worldsofdarkblue

Or what?

These two extremely unhappy and immature teens in France take off on an unprepared trip to a hippie commune that the girl talks about all of a sudden toward the end - but it's not entirely clear to me if the commune actually exists or is just something she's wishing for.

I get that teens can be very hard to please and these two seem to have no good feeling toward their parents or upbringing. There is some suggestion that they may have (at least the girl may have) experienced some abuse of some kind, but it's not at all certain. It may be that they're both just typically hard to get along with teens. The boy definitely seems so.

Anyway, the ending is what I'm questioning. Has she killed herself? Anyone care to offer an opinion on that?

Set in an oil industry ghost town-like city in Iran, this movie, directed by newcomer Ana Lily Amirpour - an American of Iranian descent - is highly reminiscent of Jim Jarmusch's early style. Interestingly, in an interview between her and legendary producer/director Roger Corman on the DVD extras, she claims she's not much of a fan of Jim Jarmusch. But as virtually everyone who studies film has pointed at the stylistic similarity, she is taking it as a compliment. Good idea, Ana.  

Like Jarmusch's work, the movie is shot in atmospheric black and white - and it works beautifully. The dialogue is all Persian (Farsi) - even though the movie was shot in America, standing in for Iran - and is subsequently sub-titled. However, this does not work against the film (whose strength is its visuals) at all, as the dialogue is at all times minimal and slow, thus making the reading easy and unobstructive to the fascinating camera work.  

So, it's a horror movie. It's principal character is a Persian woman vampire - who stalks the town, robed in a black chador, which is quite an unsettling shadow to behold standing 10 feet away from a potential victim late at night. The events exist within a kind of imagined Iranian underworld of pimps, hookers, drug dealers and street urchins. Our vampire watches this dark town, at times slowly riding a skateboard down the street! When she interactswith people, she is unblinking, mostly un-verbal, and seems to be at all times appraising their circumstances and their worth.  

Aside from the beautiful blocking shots and photography, a high point of the filmis its use of sound effects, music (which sometimes references Morricone-like spaghetti westerns) and an impressive soundtrack of mostly modern pop music.  

Any criticism of this movie (though it'smore praised than not) seems to center around it being "style over substance" and "too slowly paced". Well, it is moody, that's for sure - and maybe too slow for many of today's horror fans, that's true - but there's no arguing that its greatest strength is its style.  

Using classic ratings, I give it 3 1/2 stars. Quite a different take in the vampire canon - I haven't enjoyed a vampire-themed movie this much since 2010's 'Let Me In'. Very impressive for a director's first feature.  

Oh - and one more thing - there's a kitty cat in the movie - prominently, which tempts me to raise the rating to a full 4 stars.

Otherwise this piece of 70's outrageousness would be better loved. It does have everything a cult film should.

But the baby voice makes no sense. Why would the child grow in every way - into a mature body - but the vocal cords remain in infancy? The sound of a baby coming from him is the worst thing about the movie - makes it much more grating and reduces the film overall.

Considering that the story does keep one watching to see what's gonna happen, this flaw is quite unfortunate - makes one want to stop watching for the annoyance of it.

Well, that's all I wanted to say - but the "guidelines" tell me I have to add more lines to this comment, so I added this sentence. The guidelines are stupid, aren't they?

With so much denigration by those who've posted comments, I felt it was time for someone who likes the movie to post something.

I saw it in the theatre in 1971 and came away feeling like I'd seen something special. Now, I was already quite a fan of Peter Kastner for his wonderful performance in 1966's 'You're a Big Boy Now', so it's quite possible my liking of him coloured my critical thinking.

But I don't think so. I liked it a lot - in fact, I like the counter-culty free-sex vibe of so many movies from those magic years 1970 and 1971. And apparently there's a reviewer with the New York Times (Howard Thompson) who found it to be as delightful as I did.

Peter Kastner was a very likable young man. He was capable of expressing many emotions in a really charming way. He should have become a better-known actor.

Torquemada and he Spanish Inquisition. Okay.

We have here a story of a baker and his wife who have the bad fortune to be noticed by the Torquster. But, the baker? It seems a little odd that he'd be impervious to the pain of torture (the fire chair scene), not to mention being capable of taking on a whole host of guards in true Batman style.

On a slightly different topic, how come the witches turned out to be actual witches with the power of telepathic communication?

For a history-based horror movie, it's got a lot of modern nuance, know what I mean.

Freddy Krueger is a cruel clown and is always a ton of fun to listen to. Jason Vorhees is a personality-less, lumbering death dispenser in the Michael Myers mold. So, as Freddy is the more imaginative and entertaining of the two it's not surprising that he would be the instigator of their return to active status or that he would assume the bossy position.

