not describe to you every plot point of the four stories contained in this film, for it would take me too long. Tonight is a Church Night and I must get something resembling a few hours sleep before the morning service. But I'll try to provide you with an overview, so that you will have a sense of the movies' appeal.
The first story concerns a writer (Denholm Elliott) and his wife. Elliott specializes in horror stories (who would've guessed?), and tells his wife that The House would be the perfect place for him to break his writer's block and complete his latest novel. They move in, and as Elliott begins to write, he starts having visions of the murderous character he has created for his book. The character finally shows up inside The House, but is he real or only fictional?
The second story stars Peter Cushing (hooray! Finally...see yesterday's blog) as a retired civil employee who wishes to live in the house long term. Just a sec while I turn off the italics. Yes, Cushing wants to spend his time gardening, reading books and listening to music. He plays a Beethoven symphony on his stereo as soon as he moves in. All in all, he's a man after my own heart. for I too would like to retire to the countryside to garden, read books and listen to music. Cushing also likes to walk down to the village on occasion, which I do too when I need chips or avocados, but he visits a local wax museum, and becomes fascinated with a figure of Salome, the beautiful daughter of Herod who in the Bible demanded the head of John the Baptist. In the wax museum, she stands holding his head on a silver platter. The thing that weirds Peter Cushing out is that she looks exactly like an old girlfriend of his. Later, a friend of Cushing's arrives at The House unexpectedly. He too visits the museum and becomes fascinated with Salome. Something tells me that this situation isn't gonna turn out well for the two gents. I mean, a chick who demands heads on a platter? Aren't there any other nice ladies in the area?
The third story stars Christopher Lee and is the best of the bunch. He moves into The House with his little daughter following a nasty separation from his wife. He won't talk about it, or her, and he is very strict with his daughter, for whom he hires a tutor because he won't allow her to attend school or play with any of the local children. When the tutor questions Lee's cruel treatment of the young girl, he snaps at her, telling her "there's a reason for it, which you shall come to see for yourself in good time"! The daughter seems like such a sweet child. She comes out of her shell with the help of the tutor, and we are rooting for her happiness and self-confidence to increase. But one day she takes a strange book off the shelf and begins to study it, keeping it well hidden from her father. A set of candles goes missing, and.........oh man, maybe we should've given Christopher Lee a fair hearing. Could it be that his daughter is a wi..........um, er.....a wi.......Oh, I can't bring myself to say it. Let's just say that she takes after her mother.
The fourth story is somewhat comedic, the tale of a pompous actor and his buxom co-star who are renting The House while they work on their latest horror epic at nearby Shepperton Studios (where the actual film was made, haha). The actor demands realism, and he is appalled at the cheap sets of the production. Most of all, he is offended at the lousy, non-scary vampire cape he is given to wear. So he sets out to locate a better one, and happens upon an Antique Shoppe, run by a gaunt old gentleman who resembles.........well, you can guess. He's a bit on the cadaverous side, but is very helpful to the actor. In fact, he does happen to have an authentic cape in stock, and he will be happy to sell it for a nominal fee, for by selling the cape he will finally be able to close his shoppe for good and retire to his basement. The actor is pleased to acquire the cape, and he returns to the studio to continue the production. Let's just say that, from this point on, his performance will be much more realistic. :)
So there you have it, your four stories from The House That Dripped Blood. I originally saw this movie in 1971 or 72 with my late, great friend Mike B. We saw it at the Parthenia Theater as part of a double feature with "Tales From The Crypt". Talk about getting the bejeezus scared out of you! Mike would've been 13, I was 11 or 12. We must've bought tickets for a PG film and then snuck in to the horror show. I never forgot it, and have been meaning to see "House" again for a long time. There was something about that title that always got me. I think it was the fact that The House "Dripped Blood". I mean, if it would have "poured blood", or "leaked blood" or even if it was just called "The Bloody House", I don't think it would've had the same effect. But Good Lordy Moses, to be 11 years old and hear that it "Dripped Blood".......the key word being "Dripped"......now, man-oh-man that's really scary!
I'm still scared!
Two Big Thumbs Up for "The House That Dripped Blood". A classic of English Horror. /////
That's all for now. The fire seems to be mostly overwith from my vantage point here in Northridge. The air is still a little smoky but hopefully I can get in a little mileage tonight. We had good singing in church, and also some very big news that has to do with our choir. I have to leave for the store right now, but I will relate it to you tonight at the Usual Time.
See you then!
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Saturday, October 12, 2019
"Scream and Scream Again" (man was it bad!) + The Fire
(this blog was begun Friday night, October 11 2019)
Sorry I missed ya last night. Grim came over and wanted to hear the new Opeth, so we listened to it out in his car. I've heard it about four times now, this was the first time I've heard it played loud, and I've gotta say that I am just overwhelmed by how great it is. No one makes music like this, so inspired and full of ideas, and yet all-of-a-piece, not merely a cut and paste collection of riffs. Mikael is a musical genius, but he has really outdone himself this time. ////
The fire today put so much smoke into the air that it was hard to breathe. Maybe I am just sensitive to it, but for me it was debilitating. I didn't go for my usual nightly walk. The CSUN campus was closed anyway, and thus off limits. The air up in Northridge was really thick with smoke, so I spent most of the day in Reseda, here at Pearl's. The air quality was only marginally better here - three miles south of my apartment - but at least it was tolerable. We watched the local news coverage to keep up with developments, but as I write the fire is still less than 20% contained. On the news I heard references to Sesnon Boulevard and O'Melveny Park in Granada Hills, and also to Sierra Highway and The Old Road, which are part of my route to Rice Canyon and Whitney Canyon. While anyone's prayers should rightly be concentrated on the folks who live up in those areas, I am also praying that the open spaces and hiking trails be spared, and the animals for whom they are home.
