Cult Camp Classics, Vol. 1: Sci-Fi Thrillers [3 Discs]

MOVIE DESCRIPTION:

This thrills-packed trio takes sci-fi to giant-sized levels. "Big" monsters and "big" women decorate this first volume of cult camp classics which includes Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman (Alison Hayes. 1958/66 min.), The Giant Behomoth (Gene Evans. 1959/80 min.) and Queen of Outer Space (Zsa Zsa Gabor. 1958/80 min.). 3 DVDs. Color-b&w/NR/fullscreen & widescreen.

DVD FEATURES:

• Region: 1
• Number of Discs: 3
• Audio: Dolby Digital Mono
• Features:
  • Cool expert commentaries on all 3 movies!

AWARDS

• CineVegas International Film Festival

•     Film Presented - 2010

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

• Cast:

  
       Allison Hayes - Nancy Fowler Archer
       Eric Fleming - Capt. Neil Patterson
       John Turner - Ian Duncan
       Leigh Madison - Jeanie Trevethan
       George Douglas - Sheriff Dubbitt
       Barbara Darrow - Kaeel
       Henry Vidon - Tom MacDougall
       Eileen Stevens - Nurse
       Marilyn Buferd - Odeena
       Frank Chase - Charlie
       Andre Morell - Professor James Bickford

• Director:

  Nathan Juran, Douglas Hickox, Eugène Lourié, Edward Bernds

• Producer:

  Bernard Woolner, David Diamond, Ben Schwalb

• Screenwriter:

  Mark Hanna, Eugène Lourié, Daniel Hyatt, Charles Beaumont

• Cinematographer:

  Jacques Marquette, Desmond Davis, Wm. Whitley

• Composer (Music Score):

  Ronald Stein, Ted Astley, Edwin T. Astley, Marlin Skiles

• Editor:

  Edward Mann, Lee Doig, William Austin

• Art Director:

  Harry White, Dave Milton

• Executive Producer:

  Jacques Marquette

• Set Designer:

  Joseph Kish

• Sound/Sound Designer:

  Philip Mitchell

• Makeup:

  Carlie Taylor, Jimmy Evans, Emile LaVigne

• Special Effects:

  Irving A. Block, Louis de Witt, Jack R. Rabin, Willis O'Brien

• First Assistant Director:

  William Beaudine, Jr.

• Short Story Author:

  Jacques Robert, Robert Abel, Allen Adler

• Assistant Director:

  Kim Mills

• Short Story Author:

  Ben Hecht

REVIEWS:

