Thursday, March 16, 2006

Hey, EIGHTY!

Somewhere in the world today, Jerry Lewis is celebrating his 80th birthday. Well, Jerome Levitch is turning 80; Jerry Lewis is, as always, now and forever, nine years old.

Without knowing this anniversary was due to turn up, thoughts of Jerry have been occupying the back of my mind over the last few days, without me knowing why. On impulse, I've been reaching for my long-untouched copy of Shawn Levy's well-written biography KING OF COMEDY: THE LIFE AND ART OF JERRY LEWIS several times a day, randomly re-reading different parts -- and it rests horizontally across the tops of some other books on the highest of my shelves, so it's not the most easily reached book in my library. I recommend this clear-headed and responsible book; it paints a complex and divisibly endearing/highly unlikable portrait of the man, while revering the humanitarian and cutting the artist more of a break than he's often received in English.

The night before last, I went up into my attic to re-read a novel I needed to refresh my memory of, for an article I'm writing. I turned on the upstairs radio for some soft classical music accompaniment and -- cue TWILIGHT ZONE music -- found myself listening to "I Left My Heart at the (HONK HONK) Drive-In Movie," a riotous song performed by Jerry in his 1964 movie, THE PATSY. When I saw this movie for the first time a year or two ago, I laughed so hard at the scene of the recording of this song (with Jerry singing, and three Jerries in drag as the background singers), I momentarily thought I was going to die laughing. I had to reel myself back from the edge of hilarity like I was fighting the most vigorous marlin you can imagine. I'm scared to look at the scene again. Anyway, as the song ended, the disc jockey explained what it was and continued with an interview, already in progress, with Jerry Lewis himself... who was speaking from his hotel room, here in Cincinnati! He had apparently made an appearance here at the Aronoff Center which was a big success, and it was the first night of an extended stay.

Disc jockey: We just played "I Left My Heart at the Drive-In Movie" by Jerry Lewis, from his movie THE PATSY.

Jerry: I heard it.

Disc jockey: Jerry, that's a pretty wild song. Where did you ever find that?

Jerry: It's from THE SOUND OF MUSIC. I got it from Rodgers and Hammerstein. They had written it for that picture but it got cut out. I made them an offer, and I was delighted to have it...

(Dead silence from the disc jockey, who's actually bought this story.)

Jerry (loudly): It's a JOKE, you little cocker!

I didn't open the book I had intended to read for another 15 minutes. Instead, I sat in my attic listening to Jerry Lewis being interviewed. He was quick and caustic, suave one minute and cutting the next, and he spoke warmly about his many previous trips to Cincinnati. Once in 1942, again in 1948, and in 1950, when he and Dean Martin played the RKO Albee Theater, where my parents dated, and where I met the charming cashier I am still smooching to this day. "That was the last time I was here," Jerry said... but I knew darn well that he'd been here another time, when he starred in DAMN YANKEES, circa 1996. My sister-in-law had worked as a stagehand on that show, and she said that Jerry loved to go out onstage each night with a big laugh -- so he offered a nightly reward for anyone who could break him up the best. One night, as he stood in the wings awaiting his cue, she showed him a wind-up cow that convulsed, a toy belonging to my father-in-law. It convulsed the man who played Professor Julius Kelp, and he inscribed a gift photo for my father-in-law ("To Don -- Thanks for the Cow! Jerry Lewis") after the show. He treasured it.

That's the exact same photo, but without the inscription. (I told you the inscription; use your imagination -- it's good for you.)

Anyway, I sat there listening, figuring that Jerry must have starred in DAMN YANKEES in a dozen cities and just lost track of the fact that he'd been back in Cincinnati. Then I started thinking... if he was going to be in town for awhile, might I approach his people and request an interview? It's one of those things I think I'd love to do, but know I'd be afraid to do. I don't know if I could cut it, sitting in a room with Jerry Lewis, one-on-one. Could you? I mean, I like many of his movies, and love a few (like THE LADIES MAN, from which the two screen grabs in today's blog were derived) ... Would I still love them after meeting him?

It's hard to tell. I once saw Jerry Lewis profiled in one of those HOLLYWOOD AFTER DARK programs that used to run on AMC (back in the days when I watched AMC, when it was watchable). He was maybe 40 at the time and holed up in his office with some brand spanking new editing equipment. He spoke with fresh enthusiasm about filmmaking and new technology, and he seemed like a fascinating, open guy with whom I had much in common. Him I would have loved to meet, especially in that milieu. The 46 year-old Jerry Lewis who is interviewed on Disc 2 of the new DICK CAVETT SHOW: COMIC LEGENDS box set is a bit more cutting, not quite as mellow, but still approachable -- not as formidable and forbidding as the critical, lecturing, hectoring Buddy Love I've occasionally glimpsed on television, who makes a chilling surprise appearance in the final chapter of Levy's book.

As I continued to fantasize and fret about this suddenly possible meeting, reprieve abruptly came when it became clear that I was actually listening to an archival interview recorded a decade or so ago, back when Jerry was in town doing DAMN YANKEES. Whew, that was close.... but not really. It was a long time ago, actually; longer ago than it seems. Jerry had not yet gotten ill and swollen with Cushing's Syndrome, and my father-in-law was still alive.

I've never met Jerry Lewis. Maybe I never will, but that's alright. That way, he can always be the Jerry Lewis I want him to be, and the Jerry Lewis he wants himself to be, which is the Jerry he presents through his art. If you think about it, we've all met Jerry whenever we've seen his movies and read his books, and he's met us (well, don't let me speak for you: he's met me) in a way whenever he's heard audiences laugh and applaud. He is the most naturally talented clown of his generation, an inspired and visionary filmmaker who also happened to be possibly the greatest visual joke-teller of the sound era, the maker of some of the most psychologically rich and confrontational comedies ever, and also a soulful fantasist capable of dreaming up sweet little moments like his encounters with the puppets in THE ERRAND BOY -- and selling them onscreen, too. He's made some crap, but what? You and I haven't? I put him on the cover of the 100th issue of my magazine, which is no meager love letter, let me tell you.

So let me wrap this up by simply saying, "Happy birthday, Jerry, you schweet, schweet schweety-face." And, if you ever read this... don't hit!

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

CANNIBAL MAN

Fifty-odd years ago, gibbering and wet,
Was birthed into this world one Stephen Bissette.

His four limbs they thrashed, his wee lungs did wail,
And when his eyes opened, all the nurses turned pale.
He spat up warm milk, wanted none of that caper,
Instead he demanded fresh crayons and paper.
Soon all the white walls in the maternity ward
Were covered in comics, obscene and untoward.

As a lad, he watched movies by the hundreds and thousands
He'd stay up past twelve for the Ray Harryhausens.
At school, his poor teachers were hostile and frantic;
They knew not what he drew -- just that it was Satanic.
His Mom and Dad fretted till blue in their faces
They threw out his ECs, but worse books took their places.
They tossed out the lot, horror comics their quarry,
Vowed young Stephen:
"Someday I'll write their history and THEN you'll be sorry!"

And so came the day, like the cat from the kitten,
That about his own comics histories were written.
There are books in the world that encompass Steve's art;
His Tyrant, Taboo, and his Tell-Tale Fart.
But today is the day that I'm rhyming about
When, all moist and gibbering, pink Stephen crept out.

So let us light all the candles and dim the lights too
And tell that big cake of his...

"We Are Going to Eat You!"


Monday, March 13, 2006

DV De Profundis Response

My Sunday sermon ("DV De Profundis") seems to have touched a nerve. It prompted a surprising volume of feedback for a Sunday, when WatchBlog attendance is usually at a weekly low. The following is just a sampling of the response, and makes for interesting reading.
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From Darren Gross:

I must say, I've just gone through all those questions myself and do regularly, as I just moved to a new apartment and the amount of stuff accumulated (mostly DVDs, VHS off-air tapes, film magazines, etc.) in 10+ years was impossible to fathom, and after 4 days of lugging back-breakingly heavy boxes across town, the idea of throwing them all in the dumpster and starting new was intoxicating and very tempting. It felt like each box, each magazine was a brick with which I was walling myself in...."I've had this tape for over 10 years and haven't watched it? So why is is here?" Once I watch some of these saved tapes they're going right in the trash. I don't want all this junk any more. Its a distraction from my daily enjoyments and kills spontaneity.

Conversely, I've always pondered the questions (especially since I spent years working in video stores until 2000, and my partner has worked at video and bookstores through to this day) is "Why do I want to turn my home into a video store or a book store? I hated being at work at those places, so why amI replicating that environment at home."

I have to feel part of it is the price and marketability of DVD. It's created a compulsion that CDs couldn't even touch, and I would like to free myself from it.
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From Wayne Schmidt:

I really enjoyed this column. It's relevant to where I'm at . . . . after much initial anguish I've been selling off titles (admittedly only a few at a time) on Amazon and other places where I won't take a bath (unlike trading them in at record stores).

My epiphany came when I moved from Los Angeles to Portland. You can't get away with the sloppy packing techniques used in moving inner city; everything has to be expertly boxed and cataloged. I'm a native Angelino and had never been through this traumatic experience before (and boy, was it ever). I now peruse my reconstituted vault which takes up one walk-in closet, making note of titles I hauled with me that are still shrinkwrapped after a number of years, titles that were "blind bought" that I didn't care for and most likely will never watch again, and the most difficult kind that you pegged perfectly with the example of CITIZEN KANE: acknowledged classics and great films that, alas, I've seen so many times probably won't revisit until Blu-ray or the next innovation on the technology ladder comes along. So why own it now?

