DELECTABLE WEREWOLF CHOW

 May 1957 PLAYBOY Playmate Dawn Richard, forever burned into my memory as the high school girl who meets her horrifying fate at the hands of Michael Landon's adolescent wolfman in I WAS A TEENAGE WEREWOLF (1957). I saw that film when I was six, the first werewolf movie I ever saw, and her upside down POV of the slavering monster is one of my favorite shots in all of horror cinema.

THE LOST CITY (2022)

Bullock and Tatum, up Shit Creek without a paddle. (Actually, a South American jungle, but you get what I mean.)

While caught up in the activity of the past 60 hours, I forgot to mention that Michele and I saw THE LOST CITY the other night. It's as light and fluffy as the trailers portray it to be, but it's also aggressively silly and very, very funny. 

I'm a fan of both Sandra Bullock and Channing Tatum, and the two have an undeniable chemistry when working opposite one another. Daniel Radcliffe, completely shedding his Harry Potter image, strikes all of the right notes as an unhinged rich kid with major sibling jealous issues, and Brad Pitt steals the movie in an extended cameo as the kind of adventure hero that every guy wants to be, the kind of rugged dude whose mere presence women's panties into a swamp. 

The film knows exactly what it is and aims to be a crowd-pleasing want to spend a night out at the movies, with Channing Tatum being especially fun as a seemingly vapid bohunk romance cover model. He pokes fun at his own beefcake appeal, and for those who enjoy ogling quality man-flesh, you'll get what you want to see, but his masculine perfection is totally deployed for laughs. (The scene with the leeches being the go-to example...) 

Anyway, THE LOST CITY is the very definition of a "popcorn flick," a fun romp and a great date movie.

Poster for the theatrical release.

SUPERARGO VS DIABOLICUS (1966) - updated

Originally posted in September of 2009.

 

Superargo: carrying on the fine tradition of Italian cinema shamelessly ripping off whatever is currently popular in international entertainment, in this case a gene-splicing of Batman, James, Bond, and Mexican luchador heroes.

After not having seen it since a vaguely recalled viewing on Channel 5 while I was still in the single digits, I finally tracked down SUPERARGO VERSUS DIABOLICUS in a widescreen VHS edition thanks to eBay. (I have since seen it in a gorgeous widescreen transfer via YouTube.) As you may recall from another CINE-MISCREANT posting, its sequel, SUPERARGO AND THE FACELESS GIANTS (1968), is a film so wretched and dull that I still get shit about it from my mother some thirty-seven years after she took me to see it, and I was intrigued to see if the film that spawned such an abomination could have any redeeming merit whatsoever.

SUPERARGO VERSUS DIABOLICUS is yet another of the legion of campy Italian/Spanish 007 and Batman knockoffs made between 1966-1969, this time drawing considerable inspiration from Mexican wrestling flicks of the time (such as WRESTLING WOMEN VERSUS THE AZTEC MUMMY, or EL SANTO VERSUS THE VAMPIRE WOMEN), but with a lot more technical savvy behind the camera (namely the film has such frills as editing, lighting, and a frame that moves). The film looks great and moves with a brisk pace (for a while, anyway), employs a score that is equal parts Ennio Morricone and John Barry, plus the hero is a masked man of mystery, so what’s not to like? 

The movie opens with Superargo (Ken Wood, nee Giovanni Cianfriglia) accidentally killing a friendly opponent in the ring and swearing off his wrestling career forever, but his self-enforced retirement from the world of adventure is cut short when he’s recruited by the government as a spy to take on the evil plans of Diabolicus (Gerard Tichy), a mad scientist bent on — what else? — world domination via uranium theft and turning sea water into gold (?). There are a bunch of fights with thugs, lots of pretty-though-G-rated ladies, super-powers without much by way of explanation, and all manner of mayhem common to this kind of thing, but try as I might I can’t make it through to the end of the film. I have tried four times to get to the end, but about three-quarters of the way through the flick, right about when Superargo ends up in the clutches of Diabolicus, the film hits a wall of sheer boredom brought on by an interminable sequence of Superargo swimming the undersea entrance to the bad guy’s lair. As anyone who’s ever seen the James Bond film THUNDERBALL (1965) can tell you, nothing brings the action to a screeching halt like stuff shot underwater, an environment that slows down the movements of life forms not designed to be there, such as a goofy-looking Italian wrestler in a red leotard and black leather mask.

SUPERARGO VERSUS DIABOLICUS is worth a look for the curious and those in need of a surefire cure for insomnia. I’m sure my collection could have gone without its inclusion, but I had to measure it against its followup. If I actually make it all the way through it I’ll let you know.

ADDENDUM as of Mach 10th, 2022

So, here it is, 13 years after my last abortive attempt to make it all the way through to the end of this film, and I finally managed to complete it. It took me watching it in three staggered segments to get it done, and I have to say that it wasn't worth the effort. I have no idea how or why so many '60's-era Italian superhero/super-spy mashups possess all of the elements that would make such a movie fun, yet somehow nearly always come out boring to the point of utter tedium. I just don't understand it, and it's made all the more tragic by Superargo being a fun and intriguing character who deserved a lot better.

And yes, my mother, a recent 89, still grouses about SUPERARGO AND THE FACELESS GIANTS.

Poster for the Italian theatrical release.

 

Poster for the American theatrical release.

