Son of Kong (1933)

Released just months after King Kong, and using much of the same cast and crew, Son of Kong is no match for the original. Despite some unique touches, and a likeable title character, the rushed ending and talky script make this sequel sometimes exciting, but, too often, dull.

The film opens with Carl Denham, the man who bought King Kong to New York, penniless and up to his neck in lawsuits from the death and destruction that caused by Kong. Jumping at the chance to get out of the country, he takes a job on a cargo ship, where he meets Nils Helstrom, the man who sold him the map to Kong Island in the first place. Helstrom is now full of tales of buried treasure on the island and says he wants to go back there - but is something much dangerous waiting for them instead?

The screenplay feels poorly thought out and put together in a rushed manner, which, given how quickly the film was released after the original, surely must have been the case. It assumes you have some knowledge of the first film, but given how fresh it would have been in the minds of the movie going public (and the extent to which the character of King Kong is still part of popular culture) this is unlikely to be a problem.  The first half is relentlessly talky, with dull dialogue delivered in a wooden manner, and while things pick up slightly when the characters reach Kong Island, there is still no momentum to the search for the treasure, a wasted opportunity.

The film only really comes to life during the action sequences, particularly the fights between Kong Junior and the assorted beasts, such as giant bears and dinosaurs that inhabit the island. While the special effects look dated, and not as carefully constructed as in the first film, presumably due to lack of time and money they are still elaborate and well done. Kong Junior comes across as more than just a roaring beast, being quite charming at times, and even a bit goofy and childlike, at one point doing a shrug of his shoulders to camera.

As is common in many of the films of the time, the attitudes to race look very dated. However, both the “Ooga Booga” tribesmen that the party encounter on the island, some of who look obviously blacked up, and Charlie the Chinese cook and his broken English are both too silly to cause any serious offence, being more insensitive than intentionally offensive.

In the closing few minutes, with an earthquake appearing from out of nowhere to destroy the island, we finally see the characters in some real peril, with a chance they might not all get out alive. Unfortunately, the rushed nature of the film means that we have not had time to get to know any of them, and when one does make the ultimate sacrifice, there is little emotional impact.

Below Zero (1930)

With Laurel and Hardy, the two main characters stay the same, but their circumstances and situations vary from film to film. Sometimes they have wives, sometimes they have jobs, and sometimes they have houses. In Below Zero, they have none of these, only a harmonium, a double bass, and their rather limited musical ability, with which to try to survive a harsh winter.

The humour comes from familiar sources, slapstick, misunderstandings (playing music outside a deaf centre is never going to be a success), bad luck and petty fighting with each other and the rest of the world, which invariably leads to destruction of property. The duo’s instruments do not survive the first half of the film, as they eventually push a woman too far. As in other Laurel and Hardy films such as Big Business, the destruction almost becomes a stylised ritual, and the duo make no attempt to stop it, seemingly almost resigned to their fate.

The direction is straightforward, largely consisting of pointing the camera at the stars and fixing it there. However, there is one scene, involving a bird laying an egg that uses editing to tell the joke by implying through the juxtaposition of shots, a sign that the language of film was getting more sophisticated as people began to explore the unique possibilities of the medium.

Below Zero also contains two elements of Laurel and Hardy that can sometimes be overlooked. First is the touching bond of friendship between the two, which is always there even if it is often buried beneath the bickering. When, after being beaten up and thrown out of a restaurant, Olly is calling out for Stan, he seems genuinely concerned that his partner is missing.

The second is the bizarre, cartoonish climax that sees Stan end up with a grotesquely distended belly after drinking the entire contents of the huge barrel of water in which he has been dumped, the sort of gag I would expect to find in a Tom and Jerry or Looney Tunes cartoon. However, such bizarre surrealism is something that crops up from time to time in their films, such as the ending of Dirty Work, where a mad scientist and his anti-aging serum turn Olly into a chimp.  