From a collection of 800 store-boughts (not including DVD-Rs - they're cheap and don't take up much room) I could probably lose a quarter of that number and never seriously miss them. There are so many intriguing films I've never seen that revisiting these titles again seems regressive.

One of my closest friends is Glenn Erickson, whom you know. With the website reviews Glenn receives a lot of free DVDs and has a substantial library. When I lived a few miles away I'd avail myself of his "lending library" and found that quite satisfying, especially for fringe titles I wanted to see again from childhood but couldn't really remember their overall merits. Most of the time I saw no reason to buy a copy for myself after watching them. These days I use Netflix as a substitute and again, it quells the "must buy" urge quite nicely most of the time.

I've gone the "film print / VHS / Laserdisc/DVD" route, making huge investments in each. I never had any childhood traumas I could trace the collecting bug back to as you have. Lack of spending cash which forced me to pass on many mouth watering goodies is as close as it gets. But since the inception of your VW column-turned-magazine I do have you, Mr. Lucas, to blame for much of it! If you mentioned a rare or uncut variant of some title that sounded intriguing, off I'd go in search of the latest Holy grail. Many of those are the ones that won't get the chop as I prune the vault. Even so, it comforts me to know that Mr. Watchdog reflects on this obsession now and then!

I was the individual who put the announcement on DVD Maniacs about the Sony sale at DDD, but so far haven't actually ordered anything myself. Does that make me a reformed addict, now a pusher?
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From Adrian Horrocks:

You hit the proverbial nail. And Disney doesn't help - deleting titles so quick it makes me paranoid. Have you seen the price of THE LITTLE MERMAID on eBay?? And film censorship here in the UK meant we spent years grabbing stuff before it was withdrawn, recut etc.
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From Eric Yarber (who I think hits the proverbial nail with his closing sentence):

God knows both of us could probably use a 12-step program (DVDA?) when it comes to those maddeningly multiplying discs, but I think you should know that the very fact you're writing about the subject is probably a sign you're going to find a balance on the matter eventually.

One thing that affected my conditioning was that I was in the first wave of DVD buyers. I had just gotten my first job in Hollywood, and [a friend] tipped me off months in advance that this new format was going to wipe out all others. Once the discs began to trickle into stores, it seemed easy enough to keep up with everything as it was released. Sometimes I'd even pick up stuff I wasn't that keen on just to keep the momentum up. It wasn't long before such omnipresence became impossible, but the idea of keeping on top of the entire format was fixed by then. For me, ironically, it was the horrifying prospect of having to buy everything all over again in a new format that made me begin to taper off and begin wondering what I needed as opposed to what I wanted.

There's also some relief in the time you find to finally get around to those discs you bought out of mild interest and never cracked open, (not to mention all the unread books and albums I grabbed while the getting was good). There's an aspect of compulsive collecting that I think of as the "rainy day" notion, the idea that you're salting entertainment around in case you're not able to afford or find such things later. A lot of the "new" stuff that's fascinating me the most these days are discs I've had on my "to-watch" pile indefintiely. It feels like cashing in a time account that has grown to an impressive amount.

I still buy new stuff here and there, but in going over my receipts for tax purposes this weekend, I'm astonished on how much I used to spend only a year ago, and how diffuse my purchasing was. Maybe it's just a sense of beginning to realize how limited our time is in life, and how trying to hang on to everything for unlimited viewing may be a denial of that reality.
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Further response is welcome, of course -- I know that some of you are just seeing yesterday's blog today.

By the way, there's a postscript to my Deep Discount DVD Sale misadventure of yesterday. I logged on this morning to find an e-mail from DDD awaiting me, saying that my orders hadn't gone through because of some CC information I'd typed in that didn't jibe. I went into my account information and found the typo that stopped the orders. I hesitated, looking over the 27 (!) titles I had ordered. ("But six of them were free!" a whiny inner voice protests.) This was exactly the opportunity my blog had been begging for, was it not? A chance to reconsider my purchase!

So reconsider I did, long and hard...

They should all be here within 5-10 days.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

DV De Profundis

Over the weekend, I was alerted by a couple of movie board threads to a $5.98 DVD sale going on over at Deep Discount DVD. I followed the links, signed up, and spent a bit of money... Then I saw references to an MGM "Buy 2 Get 1 Free Sale," so I poked around a bit further and -- after several attempts to get my shopping cart organized (damn, DDD is a hard site to navigate!) -- I spent at least twice as much again. In the end, as I surveyed the damages, I noted that maybe half of what I ordered I already own in some form or other: VHS pre-record, off-air recording, laserdisc. This is what letterboxing and anamorphic transfers will do to you, once you develop a taste for them.

Besides acknowledging in the back of my mind that I'm essentially paying through the nose (even at sale prices) for titles that weren't done definitively the first time around, I found myself wondering, "What am I buying all this for?" I'm already well over my head as regards things to watch, even in things that need to be watched within the next few weeks. So why do I spend so much money on titles that I know will be put into bankers' boxes to sit around unwatched for an indefinite period?

The title of a documentary about Martin Scorsese once asked the question, "All this filming -- is it healthy?" Maybe not, but at least filming is an activity and a potentially lucrative one. Certainly a lucrative one for Mr. Scorsese. So let me top that question with a more pertinent one: All this watching -- is it healthy? Unless you do your watching on a treadmill, or unless you already spend most of your waking hours on a real or figurative treadmill, probably not.

But what I'm really pondering here is not so much the watching (because who watches everything they buy on DVD?), but rather the compulsive collecting aspect. I have a lot of DVDs, and probably you do, too. And few of us have our collections because we work so hard that we have a loads of leisure time coming to us. I have a valid reason to be acquiring all these titles, because it's the business I'm in; as a video magazine publisher/editor, it's good to have an archive... but I know in my heart of hearts that's not what it's all about.

When I was six or seven years old, my mother married a man who, a week or two into their short-lived marriage, sold every toy and comic book I owned in a yard sale and used the money to get drunk. When I was sixteen years old, I made the decision to leave home and, for various reasons, I could take with me only what I could carry. Aside from clothes and other essentials I could fit into two suitcases, I had to leave all my belongings behind -- my FAMOUS MONSTERS collection, my movie posters, and some complete runs of numerous Marvel Comics titles, not to mention family photos. So, twice in my early life, I suffered the loss of everything I ever owned. Once it was taken from me, the other time I had to marshal the strength to walk away from it all voluntarily. I don't need a psychiatrist to tell me that therein lies a good deal of my compulsion to have and to hoard from this day forward.

I suspect that all of us who are compulsive DVD collectors are working through feelings we grew up with, and not necessarily ones allied to personal circumstances such as I've described. For example, there's this persistent worry that we need to grab these movies while they're available, because who knows when (or if) they'll turn up again? That worry goes all the way back to the 1950s for some of us. To a degree, it remains a reasonable argument because there are many foreign titles, for example, that turn up once on DVD and seldom if ever appear on cable and never on commercial television. Having them is a way of ensuring that these titles will be available when we, or someone close to us, needs to see them again. But considering that, say, CITIZEN KANE is now frequently shown on TCM and other stations completely uncut and commercial-free, that it's easily found on disc in video stores for rental, why do so many of us need to own it? If you stop to think about it, the only valid answer to this question is that, someday, at some ungodly late hour of the night or early hour of the morning, we might feel the need to see CITIZEN KANE right now. I guess that's the impulse that all DVD collecting boils down to: we want these titles in reserve for the time that might come when we'll need to see them right now.

And the sad truth is, no matter how many times we buy it, none of us really owns CITIZEN KANE -- or anything else we have on DVD. We'll all be buying it again on Blu-Ray, and whatever other newfangled format(s) should follow in our lifetimes. Because, no matter how many times we've bought CITIZEN KANE, technology will be forever dreaming up new ways in which we've never seen it.

Hey gang, it gets even more pathetic. If a miraculous new service were offered to all cable subscribers tomorrow, allowing us to watch any movie (and I mean any movie, in any language, in its correct OAR) by request for a reasonable fee, and if this service was secure and guaranteed to remain available for the rest of our lives, how many of us could bear to part with our collections? In fact, let's up the ante: since this is just a daydream, what if the service was free for the asking? How many of us could bear to "have" only what we could watch at a given time?

This, I think, is a profound question. Because the root of DVD addiction is that, through the act of regularly buying these discs, we have trained ourselves (or been trained) to feel that we must own everything we watch. If we don't own it as we watch it, we feel resentful -- don't we? -- as though we're not getting our full money's worth. I believe this is one of many reasons why theater attendance is falling off, and perhaps the only psychological one. Is there a soul alive that doesn't run a tape or burn a disc while watching the latest offering on Pay Per View?

I'm the last guy who would willingly surrender his DVD collection, but as I continue along this strange path of acquisitiveness in life, I do sometimes think of what's in my attic, still in shrink-wrap, and calculate how many trips to Europe, how many adventures, I might have had instead.

I've seen CITIZEN KANE at least 20 times.

I've never been to Europe.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Next Week's Must Buy

Streeting next Tuesday, March 14, is Tartan Asian Extreme's MAREBITO, the latest J-Horror import from Takashi Shimizu. Shimizu is the talented young fellow behind JU-ON (2003), its sequel JU-ON II (also 2003), and the American remake, THE GRUDGE (2004). I was given a welcome jolt or two by each of these films, which I consider the work of a brilliant stylist, but MAREBITO ("The Stranger from Afar"), based on a novel by screenwriter Chiaki Konaka, is something altogether more extraordinary. I think it may be a masterpiece, a fresh and defiantly uncommercial horror film with a cold finger tightly pressed to the pulse of our times.

