Cool Cinema Trash

Cool Cinema Trash: Jubilee Trail (1954)

Jan 13, 2015 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

Sprawling, grand and epic are not the usual adjectives used to describe the product put out by Republic Pictures. Modest, but successful, westerns were the studios bread and butter. More money was spent on the acquisition, production and promotion of Jubilee Trail (1954) than any other Republic film up to that time. The posters even lauded it as, “The greatest American drama since Gone With the Wind”. One look at Jubilee Trail and it’s pretty obvious that this is no Gone With the Wind.

What it’s all about: Jubilee Trail opens with Vera Ralston prancing and flirting her way across a stage as the headliner in a New Orleans music box revue. This opening production number puts to rest any question as to who the real star of the film is. Florinda (Ralston) sings a French ditty, though ‘singing’ may be a bit of an overstatement. Ralston is barely able to keep up with the audio track, her mouth never quite matching up with the lyrics of the song she’s supposedly singing.

Moments after the show, Florinda changes from her sequined stage costume into an equally ostentatious gown and comes to the rescue of Garnet Hale (Joan Leslie) who is being harassed by a pair of riverboat gamblers. After a few moments of pleasant chitchat with the newlywed bride, Florinda disappears.

A detective is searching for Florinda. Though Garnett knows nothing about the flashy showgirl’s mysterious past and possible criminal history, she takes Florinda under her wing and hides her upstairs in the honeymoon suite. Garnet’s husband Oliver (John Russell) throws the detective and nosy hotel manager off Florinda’s trail. The Hales even go so far as to disguise the wanted lady and arrange for her safe passage out of town.

The newlyweds continue on to the California territory, stopping in Santa Fe. While Oliver goes to check on the wagon train transporting some of their supplies, Garnet hangs out with Florinda, who has also made her way westward. Florinda has found temporary work as a housekeeper for a fire and brimstone-spouting tradesman, whom everyone laughingly refers to as Deacon.

Late one night, the wagon train pulls into town. Trail boss John Ives (Forrest Tucker) has a special message for Oliver. In a detailed letter from his brother, it is explained that upon Oliver’s arrival in California, he will marry the local girl who has given birth to his child. One wife on the trail and another one waiting for him at home… what’s a poor guy to do?

Everyone gathers at the tavern that evening. Florinda is unable to resist entertaining the local yokels and bursts into song. With her obvious saloon-singing past exposed, the Deacon calls her a strumpet. Them there’s fightin’ words and since this is a western, Jubilee Trail needs at least one old fashioned bar brawl. Punches are thrown, fists begin to fly and stuntmen crash through prop furniture.

The next day it’s back to the trail. After trekking across picturesque desert vistas, they make camp by a watering hole. While pitching her tent, Garnet finds her husband’s letter and reads of the bride and baby awaiting him in California. Suddenly, Indians attack! Everyone, including the women folk, fend off the savages. Garnet is wounded by an arrow, but bravely pulls through, proving that it takes a spirited kind of gal to make it in on the wild frontier.

The wagon train soon arrives at the Hale hacienda. While preparing for the homecoming fiesta, Garnet asks Florinda the purely hypothetical question whether it’s better to know some bad news, or remain blissfully in the dark. “Oh, it’s better to know about it honey, that way you can fight it. And when you think you can’t fight, just feel that wound and remember… if you lived through that, you can live through anything.” At the party, Florinda takes a shine to bombastic Siberian fur trapper Nicolai (Buddy Baer) whom she lovingly nicknames ‘handsome brute’.

When Charles (Ray Middleton) learns of his brother’s marriage to Garnet, he is furious, “Your impertinence comes as easy as your follies. We would have controlled more land than any Americans out here if you’d married Carmelita.”

Oliver must finally tell Garnet. She foregoes the usual hysterics, “I feel sorry for you Oliver… and sorry for the girl and her child.” Garnet may be handling the situation stoically, but others… not so much. Word arrives that Carmelita has ridden off a cliff with her bastard child in her arms. The Velasco men storm the Hale ranch seeking vengeance and kill Oliver.

Now a widow, with a baby of her own on the way, Carnet continues with the wagon train to Los Angeles where she can start a new life, living in a little room above the saloon where Florinda works as bartender. Garnet waits patiently for her child to be born. Though “her time is not far away”, you’d never know it. Apparently, saying a woman was pregnant in 1954 was one thing, but showing said pregnancy was another thing altogether. John Ives tells her that California has officially become a state, “Now, if the baby’s a boy, when he grows up he can be president someday.”

Sourpuss Charles shows up demanding that Garnet return with him to the ranch, “I will not have my brother’s child born in a place like this!”

“You’re not going to have anything to do with this baby, you’re not going to have a chance to ruin his life like you did your brother’s!” The strain of her confrontation with Charles sends Garnet into labor. While Texas (Pat O’Brien), the loveable drunken doctor, delivers the baby upstairs, Florinda helps out the best way she knows how… by leading a saloon sing-a-long. After her number, Nicolai croons the title song, everyone in the bar eventually joining in.