Below Zero was one of several films reshot in foreign languages, in this case Spanish, in order to cash in the popularity they had achieved as silent film stars in Europe. Instead of dubbing the film it was completely remade, with Stan and Olly saying their lines in broken Spanish (and Stan struggling to get past his Lancashire accent), and most of the other actors with speaking parts replaced by people who speak the language.

For financial reasons, these versions needed to be slightly longer than the usual 20 minutes, leading to extra or reworked scenes. These range from the opening scene introducing the policeman, and the back-story about his wallet and money that the duo inadvertently acquire, to extended version of the scene with a blind man, that lacks the short simplicity (and humour) of the English version. These feel exactly like the padding that they are, and interesting though it is to watch, this version adds nothing to the original, which favours quality over quantity.

Body Melt (1993)

Sharing the same mentality (and hailing from the same part of the world) as early Peter Jackson films like Bad Taste and Brain Dead, Body Melt has some good ideas, but is derailed by an unfocussed script. What is left is good looking, and sporadically extreme and gory, but ultimately, slightly too dull to be a classic.

Residents in the quiet suburban Australian street of Pebbles Court have started getting free vitamin pills in the mail, pills designed to make them into the ultimate healthy human. Unfortunately they also seem to have unexpected side effects such as hallucinations and grotesque mutations. With the bodies piling up, can police find the source - and does it have anything to do with the kindly local doctor with a mysterious past?

Body Melt is the brainchild of director Phillip Brophy and he certainly gives the film a strong, consistent visual style, particularly in the scenes set in Pebbles court, with the houses and people alike shown in bright, almost nauseatingly lurid colours, reminiscent of films like Parents or Blue Velvet.

However, as co-writer and composer, he also has to shoulder some of the blame for the film's two major shortcomings, the rambling script, and weak soundtrack. After a great opening that sets up plenty of intrigue around the premise (as well as giving us a car crash victim with tentacles crawling out of his neck wounds) things soon taper off, and the energy dissipates as the script cuts between the different characters from the street, in long and sometimes seemingly pointless scenes. The credits say the script is based on a series of short stories by Brophy, and that might go some way to explaining why none of the plot lines really gel together,

The tinny electronic soundtrack is also largely down to Brophy, and adds nothing to the power or mood of any of the scenes, as well as being monotonous enough to quickly become tiresome.

Thankfully, there is still enough to enjoy making it worth a look. The comic book feel of the film invites some fun overacting, and the cast are more than up to the challenge. Best of the bunch is Ian Smith as the town doctor, and British viewers may remember him as Harold Bishop from the Aussie TV soap Neighbours.

Although some of the ideas, such as mutant cannibals and melting bodies, are obvious nods to films such as Street Trash, or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, placing them in new contexts such as housing estates or the Australian outback gives them a fresh feel that avoids them feeling stolen.

There are some wholly original touches too, such as the musclebound hunks that make up the staff of the Health farm, and all speak with squeaky high-pitched voices, and the scene involving a pregnant woman and her husband being attacked by a mutant placenta is, unsurprisingly, done in wonderfully poor taste, and injects some much needed, and all too rare energy into the film.

Hamlet (1990)

When watching Shakespeare on the big screen I always look for how the director has adapted the play for the medium. Franco Zefferelli's Hamlet is an excellent example of someone willing to expand the text in such a manner, but despite a relentless pace, an epic feel, and an excellent supporting cast, the film is let down by the star.

Although largely faithful in story and setting to the play, Zefferelli has chopped and changed the text slightly. The changes make for an interesting, pacey film, that those not familiar with the text can follow, and shows he is not intimidated or overawed by the thought of taking on Shakespeare.

Even with the cuts the films still retains the themes of loyalty, betrayal, madness, life and death, and Zefferelli plays up the Oedipal sexual tension between Hamlet and Gertrude (played by Glenn Close), without it ever spilling over into being sleazy.

Much of the film was shot on location at Dover Castle in Kent, as well as several places in Scotland, and this helps to anchor the events in reality, as does a lack of any expressionistic flourishes.