Be warned: It's an oblique picture, full of unresolved mystery, and utterly void of human warmth -- which means it's bound to alienate a certain percentage of its audience. But these are traits it holds in common with Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, though I'd be doing the film a great disservice to come right out and proclaim it the 2001 of horror films. I won't know if it can sustain such comparison until I see it a few more times. The analogy isn't a perfect fit anyway; 2001 was like nothing the science fiction genre had known before, and the same cannot fully be said of MAREBITO's relation to the horror genre. MAREBITO's antecedents are fairly obvious -- PEEPING TOM, VIDEODROME, PI and LOST HIGHWAY, to name a few -- but it's more disturbing than all of them; Shimizu melds their diverse ingredients in a highly original way, with a fluid visual style that replicates the ebb and flow of human thought, even to the extremes of obsession and disorientation, and a knack for visual horror (and more importantly, dread) that frequently achieves perfect pitch.

Most importantly, MAREBITO is that increasingly rare horror film that speaks with unsettling but gratifying directness to our present-day fears and concerns. I think it may have nailed the perfect metaphor for our soulless, internet/information age existence; that it speaks for where we are today, or where we're headed, in the same way VIDEODROME did back in 1983. There is perhaps only one dialogue scene in the film that plainly isn't taking place on the plane of the protagonist's own abstracted madness, and it's the film's most terrifying moment because it's our only glimpse of the rational. What makes the film all the more astonishing is that Shimizu knocked it off in eight days, shooting in Digital Betacam.

This is Tartan Asian Extreme's box art for the release. It's lovely, but note how, in contrast to the original poster art reproduced above, the female figure has been clothed... and unshackled. Interesting.

I will be writing in more detail about the film for VIDEO WATCHDOG, but I wanted to alert you to the fact that something very special is on the release horizon next week. Not an old TV show, not a box set... just a new horror movie that I expect the genre's devotées will be watching and discussing, and possibly debating, for decades to come.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Thoughts on Columbia's WHISTLER Series


This is a very busy week for me, deadline-wise, so I've perused my files for bits of previously unpublished writing to keep this blog going while I am otherwise disposed. Here's a fragment from a project that didn't get much further than this, though I like what I did here. Maybe I'll go back to it someday and finish what I started.

As I have said many times before, Columbia owns a vaultload of terrific crime B-movie series -- not just The Whistler, but also The Crime Doctor, Boston Blackie, and The Lone Wolf -- and it would be wonderful to have them in box sets on DVD. Several of the Whistler and Crime Doctor pictures were directed by none other than William Castle, and they occasionally point to ideas he expanded upon in his later, better-known films. -- TL

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THE WHISTLER (1944), MARK OF THE WHISTLER (1944), POWER OF THE WHISTLER (1945), VOICE OF THE WHISTLER (1945), MYSTERIOUS INTRUDER (1946), THE SECRET OF THE WHISTLER (1946), THE THIRTEENTH HOUR (1947), THE RETURN OF THE WHISTLER (1948)

Unlike Columbia's other crime series of the 1930s and '40s, the Whistler series is not constructed around a recurring role. Like the Columbia Broadcasting Services radio program which inspired it, the Whistler films are an anthology series, unified by the constant but otherwise hazy presence of The Whistler. Voiced by the otherwise unseen Otto Forrest, The Whistler is a slouch-hatted, trench-coated silhouette of a man who whistles a hauntingly discordant, halting tune as he strolls by night; because he walks the streets after dark, he "knows things" about the people who have"stepped into the shadows of life."

In all but the last of the eight Whistler films, these tragic protagonists are portrayed by the same actor: Richard Dix. Like most of the other Columbia crime series stars, Dix was a former matinee idol of the silent and early talking screen. He was in his 50s, but as with the dialogue in Warner Baxter's "Crime Doctor" films, the young actresses appearing opposite him often refer to him as handsome and quite a catch. A beefy, cordial actor who sometimes slurred and clipped his lines, Dix could turn on the ice as well as the charm, but was not an actor of particularly broad range. Nevertheless, the Whistler series turned him into one.

Alone of all the Columbia crime series, the Whistler films offered their continuous lead perpetual opportunities to extend his playbook. In seven short pictures, Dix portrays a melancholic, a quirky gumshoe, a workaholic executive, an amnesiac who gradually awakens to his identity as a murderer, as well as men in love, sociopaths, bad luck charlies, and normal honest guys driven into desperate corners by circumstance who must bend the law... usually past its breaking point. In each of Dix's performances, one tonality is ever-present: a furtiveness which recalls the later performances of David Janssen in TV's THE FUGITIVE (1963-66). Beset by a series of strokes, Dix retired from films in 1947 and died of a heart attack in 1949 at the age of 56. A solid attempt to perpetuate the series, 1948's THE RETURN OF THE WHISTLER, failed to be carried commercially by top-lined actor Michael Duane.

For all their edgy, paranoid atmosphere, the Whistler films nevertheless portray a shadowy world in which it is comparatively safe for people, like The Whistler, to walk by night. In THE POWER OF THE WHISTLER, our heroine (Janis Carter) approaches a perfect stranger, for whom she has read a baleful fortune in a deck of playing cards, and not only pursues his acquaintence to warn him, but when he shows signs of dizziness, she steps with him into the backseat of a stranger's parked car until he feels better! And when the car's owner (I. Stanford Jolley) happens along, he not only shows no sense of outrage at their presumptuous trespass on his property, but offers to drive the two strangers wherever they might need to go! Likewise, in THE VOICE OF THE WHISTLER, a former UK lightweight boxing champion (Rhys Williams) gladly retires his cab stand in order to follow a wealthy chance acquaintence and his new bride to a solitary lighthouse, to work as their general dogsbody.

All in all, the Whistler universe is an unusually healthy, trusting and upbeat world... but, as is common in the writings of series contributor Cornell Woolrich and in the annals of film noir in general, it is a world governed by ironic fate. Things go wrong, bad pennies keep turning up, the best laid plans turn out to be rotten eggs. And nowhere in the Columbia crime series are these principles more directly and piercingly felt than in the Whistler films, because the misfortune always befalls Dix, whomever he might be portraying. The Lone Wolf, Boston Blackie and The Crime Doctor get into their share of hot water, but it's always circumstantial; in the Whistler films, the hot water is always existential.

For more hard data and beautiful graphics pertaining to this series, check out this well-stocked Whistler website.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

The Red Quartet

From my Dream Diary, April 4, 2005:

I am standing on a public street in cold weather. To my left, very close to me, is a short shelf of books I have written in my dream state. I do not recognize them by title, but I feel a bond with them.

I am standing on a short flight of stairs and the shelf is built into the façade of a building. On the street, catching the cold wind, is an attractive African-American woman in her 30s, who has evidently prepared a copy of my most recent book for me, turning it into a matching small-sized hardcover that I can shelve with the other books. I take it from her and ask how she liked it.

“I liked it. I like straight-forward writing like that; it’s not what I expect from you, but I liked the directness of it. There wasn’t anything between you and getting your thoughts out.”

“And what thoughts were those?” I ask.

“What do you mean? You wrote it. You know better than I do.”

“You don’t understand,” I tell her. “I wrote it so fast, I don’t remember what I wrote. My whole memory of the process is a smear.”

She looks at me warily, as though she doesn’t believe me and wants to get out of the cold.

“What should I call it?”

“That’s your job, not mine,” she says irritably. “Why don’t you sit down and read it and come up with a title yourself?”

“I haven’t got the time,” I tell her. “I’ve got to press on.”

“Me too,” she says, waving half-heartedly and trudging off, leaning into the winter winds. I wave my farewell.

The weather doesn’t bother me. I look at the little handmade book and place it at the end of the queue of other books identical in size. I notice that the other books in the sequence have similar titles, all pertaining to shades of red: CRIMSON SAILS, DOCTOR SCARLET, VERMILLION TO ONE. As I shelve the new book, I remember something about it: it was about the loss of innocence and the wisdom that comes with age.

Suddenly, I have the title: CHERRY LIQUEUR.

As I name my book, I realize that, in my dream state, I am the author of "The Red Quartet."

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

To the Friends of Sanney Leung

VIDEO WATCHDOG associate editor John Charles has asked if I would post the following personal message to the friends of Sanney Leung, and to frequenters of John's website Hong Kong Digital. I am happy to do this for John, and for Sanney, who has been very helpful to VW over the years. We wish him a strong and sound recovery. -- TL

Before I get to the gist of this message, let me start by saying that I owe the existence of my website, Hong Kong Digital, to my dear friend Sanney Leung, proprietor of the much beloved Hong Kong Entertainment News in Review website. It was he who encouraged me to start HKD, which was originally just meant as a temporary means of promoting my book. It has grown to be so much more and lasted far longer than I would ever have expected. While I do all of the writing, cover scans and video grabs, it is Sanney who does the design work and uploading. Unfailingly generous and modest man that he is, Sanney refused to be credited for this, but there would quite literally be no HKD without his dedication. In fact, Sanney is so diligent, there have only been two or three instances in the past 5 1/2 years when HKD did not offer at least one update for the week. Thus, when we missed three in a row last month, readers first expressed surprise and then worry that something was wrong.