For most of my life, until about ten years ago, we used to get these major Southern California wildfires every once in a while, maybe twice a decade. Now, it's every year. ////
Tonight I did watch a movie, though I kind of wish I hadn't. Do you recall me saying, two nights ago, that the horror movies Vincent Price made in the 1960s were hit and miss? Tonight's movie fell into the latter category, in a big way. It was called "Scream and Scream Again" (1970), and it was included on the flip side of "The Oblong Box" (which we watched two nights ago) as part of a "Midnite Movies" double feature, released on dvd by MGM. We enjoyed "Oblong Box", so naturally we assumed "Scream" would at least be a competent companion piece. Right off the bat, though, the pairing proved to be deceptive if not downright fraudulent.
As the movie began, a jumpy, modern jazz score played over the opening credits. Right away my antennae went up. "This doesn't sound like horror movie music", I thought. More appropriate to a 1960s espionage flick, or even a parody like "Austin Powers". Then the story began with what looked like the plot of a Cold War movie. The first sequence showed a meeting between high ranking officers of a fictional Communist country. They are engaged in a power struggle, and one of them displays incredible physical strength by getting his rival officer in a Mr. Spock shoulder pinch, which kills the man.
"What is going on here"?, I wondered. I thought I was going to be watching a horror movie starring Vincent Price, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. That's how the stars were billed on the dvd box. But as the movie continued to play out, it looked more like a crime thriller. The featured character in the first 50 minutes was an English police captain, played by an actor named Alfred Marks. He and his men are chasing after a London serial killer who hangs out in local rock clubs, picking out girls to victimise.
Now, during this extended sequence, which runs far too long, we are stuck in a nightclub, where we are forced to listen to the truly awful music of a real life 1960s band called The Amen Corner. Now, The Amen Corner had a lead singer named Andy Fairweather Lowe, who went on to a bit of chart success as a solo act in the 1970s, and other members of this band have had noteworthy achievements as well. But I ask of you - just try to listen to them as they are presented in this movie, playing live in a club, and then tell me you have never heard a worse act in your life. I mean, Good Lordy Moses are they bad! I beseech you to agree.
So, the viewer is subjected to a sequence or two of The Amen Corner, and then we are back to the police chase. And by the way, what movie are we watching, anyway? Is it the one with the Communist power struggle, or this new story about the London psychopath? What country are we supposed to be in? By the fifteen minute mark, I knew this was not a true horror film, and I was ready to turn it off, not only because it is Halloween Season and time for scary movies, but also because, so far, this movie had been really bad.
But I thought, "just give it a few more minutes", so I did, and lo and behold a captivating section ensued, where the police have the serial killer on the run. He too seems possessed of superhuman strength, just like the Communist General (and whatever happened to him?). The killer can run like an Olympic sprinter, he can fend off four men at a time, and when the police finally trap him in a quarry, he quickly climbs up the side of a sheer rock face. However, he isn't infallible, and does fall from the rock after reaching a great height. Then, he is knocked out and the police are able to handcuff him to the fender of a squad car while they call for reinforcements. As they await more help, the killer wakes up and escapes by breaking off his handcuffed hand at the wrist and running like hell from the stunned coppers. His hand is left dangling from it's cuff on the car fender.
That chase-and-capture sequence lasted about 15 minutes and was involving enough to make me reconsider the movie. "Hmmm, maybe it's gonna be pretty good after all"?
But it was still phony-baloney, because where was Christopher Lee? Where was Vincent Price? Peter Cushing had appeared, as a Communist officer (in that other baffling section of the movie), but he was killed off within 60 seconds of appearing onscreen. Perhaps he had a better picture to make.
I, too, should have bailed out just like Cushing did. I should've trusted my first instincts, ten minutes after the movie started, that this was a crummy film, and I should've turned it off as I'd felt the impulse to. After the shot of the dangling hand, anything horrific was overwith, and so was anything interesting or even entertaining. The movie became one of the "what were they smoking"? variety.
I have already devoted way too many words to "Scream and Scream Again", so I will wrap up by saying that It's A Gyp. It isn't a real horror movie - maybe a sci-fi (at best) but it's even a stretch to call it that. It doesn't star Christopher Lee, Vincent Price and Peter Cushing, as promoted in the cover art. Lee is only in a handful of short scenes. Price doesn't have significant screen time until the last twenty minutes, and Cushing is only in the film for one minute, as noted.
So the whole thing was falsely advertised. The jazz score was ridiculous and removed any possibility of creating tension. Even worse was the music of The Amen Corner. And the end of the movie is a complete washout; just when you think you might see some real Mad Scientist action in Vincent Price's laboratory (pronounced "la-BORE-a-torry"), the scene turns instead into a typical and cliched motion picture punchout, the kind that you could see in any Western or crime movie.
Not only will you not scream while watching "Scream and Scream Again", but you definitely will not scream again. Or if you do scream, it will be at yourself for sitting all the way through this mess of a thoroughly rotten movie.