COLOSSUS AND THE HEADHUNTERS (1963)

"Kirk Morris" as pseudo-Hercules Maciste. "Wha???"

Last night's dull movie-as-sleep-aid was COLOSSUS AND THE HEADHUNTERS (1963), one of the seemingly endless number of Italian muscleman fantasy epics released during the 1950's and 1960's to cash in on the unexpected international box office success of HERCULES (1958) and HERCULES UNCHAINED (1959) starring legendary bodybuilder Steve Reeves.

This one stars Kirk Morris (born Adriano Bellini) in the fourth of his six films as shirtless, oiled-up Herculean strongman Maciste (he is never referred to as "Colossus"), as our hero rescues refugees from an island devastated by a volcanic explosion, only to immediately encounter a land in turmoil whose queen is being forced to marry the traitorous asshole who blinded her father and lusts for both her and the throne. Needless to say, our beefy protagonist lends his burly aid to the queen and her people, but the usurper asshole has aligned himself with the local tribe of bloodthirsty headhunters, so saving the day will put Maciste to the test. As dubbed Pastaland tits 'n' togas flicks go, this one's pretty tepid, and hero Maciste is as bland as dishwater, possessing no discernibly interesting traits such as drunkenness, an unbridled libido, or even much by way of personality. In short, he's a cookie cutter slab of beef with styled Frankie Avalon-style hair who runs around in a short skirt and a primitive pair of Ugg boots.

This film is perhaps best known in the U.S. for the truncated version seen on MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000 back in 1994, and that version, while still dull, at least had the decency to be mercifully short. The full-length iteration moves like a Brontosaurus on a cocktail of Gabapentin and Doxepin — trust me on that one — and features only the thinnest of plots, punctuated by lots of aimless seafaring, sword-wielding combatants clashing and running around, women in super-tight and/or skimpy outfits, bad dubbing, and one of the worst dance sequences ever committed to film.

 

 Bob Fosse rolls over in his grave.

 

In a bid to add more "production values," aka tits and ass, nearly every movie in this genre at some point features a dance number that brings the proceedings to a screeching halt, and COLOSSUS AND THE HEADHUNTERS subjects us to a truly dire example of the trope. I cannot believe that the actress who performs the film's dance sequence was an actual dancer, as her movements appear to have been made up on the spot, literally whatever she could think to do, and her terpsichorean skills are about on par with those of a six-year-old who just donned her first Danskin. We're talking hopping around on her tippy-toes — nothing resembling trained en pointe — falling to the floor and sticking a leg up in the air, gesturing with her shoulders as though trying to spontaneously sprout wings, and shaking like she's experiencing a seizure, all while maintaining the most un-emotive of facial expressions. It's an embarrassing display that will make you feel bad for her at first, but it overstays its welcome by being three minutes long and by its end you want to hurl an unopened can of corned beef hash at her skull. And, as previously stated, it stops the story dead.

 

In other words, this movie offers absolutely nothing not seen before elsewhere and done to more entertaining effect. If you're suffering a night of insomnia, as many of us do, COLOSSUS AND THE HEADHUNTERS is available on YouTube in a grainy print. That print lends the film a snuff film aesthetic that only heightens its cheesiness, but be ready to doze before the first half hour is over.

 

Poster for the U.S. theatrical release.

AN INTERESTING BIT OF VINTAGE BAT-TRIVIA

 

Richard Widmark as Tommy Yudo, cinema's first version of the Joker (sort of).

Just found out that Richard Widmark's performance as his Tommy Udo character in the classic KISS OF DEATH (1947) was modeled after the 1940's original iteration of the Joker, and being familiar with the Joker of the comic's first couple of years, I totally see it. Widmark was reportedly a fan of Batman comics, so there you go. Even crazier, when Frank Gorshin essayed his legendary manic turn as the Riddler on the 1966-1968 BATMAN television series, borrowed (and exaggerated) his famous giggle from Widmark's Tommy Udo.

THE BATMAN (2022)

Myself and Michele at THE BATMAN.

So, THE BATMAN. I won't go into the plot details, other than to say that it's basically a modern day noir for grownups that involves the mystery behind a string of connected murders, which intersects with a mob story, with both featuring a rookie Batman (he's only been at it for two years, and he's still sorting himself out) in a police/detective procedural.

Let's cut to the chase. This is hands down my favorite live-action Batman movie (I don't care for any of the previous ones; Adam West gets a pass because his was a comedy, and I'll grant you Heath Ledger's chilling Joker), as it's as serious as a heart attack, it's violent as hell, Batman actually does detective work, he's in the batsuit for 98% of his time onscreen, this version of the Batmobile would be right at home in a Mad Max movie, the Batcave makes sense, Catwoman steals the movie (though she is never once called Catwoman, but she does once refer to herself as "the Cat"), Jeffrey Wright is superb as JIm Gordon, Paul Dano does for the Riddler what Heath Ledger did for the Joker, an unrecognizable Colin Farrell works a miracle as the best Penguin ever (not at all what is expected of the character, and it works beautifully), its three hours just fly by, and it's totally for grownups. In short, this is the anti-BATMAN AND ROBIN (1997). HIGHLY RECOMMENDED. 

 

Oh, and don't bother staying for a stinger at the end. There's something brief, about three seconds long, and it is in no way worth putting off hitting the can for a long-held leak.

100 YEARS OF NOSFERATU (1922)