Ah San is an avid jogger and come hell or high water, he is out there logging the miles on a regular basis. Unfortunately, he also seems to always be pulling muscles or ending up with the flu by going out when it is far too cold. On more than one occasion, I have joked to him that jogging would end up killing him. As it turns out, it just may have saved his life. A while back, Sanney hurt one of his legs and this required a trip to the hospital for minor surgery. A routine blood test revealed a high percentage of Epstein-Barr antibodies. While this is never a good sign, it was particularly worrisome to Sanney's doctor. Cantonese men in their 30s whose roots can be traced to a certain region in China have some sort of flaw in their DNA that makes them susceptible to Nasopharynx Cancer. Tests were done and, alas, it was discovered that Sanney did indeed have this disease. A tumor was discovered at the point inside his head where his throat and his nasal cavity meet. I don't have to tell anyone that cancer is a horrible disease; in Sanney's case, it is also a horribly unfair one. Not only does he jog, he rarely drinks, doesn't smoke or do drugs, and eats just about the most consistently balanced and healthy variety of foods of anyone I know.

Sanney began his regimen of chemotherapy treatments three weeks ago. Many different side effects can occur from this, including electrolyte and enzyme imbalances. The body tries to compensate for this through vomiting and, a day or so after this first session, Sanney found himself to be consistently sick and unable to keep anything down. This required a stay in hospital and, not long after he got home, the problem re-occurred and he had to be re-admitted. He was home again for awhile, but a few hours ago, a member of his family contacted me to say that he had contracted a chest infection and would be in hospital indefinitely.

Sanney had planned to post a message on both of our websites around the time of his first session, but the severity of his body's reaction took him by surprise. He told me last week to notify everyone about the situation, but I felt that its personal nature required that he be the one to make any kind of announcement. However, in light of this most recent development, it seemed necessary for this to finally be done. Let me take this opportunity to apologize to anyone whose letters I have not answered and to those who received answers that were a dilution of what was really happening. While I have not yet had another update on Sanney's condition, I can thankfully offer some very encouraging news: after just the one treatment, the tumor volume decreased by 40%. His oncologist was so encouraged by the results, he told Sanney that he might be able to reduce the chemo treatments by half. I'd imagine that his latest hospitalization will delay things somewhat, but hopefully the positive signs will continue when treatments resume.

As it stands now, there may be updates on his and/or my websites in the coming weeks or, quite possibly, none until the fall when his treatments are scheduled to conclude. Both websites have mailing list options so that subscribers can be notified when there is an update. Click on the following link for Hong Kong Entertainment News in Review:
http://www.hkentreview.com/pages/join.html; the Hong Kong Digital update box can be found about halfway down the front page (http://www.dighkmovies.com/).

If you would like to express your Get Well wishes to Sanney, please send them to my website address (
mail@dighkmovies.com) and I will forward them to him. At this point, I think this is all the communication that Sanney can have with anyone outside of immediate friends and family until he feels noticeably better. Even without the other complications, he told me in his most recent letter that the drugs, fatigue and restlessness resulting from these treatments makes it difficult for him to even watch TV, let alone correspond. In addition to his many other positive qualities, Ah San is extremely humble and I know that he would not want a fuss to be made over him. However, I think this is exactly what is really needed here. Lord knows he deserves it after all of the thousands of hours he has spent enriching the education of English-speaking HK entertainment fans. So please direct any and all positive thoughts his way and think about getting your own blood test, particularly if you are a Chinese male in your 30s. Sanney's prognosis is very good because the cancer was detected early; if it had been found as little as two or three months later, it may well have been too late for him to beat it.

If anyone would like to re-post this announcement on their own sites or on a newsgroup, please do. There isn't enough space on this message board for me to properly convey how much my life has been enriched by Sanney's friendship and counsel. I could not ask for a better friend and I truly wish I could trade places with him.

John Charles

Monday, March 06, 2006

America's Favorite Funnyman

"America's Favorite Funnyman" -- that's how the earliest issues of THE ADVENTURES OF BOB HOPE comics described their ski-nosed protagonist. The star of more than 60 films, numerous television specials, countless hours of radio, countless live performances, Bob Hope was indefatigable at the heroic task of being Bob Hope. When he died in 2003 at the age of 100, he proved himself (among other things) the best poster boy ever for Doing It All.

It's doubtful that anyone is going to come along and fill the shoes Hope left empty: a celebrity who loved being out among people, who entertained the troops, who golfed with US Presidents and other leaders of state. Hope's entire legacy of stand-up comedy was predicated on current events, in-jokes, and breaking the fourth wall -- things that endeared him to audiences of his time, but which may well work to obscure his legacy where future generations are concerned. But the character he affected in movies is going to remain forever relevant: the sly, self-deprecating, girl-crazy bluffer on the make. That's an archetype with whom young men can always identify, and one that women will always appreciate in the way they appreciate all incorrigible rascals. Woody Allen once said that Bob Hope's screen persona was one of his biggest influences, and it's possible to see a lot of Bob Hope in Woody's work -- especially in lines like (I'm paraphrasing) "I'm allergic to fighting; I break out in blood."

This weekend, I had unexpected cause to give a good deal of thought to the man who was Bob Hope -- which is one of those names, I find, when you look at the name itself on paper, it ceases to mean anything. At least for me. When I hear the name Bob Hope, my brain somehow jumps past the name itself to a face and a unique style of delivery. When I look at the name printed out, like on a comic book cover, it doesn't seem to have anything to do with the legend to whom it belonged. It's too unassuming, too much an Everyman name for someone so larger than life.

Metaphysics aside, I recently received my copy of THE DICK CAVETT SHOW-COMIC LEGENDS -- and went directly to the Bob Hope interview. Yes, I jumped right past Groucho Marx to get to Bob Hope. The interview was everything I wanted it to be: Hope was funny, no less funny when his jokes bombed, debonair and talkative, sometimes revealingly so -- and Cavett was every bit the unabashed fan boy that I would have been, had I been conducting the interview. It's as close as I, or most of us, will get to an informal sit-down with this national landmark, and I wanna tell ya, it's wild...

Hope talks about his early days in vaudeville, his Hollywood injuries, even a couple of near-death experiences aboard airliners in desperate trouble. Asked if he's ever been fired, he looks back with candor on the miserable feeling of not having his option renewed by Paramount Pictures after being under contract to them for 19 years. He also tells a heart-warming but unsentimental story about Fred MacMurray's rise to fame, which doesn't always portray Hope himself in the best possible light, but which is an admirably real confession of recognizable human nature. A clip from Hope's then-current movie, CANCEL MY RESERVATION, is also shown -- and it's absolutely dreadful. It would turn out to be his last star vehicle theatrical feature.

Then this weekend, for reasons I still don't understand (perhaps there's an anniversary of something I failed to observe), The Game Show Network suddenly jumped backwards in their chronology of WHAT'S MY LINE? episodes to present Saturday and Sunday night episodes from the early 1950s featuring Bob Hope as the Mystery Guest. Watching these two appearances, I realized that my whole mood brightens and opens up like a spring bloom whenever Bob Hope turns up onscreen. After last night's show, Donna and I stayed up an hour or so longer so that I could show her the Cavett/Hope interview, which I enjoyed watching just as much the second time.

As I type these words, I think the reason for WHAT'S MY LINE?'s Hopealooza just occurred to me. It was Academy Awards weekend, and Bob Hope was (among other things) the greatest host Oscar ever had. The Academy should release DVDs of the classic Oscar presentations, don't you think? I'd love to see Hope's introductory remarks again: "Welcome to the Academy Awards... or, as it's known at my house, Passover."

And all that's why Bob Hope is on my mind today, at the start of a new week. I'll close with a shot from one of my favorite Hope vehicles, CALL ME BWANA. (I may be in the minority, as usual, but I find it hilarious. That's the one where Hope plays Matthew Meriwether -- "That's M.A.T.T. -- as in 'available," as he tells a female member of the cast.) Hope always had the good sense to surround his sly smile with the most beautiful women he could find. For CALL ME BWANA, he got Anita Ekberg and Edie Adams, but they needed one more to play the big bed scene with Bob. "Get me the gal with the best legs in the business," he said.

And the rest is B-movie history...



"Couldn't you at least find one who shaved?"

Friday, March 03, 2006

Whither FOUR FLIES?

One of the great mysteries about home video for those of us who love Eurocult movies is how Dario Argento's FOUR FLIES ON GREY VELVET (1971) has managed to remain unreleased on tape, laserdisc, or DVD here throughout 98% of the world market since the introduction of the videocassette player circa 1980. That's more than a quarter century, and it's not from lack of trying, as I understand it.

FOUR FLIES (or 4 Mosche di velluti grigio) was Argento's third feature film -- following THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE (L'uccello dalle piume di cristallo, 1970, released by UMC Pictures) and THE CAT O' NINE TAILS (Il gatto a nove code, 1971, released by National General Pictures) -- and his first to receive US distribution from an actual major, Paramount Pictures. There may well be other exceptions to the rule out there in the world somewhere, but I'm aware of only one official release: a French VHS tape from Atlantic Home Video called 4 Mouches de Velours Gris; it's dubbed in French, of course, and sort of incompletely letterboxed with the sides of the main titles noticeably cropped.

Given the situation with the film, Argentophiles have had to resort to what is euphemistically called "the grey market," probably in tribute to this very film. Over the years, I've been able to find three different copies in addition to my French pre-record. I'm not fanatical about it, and I haven't looked recently, so there may well be other options on the grey market today, but what I've been able to find are: 1) a complex dupe utilizing the French tape visual track, with English dialogue slotted in; 2) a squeezed copy of a 16mm print of the English language version that is so squeezed, I can't fully unsqueeze it on my widescreen set; and 3) an excellent looking copy that opens with perfectly letterboxed main titles and then adjusts -- "Goddammit!" the viewer wails, striking the arm of his chair -- to pan&scan. Of these three, surprisingly enough, I found the pan&scan version most pleasing, if only because it alone summoned a hint of the beauty that must reside in a perfect print. The colors are bold and the image is consistently clear; it's like watching the film on television in the 1980s, but without commercial interruption. This version, in case anyone is wondering, hails from Video Search of Miami. (It also includes the padded cell scene missing from some prints, including the French tape.) I have no idea if VSoM have upgraded their copy since then, but this pan&scan version is/was one of their best-looking tapes, at least in my experience.