Two Thumbs So Far Down that it's gonna take me a week, at least, to locate 'em and pull 'em back up to the surface. Do not watch, unless you feel the need to torture yourself. /////
Hey, it's me, and I'm back! It's now Saturday afternoon. How y'all doing? I mean, really.....don't watch that movie, whatever you do.
Now you're probably gonna watch it, just to see how awful it is, right? Well, don't say I didn't warn ya!
Most of the smoke has cleared from the fire, and it looks like the hillside is all burned up, all the way to Mission Point. I hope O'Melveny Park is okay, and I will drive up there as soon as the fire is officially put out. It's still pretty smoky to breathe here, and CSUN is closed up for the weekend, so I probably won't go for my walk again tonight. Right now I am gonna head out to Trader Josephus's and then maybe to Chatworth Libe, which is near TJ's. See you tonight at the Usual Time, hopefully with a much better movie. :):)
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Sorry I missed ya last night. Grim came over and wanted to hear the new Opeth, so we listened to it out in his car. I've heard it about four times now, this was the first time I've heard it played loud, and I've gotta say that I am just overwhelmed by how great it is. No one makes music like this, so inspired and full of ideas, and yet all-of-a-piece, not merely a cut and paste collection of riffs. Mikael is a musical genius, but he has really outdone himself this time. ////
The fire today put so much smoke into the air that it was hard to breathe. Maybe I am just sensitive to it, but for me it was debilitating. I didn't go for my usual nightly walk. The CSUN campus was closed anyway, and thus off limits. The air up in Northridge was really thick with smoke, so I spent most of the day in Reseda, here at Pearl's. The air quality was only marginally better here - three miles south of my apartment - but at least it was tolerable. We watched the local news coverage to keep up with developments, but as I write the fire is still less than 20% contained. On the news I heard references to Sesnon Boulevard and O'Melveny Park in Granada Hills, and also to Sierra Highway and The Old Road, which are part of my route to Rice Canyon and Whitney Canyon. While anyone's prayers should rightly be concentrated on the folks who live up in those areas, I am also praying that the open spaces and hiking trails be spared, and the animals for whom they are home.
For most of my life, until about ten years ago, we used to get these major Southern California wildfires every once in a while, maybe twice a decade. Now, it's every year. ////
Tonight I did watch a movie, though I kind of wish I hadn't. Do you recall me saying, two nights ago, that the horror movies Vincent Price made in the 1960s were hit and miss? Tonight's movie fell into the latter category, in a big way. It was called "Scream and Scream Again" (1970), and it was included on the flip side of "The Oblong Box" (which we watched two nights ago) as part of a "Midnite Movies" double feature, released on dvd by MGM. We enjoyed "Oblong Box", so naturally we assumed "Scream" would at least be a competent companion piece. Right off the bat, though, the pairing proved to be deceptive if not downright fraudulent.
As the movie began, a jumpy, modern jazz score played over the opening credits. Right away my antennae went up. "This doesn't sound like horror movie music", I thought. More appropriate to a 1960s espionage flick, or even a parody like "Austin Powers". Then the story began with what looked like the plot of a Cold War movie. The first sequence showed a meeting between high ranking officers of a fictional Communist country. They are engaged in a power struggle, and one of them displays incredible physical strength by getting his rival officer in a Mr. Spock shoulder pinch, which kills the man.
"What is going on here"?, I wondered. I thought I was going to be watching a horror movie starring Vincent Price, Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. That's how the stars were billed on the dvd box. But as the movie continued to play out, it looked more like a crime thriller. The featured character in the first 50 minutes was an English police captain, played by an actor named Alfred Marks. He and his men are chasing after a London serial killer who hangs out in local rock clubs, picking out girls to victimise.
Now, during this extended sequence, which runs far too long, we are stuck in a nightclub, where we are forced to listen to the truly awful music of a real life 1960s band called The Amen Corner. Now, The Amen Corner had a lead singer named Andy Fairweather Lowe, who went on to a bit of chart success as a solo act in the 1970s, and other members of this band have had noteworthy achievements as well. But I ask of you - just try to listen to them as they are presented in this movie, playing live in a club, and then tell me you have never heard a worse act in your life. I mean, Good Lordy Moses are they bad! I beseech you to agree.
So, the viewer is subjected to a sequence or two of The Amen Corner, and then we are back to the police chase. And by the way, what movie are we watching, anyway? Is it the one with the Communist power struggle, or this new story about the London psychopath? What country are we supposed to be in? By the fifteen minute mark, I knew this was not a true horror film, and I was ready to turn it off, not only because it is Halloween Season and time for scary movies, but also because, so far, this movie had been really bad.
But I thought, "just give it a few more minutes", so I did, and lo and behold a captivating section ensued, where the police have the serial killer on the run. He too seems possessed of superhuman strength, just like the Communist General (and whatever happened to him?). The killer can run like an Olympic sprinter, he can fend off four men at a time, and when the police finally trap him in a quarry, he quickly climbs up the side of a sheer rock face. However, he isn't infallible, and does fall from the rock after reaching a great height. Then, he is knocked out and the police are able to handcuff him to the fender of a squad car while they call for reinforcements. As they await more help, the killer wakes up and escapes by breaking off his handcuffed hand at the wrist and running like hell from the stunned coppers. His hand is left dangling from it's cuff on the car fender.