Unfortunately, the main problem with this version of the story is the star, with Gibson trying too hard to be a serious actor, relying far too on raised eyebrows and bulging eyes to convey intensity and drama, leaving a performance that is ultimately earnest, but flat. In addition, Gibson looks too old to convince as a troubled youth, something only accentuated when he is next to Glenn Close (in real life there is only 10 years between them).

Thankfully there is an excellent supporting cast, led by particularly the experienced Shakespearian types such as Paul Scofield, Alan Bates, and Ian Holm, who effortlessly breathe life into the text.

Judged as Shakespeare, this is not a classic Hamlet, lacking the depth and gravitas of other stage and screen versions (particularly Olivier's 1948 film, and Kenneth Branagh's 1996 version). However, it is certainly a good introduction to the play for the uninitiated, and judged purely as a stand-alone film, it makes for entertaining, and, at times, thought provoking cinema.

Captain Horatio Hornblower R.N. (1951)

The swashbuckler is a film genre almost as old as cinema, and while not one of the best examples, Captain Horatio Hornblower RN is still an entertaining film. A meandering and occasionally sluggish script is compensated for with great special effects, exciting battle sequences, lush Technicolor, and an endearing performance from Gregory Peck as the stern but fair title character. It is also easy to see the influence of Hornblower on one famous sci-fi saga.

Combining elements of three of C S Foresters Hornblower novels, the plot sees the Captain, his ship and crew on a secret mission to Central America during the Napoleonic wars at the turn of the 19th century. Hornblower find himself battling not just the Kings enemies, who change according to the whims of politics, but tragedies at home, and the unwelcome appearance of a woman on his ship

By using three books, seemingly unconnected, it does mean the plot often lacks a single driving force, with the main focus being on the character of Hornblower himself, who comes across as a man of integrity and intelligence, a stoical man who always does his duty, but certainly not a martinet, or a macho show off. However, his stiff upper lip becomes a barrier, meaning we never really get inside the mind of Hornblower.

Director Raoul Walsh usually made more contemporary, and more land based films, which might explain why it never feels like he gets totally to grips with the genre and the setting. However, when the action does kick off it is first rate, with exciting battle sequences, backed up with excellent special effects, a stirring musical score from Robert Farnon and lovely rich looking Technicolor.

Gregory Peck plays Hornblower with a relatively understated authority, rather than the brash machismo of someone like Errol Flynn, and his charisma help keep your attention through the slower parts of the film. The main stand out in the supporting cast is James Robertson Justice as Quist, the seaman who helps Hornblower escape capture by the French. Although better known to me as the demanding surgeon Sir Lancelot Spratt in the "Doctor" films with Dirk Bogarde, he certainly brings a more down-to-earth quality to the character of Quist, and would go on to head out to sea with Peck in Moby Dick and The Guns of Navarone. Also, look fast for a cameo from a young and just about recognisable Christopher Lee, as a Spanish naval captain.

As a footnote, I had not realised the extent of the influence of Hornblower on the creation of Star Trek. The basic premise of a ship, its captain and crew, far from home, being plunged into dramatic situations (often with a military or diplomatic background) is easily transposed into outer space. While Kirk is perhaps more macho (and more of a ladies man) than Hornblower, both are bold, decisive men of action, and both have loyal first officers, and, in this film at least, cantankerous ship’s doctors.

Phase IV (1974)

Although arguably best known for his work with other directors, particularly Alfred Hitchcock, Saul Bass had his one and only stab at making a feature film with this apocalyptic sci-fi oddity. Phase IV does mine some of the same territory as Hitchcock’s The Birds, with humans being challenged for their place at the top of the natural hierarchy, but instead of glamorous stars and taut, suspenseful set pieces, Bass goes for a mix of icy cold detachment, surreal and experimental montages, and a subtly unnerving design aesthetic.

An unexplained cosmic event has caused ants to evolve and seemingly develop an advanced "hive" mind, leading to some perplexing behaviour on their part. Two scientists set out to investigate strange towers that the ants have started building in the desert, but quickly find themselves outnumbered and outmanoeuvred, and soon, the future of the human race is under threat.

