The Irreplaceable Mr. Fuest-- R.I.P. Robert Fuest

Only minutes ago, I received the incredibly saddening news that British director Robert Fuest has died. Bob was a good friend, and one of the most engaging, funny, upbeat, and imaginative people that I've ever known. On the cover of the French DVD of Bob's film THE FINAL PROGRAMME, the movie is listed as part of a series called "Les Films Inclassables"-- "Unclassifiable Films." Bob's movies WERE that, and much, much more. But Bob himself was very classifiable: pure gold.

Bob's films were wildly stylish, unbelievably inventive, and backed up with a solid grounding in art and design. He never had to resort to aping other people's work-- like the other maverick English directors of his time, Bob created his own visual language. There never has been and never will be another Bob Fuest.

Shortly after my father died, Bob sent me his personal shooting script to THE ABOMINABLE DR. PHIBES as a gift, and inscribed it "This is my script to Dr. Phibes which I think you should have (and I'm sure that Dr. Phibes would, too)." I nearly wept when it arrived-- it was the gesture of loving gentleman and true friend. He is irreplaceable.

Random Groucho story

While I was doing research about George Pal, I got to be friendly with one of his screenwriters, the late Joe Morhaim. Before he did any screenwriting, Joe worked in PR, wrote for TV Guide, and worked in early TV with, among others, Groucho Marx. Like so many others, Joe said that Groucho wasn't easy to work with (hence "Groucho"), but he really loosened up while they were out on the town. At one point, Groucho lit Joe's cigarette with a gorgeous silver lighter. Joe complimented Groucho on it, and Groucho replied, "You like it? Keep it." Joe was taken aback. "Groucho, can I be frank with you?" he asked. "Sure," Groucho said. "You know, when we're out like this, you're such a good-natured, pleasant guy. But you're really hard to work with." "Then gimme the lighter back!" Groucho said. "Fuck you!" Joe told him. And after that, Groucho treated him beautifully. Joe said that they traveled to Arizona together and Groucho used to call him and sing. I envy Joe.

Wimpy Stories to Tell in the Dark

The Web has been abuzz with the news that Alvin Schwartz's notorious SCARY STORIES TO TELL IN THE DARK has been emasculated for its 30th anniversary edition. That children's book's absolutely, tee-totally horrifying illustrations by the unique and brilliant Stephen Gammell have been replaced by much softer, non-threatening drawings by some OTHER artist. The book's publisher has obviously completely missed the point-- the SCARY STORIES series' immense popularity and longevity are due in large part to Gammell's terrifying visions of decaying, ethereal, grotesque, and genuinely scary creatures. At times, his drawings were all the creepier for what he hinted it, like in one drawing where a small white glow in the middle of a dimly-lit room intimates that something truly awful is about to happen.

What compelled the publishers to ruin the book like this? Did they think that the originals were too scary? Director Roger Corman had the ending of one of his film's badly re-cut by its producers, who claimed that IT was too scary. Corman later remarked that de-fanging something because it's too scary is like taking a comedy and making it more serious because it's too funny.

I recommend that everyone reading this boycott the new edition. The new illustrations aren't badly done-- they are just the wrong illustrations for this particular book. I'm not blaming the new illustrators-- I blame the publishers. Replacing Gammell's unforgettable works was the poorest possible aesthetic choice that they could have made, bar none.

The Creature Strokes Again

    Moebius Models has made it their mission to fill in the gaps in the Aurora monster kit collections of everyone who a) didn’t buy these kits when they were easily affordable, b) love the kits, but not seriously enough to fork over $100 for a 7  plastic toy, and c) who just want to build one of these rarities guiltlessly. (When building a pure, unassembled Aurora rarity, it’s easy to feel like you are defacing it.) I know I'm beating a dead horse here, but Moebius deserves a lot of credit. 
    One of Aurora’s– and, now, Moebius’– masterworks is their “Monsters of the Movies” “Creature from the Black Lagoon”. Originally released in 1975, the Creature was one of Aurora’s very last monsters and one of their most exciting. The Gill Man’s pose was a major experiment for the company, a break from their static tableaux, with the various monsters’ arms raised in standard groping, menacing positions.
    Unlike any of Aurora’s other monsters, the Creature’s design gives the impression that he is swimming underwater. Captured in mid-stroke, his arms broadly thrust out and his legs paddling, the sculpture’s pose is kinetic, dramatic, and dynamic in ways that Aurora had never before attempted. (and seldom attempted again.)
    To give the illusion that the Creature is floating, his body is only connected to the base by a hole in its foot, which a peg on the base plugs into. (Aurora used a similar technique to make their Rodan model seem as if it’s hovering with its wings on the upstroke.) The effect is so striking that it’s easy to imagine shafts of sunlight rippling over the Creature from above as he strokes upward to bedevil the crew of the Rita. (The base is decorated with swaying seaweed, a rusty old anchor, and a cleverly-mounted fish sailing through.)
    The one complaint that generally arises about the sculpting on the kit is that the Creature is slightly disproportionately stocky, but this is a minor quibble with an otherwise excellent kit.
    This repro. is molded in green plastic and snaps-together ridiculously easy. Like most of the Aurora monsters, most of the fun lies in painting the kit. I can’t recommend this long-awaited model highly enough. 