The baby is strong and healthy and everything seems to be going well for our merry band of western misfits, at least until Charles comes riding back into town with a pair of hired guns. One of the ruffians tries to force himself on Garnet, but John Ives comes to her rescue with guns blazing, following the man out back for a moonlight shootout. John is clearly crazy about Garnet, but he’s never one to settle for too long and decides to hit the trail again. He leaves her with a single heart-felt kiss goodbye.

After a drunken fall, Texas lays on his deathbed. Garnet watches over her friend with her baby by her side. When Charles bursts in threatening to take the baby away forever, Texas shoots him dead, the last redeeming act of a dying man.

After all the excitement, Garnet and Florinda have a heart-to-heart. Florinda suggests that she go back east where it’s safer and she can marry a rich man. Garnet couldn’t possibly leave. She’s too in love with John Ives. Florinda admits that she too once loved a man, telling the tale of a husband who started a blaze in a fit of jealous rage, “The whole place was burning. As we fought, he fell into the flames. They say I killed him, but I didn’t. He died in the fire he started himself.”

With the villainous Charles taken care of, it’s time for the ladies of Jubilee Trail to decide their futures. Florinda is so distraught to learn of Nicolai’s return voyage home, that she prays for guidance. “Dear God, this is my first prayer, so don’t expect too much. I don’t know whether I want the handsome brute to come back here or not. So, I guess I’ll leave it up to you. But let him be happy, the way he is now, as long as he lives.” To be extra sure that her message doesn’t get lost in God’s in-box, she signs off, “…Florinda.”

Just then, John returns with news of a nearby gold strike. Florinda quickly forgets about Nicolai and plots her next venture, “Let them splash around in streams and break up rocks. When they’re cold and hungry and tired, then they can bring their gold into a little place I’ll have up there. I’ll carry the best food in town. There’ll be music and fun and I’ll get gold without digging for it!”

John finally professes his true feelings, “Every turn of the trail I came to, I hoped you’d be around the next bend.” He wants Garnet and the baby to join him in the adventure of the California gold rush.

“I don’t want to settle down and be safe any more than you do,” she tells him as they join Nicolai and Florinda in a toast to the bright future that lies ahead. In the closing shot of the movie, a heavenly chorus sings the praises of the Jubilee Trial as a wagon train heads onward into history.

In conclusion: By all accounts, Jubilee Trail is an average western (though it’s more soap opera than horse opera). The film would have faded into obscurity if it were not for one thing. It’s leading lady. Vera Ralston has developed a cult following as one of the worst actresses of all time. While calling her the absolute worst is a bit harsh, there is a certain mediocrity in her acting that is sure to appeal to any bad movie fan.

Born in Czechoslovakia, Ralston was a figure skater before she came to the U.S. in hopes of becoming the next Sonja Henie. She signed with Republic Pictures in 1943 and became the protégé of Herbert J. Yates. The studio head would later leave his wife to marry Ralston, spending the rest of his tenure at the studio trying to turn his young wife (Yates was 40 years her senior) into a star. Though she reportedly worked hard at her craft, Ralston never managed to be anything more than competent in the roles she played. No expense was spared in the making of Jubilee Trial, a film created entirely as a showcase for Ralston. The film did fine, though it certainly wasn’t the sensation that Yates was hoping for. He continued to give Ralston lead roles in films alongside such luminaries as Erich von Stroheim, Jimmy Stewart, Fred MacMurray and John Wayne. But audiences never took to her. With her heavy accent and limited acting range, Ralston never quite reached the heights Yates envisioned.

Ralston retired the same year that Yates left Republic.

Jubilee Trail is not yet available on DVD. It is currently available (as of 2015) on Amazon’s Instant Video streaming service.

Cool Cinema Trash: The Giant Claw (1957)

Jan 6, 2015 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

An endless array of low-budget atomic beasts, oversized insects and invaders from space assaulted movie houses and drive-in screens during the 1950’s. But it’s hard to imagine any single threat more preposterous that the goofy, winged wonder at the center of The Giant Claw (1957).

What it’s all about: Somewhere in the great frozen north (location courtesy of stock footage), Mitch MacAfee (Jeff Morrow) pilots a jet fighter as part of a test run for a new radar tracking station. On the ground, foxy mathematician Sally Caldwell (Mara Corday) and several air force personnel scrutinize his progress. A narrator (director Fred F. Sears) helps set the stage, “An electronics engineer, a radio officer, a mathematician and systems analyst, a radar operator, a couple of plotters. People doing a job, well, efficiently. Serious, having fun. Doing a job. Situation normal… for the moment.”

A mysterious, shadowy object streaks past Mitch. Despite the importance of the moment (it sets up the entire plot), dialog is disregarded in favor of more narration, “Something, he didn’t know what, but something as big as a battleship had just flown over and past him at speeds so great he couldn’t begin to estimate it.”