Watching FOUR FLIES ON GREY VELVET again for the first time in maybe ten years, I have to say I didn't care much for it... but, then again, I chose the French/English synch source for my first viewing. I suspect I was distracted by how the ambient sound of the tape kept shifting as the compiler shifted from the French and English sound sources. I was aware that it wasn't an optimal presentation, but there was a great deal about the film itself that annoyed me. Given its final resolution/explanation, the story -- or rather the situation -- makes no sense, and Argento spends so much time gagging around with his semi-comic supporting characters, it seems evident that even he was aware of how flimsy it was. I was so disappointed, in fact, that I turned to Maitland McDonagh's chapter in BROKEN MIRRORS, BROKEN MINDS and Kim Newman's chapter on the film in THE ART OF DARKNESS (all of two pages!) for illumination. Kim's piece may have been written to the order of finding something nice to say about it, and he struggles valiantly toward that end, settling on faint/forced praise like calling it one of Argento's "most cynical and cruel" movies. Maitland also gives it short shrift, just half a chapter, but in those few pages, she probes its psychological underpinnings with some success. Her insights primed me to give the film a second viewing, this time with the pan&scan print. (After watching the picture, which involves a woman driven mad by being raised as a boy, I couldn't help but smile at the irony that two of the film's chief commentators are a man named Kim and a woman named Maitland.)

Watching the film a second time, with sharper focus and sweeter colors and a smoothly consistent soundtrack, as well as armed with leads as to what to look for in terms of theme, I found FOUR FLIES somewhat more enjoyable... and I also came up with some ideas of my own. Argento's next picture, Le cinque giornate, an historical comedy, broke from the giallo mold that brought him fame, and I believe he was already showing signs of restlnessness here. FOUR FLIES is a kind of anti-giallo: the prog-rock musician hero (Michael Brandon), who lives on Via Fritz Lang (!), believes himself to be a murderer, which causes him to keep his distance from the authorities. Consequently, this is that rare giallo without any kind of ongoing police investigation; instead, Brandon finds his answers internally, by probing his dreams and by talking with God -- his friend Godfrey, that is, played by Bud Spencer. The mystery is ultimately solved and the film's title are explained in a single, far-fetched stroke, as the Italian police remove the eye of a murder victim, hook it up to some sort of nonexistent machine, and read the last image imprinted on its retina by death. At the time of the film's release, Argento insisted that such a machine was being used by some progressive police departments, but he surely stole the idea from the old Universal sci-fi/horror film, THE INVISIBLE RAY (1936).

Because of his essential passivity (not to mention his inability as a rock drummer to maintain any kind of beat or rhythm), Brandon is easily the least interesting of Argento's heroes; the movie comes to life most enjoyably when it redirects its attention to gay private detective Gianni Arrioso (Jean-Pierre Marielle), who defends his ability to solve the case by citing his formidable track record of having never solved a case before -- 84 unsolved cases, ergo he's due to solve one imminently! Arrioso's flitty, touchy-feely investigation is dated and stereotypical but also affectionate, and the scene in which he runs afowl of a hypodermic loaded with some kind of luminous blue poison that exists only in the Argento apothecary (found in the same outré universe as the Argento library and Argento airport) is surprisingly poignant. Mimsy Farmer plays Brandon's wife with the brand of porcelain calm and bared electric wiring that is her trademark; when she is revealed as the puppet-master behind her husband's carefully engineered torment (I'm not revealing anything here that wasn't revealed in the movie's stills set), she's as convincing a psychopath as Argento ever showcased. McDonagh's book reveals that FOUR FLIES was the only one of Argento's films in which the director did not stand in for his killer; she surmises that this is because Brandon's resemblance to the director satisfied his narcissistic needs, but I can well imagine the white-coiffed Ms. Farmer flashing her clenched teeth at Argento the moment he got too near her black gloves and sending him cowering to the nearest corner.

So why don't we have FOUR FLIES ON GREY VELVET on DVD yet? Is Argento suppressing it? Is Paramount unaware that they have it? Does Paramount still have it? I don't have the answers to these questions, but though I've already watched it twice in the past week, I'd eagerly give a definitive presentation a go if such a disc was released tomorrow. Until that day comes, those of us who wait are all hapless Argento heroes, straining toward the perfect recollection of an image just beyond our grasp.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Weronika's Death

To my surprise, I received my copy of Mk2's LA DOUBLE VIE DE VÉRONIQUE from Amazon.fr in today's mail. I'm very impressed with their service, as I wasn't expecting the movie to arrive for several more days.

The cover art is both handsome and peculiar. What looks like the thin white outlining of Kieslowski's name on the accompanying illustration is actually transparent; the letters are glossy and stand out against the matte finish of the packaging. As you can see, Irène Jacob looks surprisingly unlike herself in the cover photo (which I've never seen before); she looks rather like Nastassja Kinski. The set is elegantly packaged in a slip case, from which a wallet-like insert slides out, which opens to reveal a menu enclosure and the two discs, one featuring the film and the other consisting of extras. As you slip the wallet out (a tight fit), the first thing you see is a handsome sheet of dark card stock resting on top of it; the card has a tall window cut out of it, which exposes a strip of 35mm film -- six frames worth -- a piece of the film itself. The card is numbered, one in a limited edition of 20,000.

My card bears the richly-doubled number of 4488 and I recognized the scene immediately as I held the film strip up to light. I was initially disappointed to find that it wasn't an image of the luminous Ms. Jacob, but then I realized it was something even more precious. It was my luck of the draw to receive the shot from Weronika's (Véronique's Polish doppelgänger) point of view as she suffers her heart attack onstage, moments into her first and only professional vocal performance, as she sees the conductor (Aleksander Bardini) giving her cue. It's the moment when her zenith of achievement is touched by the moment of her death. I feel like whomever ordered THE STANLEY KUBRICK ARCHIVES book and got the section of 2001 film strip that showed the femur turning into the spaceship.

So I count my lucky stars. After all, I could have received six frames of the pedestrian who opens his overcoat and flashes her.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Monsters HD Restores Gordon's FROM BEYOND

MONSTERS HD & FILMMAKER STUART GORDON UNITE
FOR THE 20TH ANNIVERSARY HIGH-DEF RESTORATION
OF THE HORROR CLASSIC “FROM BEYOND”

World Premiere of restored “Director’s Cut”
to air June 10 at 8pm on Monsters HD
in advance of DVD debut.

New York, NY (March 1, 2006) – TIME Magazine called it a “Bloody good entertainment” while Roger Ebert said that it “establishes [Stuart Gordon] in the tradition of Hollywood horror directors who really try – directors including James Whale, Tod Browning and Roger Corman.” Released in the fall of 1986, Stuart Gordon’s FROM BEYOND, H.P. Lovecraft’s tale of an ambitious scientist’s experiments to discover a sixth sense, shocked and delighted horror fans and critics everywhere much in the same way that his previous Lovecraft adaptation, RE-ANIMATOR, did in the fall of 1985. But beyond the film’s monstrous creatures and scientific mutations there lurked an even more dreaded entity, one that almost destroyed the film, its makers, and its audience: the MPAA.

Forced to cut his film by the MPAA in order to get an “R” rating, Gordon has waited two decades for his vision of FROM BEYOND to escape the darkness and now, to commemorate the film’s 20th anniversary, Monsters HD and Stuart Gordon have teamed up to finally bring the “Director’s Cut” of FROM BEYOND to terrifying light.

In 1986, Gordon, who also founded Chicago’s famed Organic Theater, had just come off of RE-ANIMATOR, which screened at the 1985 Cannes Film Festival and quickly became a worldwide hit with critics and audiences – all without a rating. As a result, Gordon says, “They were very upset and, I think, trying to get revenge for the unrated RE-ANIMATOR. So we had to submit the film at least a dozen times, maybe more.” According to Gordon, meeting with the ratings board “was like going to the principal’s office to get scolded. They sat me down and the woman I was meeting with said, ‘This is disgusting. Instead of pulling away, you keep pushing in and pushing in and pushing in!’ and I was like, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ We ended up cutting out over a minute’s worth of material to finally get it released with an R-rating. They really took out some of the best stuff.” Gordon describes the experience as “a real ordeal, this process just went on and on, and the distribution people were screaming, ‘We’ve got a release date, you’ve got to make those cuts.’”

The director proudly discusses one scene in particular that really got him into trouble. “The scene that upset them the most (and as I describe it, it is truly disgusting) is when Jeffrey Combs’ character’s pineal gland has gone out of control and he’s hungry for brains. He attacks a psychiatrist, played by my wife [Carolyn Purdy-Gordon], and he plants his mouth onto her eye socket and starts sucking. And the material that was cut out was when he actually sucks her eyeball out, spits it onto the floor and the eyeball lands looking back up at him and he continues to suck her brains through the eye socket and the camera pushes in. It’s really disturbing and it’s the longest restored piece, my guess is it’s about 30 seconds or so. I think it’s the most horrific moment in the whole movie.”

Upon its release in October of 1986, FROM BEYOND was a success with both critics and audiences and went on to cult classic status once it was released on video. But there was always something missing. “People started asking me if we would release a director’s cut. I went back looking for the material and even went looking through warehouses trying to find it and was told it had been thrown out. The movie moved from one company to another after [original distributor] Empire Pictures went under, so about five years after the release I gave up on it. So whenever people asked me about it I would tell them it was gone forever.”