This assumption of the position of boss and the casting of Jason as a mindless assistant of sorts sets up the inevitable clash indicated in the title. But there's one huge problem right from the start - we are told near the beginning that Jason's strength is that he cannot die. No matter how much slashing, slicing and dicing, eyeball ripping, heart tearing Freddy lays on - and he does - the victory cannot be won. Half way through the movie we're reminded of that very notion by Freddy himself when, after thrashing Jason severely, Freddy utters the frustration "why won't you die?".

This removes all interest in the conflict between the two. It's boring when you know that one of the two can't die and therefore there can only be one outcome - Freddy will lose in spite of being the greater evil. And make no mistake about that, he is the greater evil. Jason may kill teens without hesitation but he's almost merciful in his quick dispatchings compared to the tortures in which Freddy relishes.

I had the same bored sense of futility when I watched Superman II many years ago and Super was battling the three Krypton criminals. No matter how many buildings they'd drop on each other's heads, nobody was gonna be hurt by any of it. And so all that action was boring.

However, this movie does have some nice reminiscent set pieces - lots of homage-ey representations of the two series, so if you're a fan of either you should enjoy those.

But there's no real sense of wonderment or anticipation. The action between the two monsters becomes flat and unexciting because of the parameters revealed to us.

That Freddy, though. What a hoot. He does love to talk, doesn't he.

Clearly, everyone in this is a Republican. Republicans aren't cool. They're even less cool when they think they're cool. The dangerous youths of this beauty are clearly that. Lots of money for souped up wheels and Today's Teen clothing.

I was an 18 year old usher when I was forced to watch this every night for a week at work. I'd just turn my head and look incredulously at my co-workers night after night. What the hell is this? I'd say. We're supposed to be afraid of these kids? In the past year we'd run 'The Wild Angels', 'The Devil's Angels' and 'The Incident'.

Stupid, stupid presentation of menace. A Republican presentation. Should have starred Ozzie and Harriet - now that would have given the movie something to really enjoy. I loved those Nelsons.

Most people seem to dismiss it, if not hate it. Certainly the critics. But. really - we get a Brando performance that again displays his long-held dismissal of Hollywood-ism, we get Val Kilmer hamming it up joyously (even to the point of repeatedly doing Brando impressions), we get David Thewliss (a damn fine actor) actually playing the most important character with admirable commitment, we get cat-eyed Fairuza Balk (yum!), we get the great Ron Perlman, playing a beast yet again, pretty much stealing the movie, we get something that is Dr. Moreau's constant companion, becoming a pop-culture icon thanks to South Park - as Chef puts it "what the hell are you supposed to be? You don't look like anything". Outstanding photography, effective tropical suggestibility (you can almost feel the humidity), excellent animal make-up, some truly memorable scenes (the birthing scene, the Hyena-Moreau confrontation) and even a sense of philosophical examination. And though the story of this insane scientist attempting to humanize animals has been done several times, only this one goes to the extreme of showing us that he's even created a bunch of tiny rat people! What a loon. Too much enjoyment for a movie so slammed.

It's hard to imagine a world where all the stations you could watch would 'end their broadcast day' if you're too young to have lived it. That's the world where this movie was great as a late-night treat that aired very rarely. I only saw it the one time and forget the story completely but its images remain in my memory. I knew it was a cheap, bad movie when I was watching but my reaction ranged from bored to bemused to fascinated. Additionslly, there was invoked a sweet nostalgia from seeing John Ashley headlining a movie. I'd watched that guy battle mostly black and white monsters since I was 8 years old. I saw this movie when I was 26.

It's a new world now and there's no reason to recommend this movie anymore. But I liked it and would sit through it again.

Juvenile delinquency was a very hot topic in the late fifties and early sixties. The new scourge of civilization, rock and roll, had transformed the younger generation into rebels who wanted to cast off the repressive rules by which they were expected to conduct themselves. The burgeoning post-war economy was removing the fear that had formed so much of the older generation's embracement of responsibility and the ever-quickening pace of materialistic progress was making any prospect of boredom anathema to the young.

This certainly didn't go unnoticed by the establishment who were understandably alarmed by what appeared to be a rise in youthful disrespect and hedonism and the war of the generations was taken fairly seriously for a while. Hollywood quickly realized that this was a very sexy and saleable topic for entertaining the masses and began churning out dramas of rebellious youth by the boatload. By 1960 (the year this film was released) these rebellious youth movies were becoming pretty repetitive as far as contemporary settings went, so it was a darned good idea to take the issue and transfer it to a different time - the old west.

It worked rather well, I think. Westerns tend to be fairly simple story lines for the most part anyway, so bringing an aspect of modern juvenile delinquency into the western was novel enough to spice up both tired genres a little. I watched it on the late show when I was on a baby-sitting gig and it made my night. Held my interest all the way and I enjoyed repeated viewings of it over the next couple of years.

It's well acted by all. John Saxon has a great time playing the quietest but most dangerous gang member and Jeff Chandler gets to be a bad-tempered hero. As a small and relatively simple movie with a social message geared to the time of its release it's not really an 8 now, but I think it deserves a little better rating than it has here so I've given an extra point or two to help raise the average and I don't think that's the wrong thing to do at all. It's a decent piece of entertainment.