That chase-and-capture sequence lasted about 15 minutes and was involving enough to make me reconsider the movie. "Hmmm, maybe it's gonna be pretty good after all"?
But it was still phony-baloney, because where was Christopher Lee? Where was Vincent Price? Peter Cushing had appeared, as a Communist officer (in that other baffling section of the movie), but he was killed off within 60 seconds of appearing onscreen. Perhaps he had a better picture to make.
I, too, should have bailed out just like Cushing did. I should've trusted my first instincts, ten minutes after the movie started, that this was a crummy film, and I should've turned it off as I'd felt the impulse to. After the shot of the dangling hand, anything horrific was overwith, and so was anything interesting or even entertaining. The movie became one of the "what were they smoking"? variety.
I have already devoted way too many words to "Scream and Scream Again", so I will wrap up by saying that It's A Gyp. It isn't a real horror movie - maybe a sci-fi (at best) but it's even a stretch to call it that. It doesn't star Christopher Lee, Vincent Price and Peter Cushing, as promoted in the cover art. Lee is only in a handful of short scenes. Price doesn't have significant screen time until the last twenty minutes, and Cushing is only in the film for one minute, as noted.
So the whole thing was falsely advertised. The jazz score was ridiculous and removed any possibility of creating tension. Even worse was the music of The Amen Corner. And the end of the movie is a complete washout; just when you think you might see some real Mad Scientist action in Vincent Price's laboratory (pronounced "la-BORE-a-torry"), the scene turns instead into a typical and cliched motion picture punchout, the kind that you could see in any Western or crime movie.
Not only will you not scream while watching "Scream and Scream Again", but you definitely will not scream again. Or if you do scream, it will be at yourself for sitting all the way through this mess of a thoroughly rotten movie.
Two Thumbs So Far Down that it's gonna take me a week, at least, to locate 'em and pull 'em back up to the surface. Do not watch, unless you feel the need to torture yourself. /////
Hey, it's me, and I'm back! It's now Saturday afternoon. How y'all doing? I mean, really.....don't watch that movie, whatever you do.
Now you're probably gonna watch it, just to see how awful it is, right? Well, don't say I didn't warn ya!
Most of the smoke has cleared from the fire, and it looks like the hillside is all burned up, all the way to Mission Point. I hope O'Melveny Park is okay, and I will drive up there as soon as the fire is officially put out. It's still pretty smoky to breathe here, and CSUN is closed up for the weekend, so I probably won't go for my walk again tonight. Right now I am gonna head out to Trader Josephus's and then maybe to Chatworth Libe, which is near TJ's. See you tonight at the Usual Time, hopefully with a much better movie. :):)
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Thursday, October 10, 2019
"The Oblong Box" starring Vincent Price
(this blog was begun Wednesday night, October 9 2019)
Well, now you know why I don't watch postseason games like tonight's Dodgers/Nationals playoff. Like I said last night, it's way too nerve wracking - even if the Dodgers had won - but it would've killed me to see them lose in the way they did tonight, when they apparently had the game in the bag. Every Dodger fan knows that Clayton Kershaw can't pitch in big games. He's great in the regular season, a Hall of Famer, but he's lousy in the clutch. We've all seen it for years, but for some reason Manager Dave Roberts chose to put him out there when the team was two innings away from a win. It was Yu Darvish all over again, and it looks like Roberts mismanaged the Dodgers out of a chance to win the World Series for the second time in three years. I don't count last year, because the Dodgers were clearly inferior to Boston, but this year and in 2017 they were the best team in baseball, if not for Roberts' bad management. Anyhow, I am glad I don't dwell on sports like I used to. I still follow sports closely but I just don't get worked up about it anymore, so the Dodger loss will be forgotten, emotionally speaking, by tomorrow. ////
Thank goodness for movies, and I did see a good one tonight : "The Oblong Box" (1969), starring Vincent Price and Christopher Lee. The film is said to be based on an Edgar Allen Poe story of the same name, but I looked at Wikipedia summaries just now of the original story and of the film, and didn't see many similarities. Do your own research if you wish, and I will continue with my review.
Let us then dispense with any connection to Ed Poe, so that we can examine the movie on it's own terms. The plot is rather complex, and will be more difficult than usual for me to summarize, but here goes:
The time period is the late 19th century. Vincent Price is a wealthy English aristocrat who owns a plantation in Africa. This would be during the period of European colonialism. He has a brother named Edward, who lives with him at his manor (and we have had a lot of manors in our recent films), but something is wrong with Edward. His face is disfigured, from an incident that Price refuses to discuss, and indeed he keeps Edward locked away, chained to his bed, in a room on the top floor. What in the world could've happened to Edward?
We are shown brief flashbacks of an African voodoo ceremony, in which Edward appears to be the victim, but that is our only clue.
Meanwhile, a scheme is being planned. An associate of Price has an idea to kidnap Edward and hold him for ransom, and please bear with me here, because there was absolutely no expository dialogue in this part of the plot, which was very complex and left the viewer to diagnose everyone's intent. It looked to me like Edward was in on his own kidnapping, which was perhaps a way for him to escape the chains of his bedroom prison. The Price associate, a Mr. Trench, has hired a local African - a former witch doctor - to whip up a potion that will render Edward unconscious and slow his heartbeat and breathing to the point where he will appear dead. This happens, and Price now prepares to stage his brother's funeral. But he has a problem. In those days, among aristocratic families, it was common to have the deceased lying in state for all to see. Price doesn't want this, because of his brother's facial disfigurement, but he must act according to custom to avoid probing questions. So, he hires a pair of body snatchers to dig up a recently buried corpse from the local cemetery, to use as a substitute for Edward at the funeral. No one will know the difference, as most of the locals have never seen the hidden brother anyway.