But like a re-animated corpse, FROM BEYOND just wouldn’t stay dead. “A year ago last Christmas, I got a call from MGM saying ‘We’ve got a film can with this material and we don’t know what it is, could you come down and take a look at it?’ The can had been marked by my editor, Lee Percy, and it said ‘For the video release’, and inside were all the little trims that the MPAA had objected to. Everything was great until MGM was bought by Sony, and all the people I was dealing with were no longer there.” The resurrection of his original vision in jeopardy once again, Gordon luckily found an ally in Monsters HD president David Sehring. “He told me that they would be airing FROM BEYOND and knew about the discovery of the missing material. He said ‘How about if Monsters HD pays to have it done?,’ which I thought was great. Things began to move forward again.”

Debuting on the VOOM Satellite service in October 2003 (and now available on Dish Network’s HD package), Monsters HD is America’s only 24-hour horror movie network, broadcasting world premiere HD transfers of genre classics from every era. Having broadcast RE-ANIMATOR in the past, Monsters HD General Manager David Sehring was eager to show FROM BEYOND on the network.

“Being a huge fan of H.P. Lovecraft and Stuart Gordon's work (they go hand-in-hand you know) I licensed the television rights to FROM BEYOND for MONSTERS HD. Having known about this holy grail of horror and the controversy surrounding it, I made it a mission for MONSTERS HD to restore FROM BEYOND's long-lost footage for all the world to see. Monsters HD makes every effort to preserve and present rare director's cuts and European versions of horror movies when the film elements are made available to us. I asked Stuart Gordon as well as MGM & Sony's technical services departments if they could work together to restore the legendary missing footage into a new high definition transfer for MONSTERS HD's broadcast. After some questions as to where the lost footage was, the work of transferring the material to High Definition and reconfiguring the cut material into the film was supervised by Stuart.”

According to Sehring, “The restoration of FROM BEYOND was truly a ‘search and rescue’ effort. The biggest challenge of doing the restoration was locking down the location of the lost materials. Having worked on AMC's Film Preservation Festival for over 10 years, I discovered that playing detective and reporter, while asking the right questions, is always valuable. Luckily, the folks at MGM and Sony came to Stuart's and MONSTERS HD's rescue by finding the material that was cut from the FROM BEYOND work print. MGM & Sony re-transferred the material for us to High Definition and had to do a little digital clean-up and color correction in addition to some sound work and design - again - all supervised by the one and only Stuart Gordon.”

Along with the restored footage, Monsters HD’s broadcast of FROM BEYOND will also feature a new 5.1 Dolby Digital soundtrack. For this to happen, some new sound work was done in early 2006. “This material was cut before the movie was mixed, so all that exists for it is the sound that was recorded on stage, which was mono, so we have to mix it back into the film,” reports Gordon. “Plus I think we need some of those really truly disgusting sound effects for that brain-sucking scene,” while Serhing says he hopes to hear “some delicious slurping sounds in 5.1 stereo surround that will accentuate some ‘eye –popping’ visuals in High Definition!”

Monsters HD’s world premiere broadcast of FROM BEYOND coincides with a renewed interest in the renowned author H.P. Lovecraft, who died in 1937. In the last few years there have been over a dozen films based on Lovecraft’s writings which include Gordon’s recent episode of MASTERS OF HORROR, DREAMS IN THE WITCH-HOUSE, the best-selling videogame Call of Cthulhu: Dark Corners of the Earth from Bethesda Softworks, as well as Guillermo Del Toro’s upcoming adaptation of AT THE MOUNTIANS OF MADNESS. Monsters HD will also be celebrating the author’s legacy by airing such Lovecraft-related films as THE UNNAMABLE, DIE MONSTER DIE and Dan O’ Bannon’s THE RESURRECTED. But Lovecraft has had no better champion than Stuart Gordon, who has adapted the author’s works in five films: RE-ANIMATOR, FROM BEYOND, CASTLE FREAK (loosely based on Lovecraft’s “The Outsider”), DAGON, and DREAMS IN THE WITCH-HOUSE.

With the restored FROM BEYOND now set to air, Stuart Gordon is looking forward to seeing his maligned masterwork in its restored version in High Definition. He says, “The transfer is really stunning. Mac Ahlberg, the D.P., did a beautiful job and it’s got all these lurid colors. It was fun to see it again and to see it looking so good. I think it holds up pretty well. Everything that was trimmed by the MPAA is now back in the movie and it was great to see it restored. I had a wonderful feeling after it was done. An enormous sense of relief.” And David Sehring says of the restoration process, “As you know, Monsters HD's tagline is ‘It's Alive!’ We really take that to heart as we re-master films, like FROM BEYOND. Monsters HD hopes to bring forth more frights ‘from beyond’ and will continue to dig up long lost footage and film elements from the hallowed vaults of our favorite monster movie studios.”

__________________________

Addendum from Tim: The frame grabs accompanying this Monsters HD press release (picturing Barbara Crampton, Ted Sorel, Carolyn Purdy-Gordon and Jeffrey Combs) are low-res jpg grabs from the HD version of FROM BEYOND currently being shown on Monsters HD, which runs about 85 minutes in length. Frankly, when I watched FROM BEYOND on Monsters HD, I got the misimpression that it was already longer than the version I knew from home video. This MGM master looks incredible as is, and the announcement of a more complete version forthcoming is exciting news I wanted to share.

Monday, February 27, 2006

Véronique et Fantômas

A few days ago, the world changed in a subtle but significant way. Krzysztof Kieslowski's THE DOUBLE LIFE OF VÉRONIQUE (1991), starring the celestial Irène Jacob (pictured above), was released somewhere in the world on DVD. In France, specifically; one of its two countries of the heart. Those who feel as strongly about this story of metaphysical longing as I do may want to go straight to Amazon.fr and order the region-free PAL French import, released by MK2. The feature and all of the extras include English subtitle options, which suggests that the imminent UK release from Artificial Eye will likely be utilizing the same master. The big difference here is that the first 20,000 copies of the MK2's LA DOUBLE VIE DE VÉRONIQUE include an actual six-frame strip of film from a 35mm print. I'm indebted to reader Jason Minnix for the tip -- I ordered my copy straight-away.


Then I went over to Amazon.co.uk with the intention of ordering another Artificial Eye title, their new three-disc set of Louis Feuillade's FANTOMAS. I already have the three disc French set, which includes all five of Feuillade's Fantômas serials, but I'd naturally love to have these in English now that they're available. But Amazon.co.uk is saying that the title is "usually dispatched in 4 to 6 weeks"... in God's name, WHY? Artificial Eye can't be more than a taxi ride away from their shipping room. Anyway, I was discouraged; when I turn to Amazon of any stripe, it's because I want and expect something now, or at least within the coming week. If anyone knows of a venue offering more immediate gratification where the Lord of Terror is concerned, let me know.

Interesting thing about the Gaumont poster art pictured above: it's censored. I'd never noticed this before, but in the original book cover art by Gino Starace, Fantômas' right fist is clenched around a dagger that has been recently plunged into someone. It was a shattering image when it was unleashed upon the world in 1911 -- I'm certain it inspired F. W. Murnau's opening shot of FAUST (1926). If you'd like to learn more about FANTOMAS, you can check out my essay on the book series in HORROR: ANOTHER 100 BEST BOOKS, edited by Stephen Jones and Kim Newman.

Finally, I should mention that the 124th issue of VIDEO WATCHDOG (with beauteous, mushroom-munching Kumi Misuno on the cover) was mailed to subscribers and our distributors last week. First class subscribers may already have it in hand. If you're not already one of the VW elite, check our website's "Current Issue" option for more details and be sure to click on the cover for a free sample preview.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

La ragazza che ha lavorato troppo sul libro di Bava

Signs like this are popping up outside churches all over America. (Yes, even Baptist churches.) Get the whole story on the Bava book blog.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Bless Its Bald Little Head


Earlier this week, Donna and I learned that VIDEO WATCHDOG had won the "Best Magazine" Rondo Award for the fourth year running. I had more than half talked myself out of imagining that a fourth win was possible. I had made public statements about how it was time for some other magazine to win, to "spread the wealth" and so forth, but as the voting deadline approached, I realized that I wanted this win very much. Especially now. This latest Rondo comes as a reassuring show of support at this particular time, when we're publishing at half our usual frequency and pulling in half our usual income. As it is, our win was a close call, with Jim Clatterbaugh's MONSTERS FROM THE VAULT only 16 votes shy of taking Rondo home. I believe Jim published only a single issue of MFTV last year, so that's a huge show of enthusiasm for his work, well-deserved of course, and I hope he's appreciative. In the meantime, we're looking forward to adding a fourth Rondo to our living room mantel... and our third, which we're told is being mailed to us soon. Come what may, Donna and I will always be proud of this winning streak.

It's one of those weird quirks of the voting process that the people's choice for Best Magazine somehow failed to win any of the magazine-related categories, like Best Article or Best Cover (sort of like when a movie wins Best Picture, Best Screenplay, and Best Actor and Actress but not Best Director), but what are you gonna do? Nevertheless, I was happy to see that Bill Cooke placed second in the Best Article competition with his "Universal's Other Monsters" in VW #118. I'm disappointed that Charlie Largent, who produces as many or more wonderful monster-themed magazine covers per year as anybody, has yet to win a Rondo... but, hey, Vladimir Nabokov never won a Nobel Prize for Literature, either.

