JVSanders

I recently found the entire nine-minute "Duck and Cover" film online. Unfortunately, I have no distinct memory of having seen the movie while in elementary school (the "Civil Defense" craze of the 1950's was petering out by the time I started first grade in 1962.) Nevertheless, I do recall one or two "air raid" drills that involved hustling all the kids down to the school's basement. I also remember at least one "duck and cover drill" where, on a signal from the teacher (Sister something-or-other) we all "ducked" under our desks and "covered" our heads with our hands. Afterwards, the nun led us in a solemn prayer asking god to help our president defend us against the communists.

As others have already observed, the development of thermonuclear weapons had, by the beginning of the Sixties, more-or-less invalidated the concept of effective civil defense, at least in urban and suburban areas. CD-related drills were no longer conducted in my school after the 1963-64 term. If memory serves correctly, though, monthly testing of municipal air-raid sirens continued for a couple more years; and U.S. Army anti-aircraft missile batteries protecting major American cities and suburbs remained operational until the early-1970's.

"Duck and Cover," with its 1940's-inspired music and authoritative narration ("We must OBEY the Civil Defense worker"), is a laughable throwback to an era when there were only 48 states in the Union; and when citizens were expected to (and largely did) trust "their" government to look after the common good.

Although Close Encounters of the Third Kind succeeds on certain levels, it subtly fails on others.

Steven Spielberg, himself the product of a broken home, depicts in some detail the destruction of a working-class family headed by Richard Dreyfuss' character, Roy Neary. Neary's UFO-induced psychotic behavior, the bitter arguments between him and his wife, and the obvious traumatization of their young children would, in a real-world context, be supremely tragic; to Spielberg, they were mere transitional elements to be exploited. (The painful disintegration of the Neary Family is particularly evident in the director's cut.)

An essential idea behind CE3, i.e., that aliens could be benevolent, is flawed by the concept that human beings (such as the lost aircrews of "Flight 19") might have been abducted over the course of decades or even centuries. That these lost humans were returned as part of the film's climax overlooks a significant fact: i.e., kidnapping inflicts horrific, long-term emotional scars on the victim and her/his family members. It's hard to believe that a highly intelligent, interstellar-traveling humanoid species could be unmindful of this.

Roy Neary's willingness to fly away with the aliens at the film's end - evidently without a thought for the impoverished, traumatized family he would leave behind – may well reflect Spielberg's attitude toward his own father. (Separated or divorced parents is also a small-yet-significant part of "E.T.: The Extraterrestrial.")

For me, one of CE3's most irritating moments is the scene where government-approved pilgrims are prayerfully exhorted to regard the aliens as "angels" sent by "God." (Were those folks recruited from Oral Roberts University instead of NASA?) Another annoying "fly in my mashed potatoes" is the scene where a kneeling Melinda Dillon clasps her hands in seeming worship when the colossal Mother Ship arrives. Perhaps Spielberg cannot be faulted for introducing the Aliens-as-God shtick into CE3; after all, Erich Von Daniken's Chariots of the Gods and similar books were rather popular in the 1970's. Nevertheless, the hokey religious elements are cloying, to say the least.

Brian Yuzna's Necronomicon features a wraparound in which Jeffrey Combs portrays H.P. Lovecraft, circa 1932. Prosthetic makeup, in combination with Comb's naturally high voice, results in what is probably the best portrayal of H.P.L. we're likely to see. However, those familiar with Lovecraft's life will be amused (or perhaps annoyed) to see him depicted as an occult believer/action hero who gains access to a copy of the Necronomicon through subterfuge. A somewhat similar liberty was taken by novelists Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson in their 'Illuminatus' trilogy; and, of course, Robert Bloch based a character in 'Shambler From The Stars' on Lovecraft. (With H.P.L's permission, however.)

Necronomicon is a melange of Lovecraftian characters, stories, and themes. The Deep Ones, Cthulhu, the strange high house in the mist at Kingsport Head and, of course, the dreaded Necronomicon itself are all reasonably well treated. H.P.L.'s short story 'Cool Air' provided some inspiration for one of the film's segments.

Lovecraft's stories - notoriously short on dialog and female characters - do not easily lend themselves to direct cinematic adaptation. Consequently, Brian Yuzna deserves credit for extracting many essential elements from the Mythos and presenting them in a way contemporary horror audiences can appreciate. Necronomicon may offer a bit too much gore for some tastes; but as far as I'm concerned, even loose adaptations of Lovecraft's work are better than none at all.