I first saw Dances shortly after the academy bestowed it with honors and I enjoyed it very much. I've long been aware of the shameful history of the raping of the indigenous peoples. Read many books on the subject. So, this movie touched me where I lived, and it was easy for me to relate to the Costner character and the sentiment expressed. I thought it was an excellent movie.

Problem is, I tried to watch it again a few years back and I couldn't. Had to turn it off. When Costner spreads his arms out wide and prances back and forth, eyes closed, before an array of rifles firing at him and not able to hit him the thought came to me that 'this is bullshit'. Why didn't I notice how bogus this was the first time I saw it? (Actually, I did but kept watching as I'd paid good money). I guess it's supposed to signal to the viewer that this is a very special man - protected by some mystical force.

Then, a while later in the film, Costner is living alone on the frontier and along comes a wild wolf that, again I guess drawn by some mysticism inherent in Costner's character, doesn't remain true to its wildness but becomes a playmate (pet) to Costner. And again came the thought 'bullshit'.

Now, I know that the movie is gonna get better (I have seen it before and there's 'indians' coming) but I'm out of the film now because, apart from these incongruous scenes, Costner is boring me to tears. The fact is, he always bores me to tears. He's a very boring actor. A boring personality with a bland look. Why isn't this movie in the top 250? I think I know why.

No point in going on about it. After reading four solid pages of 'greatest movie of all time' comments this one's bound to go to the back with lots of 'no' votes and I'm sorry to offend, but:

good movie once - stupid movie twice. Kevin Costner is an overblown bore of an actor and his continually declining popularity is due to people realizing it as they revisit his filmography.

So many complaints about Broderick Crawford being too fat to be a fast gun. Common mistake. People always underestimate just how quick a large man can move in short bursts. While admittedly looking a little too well-fed for an outlaw constantly on the run, Broderick Crawford plays Vinnie Harold as belligerent and humourless a personality as has ever existed and is a delight to listen to in the role. His gruff, no nonsense barks make the movie. From his very first scene, the similarly hefty and frightful Tony Soprano was brought to mind.

Along with 'The Blackboard Jungle', this mid-fifties feature captures Glenn Ford at the peak of his form and popularity. He's well built for this part and has a convincing walk and stance when wearing his gun. Generally a lightweight actor, this was a good vehicle for him and was probably one of his fondest professional memories.

As for the film itself, it's fairly entertaining though the morality play aspect of it and the somewhat overblown pontificating in the church is a little tiresome. The gunfighting scenes are the second best content (after Crawford's nastiness). The most convincing acting is the short sentence spoken by Jeanne Crain - 'I've seen them before'. Russ Tamblyn's dance is a very impressive thing to see but shouldn't be in the movie. It really dates the film and pretty near takes you right out of it.

So, a mixed bag - but I've seen it 3 times now, twice as a young teen of about 14 and today as an old man of 59. Give it a try at least once

Yes, I liked this movie as a kid in the mid-fifties. What's not to like about a monster movie when you're a kid? But, as an adult, I have to appraise movies with a little more honesty in terms of overall artistry as well as entertainment value and this one is painfully short of either. The original feature to which this sequel pertains - Creature From The Black Lagoon (1954) - holds up wonderfully well to this day. In addition to originality of both creature and story, it has going for it some beautiful photographic moments that seem to remain in one's mind forever; a lot of true suspense in the story-flow; believable acting with acceptably intelligent dialogue; and perhaps most importantly, dream-inducing Freudian undercurrents involving males, prehistoric creatures and the delicious Julia Adams (who, for my money, remains one of the most entrancing beauties in film history - in that movie!).

This sequel attempts to hit the marks of the first while adding a couple of pat b-movie clichés (parked necking teens, stampeding frightened people with your standard fallen child, sacrificial canine protector, fainted carried in arms beauty). But it's just weak. No Adams, Richard Carlsons or Dennings, no Whit Bissels in this one. John Agar never could act his way out of a paper bag and Lori Nelson is as gifted as he in that respect. The trite, contrived script shows little imagination. Even the ending shot of the creature is taken from the first movie - how cheap can ya get? The creature is always kind of fun to watch of course, and when he's on-screen we tend to be happy about it. His struggles with his leg chain is perhaps the most worthy use of underwater photography, as is the completely-copied-from-the-first-film swimalong. But there's just no suspense this time. The humans are unconvincing and utterly boring - as is their dialogue. Their 'scientific' motives feel completely false (ostensibly capturing the creature to 'study' they immediately turn him into a seaworld attraction and begin training him).