I must interject to say, "here we go again with the grave robberies". This seems to be a popular theme in English horror, and in fact I have on dvd an entire movie devoted to the subject : "The Flesh and the Fiends". Body snatching - i.e. grave robbery - was an actual black market profession in England at the advent of surgery in the mid-to-late 19th century. As advancements were made in anesthesia, and more complicated surgeries made possible, budding surgeons needed test subjects on which to experiment and perfect their techniques. The only possible answer? Corpses!
But many looked down on this practice, especially the church, and it became illegal to use a dead person for anatomical purposes. The surgeons pressed on, however, and paid unsavory. amoral types to bring them bodies by any means necessary. Sometimes, if left unattended a corpse could be snatched from the morgue, but as hospital staff caught onto this, more often it came down to digging up graves at the cemetery. This was the practice known as "body-snatching", and as gruesome as it was, it also helped to advance the procedures of surgery.
Okay, so - getting back to the movie - Christopher Lee is a surgeon, and a good man as well. He hates to pay his grave robbers for bodies, but do so he must. The robbers have him over a barrel, too, because if they are ever caught, they will take Lee down with them.
Meanwhile, the grave robbers have been approached by Mr.Trench to secure a substitute body for Edward's funeral, but on that particular night, they are caught in the act and must kill the gravedigger who has discovered them. Now they are in a bind, and so is Christopher Lee.
It's a convoluted story - and it's Poe after all - that might be better understood if one has read the book.
At any rate, because of the murder of the gravedigger, the kidnapping plot is thrown into disarray, and Edward - who had been placed in a coffin ("The Oblong Box" of the title) and was set to be buried alive - winds up in Christopher Lee's examination room instead. Lee pries him out of the box and revives him from his curare-induced coma. He also creates a red cloth mask for Edward to wear, and allows him to live above the doctor's office in a small apartment. From there, Edward will plan his revenge.
The plot will turn it's focus mainly to the exploits of the red-masked Edward now, as he seeks to find out who placed him in the coffin to be buried. He also wants to know the secret of his disfigurement, which has been kept from him ever since he and his brother returned from Africa.
There are scenes in the second half of the film that are reminiscent of "The Elephant Man", as Edward - with mask covering his face - is accosted in the streets by drunken Cockneys. "Who are ye"?, they demand. "Why're ye wearing that mask"? At one point he is dragged into a bar and pushed about by the patrons, who force him into a tryst with a prostitute. All the while he tries to avoid the humiliation of having his mask removed, and I wouldn't be surprised if David Lynch has seen this film because the influence on his own movie is strong.
I thought "The Oblong Box" was very well done, much better than I expected going in. Vincent Price made a lot of these types of Gothic horror movies in the late 1960s, with decidedly mixed results. "Box", however, was almost as good as "Witchfinder General" (to my mind the best of these efforts), and it has the look of a classic Hammer Studios production. The direction by Gordon Hessler is crisp and forward moving, and Price pulls back on his tendency to overact. Christopher Lee is sympathetic for once, instead of terrifying, and Alister Williamson is frightening as Edward, the enraged man behind the mask. He's the kind of character that would've scared the bejeezus out of me if I'd seen the movie as a kid.
Two Definite Thumbs Up for "The Oblong Box", and we are on a roll with our Halloween movies and our grave robbery plots, lol. /////
Now I am gonna head over to Trader Joes for chips and other supplies. I will see you tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Well, now you know why I don't watch postseason games like tonight's Dodgers/Nationals playoff. Like I said last night, it's way too nerve wracking - even if the Dodgers had won - but it would've killed me to see them lose in the way they did tonight, when they apparently had the game in the bag. Every Dodger fan knows that Clayton Kershaw can't pitch in big games. He's great in the regular season, a Hall of Famer, but he's lousy in the clutch. We've all seen it for years, but for some reason Manager Dave Roberts chose to put him out there when the team was two innings away from a win. It was Yu Darvish all over again, and it looks like Roberts mismanaged the Dodgers out of a chance to win the World Series for the second time in three years. I don't count last year, because the Dodgers were clearly inferior to Boston, but this year and in 2017 they were the best team in baseball, if not for Roberts' bad management. Anyhow, I am glad I don't dwell on sports like I used to. I still follow sports closely but I just don't get worked up about it anymore, so the Dodger loss will be forgotten, emotionally speaking, by tomorrow. ////
Thank goodness for movies, and I did see a good one tonight : "The Oblong Box" (1969), starring Vincent Price and Christopher Lee. The film is said to be based on an Edgar Allen Poe story of the same name, but I looked at Wikipedia summaries just now of the original story and of the film, and didn't see many similarities. Do your own research if you wish, and I will continue with my review.