• Edward Bernds' Queen Of Outer Space still divides audiences and critics, a half-century after it was made, but in peculiar ways. Beyond a doubt, it is one of the campiest movies ever made -- back in the early 1980's, before MST3K was a fixture on cable, audience members at repertory showings would talk back to this picture. And no one -- not even Bernds himself -- would ever say it was a great, or even a very good movie; but it is a uniquely entertaining movie, that has enough of a sense of humor about itself so that its value as entertainment has only grown -- and seem more accessible -- in the 51 years since it was originally released. There are other movies of this sort, to be sure, most notably Edward D. Wood, Jr.'s Plan 9 From Outer Space -- but Wood sincerely believed that he was making a potentially great and important movie, and half of the fun of watching it is the deadly earnestness of its tone. Bernds and company had no such notions on Queen Of Outer Space -- not when the one astronaut says to another, about a bevy of stunning Venusian women, "How'd you like to take that to the senior prom." Actually, the writing credits on Queen Of Outer Space were among its most exalted attributes, although there's still some question as to whether Ben Hecht, who is credited with the story, ever actually "wrote" anything. And if Hecht did have a vision of this story, it was clearly set on a more sophisticated textual plane than the one occupied by the finished script written by Charles Beaumont, who certainly knew his way around the conventions of science fiction sufficiently well to parody them here. Bernds' approach to his material was clearly the correct one, and carried out skillfully, but he is helped in no small measure by a very cooperative cast. Eric Fleming seems to be taking everything very seriously as the stalwart captain of the Earth ship diverted to Venus -- doing anything else may well have been beyond his range at that point and perhaps beyond the scope of the part as written, but he does what is needed; Dave Willock steals almost every scene he's in as the clueless Lieutenant Cruze; and Patrick Waltz gives the performance of his career as Lieutenant Turner, the ladies man in the crew; and Paul Birch, wearing the considerably let-out costume worn by Walter Pidgeon in Forbidden Planet (all of the men wear hand-me-downs from that film), is a genial straight man for all of them. And then there's Zsa Zsa Gabor, who is doing what she is best at, simply portraying Zsa Zsa Gabor -- only Laurie Mitchell is really putting much effort into any of this, mostly because she's playing the farthest from type and working under heavy makeup and costuming. The music score by Marlin Skiles is also something of a miracle, managing to be both futuristic and playful in equal measures, and capturing the tone and mood of the action perfectly. None of it is great filmmaking but it is never boring and always entertaining, even the throwaway lines ("I'm the navigator baby, and they can't make a move without me," Waltz says, in all seriousness, to a breathlessly passionate Joi Lansing in the extended pre-credit sequence). There were lots worse ways to spend 80 minutes at the movies in 1958 than seeing Queen of Outer Space, and far less entertaining so-called comedies issuing forth every week in 2009. ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi
• Nathan Juran's Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is an astonishingly enduring piece of cinema from the low-budget end of its genre and decade. Shot in less than two weeks, on a budget of under $100,000, the movie has been laughed at as a title and ridiculed as a film for more than 40 years, and not even the made-for-cable remake in 1993, starring Darryl Hannah, has done much to raise the reputation of the original. Yet Juran's movie, with all of its flaws, has managed to keep its place in the hearts of cineastes and 1950s pop-culture enthusiasts for close to a half-century. The reason may lie in the currents that run through the fabric of its script and images, revealing aspects of the era in which it was produced that give it a power over viewers far greater than the cheap special effects. Those seeking an explanation must arrive at the conclusion -- unfathomable at the outset -- that Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is a far more thoughtful film on a subliminal level than its script or plot summary would lead one to believe.
  Its script is steeped in concerns that were the stuff of article and newspaper headlines in 1958: unfair divorce laws in a hypocritically puritanical 1950s United States; a fascination with unidentified flying objects and the early phase of the "space race" ("Everybody's seeing satellites these days," William Hudson's Harry Archer remarks derisively, a reference to the real-life existence of and panic over the Soviet Union's Sputnik and its successors); and, in Harry Archer's philandering, Yvette Vickers' sluttish Honey Parker, and the sleazy tavern where their affair is carried out (with the neglectful sheriff and the admiring deputy as onlookers), an admission that there were fatal rips running through the social fabric of American life. The pitiful special effects aren't entirely as ineffective as one thinks -- the obvious use of a doll to replace William Hudson at the denouement of Nancy Archer's murderous attack on her unfaithful husband, and the inadequacy of the alien giant's one lengthy appearance, are almost made up for by former art director (and architect) Juran's effective use of smoke, metal conduit, sound effects, and a few oversized magnifiers in the brief vignette aboard the alien ship; and Ronald Stein's larger-than-life scoring patches a lot of other holes that the budget and the resulting tight shooting schedule left onscreen. As entertainment, the movie ends up being far more potent than its makers could have hoped, leavening its sci-fi and horror elements with a certain degree of humor, both as depicted on screen in the guise of the inept deputy (Frank Chase, in a role that stands midway between Dennis Weaver's Chester on Gunsmoke and Don Knotts' Barney Fife on The Andy Griffith Show), and arcing over the preposterous story. Allison Hayes is sympathetic as the heroine, William Hudson is convincingly smarmy as her homicidal husband, and George Douglas is believable as the sheriff. If Nancy Archer's home doesn't look like it's worthy of someone with $50 million, the tavern where much of the action takes place is nicely sleazy and realistic, down to Stein's solid rock & roll dance music. And somewhere in there is the kernel of a proto-feminist message in the overall story arc. ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi
• The production history of Behemoth, The Sea Monster (better known in America as The Giant Behemoth) is, in some ways, more interesting than the movie itself -- though the film does have many enjoyable elements. Watching the final cut of the movie, it's easy to admire the work of animator Willis O'Brien and his associate Pete Peterson, and what they achieved in terms of dinosaur effects on a perilously low budget (a fact of which we are reminded by the ferry-boat sinking sequence, done by different animators, who clearly lacked O'Brien's and Peterson's skills). And the acting and directing are first-rate for a property such as this, with excellent central performances by Gene Evans and Andre Morell. Moreover, aspects of this story are especially grisly -- watching victims get fried (flashed to negative on the film and the burned down where they stand), or wandering through the streets stricken, their skin melted from lethal radiation doses, was pretty chilling for a science fiction film in 1959. But originally, Behemoth, The Sea Monster was to have been a more challenging and subtle horror/sci-fi effort, more along the lines of Hammer Films' Quatermass movies and that same studio's X The Unknown. For starters, the original story by Allen Adler was set in New York, and the mystery started on that side of the Atlantic and in the Hudson River, before the setting (and most of the production) was transposed to England. But the monster was also to have been a disembodied radioactive force, almost impossible to see and to track, except by its victims. It was only decided relatively late in production that the movie would have to show an on-screen monster, and that the monster would be a dinosaur. Thus, what had started out as a fairly novel idea for a science fiction film ended up as very much a descendant of The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms (1953) (which, ironically enough, was also directed by Eugene Lourie), as well as Godzilla, King Of The Monsters, something never really intended by its writers. Willis O'Brien was called in to deliver the monster on a pitifully small budget (about $5000 by some accounts), under a sub-contract from Jack Rabin, which gave the renowned special effects wizard behind King Kong some last moments of glory in a career going back to silent days. It's still worth seeing, but it would be equally interesting to see the original idea explored in modern terms and effects. (Note: In the US VHS tape release by Warner Home Video, the producers accidentally used the censored UK edition of the movie, which left out the attack on the ferry boat). ~ Bruce Eder, Rovi