Bass started life as a graphic designer, making film posters, before moving into his memorable title sequences such as The Man with the Golden Arm, Vertigo and Psycho, so it is no surprise to see that his strengths as a director lie in the visual side of things.

Other ant themed films such as Them or Empire of the Ants, have the insects portrayed as equal or larger size as humans, using models or trick photography to establish this, but with Phase IV, Bass takes a different approach. He drafted in wildlife photographer Ken Middleham to shoot the amazing macro zoomed footage of ants that takes up a good chunk of the screen time. Any time the ants are shown physically adjacent to humans they are normal size, and rather than being physically overwhelming monsters, it is their ingenuity and overwhelming numbers that makes them seemingly unstoppable. By giving so much screen time to the magnified scenes, it does subtly imply a comparison and equality between the two species.

The story is more opaque than confusing, and there is extensive use of voiceover to provide the exposition, a trick sometimes used to cover over gaps or problems in the script or production. Here it works to the film's advantage, so that we are not bogged down in the narrative, and can focus on the visuals and the interplay between the two scientists, the excitable Hubbs and the more reticent Lesko.

Hubbs, (played by veteran British character actor Nigel Davenport), is the real human star of the show. Utterly devoted to his work, he is able to see the up close, micro level world of the ants, and their wider implications their behaviour has for the world. However, he seems utterly oblivious to the effects of his actions on the world between those two, that of individual human beings, especially when he starts wanting to provoke the ants.

Lesko, (Michael Murphy) is more quiet and reserved, preferring to use his analytical skills to try to understand and communicate with the ants, so makes less of an impact as a character, but still plays a pivotal role in the story. The weakest link in terms of characterisation is Kendra, played by the late Lynne Frederick, a young girl taken in by the scientists after the ants destroy her Grandparents farm, and Hubbs inadvertently kills her Grandparents. The role is underwritten, and the tensions caused by being trapped in the bunker with Hubbs are never really explored. This is not helped by Frederick being wooden and ineffectual, and having an accent that veers all over the Atlantic.

Things like this might have been picked up by a different director, but the impression I got, given the dominance of the visuals, is that that this is where Bass had the most talent and interest, and was perhaps quite happy to leave the actors to get on with things by themselves. This is fine when you have an actor of Davenport's calibre, but less so with one of Frederick's.

Although this is the only full length feature Bass ever directed, he had a rich body of work both in and out of the film world, and we can see some recurring themes from this in Phase IV. A glance at his film posters and opening titles, and even his corporate design work, shows a fondness for clear lines and geometric shapes

 

We see this in the designs of the ant nests, which incorporate clean, straight lines to give them a modernist look, unlike the rough and ready mounds of earth we are used to seeing, a neat way of underlining the mysterious change that the insects have undergone.

The rest of the film looks just as exquisite, especially the landscapes and homesteads, ravaged by the unstoppable insect army, adding to the feeling of inevitable defeat of mankind.

The only serious weak point is the way the film ends, not with a bang, but a whimper. However, this is not the fault of Bass, as somebody at Paramount studios decided that the final montage, which somehow manages to be even more disturbing and strange than anything that has gone on before, was too much, and cut it from the released version. Unseen for decades, thankfully, the footage has recently resurfaced, and it feels like the logical extension and conclusion of what has gone on before, both in terms of the style and content.

 

Although only about 3 minutes in length it distils everything that the film has been leading up to at this point, and is a master class in surreal cinematic montage. Commencing with our hero’s descent into a hole, to the underworld of the ant kingdom (Freud/Jung fans, read into that whatever you like), after that, without a single spoken word, it sums up the grim, seemingly inevitable vision the ants have for the future, with the inevitability of the end of humanity as the dominant species.

Aside from the apocalyptic elements, the hopeless irreversibility of the ending, the feeling that things will never be the same again, taps into the ideas of the human fear of impermanence, and the futility of fighting against it. This reading invites us to think of the ants representing death itself, something we can control only temporarily before succumbing to, something that will permanently change life and existence.