Whereas Ian Fleming and Robert Ludlum tended toward the super-hero approach to international espionage, John Le Carre preferred it's more-realistic side: the tawdry shadow-world of betrayal, futility, and the brutal exploitation of human weakness. It looks like screenwriters Daniel W. Rintels and Gerald Wilson and director Michael Winner took a page from the Le Carre playbook when crafting this 1973 thriller.

Scorpio ranks with The Spy Who Came In From The Cold and The Looking Glass War as one of the best espionage flicks ever made. Burt Lancaster displays subtle depth as a veteran CIA agent who might be turning to the other side. Alain Delon excels as the young French assassin tasked with the liquidation of his old friend and mentor. Paul Scofield, John Colicos, and a young James Sikking all turn in fine supporting performances.

Scorpio is a lesser-known yet very satisfying classic from the Anti-Hero/Anti-Establishment era of the 1970's.

I was 21-years-old when this film hit theaters and, frankly, I disliked it then for a couple of reasons:

1) I saw the original version on TV as a child and resented any attempt to remake one of my favorite movies. (My attitude toward remakes has since changed.)

2) The Twin Towers of the World Trade Center (not the Empire State Building) were featured in the climax of the 1976 version. In addition to resenting remakes, I was still upset that the Twin Towers had snatched the title of "World's Tallest Skyscraper" from the Empire State Building (and then lost the title within a couple of years to the even-taller Sears Tower in Chicago.)

As far as I can tell, King Kong (1976) was the first of many films that prominently featured the late-Twin Towers. Like many New Yorkers, my initial attitude toward the Towers evolved from disdain - to grudging acceptance - to affection. They were an incredible sight to behold, and the view from the South Tower observation deck was unforgettable.

King Kong (1976) offered state-of-the art sfx and lots of action. Anyone who expects Academy Award-worthy performances from a Sci-Fi/Adventure flick is missing the point. All movies are time-capsules that preserve the attitudes, trends, language, etc., of the decade in which they were made. King Kong (1976) blends imaginative adventure with the Ecology/Environmental Movement of the Seventies.

As a hard core fan of H.P. Lovecraft, I'm always grateful to see a cinematic adaptation of his work. (Even such a loose adaptation as 1970's The Dunwich Horror.)

Although I would've preferred to see Dagon produced as Lovecraft's The Shadow Over Innsmouth (AND set in New England, where the story belongs) I am, nevertheless, encouraged by the fruits of Gordon and Yuzna's collaboration. Despite setting the film in Spain, enough original story elements were incorporated to make the film passable Lovecraftian.

If Stuart Gordon is indeed tackling Lovecraft's 1931 novella At the Mountains of Madness, I hope he will set that film in Antarctica as Lovecraft did.

For a long time, I was certain that Peter Fonda appeared in episodes of the original Outer Limits and Twilight Zone.

Eventually, I learned that the late Lee Kinsolving was the actor I had confused with Fonda. Kinsolving played the sensitive, ostracized 'Ethan Weschler' in the Outer Limits episode 'The Children of Spider County' and the motorcycle riding alien 'Scott' in the Twilight Zone episode 'Black Leather Jackets.'

I saw both those episodes not too long ago, and noted again the striking physical similarity between Kinsolving and Fonda. I decided to look up Lee Kinsolving in the IMDb, and was saddened to learn that he died of respiratory failure in 1974 at the age of 36. I also learned that he became disenchanted with acting around 1966 and effectively disappeared from the Hollywood scene.

For a long time, I was certain that Peter Fonda appeared in episodes of the original Twilight Zone and Outer Limits.

Eventually, I learned that the late Lee Kinsolving was the actor I had confused with Fonda. Kinsolving played the motorcycle riding alien 'Scott' in the Twilight Zone episode 'Black Leather Jackets,' and the sensitive, ostracized 'Ethan Weschler' in the Outer Limits episode 'The Children of Spider County.'

I saw both those episodes not too long ago, and noted again the striking physical similarity between Kinsolving and Fonda. I decided to look up Lee Kinsolving in the IMDb, and was saddened to learn that he died of respiratory failure in 1974 at the age of 36. I also learned that he became disenchanted with acting around 1966 and effectively disappeared from the Hollywood scene.

Baby Boomers like me often wonder why manned space exploration seems so far behind the expectations of the 1960's. Instead of seeing humans walk on Mars, we're left with an all-but-useless space station serviced by 40-year-old Russian capsules and dangerously obsolescent American shuttles.