Let us then dispense with any connection to Ed Poe, so that we can examine the movie on it's own terms. The plot is rather complex, and will be more difficult than usual for me to summarize, but here goes:
The time period is the late 19th century. Vincent Price is a wealthy English aristocrat who owns a plantation in Africa. This would be during the period of European colonialism. He has a brother named Edward, who lives with him at his manor (and we have had a lot of manors in our recent films), but something is wrong with Edward. His face is disfigured, from an incident that Price refuses to discuss, and indeed he keeps Edward locked away, chained to his bed, in a room on the top floor. What in the world could've happened to Edward?
We are shown brief flashbacks of an African voodoo ceremony, in which Edward appears to be the victim, but that is our only clue.
Meanwhile, a scheme is being planned. An associate of Price has an idea to kidnap Edward and hold him for ransom, and please bear with me here, because there was absolutely no expository dialogue in this part of the plot, which was very complex and left the viewer to diagnose everyone's intent. It looked to me like Edward was in on his own kidnapping, which was perhaps a way for him to escape the chains of his bedroom prison. The Price associate, a Mr. Trench, has hired a local African - a former witch doctor - to whip up a potion that will render Edward unconscious and slow his heartbeat and breathing to the point where he will appear dead. This happens, and Price now prepares to stage his brother's funeral. But he has a problem. In those days, among aristocratic families, it was common to have the deceased lying in state for all to see. Price doesn't want this, because of his brother's facial disfigurement, but he must act according to custom to avoid probing questions. So, he hires a pair of body snatchers to dig up a recently buried corpse from the local cemetery, to use as a substitute for Edward at the funeral. No one will know the difference, as most of the locals have never seen the hidden brother anyway.
I must interject to say, "here we go again with the grave robberies". This seems to be a popular theme in English horror, and in fact I have on dvd an entire movie devoted to the subject : "The Flesh and the Fiends". Body snatching - i.e. grave robbery - was an actual black market profession in England at the advent of surgery in the mid-to-late 19th century. As advancements were made in anesthesia, and more complicated surgeries made possible, budding surgeons needed test subjects on which to experiment and perfect their techniques. The only possible answer? Corpses!
But many looked down on this practice, especially the church, and it became illegal to use a dead person for anatomical purposes. The surgeons pressed on, however, and paid unsavory. amoral types to bring them bodies by any means necessary. Sometimes, if left unattended a corpse could be snatched from the morgue, but as hospital staff caught onto this, more often it came down to digging up graves at the cemetery. This was the practice known as "body-snatching", and as gruesome as it was, it also helped to advance the procedures of surgery.
Okay, so - getting back to the movie - Christopher Lee is a surgeon, and a good man as well. He hates to pay his grave robbers for bodies, but do so he must. The robbers have him over a barrel, too, because if they are ever caught, they will take Lee down with them.
Meanwhile, the grave robbers have been approached by Mr.Trench to secure a substitute body for Edward's funeral, but on that particular night, they are caught in the act and must kill the gravedigger who has discovered them. Now they are in a bind, and so is Christopher Lee.
It's a convoluted story - and it's Poe after all - that might be better understood if one has read the book.
At any rate, because of the murder of the gravedigger, the kidnapping plot is thrown into disarray, and Edward - who had been placed in a coffin ("The Oblong Box" of the title) and was set to be buried alive - winds up in Christopher Lee's examination room instead. Lee pries him out of the box and revives him from his curare-induced coma. He also creates a red cloth mask for Edward to wear, and allows him to live above the doctor's office in a small apartment. From there, Edward will plan his revenge.
The plot will turn it's focus mainly to the exploits of the red-masked Edward now, as he seeks to find out who placed him in the coffin to be buried. He also wants to know the secret of his disfigurement, which has been kept from him ever since he and his brother returned from Africa.
There are scenes in the second half of the film that are reminiscent of "The Elephant Man", as Edward - with mask covering his face - is accosted in the streets by drunken Cockneys. "Who are ye"?, they demand. "Why're ye wearing that mask"? At one point he is dragged into a bar and pushed about by the patrons, who force him into a tryst with a prostitute. All the while he tries to avoid the humiliation of having his mask removed, and I wouldn't be surprised if David Lynch has seen this film because the influence on his own movie is strong.
I thought "The Oblong Box" was very well done, much better than I expected going in. Vincent Price made a lot of these types of Gothic horror movies in the late 1960s, with decidedly mixed results. "Box", however, was almost as good as "Witchfinder General" (to my mind the best of these efforts), and it has the look of a classic Hammer Studios production. The direction by Gordon Hessler is crisp and forward moving, and Price pulls back on his tendency to overact. Christopher Lee is sympathetic for once, instead of terrifying, and Alister Williamson is frightening as Edward, the enraged man behind the mask. He's the kind of character that would've scared the bejeezus out of me if I'd seen the movie as a kid.
Two Definite Thumbs Up for "The Oblong Box", and we are on a roll with our Halloween movies and our grave robbery plots, lol. /////
Now I am gonna head over to Trader Joes for chips and other supplies. I will see you tonight at the Usual Time.
Tons of love! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
"The Terror of Dr. Hichcock" starring Barbara Steele and Robert Flemyng
Tonight I watched a weird and creepy little film called "The Terror of Dr. Hichcock" (1962), directed by a guy named Riccardo Freda. It was made in Italy, using English lead actors who appear to be speaking Italian, or attempting to, because the dialogue is clearly dubbed. Usually I avoid movies like this, as 97% of them range from bad to terrible (think Roger Corman goes to Italy), but as I was scanning the racks at West Valley Libe, something on the dvd box caught my eye. The movie was released by a company called Sinister Cinema, which you can think of as being on the same level, quality wise, as Alpha Video, the company we have dubbed the "anti-Criterion". Sinister Cinema does a public service by releasing on dvd old forgotten horror films, many of them made overseas and all of them likely past their copyright expiration date. As with Alpha Video, you are not gonna get a restoration with Sinister Cinema, and the picture quality is only gonna be "watchable" at best, but what you will get is a movie that might've slipped past your radar, but which could have some redeeming value, some aspect that will hold your attention.