And then there's the creature himself. He sounds the same as before but something has been lost in his ferociousness from the original - and that something is SIZE. For example, in the scene of walking the creature around to revive him, the guy doing the walking is as big and maybe bigger than the monster. Or so it looked to me. The legs of the thing are positively skinny to boot. When one thinks of the hulking example he'll be in the next chapter (when he becomes 'humanized') this incontinuity of appearance is a real weakness. Another thing that struck me wrongly was the way he was repeatedly fought off by his human combatants under water while being strong enough to almost effortlessly flip over an automobile. You'd think he'd be weaker out of the water (where, we're told, he can live only a few minutes) and much tougher than humans when in his natural environment. But I guess I'm just a spoilsport.

It's unfortunate that the next chapter in the series was a box-office dud undoubtedly due to viewer disappointment with this well-attended sequel. 'The Creature Walks Among Us' (1956) is a thoughtful (and thought-provoking), imaginative sequel (no carrying around of women in that one). This chapter can be dispensed with completely and the story arch loses absolutely nothing. A double feature night that comprises 1 and 3 is all the creature you need and all that really deserves to be libraried

Haven't seen it in many years but it's never been forgotten by me. I'm pretty sure it'd be dated now, probably unappreciated by today's generation. But I've noted in reading these comments just how many NYC residents have declared it's realism. And there's the rub. Those that say they can't understand the paralysis of the individuals in the film are in denial. When a family from Utah was waiting in a NYC subway not many years ago the mother was suddenly affronted by a couple of lowlifes demanding money from her in a profane, threatening manner. Attempting to divert the attackers from her, her son verbally objected to her treatment and was killed for it. I remember the chill I felt when I read a witness comment that he was killed for interfering and that 'people here know you never interfere - you just don't'. I too have lived in the city all my life and have traveled the subways of the sixties and seventies and I can assure any disbelievers that whenever a bad element came on and behaved menacingly, passengers looked at their feet

That's the oft-chronicled syndrome of 'no safety in a crowd' . Going to the defense of a stranger and thereby inviting the violence unto oneself requires more than a little courage. This was possibly even more true in the sixties (the setting of this film) when our society was actually more civilized than it is now (regarding the violence to which people were unaccustomed) and the phenomenon of 'apathy' was noted by sociologists with alarming regularity

Now, I can't really see the scenario of this movie occurring in real-life anymore. But in the mid-sixties it was all too authentic. Even punks were more creative in their activities back then. Today's video-drenched, learning-disabled, fast-shooting creepoids are too lazy, dumb and unmotivated to embark on such imaginative torments as the antagonists here. I actually knew a few guys like these two back in the sixties. The type that entertained and empowered themselves through the humiliation of others. Without the multi-channel cable universe in place back then they were too often found in inner-city streets

As to the movie itself I just have to say that when one stays with you for the rest of your life it's pretty easy to categorize it as great. Much has been written already about the characters in this film so I'll not bother to add much except to say that the part played by Beau Bridges is the part to which I most identify. Not because of his heroism, because of the way he becomes sick to his stomach at his own cowardice. Had Tony Musante not turned his attention to the frightened Ed McMahon and his sleeping daughter the drama may well have had a non-ending. I felt the self-loathing that Bridges felt also and I think it's at that point that I too would have finally reacted. I hope so

They should bury a copy of this movie in a time capsule. It captures a moment in time of American inner-city culture that may be gone now, but you never know. History has a tendency to re-cycle.

I know I'm just repeating what so many have already written, but I need to add my voice to this

This was the one - the very first one - that made me feel a deep and true melancholy the day I realized it was gone from the airwaves. Every time another 'too good for the masses' series has suffered the same fate, it's this title that rushes to mind.

It's difficult to express exactly why I fell in love with it so deeply. It was so quiet. So real. So human. Incredibly fast it had become as comfortable and soothing as home and family on a chill day and I remember feeling all-day joy when I knew that tonight's the night 'It's A Man's World' is on. And then, without mercy, it was gone. Ripped away.

It was just the beginning of heartbreaks, of course. A little more than a year later 'Hollywood And The Stars' would be taken from us after a single season of greatness. And on it's gone through the years. But 'It's A Man's World' was the first and still brings forth the sharpest remembrance of uncomprehending loss. How could the people not see what it was?

Saw this at my neighborhood theatre when I was seven. It not only scared me, it stayed with me in an eerie way, which I'll explain momentarily. The movie features one of those rare feminine monsters (think about it - how often were monsters women?). As I expounded on in my comments for 'Terror from the Year 5000', female monsters always frightened me much more than normal monsters and this was the first one I ever saw. To disturb my poor eight year-old psyche further, the glowing she-monster here was so shapely that I found myself feeling, um, stimulated in a certain way while simultaneously feeling stark terror! The look of her really did scare me but, unlike with most monster movies, I was unable to bring myself to close my eyes when she would appear.

Around this time in my life I was taking guitar lessons at the local conservatory of music and my teacher just happened to be a nice looking woman (actually, probably a teen, but at eight who can tell the difference?). One night, while sleeping, I had a dream and the astounding she-monster made an appearance in it and for some reason she turned out to be my guitar teacher. But she was every bit as deadly and when she started toward me I woke up terrified. For the next eight years or so, this glowing apparition made intermittent appearances in my dreams and always woke me up when she did. It stopped somewhere around age seventeen (thank heaven).