There's another category in which I've personally had a four-year streak, and that's coming in Second Place to Tom Weaver in the Best Writer category. Tom appreciates the irony of this, knowing full well that he's principally a researcher/interviewer; he asks questions and transcribes tapes. My feelings about losing four times in a row to Tom are softened by the fact that he is a first-rate writer and scholar, as his books UNIVERSAL HORRORS and POVERTY ROW HORRORS ably prove... and because Tom says that he voted for me, which I suppose makes me the Best Writer's Best Writer. Oh, well... there's always next year, as Susan Lucci says.

In another bit of voter turn-out weirdness, while Tom appropriately shared the Best Article Rondo with Bob Burns for an "as told to" piece appearing in STARLOG, my sole nominated article "Renfield: 10 Buzzing Performances" (probably one of my best pieces in VW's 15 year history, and one that I felt was sure to satisfy those folks who bellyache that there isn't enough classic horror in VW) failed to make the list of runners-up at all, nor did Video WatchBlog show in the Best Website category. To have earned my high ranking in the Best Writer competition, I can only surmise that people must think I am one heck of a letter writer.

All of these inconsistencies go to show one thing: it's a mistake to take awards -- any award -- too seriously. David Colton, who founded the Rondo Awards, did so as a means of celebrating all the good works that are done each year in the service of classic horror fandom. That's why the ballot sometimes shows as many as 26 nominees in a single category; it doesn't set a critical standard so much as leave it to public opinion. If you point out the sometimes indiscriminatory nature of the Rondo ballot to David, he's likely to say, "I just want it to be fun" -- and he has a good point, or at least the right attitude. With 26 nominees in a single category, it's almost a miracle that anybody wins with more than a handful of votes... This aspect does need some fine-tuning, I think. But occasionally something happens that reminds us of why the Rondos are such a good idea, after all.

This year, Stephen D. Youngkin won the Best Book Rondo for THE LOST ONE: A LIFE OF PETER LORRE -- and this, in a year when KING KONG was sweeping the Rondos and when many tie-in KONG books were released. This is the sort of result that makes me proud to have voted. Also, the wonderful MONSTER KID HOME MOVIES won in the Best Independent DVD category, and its producer Joe Busam won the coveted Monster Kid of the Year Award.

Joe happens to live in my hometown and we and our wives had a nice Rondo celebration dinner last night. (Sushi! Martinis! Saké! Fried shrimp heads! Shared reminiscences of Channel 12's 12 TALL TALES!) Joe, a professional animator, is the very essence of a Monster Kid, much like category winners Bob Burns and Larry Blamire before him. He brought into the world a product that serves as a common bond between all of us who grew up in the Monster Boom years, and our Significant Others, who may not understand the appeal of monsters but are nevertheless captivated right away by the sense of make-believe celebrated by MKHM. Without the Rondo Award, how could something this special and this specialized be acknowledged and celebrated?

It should also be noted that MONSTER KID HOME MOVIES is just the sort of project that might never have existed without the example of community evident at the Classic Horror Film Boards, an outgrowth of Kerry Gammill's cyberzine MONSTER KID. (Kerry and Tim Lindsey are responsible for designing, sculpting, and manufacturing the actual Rondo Award busts themselves.) So, whichever way you look at it, the Rondo Awards are not only rewarding works of excellence, they are now inspiring them.

Let me wrap this up by sending out my congratulations to all my fellow Rondo winners, my fellow runners-up, my fellow nominees -- and, most of all, to everyone who has contributed articles, reviews, or artwork to VIDEO WATCHDOG over the past year. You've all helped VW to become and remain the award-winning magazine that it is.

You can find all of the final Rondo voting results here.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

On Ethereal Lithography

Monday's blog, which consists of no less than 18 paragraphs, took me between six and seven hours over two days to write, edit, post, and re-edit to my eventual satisfaction. As a couple of caring friends have pointed out to me, including my dear wife, this is more time and energy than I should be investing in a blog.

I can see their point. I take a great deal of satisfaction from seeing my work "published" immediately online, and I derive much pleasure from receiving immediate response from it, but blogging isn't really publishing; it's ethereal lithography. Work such as I posted about THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN - THE COMPLETE SECOND SEASON should have been reserved for VIDEO WATCHDOG. I realized this after finding that someone had posted on the Classic Horror Film Boards, saying that they had enjoyed my SuperBlog and were wondering if they could look forward to even more indulgent coverage in the pages of VW. To which my answer was, basically, No -- you got 18 paragraphs; that's everything I had to say about it. I'd feel I was cheating the readers of both blog and magazine if I reprinted that material. We have a long-standing policy against publishing previously printed material, except in the case of Joe Dante's "Fleapit Flashbacks," which almost nobody interested in his work ever had a chance to read. (Someone once tried to sell me an interview that was already freely available online, and we found out about it literally on the day of our copy deadline, meaning that I literally had to pull a feature article out of thin air at the last minute.)

As successful as Video WatchBlog has been, I need to keep that success in perspective. This blog is not nearly in the same league with VW in terms of readership, so it could be construed that I am cheating the products I cover here, rather than in the magazine, of greater exposure -- and cheating VW's readers by not reviewing for them certain high-profile releases like the SUPERMAN sets. Furthermore, this blog has not proved successful in attracting additional review discs from companies that do not already supply VW. (Shout Factory, whom I approached last week for review copies of their DICK CAVETT programming -- reminding them that I had already covered the ROCK ICONS set for SIGHT AND SOUND, a review that Cavett himself briefly referenced in a recent VH-1 interview -- replied with an unsigned note that simply declared, "We don't service blogs or publications outside the U.S.") So, not only is there no financial compensation for doing this blog, it's not helping me to save any money either.

I'm also very much aware that I have done little to no creative writing since launching this blog, which has demanded much of the enterprise I should have been directing toward another novel or script, or more reviews for the ever-thirsting pages of VW.

I don't want to surrender this blog, but I need to figure out what it needs to be in order to continue to exist.

Bear with me.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Back to Metropolis

I'm sure I'm not the only one who tends to think of THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN as two seasons -- the Phyllis Coates season and the Noel Neill season -- rather than as the six seasons there actually were. Accustomed as I've been to seeing this beloved series out of sequence over the years, catch as catch can, I found it interesting to watch Warner Home Video's THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN - THE COMPLETE SECOND SEASON chronologically to identify the specific character and points of distinction specific to these 26 episodes. (27 if you include the 1954 bonus non-series episode, "Stamp Day for Superman.")

These episodes, it should be mentioned, were filmed in 1952 -- two years after the first season. Only John Hamilton's Perry White is noticeably unchanged. George Reeves has a beefier look and his hair is more threaded with gray. As Jimmy Olsen, Jack Larson looks less like a young adult and more like a slumming adult actor playing dumb; although identified as a "cub reporter," Jimmy now seems to be more of a staff photographer, lugging around a huge camera and (though no one notices but us) grinning beamishly as all the best photo opportunities pass him by. (In "Around the World with Superman," he doesn't snap a single shot of Superman cradling the little girl he flies around the world as the winner of a Daily Planet contest!) The original Lois Lane, Noel Neill -- who starred opposite Kirk Alyn in the Columbia serials SUPERMAN (1948) and ATOM MAN VS. SUPERMAN (1950), has her fans and Superman fandom is divided by those who favor her "sweet" approach to the no-nonsense ways of the first season's Phyllis Coates.

I bracket "sweet" in quotes because that's not how I see Neill's Lois Lane at all, especially after watching these 26 episodes in sequence. In all fairness to Neill, she plays the role as it was written -- very inconsistently. On the one hand, Lois regularly scoops Clark Kent (because she's able to get and file the story while he's out making the news), yet the tone she most often takes with him is one of pointed resentment. This season, Lois has wised-up to Kent's double life and spends many episodes trying to expose his secret identity; of course, he outsmarts her every time. And yet, in a handful of episodes, Lois seems to forget all this and scoffs at any suggestion that someone like Clark, always running away at the first sign of danger, could possibly be Superman! She does have sweet moments, but they usually follow remarks or behavior so snide or so waspish they give one whiplash. A bit bipolar, this Lois Lane, and it's very hard to imagine how Phyllis Coates would have handled the part had it been written this way.

The series was produced to peddle Kellogg's breakfast cereal and producer Whitney Ellsworth bowed to sponsor pressure to make the program less violent in its second season. Therefore, the hardboiled stance of the first season shows is replaced here by a more wholesome, occasionally goofy approach that somewhat approximates the feel of what the DC Comics SUPERMAN had become. Stories like "The Dog Who Knew Superman" (a gang moll's dog learns Superman's true identity from a driving glove Clark Kent wears in no other episode), "The Machine That Could Plot Crimes" (an absent-minded professor invents a computer named Mr. Kelso, which is innocently put to the task of devising perfect crimes), "The Clown Who Cried" (a circus clown agrees to perform on a Daily Planet telethon, but is blackjacked and replaced by an ex-con friend when he learns the show stands to accept thousands in cash donations), "Perry White's Scoop" (editor White, fed up with his trouble-prone reporters, decides to show them how it was done back in the day... getting into trouble of his own), "The Golden Vulture" (Lois and Jimmy run afowl of a modern-day pirate) and many other episodes could have easily been adapted as DC stories.