"Dr. Hichcock" proved to be such a film.
When we first see the good doctor (played by an actor named Robert Flemyng), he is standing in a cemetery. The setting is London in the year 1885, a few years before Jack the Ripper. Ol' Jack doesn't have anything on Dr. Hichcock, though, because the Doc is quite a sicko. He's in the cemetery, right as the movie starts, and the first thing he does is to hit a gravedigger in the head with a blunt instrument. It's the middle of the night, because as you know that is the time when graves are dug, haha. So, just as the digger is shoveling out the last few spadefuls of dirt, Doc Hichcock knocks him on the head and opens the casket the digger was preparing to bury.
I must interject here to ask that the squeamish or easily shocked among you please drop out for a moment. Have you covered your eyes? Okay, thanks.
I mean, in light of the things we hear about in today's world, what I am about to describe is not that shocking, but on second thought - it is.
Dr. Hichcock is a necrophiliac, and after he opens the coffin, in which a beautiful young woman lies in repose, he proceeds to feel her up. Again, what we actually see onscreen is "not that shocking", but then again......maybe it is. There's no nudity, and the camera doesn't linger, nor is the scene very long, yet it is nevertheless shocking and disturbing to watch the crazy doctor run his hands nervously over the dead woman.
Okay, so that part is out of the way. Now we are inside the doctor's large and elegantly decorated home. His beautiful young wife is giving a piano recital for a few guests in their living room. Behind a curtain lurks the housekeeper, a stern-looking middle aged woman in a black uniform, with her silvery hair pulled into a tight bun. As the recital ends, the pianist/wife announces that she is tired and will retire to her room for the evening. At this, the doctor signals to the hidden housekeeper from a hallway. She meets him in the wife's bedroom, and assists him while he shoots his wife full of an unknown drug.
We aren't told what it is, but it apparently maintains her vitality.
The next morning, the Doc is at the local hospital, cheerfully sewing up the head of the poor chap he bonked the previous night; the gravedigger, who isn't aware, obviously, that the doctor was his attacker. All is well for the moment, but then that evening, when it is time for his wife's injection, something goes wrong. She is given an overdose, and dies. The doctor is grief-stricken and inconsolable. He declares that he must move away from the house, and from London, to preserve his sanity.
Cut now to some unspecified period of time later. The doctor is returning to his former home. He is reinvigorated and ready to start over with his new bride, played by the great British horror queen Barbara Steele. Though a happy newlywed, Steele is a little unnerved by the ambiance inside the mansion. She takes note of the unfriendly housekeeper, and all the paintings of the doctor's first wife, which still adorn the walls. His manner toward Barbara is formal rather than loving, and he tells her that under no circumstances is she to enter the former wife's bedroom.
So whattaya think she's gonna do, first chance she gets?
What happens when I tell you not to think of a pink elephant? "Whatever you do, don't think of it"!
Things start getting really spooky around this time. The doc keeps leaving late at night to head over to the hospital. Another beautiful young corpse is laying in the morgue and he can't control himself. Twice, he is nearly caught in the act by a young intern (the rest of the cast is played by Italian actors who are also dubbed). When he gives a false reason for his presence in the morgue so late at night, the intern accepts his explanation, but begins to develop a suspicion of the doctor, which increases one night when - after a party - he is asked by the doc to escort Barbara Steele home, and he sees the interior of the mansion for himself.
Barbara Steele will make a discovery of her own that will place her in grave danger.
Do you see what I did there? "Grave" danger? Pretty good, eh?
"The Terror of Dr. Hichcock" is a minor gem of a ghoulish little fright flick. For a low buget film that was reportedly shot in 14 days (which Barbara Steele squeezed into her schedule during a break in the production of Fellini's "8 1/2"), the atmosphere created by director Freda is very haunting. His use of colored lighting surely influenced Dario Argento of "Suspiria" fame, and he also uses a dread-building orchestral score to great effect. Robert Flemyng is disquieting as the cold and calculating doctor with a sick secret, and the beautiful Barbara Steele is great as always. She had a talent for projecting vulnerability and real fear into her characters in many English horror films of the 60s and 70s; you have no doubt seen her before, perhaps in a Hammer movie or two.
Though the picture quality was substandard, verging on poor, I am gonna give "The Terror of Doctor Hichcock" Two Strong Thumbs Up. For the budget he had to work with, Riccardo Freda created an artful and genuinely frightening film, with a taboo premise that he treated with care and did not exploit.
It was a great way to start the Halloween Movie Season. I recommend looking for it yourself, if you can find it on Netflix or at your local Libe. Or, you can simply purchase it from Sinister Cinema. ////
That's all for now. Do-or-die game coming up in a couple hours for the Dodgers. I'll be peeking through closed fingers at this one, way too nerve-wracking to watch straight up. And if you think that's weird, remember that I'm the guy who used to sit out in the garage or walk around the block during close games between the Lakers and Celtics in the NBA Finals back in the 1980s. :)
It's just too much for me, lol! But if I turn on the TV and the Dodgers are up, say 7-1, then I can watch with no problem!