You would think that I would have avoided watching this source of personal nightmare, but you'd be wrong. The fact that she made appearances in my dreams just added to my fascination with this movie and I have watched it at every opportunity throughout my life. Naturally, as time marched forward, those opportunities became fewer and fewer until they stopped completely (for me) in 1984 - the last time it was run on a late-show that I know of.

Recently, I was able to obtain a VHS copy. After doing so I began to wonder if there were any others who have as strange a connection to this film as I. I began with a Shirley Kilpatrick google search that eventually led me to a forum where the film had been earnestly discussed and I read through all the posts of that thread. One poster revealed that he had made a tradition of watching 'The Astounding She-Monster' once a year and another poster asked him why. Of all movies, why this one? His answer truly struck a chord within me - he said that when he watches this movie, the entire outside world disappears for him. Further, he describes how the film seems so existentially dreamlike - all that running around, ending up back in the same place over and over.

Exactly right. I know just what he's talking about and for a long time I lived it repeatedly in my sleep. And by the way, I watched it last night and shivered when she appeared at the window the first time.

As a child I fell in love with 'monster' movies immediately upon seeing my first (Frankenstein Meets The Wolfman) on television. Fortunately for me I grew up in the fifties, an era prolific with cheapie horror and sci-fi films. A neighborhood theatre ran them almost exclusively at the time and I attended every Saturday (and sometimes a couple more days per week in glorious summer). Just couldn't get enough of this stuff.

I could take all the giant ants, scorpions and spiders, all the ghosts and haunted houses, the numerous editions of frankenstein monsters and invaders from space pretty well. For some reason, though, nothing frightened me more or stayed with me longer than the rare feminine monsters. Perhaps it was because women were always the loving caregivers (Mom, Grandma, my teachers, my sisters). When sick, or waking from a nightmare we always call for Mom. So, I think the idea of a woman being a vicious, scary thing was such a perversion of all I otherwise knew, the effect on me was especially chilling. I had no problem with the mutilated faces of men as in 'Horrors Of The Black Museum', 'The Black Sleep', 'The Unearthly' and so forth. But the visages of the female victims in 'The Hypnotic Eye' and of the niece in 'Frankenstein's Daughter' always made me squeeze shut my eyes.

'The Astounding She Monster' is a prime example of these fears - a malevolent, radioactive female relentlessly stalking me, her touch meaning sure pain and death. From the age of seven until seventeen, that particular luminescent character showed up in my nightmares. But the single most frightening thing I ever saw was the female terror that came shrieking out of the time machine in this movie, arms pumping in a marching style, coming right at me. Peeling off another woman's face to wear as a mask was incredibly disturbing. Yep - this was the single-most terror of my childhood movie-viewing. I couldn't even bring myself to keep my eyes open for more than half a second when the movie closes with a close-up of this hideously deformed feminist with a wicked widow's peak. Even at the age of sixteen, surrounded by buddies watching it on the late show, my body kept freezing with fear, though I didn't mention it to them.

Going by most of the reviews here, today's audiences, accustomed to the most graphic horror, just find this monster boring. But I'm still scared of this terror from the year 5000. Oh yeah, and the four-eyed cat gave me the creeps pretty good too.

I often like to read the comments from the back pages first and those here at IMDb are very, very disparaging of this film - much like the original critical reviews (and the still rather dismissive all-movie-guide blurb). The common reason is that these viewers were much offended by this movie. I can relate because I was offended as well when I saw it in 1974. And that horrified, sickened sensation stayed with me all the next day - so much so that I had to tell a co-worker about it, not in an enthusiastic way, but in an almost confessional way - as if I'd done something very wrong myself in having watched it. The comments at the back, I believe, are written from that emotional viewpoint. It's visceral hatred of what they've been unwillingly exposed to and I believe that may hinder appreciation for the actual quality of the film-making. They can't bring themselves to praise in any way something by which they feel so affronted.

This is testament to just how good this movie is. And by good, I mean effective. It's been three decades and counting since this nasty was sprung upon the viewing public, and though many far nastier (in graphic content and visuals) have avalanched down upon us since, few, if any, have been more gripping. You see, this is the type of movie that makes you ponder the 'nature of evil'. It's this seemingly bland, irredeemable, sociopathic evil that seems to disturb the most. No mental illness explanations ala 'Psycho' to take comfort in; no painfully, disfiguring past that has caused sadistic, homicidal madness as with 'The Hypnotic Eye' and it's ilk; no over-the-top camp sadism as with 'Blood And Black Lace' that can be watched and instantly dismissed, so ludicrously cinematic is the horror there.

No, at the risk of plagiarizing another commenter, the violence here feels too real. The acting is too good. The slowly unfolding scenarios too disturbingly believable. The final twenty minutes of the film are immeasurably welcomed by the viewer, as the film takes on an eerie but strangely satisfying turn. It provides much-needed catharsis, a relief from the tension and sadness of the first hour.