X-15 offers a glimpse of how things might have turned out. It's hard to believe there actually was an alternative to such dead-ends programs as Project Apollo, Skylab, and the Space Shuttle. The legendary rocketeer Werner Von Braun thought that America should enter space in stages: i.e., build a reusable orbiter, construct a large, permanent space station, and then use that platform to construct inexpensive, reusable vehicles for further exploration. Unfortunately, President John Kennedy's Race to the Moon made such a logical course of action impossible. X-15 shows, in part, how the U.S. Air Force wanted to fulfill Von Braun's vision.

The film is, for the most part, historically and technologically accurate. Few remember how exciting the X-15 rocket plane was as it left Earth's atmosphere years before the "tin cans" of Project Mercury. Despite negative claims from NASA (which coveted the millions of space research dollars going to the Air Force) a follow-up of the X-15, the X-20 Dyna Soar, might have orbited the Earth by the mid-1960's. Interestingly, the film includes cameo appearances of actual network TV correspondents who were convinced the X-15 would help America establish a permanent presence in space. A combination of factors: the urgency of Kennedy's race to the moon; the economic demands of the Viet Nam War; and reasonable fears of militarizing space killed off the Air Force's more-logical approach to earth orbit.

The film's dramatic climax, which depicts an X-15 actually orbiting the Earth, is a clear case of cinematic license. (The real X-15 was capable of sub-orbital flights only.) Nevertheless, a larger, two-man version, the X-15B, was designed by North American Rockwell, and there are many that still believe it could have achieved low earth orbit.

It's clear that director Richard Donner was given unprecedented access to the Air Force's facilities at Edwards Air Force Base/Dryden Research Center. The battle for funding with NASA was a make-or-break challenge, and the USAF clearly recognized the value of the mass media, and of providing a heroic and practical image of its X-15 program to American filmgoers. Although the film X-15 might be criticized on a number of artistic levels, it nevertheless stands as a valuable bit of early-1960's nostalgia that offers a rare glimpse into a forgotten chapter of space exploration.

I'm one of those who believe that Stephen King owes a very large debt of gratitude to H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937.) In all fairness to King, though, he has graciously acknowledged Lovecraft's many important contributions to literary horror.

It's possible that director Tobe Hooper also recognized Lovecraft's significance when adapting The Mangler for the big screen. The short-story version does not offer a substantive historical link between the present-day and the genesis of the demon machine in the 1920s; the decade when Lovecraft began his short but illustrious writing career. Hooper took great pains, however, to develop an atmosphere that evokes the New England of Lovecraft's youth; a period when mill towns offered the only refuge for immigrants and native poor unable to make a living off the land. It was a time before the New Deal social reforms of President Franklin Roosevelt offered some relief from the exploitative and dangerous conditions inflicted on America's working class. For me, the philosophical sub-text of The Mangler is the evils of unbridled, industrial capitalism. The fact that rural communities have often depended for their very existence on a dehumanizing local industry is not lost on the socially progressive King.

Some have characterized The Mangler as an outstanding B-movie. I prefer to regard it as an all around entertaining flick. Although such films tend to be formulaic, Hooper and co-screenwriter Stephen David Brooks deserve credit for fleshing-out King's short story in a laudable fashion. The film's characters are well developed, and Robert Englund's portrayal of Bill Gartley, the grotesquely maimed, delightfully evil owner of the laundry machine from hell, should have earned him an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor (a nod that should also have gone to Fred Gwynne for his fine work in Pet Sematary.) Ted Levine, and the versatile Jeremy Crutchley -- who portrayed two different characters in The Mangler -- also turned in noteworthy performances. Last but not least, the film's surprise ending, totally different from the climax of the original short story, is satisfying and appropriate.

Despite the overwhelming popularity of his novels, I believe that King's lesser works best demonstrate his creative gifts. The short story format demands an economy of words and a disciplined approach that can result in high emotional impact for readers. Short stories also provide additional latitude for movie makers to offer their unique interpretation of the work. The film adaptation of The Mangler is a fine example of the creative synergy between literary and cinematic artists, and a must-see for horror fans.

Although I've been fond of William Holden for years I didn't get around to seeing Picnic until 2001. Needless to say, it's regarded as one of his better acting efforts and has been applauded as one of the great romance films of the 1950's.

Holden's range as an actor is apparent as he portrays one of the most annoyingly idiotic characters ever put on film. Hollywood maintains a love affair with the so-called "romantic drifter." This was especially true in the Fifties, when the Film Noir movement shattered certain stereotypes for the sake of more interesting cinematic art. In the case of Picnic, though, the social misfit treatment is laid on by the dump truck load.