Son of Gigantic Frankenstein

I only infrequently collect model kits, but this one is worth writing about.
It’s commonly known among kit collectors that there are major choices to be made when accumulating the rarer Aurora monster models. For instance, do you want to send your teenage kid to dental school or buy the “Castle Creatures” Witch kit? Do you want to take your wife on that month-long tour of Europe, staying exclusively at four-star hotels, dining only on gourmet food, or do you want to buy the legendary Gigantic Frankenstein kit?
    All exaggeration aside, until now, the 20  tall Gigantic Frankenstein’s name not only referred to its status as Aurora’s largest monster kit by far, but to the unholy prices that this mere plastic toy fetched. Originally released in 1964, its sales were lousy because its asking price was five times higher than that of the hugely popular 1/8th scale Aurora kits.
    Like Aurora’s Monsters in Hot Rods series, the Gigantic Frankenstein presented an unthreatening, un-frightening, comical version of the classic movie monsters. This might also explain why the kit didn’t sell well– the 10-year-old boys who snapped the monster kits up might have hankered for creepiness, not goofiness, from the classic Universal monsters. It might have seemed almost undignified to present them like that. But it was the kids’ loss, except when it came to their allowances. Since the 1980s, the “Big Frankie” has remained as scarce as Blackbeard’s treasure and about as valuable.
    But Frank Winspur and his Moebius mob have scored big again, making it reasonably affordable for a kit-builder to actually BUILD essentially identical replicas of the kits that they love at prices that won’t leave them subsisting on Top Ramen for days.
    As if this near-perfect replica of the Aurora original wasn’t enough, Moebius has also faithfully reproduced James Bama’s extraordinary cover painting of Glenn Strange as the Monster. It remains one of the most beloved and archetypal pieces of popular monster art of the ’60s, rivaling even Basil Gogos’ classic Famous Monsters of Filmland covers.
    The kit’s basic design is peculiar– he has an oversized, cartoonish linebacker’s build, dangling, apelike arms, and huge feet to firmly support his bulk. But meanwhile, the Monster’s face– a decent caricature of Boris Karloff– looks amazingly sad for such a seemingly light-hearted kit. Its outstanding feature is its network of wrinkles, which, along with the Creature’s desolate expression, give it a weary, grizzled look. Unlike its body, the Monster’s face looks about as cute and light-hearted as a hard-living country singer on a bender. That’s not a complaint– it’s praise. Oddly enough, this seemingly whimsical kit perversely captured the agony and pathos of Boris Karloff’s performance better than any of Aurora’s numerous kits of the Monster.     
    This expressive sculpture’s wrinkles are one of the most fun parts of preparing the kit and the same goes for his hands’ numerous creases. Layer upon layer of washes along with some brighter highlights make the face come alive. And simply antiquing the hands made its extensive details leap out. As big as the kit is, you spend ages detailing it.
    Assembling this surprisingly light kit was probably the simplest part. It requires almost no manipulation of small parts of any kind (including the button on Frankie’s coat) and, were this a snap-together kit, a five-year-old kid could probably put it together with little difficulty. His arms are movable and can easily jut out in THE iconic, immediately recognizable Frankenstein’s monster pose. The rock and chain that came with the original kit are also, naturally, included.
    As usual, Moebius has produced a first-rate reproduction that won’t disappoint anyone. A glow-in-the-dark version is also available.

All hail Ronald Lacey!

 It does my heart glad to see that this fanpage devoted to one of my all-time favorite actors, Ronald Lacey, has returned to the net:

http://tederick.com/toht/phohtos.html

I contributed most of the photos out of sheer love for the singularly odd British character actor who has been described as "A cherub well-versed in the writings of the Marquis de Sade." 

Criterion Collection: Fire your subtitlers!!!!!

Criterion Collection, fire your subtitling staff. In Drunken Angel, '40s Japanese gangsters don't say "bro." In Touchez Pas Au Grisbi, '50s French gangsters don't go to their "cribs." In The Hidden Fortress, 16th century Japanese buffoons don't talk about "heaven." Stick to the original text!!!!! You don't have to "gangsta-ize" movies in a failed attempt to make them appeal to people who won't watch them anyway! Trying to "update" or otherwise make truly great cinema like that "accessible" to today's slack-jawed youth is akin to making a new translation of Crime and Punishment where Raskolnikov says "F***, yeah!"