The ending ties up some loose ends nicely, leaving one with a kind of 'understanding' of what it was about. A message about what inhumane attitudes can be developed in those who have been a little too privileged, perhaps. I recently became aware that the film has an alternate ending (included in the version known as 'The Recon Game') that serves to undermine our sense of justice when compared to the version that was shown here in Canada. Perhaps tacked on as a sop to the protestations of liberal critics, it is nowhere near as satisfying a conclusion as that of 'Open Season'.

Not that this movie is available other than as a very pricey European import (some with non-removable foreign-language subtitles yet), but the North American version of 'Open Season' is the one to see first.

The Magnificent Seven. So descriptive of what we are about to see; so much honor, dignity and anticipation in those three words. I remember the first time vividly, though some forty-five years ago. I'd come in at the end of it, and the final battle was underway. There was Brynner, trapped against doors that would not give way for his retreat, and here comes a shouting, hard-riding comrade to his rescue - doomed to be the first who would fall. Astonishing intensity of gunfire and a limping Steve McQueen thrusts himself into the fray. Next, a vested, gloved gunman rounds a corner, stops, spies movement inside a house, coolly holsters his gun, kicks open the door and engages three men in a swift, deadly gunfight. Ten minutes later it was all over but my passion had been stoked. It would be a long, long time before I would again miss an airing of The Mag 7 from it's beginning.

Chris, the leader: Of course it's easy to see now that the King and Chris were the two roles Yul Brynner was born to play. They belong to him alone (so far no actor has been able to improve them). As the first of the seven he brought the aura of absolute authority needed for the role of a man who would be universally respected and obeyed by other men who were his martial equal. Though at times he is typically stiff and larger than life in this performance, he does come across at other moments as relaxed and dry-humoured.

Calvera, the adversary: Eli Wallach gives a wonderful performance as the menacing, yet wise-cracking bandit boss with a delightfully cynical view of life. Though he is appropriately menacing, you just can't keep from smiling as he expounds his experience of robbing "one little bank" in Texas.

Vin, the cowboy-come-gunfighter: Steve McQueen gives the most natural performance of them all. He truly never seems to be acting; rather, he seems to actually be the character. His every movement, gesture and facial expression look uncannily genuine. A very, very cool screen persona.

O'Reilly, the professional: Though the odds are stacked against, this is nothing new for him. He has faced and won against even more intimidating odds. Several times. Charles Bronson plays the part as ... well, as Charles Bronson. Plain and simply, you don't fool with this guy. To say O'Reilly is a loner is a massive understatement. Who better to play him than the "friendless" Bronson?

Lee, the hider: Revealed as having 'lost his nerve' I related to Lee in a truthful way as I could not really relate to the other heroes (except in my fantasies). On the commentary track of the DVD James Coburn advises that when actors invariably discuss who would play what part in a remake, most choose the role of Lee for themselves. Reviewers have noted that the brooding and darkness evident in Seven Samurai is largely absent from this adaptation but it is Lee who brings a little of it to this film. In his introductory scene the music takes an ominous tone. It signals clearly that there is something a little "off" about this character. South-eastern accented - Georgia or the Carolinas, he is educated, stylish and a very fast gun, probably arrogantly so in his past. The character is perhaps stylistically modeled on the real-life Doc Holiday. Fascinatingly different, he remains ever in the background, has little contact with the rest. There are two small instances that reveal the depth of his desperation late in the film: A villager says 'only the dead are without fear'. At that moment there comes into his eyes a look of profound realization as the answer in those words dawns on him. Later, as he quietly prepares to leave the village, he rifles his pocket to find nothing there. You can see in him that he knows too well the emptiness of his chosen life. Robert Vaughn was an adroit casting choice.

Britt, the perfectionist: Terrific part for James Coburn and he acknowledges that he wanted this one badly. He also relates in the commentary that the part was given to him in a last-minute decision. How significant was Britt of the seven? As Coburn says "everyone remembers the guy with the knife". He was so right for the part - lanky, stern faced and growl-voiced. There's nothing very mysterious about Britt. He simply loves the challenge of the fight and revels in his own prowess

Harry Luck, the scoundrel: The least interesting of the seven and I also sense that he would lose in a gunfight against any of the others. Brad Dexter does his best with the part, and he's good, but the depth of character just wasn't there to elevate him to the stardom the others came to enjoy.

Chico, the rookie: Despising his origins he dresses like a quintessential gringo gunfighter. He is determined to live what he believes to be the romantic life of the fast gun. Horst Bucholtz, new to American audiences, really runs with the part. He does an outstanding job at bringing a frenetic energy to the role of the youngest of the seven who wants badly to prove himself to them. In the final battle he is tireless - racing, leaping, killing with abandon. Bucholtz never really topped this role in his career.