See you tonight! Go Dodgers!
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
"Dr. Hichcock" proved to be such a film.
When we first see the good doctor (played by an actor named Robert Flemyng), he is standing in a cemetery. The setting is London in the year 1885, a few years before Jack the Ripper. Ol' Jack doesn't have anything on Dr. Hichcock, though, because the Doc is quite a sicko. He's in the cemetery, right as the movie starts, and the first thing he does is to hit a gravedigger in the head with a blunt instrument. It's the middle of the night, because as you know that is the time when graves are dug, haha. So, just as the digger is shoveling out the last few spadefuls of dirt, Doc Hichcock knocks him on the head and opens the casket the digger was preparing to bury.
I must interject here to ask that the squeamish or easily shocked among you please drop out for a moment. Have you covered your eyes? Okay, thanks.
I mean, in light of the things we hear about in today's world, what I am about to describe is not that shocking, but on second thought - it is.
Dr. Hichcock is a necrophiliac, and after he opens the coffin, in which a beautiful young woman lies in repose, he proceeds to feel her up. Again, what we actually see onscreen is "not that shocking", but then again......maybe it is. There's no nudity, and the camera doesn't linger, nor is the scene very long, yet it is nevertheless shocking and disturbing to watch the crazy doctor run his hands nervously over the dead woman.
Okay, so that part is out of the way. Now we are inside the doctor's large and elegantly decorated home. His beautiful young wife is giving a piano recital for a few guests in their living room. Behind a curtain lurks the housekeeper, a stern-looking middle aged woman in a black uniform, with her silvery hair pulled into a tight bun. As the recital ends, the pianist/wife announces that she is tired and will retire to her room for the evening. At this, the doctor signals to the hidden housekeeper from a hallway. She meets him in the wife's bedroom, and assists him while he shoots his wife full of an unknown drug.
We aren't told what it is, but it apparently maintains her vitality.
The next morning, the Doc is at the local hospital, cheerfully sewing up the head of the poor chap he bonked the previous night; the gravedigger, who isn't aware, obviously, that the doctor was his attacker. All is well for the moment, but then that evening, when it is time for his wife's injection, something goes wrong. She is given an overdose, and dies. The doctor is grief-stricken and inconsolable. He declares that he must move away from the house, and from London, to preserve his sanity.
Cut now to some unspecified period of time later. The doctor is returning to his former home. He is reinvigorated and ready to start over with his new bride, played by the great British horror queen Barbara Steele. Though a happy newlywed, Steele is a little unnerved by the ambiance inside the mansion. She takes note of the unfriendly housekeeper, and all the paintings of the doctor's first wife, which still adorn the walls. His manner toward Barbara is formal rather than loving, and he tells her that under no circumstances is she to enter the former wife's bedroom.
So whattaya think she's gonna do, first chance she gets?
What happens when I tell you not to think of a pink elephant? "Whatever you do, don't think of it"!
Things start getting really spooky around this time. The doc keeps leaving late at night to head over to the hospital. Another beautiful young corpse is laying in the morgue and he can't control himself. Twice, he is nearly caught in the act by a young intern (the rest of the cast is played by Italian actors who are also dubbed). When he gives a false reason for his presence in the morgue so late at night, the intern accepts his explanation, but begins to develop a suspicion of the doctor, which increases one night when - after a party - he is asked by the doc to escort Barbara Steele home, and he sees the interior of the mansion for himself.
Barbara Steele will make a discovery of her own that will place her in grave danger.
Do you see what I did there? "Grave" danger? Pretty good, eh?
"The Terror of Dr. Hichcock" is a minor gem of a ghoulish little fright flick. For a low buget film that was reportedly shot in 14 days (which Barbara Steele squeezed into her schedule during a break in the production of Fellini's "8 1/2"), the atmosphere created by director Freda is very haunting. His use of colored lighting surely influenced Dario Argento of "Suspiria" fame, and he also uses a dread-building orchestral score to great effect. Robert Flemyng is disquieting as the cold and calculating doctor with a sick secret, and the beautiful Barbara Steele is great as always. She had a talent for projecting vulnerability and real fear into her characters in many English horror films of the 60s and 70s; you have no doubt seen her before, perhaps in a Hammer movie or two.
Though the picture quality was substandard, verging on poor, I am gonna give "The Terror of Doctor Hichcock" Two Strong Thumbs Up. For the budget he had to work with, Riccardo Freda created an artful and genuinely frightening film, with a taboo premise that he treated with care and did not exploit.
It was a great way to start the Halloween Movie Season. I recommend looking for it yourself, if you can find it on Netflix or at your local Libe. Or, you can simply purchase it from Sinister Cinema. ////
That's all for now. Do-or-die game coming up in a couple hours for the Dodgers. I'll be peeking through closed fingers at this one, way too nerve-wracking to watch straight up. And if you think that's weird, remember that I'm the guy who used to sit out in the garage or walk around the block during close games between the Lakers and Celtics in the NBA Finals back in the 1980s. :)
It's just too much for me, lol! But if I turn on the TV and the Dodgers are up, say 7-1, then I can watch with no problem!
See you tonight! Go Dodgers!
Tons of love. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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