But the season is best remembered (and rightly so) for a handful of episodes that play outside the pocket. The most celebrated of the bunch, "Panic in the Sky" chronicles Clark Kent's battle with amnesia after Superman vanquishes an asteroid threatening to slam into Earth. There's not a kid alive who didn't see this and scream with apprehension as Kent began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the S of his Superman costume, in the presence of Jimmy Olsen. Benefiting from a pensive, apocalyptic mood from the outset, the show gives the immediate impression of something unusual, its tenor turning most worrisome when a woozy Kent crashes through the glass door of his shower. It's in the aftermath of this scene that the show takes one of its most credibility-testing turns, as we see Kent in bed, without his glasses, being visited by his co-workers, who see his bare face and remark on the fact that he emerged from all that broken glass without a scratch, and can't put the facts together like two and two. Aside from this fault, the episode isn't quite so nerve-teasing or tension-stretching as it's remembered to be; Superman's memory is recovered fairly quickly, all told -- but nowhere else in the series is Superman quite so vulnerable.

(By the way, I now have a theory about why Lois and Jimmy, despite suspecting Clark of being Superman, can never recognize that the two are one and the same even when his glasses are off. In short, Kryptonians are smarter than Earth people -- and when we watch THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN or any other SUPERMAN dramatization, we do so with the intelligence of a Kryptonian. That's why Clark winks at us at the end of so many episodes; only he, of all the characters, knows that we're watching. Far-fetched? Well, so is the fact that no one recognizes Clark Kent as Superman when he's not wearing his glasses, as happens at least twice in Season 2.)

"Panic in the Sky" can be viewed on disc with an audio commentary by Jack Larson and Noel Neill, but it's a disappointment; Larson does almost all of the talking, but even his contribution is sporadic. After the two of them fall into a long silent patch, Larson chides Neill and himself, laughing "We're not commenting! We're not commenting!" It doesn't seem to occur to either of them that the buyers of this set might like to know more about George Reeves, or if they were aware that this episode was something special as they were filming it. These two sorely needed a moderator and it was a failure of the disc producer not to provide one.

A similar, equally commendable episode (which actually precedes "Panic in the Sky") is "Superman in Exile," which finds The Man of Steel physically contaminated by radiation after bravely placing himself between Metropolis and a pending atomic disaster. It's curious that this episode doesn't have the following of its successor, because the later episode basically reprises its tensions while putting Superman's secret identity more solidly on the line; even here, though, Lois and Jimmy show signs of getting wise as they notice that Superman's exile from Metropolis has coincided with Clark's disappearance. Similarly, "The Defeat of Superman" dramatizes his first series encounter with the element known as Kryptonite. When you stop to think about it, much of Season 2 is all about "mortal men" resenting Superman and wanting to take him down a notch or ten; the crooks want him dead or disabled, Lois and Jimmy want him unmasked, even his own acts of altruism conspire to deprive him of his effectiveness as a crime-fighter, robbing him of his powers, his memory, his ability to interact with others.

One of my own favorite episodes of Season 2 is the quirky "Lady in Black." A send-up of the mystery genre -- this episode is in the same spirit as Season 1's "The Haunted Lighthouse," with a wide-eyed Jimmy Olsen alert to some strange and inexplicable goings-on in his aunt's apartment building. These include the arrival of melodramatic characters that seem to have stepped out of the mystery novel ("The Lady in Black") Jimmy is reading, so his cries of "wolf" initially go unheeded. Virginia Christine (destined to play an Olsen of her own in future Folger's coffee commercials) plays a dual role of sorts, and the episode is adorned with a number of oddball touches, including a weird surrealist painting in Jimmy's aunt's apartment. It initially sports one staring eye... then it has two... and in the final shot, we see the second eye winking at the viewer! There's also a lingering shot of a clown painting at the end of Act 1, which I've never fully understood till now. In Act 2, we see Christine unloading a sack of groceries and the first thing she takes out is a box of Kellogg's Sugar Smacks -- with what looks like the same clown on the box! Evidently, the significance of the painting at the end of Act 1 was that it was a product-placement lead-in to a Kellogg's commercial!

Another Larson/Neill commentary (a better one) accompanies "Semi Private Eye," which happens to be Larson's favorite episode. It features a guest performance by THE MALTESE FALCON's Elisha Cook, Jr. as private detective Homer Garrity, but Larson favors the episode because it gave him a chance to do comedy. When Lois and Jimmy decide to hire a private detective to uncover Clark's possible dual identity, a gunman intrudes on their appointment. Lois and Homer are kidnapped, leaving Jimmy to indulge his fantasies of being a shamus and saving the day. Larson mugs his way through the episode shamelessly, doing what is probably one of the earliest Bogart impressions on record... and one of the few to incorporate James Cagney's teeth-baring, drawers-hitching mannerisms at the same time. Larson recounts later meeting Bogart, who seemed eager to meet him -- so perhaps Bogie saw this episode and appreciated the take-off; he also talks about "Cookie," who became a personal friend as a result of this appearance.

While not a particularly distinguished episode, "Semi Private Eye" gives Larson a chance to do something different... as does "The Face and the Voice" where George Reeves is concerned. Here he plays his usual roles, and also that of a meatball ex-boxer who undergoes plastic surgery and diction lessons to imitate The Man of Steel in a series of robberies that leave the real Superman questioning his sanity. Kids might suppose that Reeves was showing extraordinary range as an actor by playing a character so unlike the urbane Clark Kent and Superman, but his performance is embarrassingly broad -- but the series offered him no time to refine it. As Larson mentions in the "Semi Private Eye" commentary, nearly all the scenes that made it into the show were first takes.

The season closer, "Around the World with Superman", openly courts melodramatic sentiment with the story of a Daily Planet children's contest, whose winner will be flown around the world in the arms of Superman. The winner turns out to be a hardened but trusting little blind girl, who enters the contest in her mother's name, wanting to win the trip for her. It's a sweet and likeable episode, but it never answers the question of how the blind girl hand-wrote her winning entry, stamped and mailed it without her mother's knowledge. Furthermore, there is the trip itself, whose details fly in the face of earthly geography as we know it. Superman takes off from Metropolis (presumably on the East Coast and analogous to New York City), is immediately over the Atlantic Ocean, then London... Paris... Arabia... but then they are suddenly flying over New York -- and Superman tells the little contest winner that they aren't home yet, that there's still a big country to cross! Not only does this posit Metropolis on the West coast (as those who recognize the Daily Planet Building as Los Angeles City Hall always suspected), but it suggests that Superman either turned back before flying over Russia (!) or that the United States somehow got turned upside down while he was in flight (!!). The insanity is somewhat salvaged by a wonderful moment between George Reeves and Noel Neill, alluding to the otherwise unspoken "Lois Lane as Superman's Girlfriend" angle, that is the perfect capper for the season and this box set.

Whereas Warner Home Video's COMPLETE FIRST SEASON set reflected great attention paid to its digital restoration, the COMPLETE SECOND SEASON evinces less blood, sweat and tears. A noticeable splice in "Around the World with Superman" pinpoints the omission of a fondly-remembered moment where Superman uses his X-ray vision to determine the cause of the little girl's blindness. It wasn't the only such splice I noticed in the set, and one episode (sorry, I failed to note the specifics) recounts important plot points that were not shown. The picture and sound quality is very good, though not exceptional. On the plus side, "The Face and the Voice" -- last seen on a Warner/Image Entertainment laserdisc where the voice-training scene ("I look like Superman, why don't I talk like Superman? I look like...") was presented in absolutely horrible quality -- happily looks every bit as good as the other episodes.

Rounding out the COMPLETE SECOND SEASON are a nice sidebar on Noel Neill (with sound bytes from Neill, Larson, and SUPERMAN scholar Gary Grossman) and the aforementioned "Stamp Day for Superman," a US Defense Bonds promotion filmed in the form of an ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN episode. The episode carries no screen credits, but it's pretty good, with some unusual dramatic choices (check the scene of Superman conferring with the jewel thief who reconsiders his crime) and some fairly witty dialogue (check Clark and Lois' window-shopping banter). Pay no attention to the internet talk about the episode's poor quality; compared to the other examples in this set, true, it's not as bright or as sharp, but this is the best-looking copy of this PD eyesore I've seen in 25 years of video viewing. In fact, I wouldn't call it an "eyesore" at all.

Another random thought or two... On DVD, it becomes fairly obvious in "The Clown That Cried" that William Wayne is playing both clown roles most of the time, doubling for actor Peter Brocco, who is supposedly disguised as him. Also, I don't know if "My Friend Superman" was the last episode shot for this season, but the food fight that ends the show would have been a great stress-relieving way to conclude the stretch. The scene has the air of a wrap party. I should also mention that Warner's screen menus are a delight. They actually tell an archetypal Superman story in a nutshell.

Season 2 marked the end of Superman's television adventures in black-and-white. The third season, only 12 episodes long, saw a transition to color and -- for the most part -- a significant brain-drop. We're talking "The Bully of Dry Gulch" and "Flight to the North," the episode where Chuck Connors plays backwoods clodhopper Sylvester J. Superman. Nevertheless, THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN would always retain its charm, which was specifically the charm of its cast -- particularly George Reeves, who remains for many the definitive Superman -- and its increasingly wacky sense of fantasy.

Although I find myself bringing a stronger critical standard to bear on these episodes on DVD than I've ever done in a lifetime of enjoying them on television, I know exactly how to remind myself of what a wonderment this set really is. All I need to do is think back to a certain Christmas in my childhood when one of my gifts from Santa was a Kenner Give-A-Show Projector. One of the little films that came with the set was a reel of THE ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN; I think it was a condensed version of the final episode, "All That Glitters." I can remember projecting that film, over and over, all Christmas Day, on the wall inside my bedroom closet (the darkest place I could find in the daytime) -- incredulous that something had been invented that allowed me to watch Superman fly, forwards and even backwards, as much as I wanted to.

It may be my job to be critical, but owning this entire season of ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN episodes on DVD beats that childhood memory all hollow -- and don't I know it.