The movie has a lot going for it, not the least of which is Elmer Bernstein's scoring of every scene, some superb cinematography (the crossing of the stream by the seven, the ride of the bandits through the village - really beautiful stuff), and the adept staging of some key scenes - for example, the first face off between Chris and Calvera. Absolutely gripping.

As a film it's far from perfect but I'm giving it a 10 anyway. How can I not? I watched it twenty seven times and that was before I got the DVD.

A two-bit Latin lothario who bilks spinsters and single moms of their (generally modest) savings meets a fat, frumpy sociopath of a nurse and inexplicably becomes a couple with her. This little lovely never seems to speak a word to anyone that isn't either an undisguised groan of contempt and boredom or a knife-edged utterance of argumentative ball-breaking. As portrayed by Shirley Stoler, Martha Beck is the embodiment of the narcissistic, self-pitying, rage-aholic "lover" from hell. There is never a soft word or a soft moment from her. As this is based on a true-life couple it feels like there is something large missing from the telling of the story. Why Fernandez wants to be with Beck never feels satisfactorily explored. It's a complete mystery, yet it happened. Others have posted here that the story is ultimately a 'love story', but I couldn't feel it in the performances. With Bonnie and Clyde it was very well presented as such, even in the midst of rampant violence. Not so here. Beck and Fernandez just seem flat and emotionless (other than Beck's petulance)

Raymond Fernandez is just a con-man, moving from victim to victim and is relatively gentle in his crimes until Martha Beck comes into his life. Then it almost seems like the evil within her sucks from him any vestige of inner decency and he is soon a full partner in her cold, murderous inclinations. Comparisons to 'Psycho' and 'In Cold Blood' have been alluded to by reviewers here, but this has none of the artfulness of those superb canvases, nor are there any directorial postulations as to the personalities of these killers - no attempt at understanding what "makes them tick" as in those other films

That the violence is presented in chillingly matter-of-fact fashion and the narrative style is so plain, plain, stark and plain seems to have led many to regard this film highly. I wonder if that would be the case if it had been filmed in exactly the same way but in colour? Sometimes black and white can be the "making point" as to whether a film is regarded as cult-worthy. As to Truffault's appraisal of it, let's not forget he's French - saying it's his favorite American film could just as easily have been a snide comment about American cinema as a genuine compliment of the film. Doesn't matter anyway; as a Frenchman he probably thinks Jerry Lewis movies are high art

Anyway, it sure is an ugly little film. Perhaps the time is ripe, though, for a re-make - a more incisive exploration of the story. Not that I'd want to see it, mind you. I still feel plenty scuzzy from having watched this version

Much credit is due here for the inverted 'evil triumphs over good' ending. After all, in 1968 it hadn't been done before. The sequence leading up to and including the final showdown is beautifully shot and scored. That part is so gorgeously crafted that it stands out a little from the rest of the movie which is not nearly as poetic or moving. The winter setting is highly suggestive - I actually felt cold as I watched this film - and it lends a sense of bitter reality. But while there are several wonderful photographic moments there are also scenes edited in a jerkier, less artful fashion. That is, I suppose, true of all examples in this genre (with the exception of Leone's nearly perfect 'Once Upon A Time In The West') so it's not surprising that there is an uneven quality throughout. There is also a huge hole in the plausibility of the story that involves a rifle that has been buried under snow in the middle of nowhere that seems too easily located, not to mention in perfect operating condition despite being left there for who knows how long.

Still, as westerns go, this one has enough creative difference to set it apart from the rest and the closing scenes are truly unforgettable

Terrific beginning, kind of like the best twilight zone ever for the first half-hour. Then again, the twilight zone stories were so good because they were so tight, giving all the story and nuance that could possibly be injected into 22 minutes of film. I began to tire of this movie right around the time it would have wrapped up as an episode of that legendary anthology gram. The rest of the way is just watching to see what contrivance? will kill the kids in what fashion? and in what sequence?

So, very entertaining start but not enough stimulation to the intellect after the kids leave the airport

Of course, I was ten years old in 1960 and back then disembodied talking heads, mysterious winds that attack weddings and kill all the flowers, and a white-ish, translucent ghost woman who swoops directly at you was pretty decent entertainment. Us kids ate this stuff up during the matinée; then, all the teens and adults arrived in the evening and I was captured by that delicious shared experience of shouted-out banter, witticisms and wise-cracks to appreciative audience laughter. Now and again a scene was intense enough to elicit some girl screams and the whole place would crack up.

See, this is the problem with writing 'dated' b-horror commentary. We're talking about the olden days here. Ya kinda had to be there. Just try recommending this to the average young adult of today! I can imagine how he'd be looking at you if he actually watched it - I'm laughing my ass off already. Yep, most of the people in this world are gonna rate this melodramatic dinosaur pretty darn low.......and yet, recently viewed, the final scene - the final 'movement' of the scorned woman was still chilling to me. Okay, so I'm a total melvin.