The character Holden portrays, "Hal Carter," is representative of the anti-hero type popularized in the plays of Eugene O'Neill: the immature, handsome-but-aging white male whose schoolboy-athlete glory has faded after years of adult failure. Although such characters can have a limited appeal, they become extremely tiresome when developed to the extent seen in Picnic.

On the other side is Kim Novak's character, "Madge Owen." As the beautiful blond daughter of a poverty stricken widow, Madge is expected to marry young, handsome, wealthy "Alan Benson" (played by Cliff Robertson.) However, Madge spurns a comfortable married life and runs off after Hal, who flees a brush with the law and then goes in search of a "job as a bellhop." Madge's unintellectual persona is reinforced by the presence of a college-bound, less-attractive kid sister.

Do poor women routinely spurn handsome young millionaires in order to run off with hunky-but-penniless drifters? Possibly. The real question is whether or not Picnic is a movie worth viewing. If you're a serious fan of William Holden, everything he's done is a must-see. Hard core film enthusiasts should also view Picnic at least once. As far as I'm concerned, though, once is enough...

Many horror fans, and those who try to write such stories, understand that Stephen King has taken inspiration from the work of others. And there can be little doubt King was influenced by Thomas Tryon's outstanding novels "The Other" and "Harvest Home."

The TV movie version of the latter book, titled "Dark Secret of Harvest Home," was the second and final adaptation of Tryon's work and was originally aired in 1978, two years after the big screen success of Stephen King's "Carrie." Unlike 1972's "The Other," "Dark Secret of Harvest Home" was presented as a mini-series with a superb cast headed by Bette Davis.

Thomas Tryon wrote with an elegant style somewhat reminiscent of H.P. Lovecraft's. His plots were engaging, his characters interesting and well developed, and his New England settings evoked the gloom and obscure anxiety traditionally associated with that region. So why has his work faded into obscurity while King's is heralded as the greatest in the history of horror?

Regrettably, Tryon started writing rather late in life after a well-regarded career as an actor in such films as "The Cardinal," and died while his creative powers were on the wane. He also chose to explore genres other than the Gothic (with generally good results.) There is also a more staid, pre-World War II air about his work that might not appeal to the Baby Boomers and Gen-X'ers who form King's core audience. Nevertheless, Tryon's Gothic efforts translated wonderfully onto the small screen, and he deserves a well-deserved place in the pantheon of American Gothic writers. Thankfully, American Movie Classics has begun airing the TV movie version "The Other" again. Hopefully, 'Dark Secret of Harvest Home' won't be far behind.

Many horror fans, and those who try to write such stories, understand that Stephen King has taken inspiration from the work of others. And there can be little doubt King was greatly influenced by Thomas Tryon's outstanding novels Harvest Home and The Other.

The TV movie version of The Other enjoyed good-ratings and critical acclaim when it was first broadcast on CBS in 1972. Although Stephen King was actively writing horror at the time, I suspect he took subtle cues from The Other. Among other things, little Danny Torrance's psychic manifestation of "the shining" is curiously similar to a phenomena called "playing the game" in Tryon's story.

Thomas Tryon wrote with an elegant style somewhat reminiscent of H.P. Lovecraft's. His plots were engaging, his characters interesting and well developed, and his New England settings evoked the gloom and obscure anxiety traditionally associated with that region. So why has his work faded into near-obscurity while King's is heralded as the greatest in the history of horror?

Regrettably, Tryon, who was one of the most highly regarded young actors in Hollywood, started writing rather late in life and died while his creative powers were waning. He also chose to explore genres other than the Gothic (with generally good results.) There is also a more staid, pre-World War II air about his work that might not appeal King's core audience. Nevertheless, Tryon's Gothic efforts translated wonderfully onto the small screen, and he deserves a well-deserved place in the pantheon of American Gothic writers.

Thankfully, American Movie Classics has begun airing The Other again, and a new generation of fans now has the opportunity to enjoy this seminal work of cinematic horror.

Yes, it was Vic Perrin, the "Control Voice" from The Outer Limits, who narrated the opening of Gargoyles. With all due respect to Lee Shapiro's summary, the bat-winged leader of the scaly monsters (played by Bernie Casey) makes it quite clear to "Dr. Boley" (Cornel Wilde) that the extinction of humanity is the evil creature's ultimate goal. Although IMDb does not list it, Bernie Casey appeared, in suitably scary prosthetic makeup, as the alien interrogator in the The Outer Limits episode titled: "Nightmare." As far as I'm concerned, Gargoyles noses out The Other as the best low-budget, made-for-TV, Sci-Fi/Horror flick of all time!