Anyway, if you've got the right eyes, this is a kitschy, 'modern' haunting in glorious black and white, complete with the very middest level of late fifties' special effs. If that encourages you to watch it, you are a kindred spirit, no matter your age

Unlike some reviewers here, I'm happy to have seen Hollywood's 'The Ring' first. Now that I've seen both I would have to say that 'Ringu' is the better film (marginally).

The Hollywood version was quite an unsettling experience in it's own right and having seen it first I rather expected 'Ringu' would be a 'ruined' experience as I was already familiar with the overall story and, of course, THE scene. After all, when the scene finally occurs in 'The Ring' the unexpectedness of it very much increases the shock of it. I hadn't been truly frightened by a scene from a horror movie for a very long time so I was unequivocally impressed.

So when I got around to watching 'Ringu' my expectation was low. I assumed that the absence of surprise would diminish the experience greatly but, as it turns out, the difference in the styles (and some of the substance as well) was adequate enough to scare me all over again even though I thought I knew what to expect. Somehow I doubt that this would have been the case if I'd watched these movies in reverse order. I believe 'The Ring' would have been less enjoyable as it likely would have suffered from comparison.

The familiarity actually served as a primer for watching the original. I've found that reading subtitles often detracts from the complete enjoyment of a film as one's appreciation of the visual content usually suffers from the distraction. In this case though, I found it to be less of a problem. Of course it certainly doesn't hurt to have the ability to rewind and in instances where I was unable to finish reading the dialogue completely you can be sure that I made use of it.

The first difference that struck me was the teens found in the car. Like the girl in the closet in 'The Ring' their faces are frozen into grotesque masks, but the more terrifying aspect is that they have been 'gotten to' outside of their homes and all at the same time. This really drives home the realization that there may be no way to escape this thing. Safety in numbers? Nope. Don't go home? Nope, won't help.

'Ringu' is somewhat more detailed in providing background than is 'The Ring'. The demonic child is shown in a scene that was omitted from the copied version and it adds a little something extra to our understanding of this terrifying entity. Also, I found that the valiant attempt to lift the curse by trying to 'free' the spirit from the well was more intense and claustrophobic (not to mention yuckier) than the American film.

But what is it exactly that is so disquieting about both versions? Well, to begin with, the seemingly unrelated, disjointed and positively eerie imagery that is seen on the mysterious videotape really gets under the skin. The first time we see these we are troubled by the strangeness of them and thoroughly perplexed as to their meaning. We come to realize that a seed of uneasiness has been planted within us. The direction is masterful at nourishing this seed not only by showing short repeats of these images, but also by giving us incremental hints of what is still to come. We are briefly shown the well. Briefly again, the beginning of emergence. Briefly again, it's almost out. More and more I found myself getting cold shivers at each progression. The uneasiness is becoming dread.

But there's something else that frightens apart from the film's construction. Is it the ultimate realization that this thing will not be placated no matter the heroic and well-intentioned efforts of the film's principal leads? Yes, that's an acutely chilling slant to be sure. But ultimately, I feel that the most disturbing element is that, were we to find ourselves in this position, we would be faced with a terrible choice - face the horror ourselves or deliberately inflict it on another. Escape it and you condemn your own soul. Now that's some scary sh*t

I was never aware that this movie was anything other than a stand-alone feature. I'm not familiar with 'Quatermass' in any way whatsoever. But I saw a movie when I was a kid that was titled 'Enemy From Space' and I've never forgotten it. The scene where a man who has been covered in some black stuff shockingly, jarringly shrieks out and stumbles down the outside stairway of some huge, weird, vat-like structure frightened me enormously. I didn't know what the stuff was exactly, I just knew it was burning the man horribly and his utterly convincing screams drove it into my brain permanently.

I was pretty young when I saw it at my local 'B-Movies Only' neighborhood theater. I'm not sure how it was elsewhere, but in my hometown there was a movie house that got all the A-List pictures (Cary Grant, James Stewart, Liz Taylor, Disney) and another that made the most of the plentiful supply of small-budget monster movies that were released in the late fifties and very early sixties. Triple Features were often offered in these 'lesser' venues. The beauty of it was that both types of theater thrived in those cable-less, vcr-less days. But I digress.

So I see this movie and I'm only about 7 years old at the time and that night I couldn't sleep. And though I had sat through the entire thing, my mind was locked into that horrifying scene so completely that I did not really recall another word spoken in the film. It came around to the Biltmore a couple more times and, though terrified, I was irresistibly drawn to see it again, each time absorbing a little more of the content. The challenging storyline wasn't all that easy to grasp - a lot of it went over my young head.

It was a long time ago but I remember a meteorite falling through a roof, a road that went nowhere, a silent and sinister industrial area, a man who becomes suddenly very sick (in the pub I think) and has a white splotch on his face, severely serious soldiers who seem to be bad guys, a window through which an alien something-or-other is observed and, of course, the unfortunate man covered in burning black oil.

A truly eerie movie, as engrossing as it is chilling. I would very much like to see it again