Mitch is later told that, despite what he may have seen, no radar picked up anything unusual. On the flight back to New York, something unknown forces Mitch and Sally’s plane down. A wonderfully obvious model plane on wires makes a fiery crash landing. Mitch and Sally pull Pete the pilot from the flaming wreckage. After the pilot is taken to the hospital, Mitch and Sally spend the night with helpful Canadian woodsman Pierre Broussard (Louis Merrill). Their host becomes terrified after seeing what he believes is the legendary La Carcagne. A state trooper tells them that, “According to the story they tell, if you see this big bird, it’s a sign that you’re gonna die real soon.”

Our hero and heroine are soon on a commercial flight bound for NYC and Mitch takes the opportunity to smooch mademoiselle mathematician. “You almost overwhelm me,” Sally coyly hints as they proceed with some romantic banter (or what passes for romantic banter for these two). After running a baseball metaphor into the ground, Mitch gets a flash if inspiration and asks to see a topographical map Sally happens to be carrying with her. He plots out the spiral pattern of sightings and recent aircraft disappearances. Sally finds it hard to believe that one single thing could be responsible for all the odd occurrences. “Mitch MacAfee, flying Sherlock Holmes.”

The next day, an investigative team flies out to the site of the earlier plane crash. They never reach their destination. After nearly thirty minutes of screen time, we finally get a good look at the title creature and boy, is it a doozy! The Giant Claw is an outlandish cross between a turkey and a buzzard. This googly-eyed creature, with its frizzy topknot and gap-tooth grin, is hands-down, one of cinema’s most ridiculous monsters. Ever.

With a squawking battle cry, the Giant Claw attacks the plane. To see the rubbery marionette chasing after the model plane is to experience unadulterated bad movie bliss! It just doesn’t get any more ridiculous than this. The passengers bail out, only to be gobbled up by the ferocious flying fiend.

Sally and Mitch are brought before General Buskirk (Robert Shayne) to help figure out the cause of the recent disappearances. Planes continue to vanish without any trace of what may be snatching them from the sky. Though there is still no tangible evidence, one of the pilots radioed that, “A bird as big as a battleship circled and attacked the plane.”

Sally chooses this moment to remember that she was doing some “Earth curvature calibration work” and that perhaps one of the cameras in an observation balloon caught the creature on film. As they click through the slides, Sally gasps in horror when one of the photographs reveals the giant buzzard smiling for its close-up.

In Washington, General Considine (Morris Ankrum) assures them, “There’s a general air alert on this very minute. We’ll find it all right. Never fear.” They soon receive word that the bird has been spotted and he gives the order to shoot it down. “This should be the end of the big bird who was there… but wasn’t.” Sitting in the general’s office, they listen on the radio as the attack takes place.

To create the scene, footage of the bird puppet was spliced together with plane footage from Mission Over Korea (1953) a film also directed by Fred F. Sears and released by Columbia. The Giant Claw destroys or eats each of the jet planes. Both Buskirk and Considine are visibly shaky and a little bit bitchy when Mitch asks what they’re going to do next. “Ten million dollars worth of radar can’t track it. Enough firepower to wipe out a regiment can’t even slow it down.”

At a government research facility, the deadpan Dr. Noymann (Edgar Barrier) explains his cockamamie theory concerning the creatures origins, “The bird is extraterrestrial. It comes from outer space, from some godforsaken antimatter galaxy millions and millions of light years from Earth. No other explanation is possible.”

Umm, okay. Sure, whatever.

The bird is enclosed in an antimatter shield that makes it undetectable to radar and impervious to any known weapon. While the military consults with the president, the narrator chimes in, “The bird revealed itself to the world at large and complacency quickly turned to panic. Panic, terror and horror. No corner of the earth was spared the terror of looking up into God’s blue sky and seeing the feathered nightmare on wings.”

Mitch and Sally bounce bird theories back and forth, like some kind of intellectual foreplay (or what passes for intellectual foreplay for these two). With female intuition on her side, Sally figures it all out, “Gen. Buskirk told me they found the mark of a giant claw on a field next to Pierre Broussard’s farm, and I know why. The bird came here to build a nest.”

Mitch then makes a brilliantly astute and succinct observation, “Nest… eggs… more birds.”

After a quick jaunt back to Canada, they find the big bird tending its nest. “You shoot gun, make big noise,” Pierre frets in his broken English, “La Carcagne come and we all die.” They blast several holes in the giant egg and incur the wrath of the buzzard from another world. Pierre is killed, but there is no time for mourning.

“With that bird around it’s too dangerous to fly,” Mitch reasons, “We’ll leave the chopper and take Pierre’s car. He won’t be needing it.” A quartet of thrill-seeking teens passes them on the road. The Giant Claw swoops down, plucks up their hot-rod, and carries them away.

Back in Washington, Mitch regales Gen. Considine with his latest idea on how to thwart the big bird, “Now, if this thing of mine works and we get close, real close, and bombard that bird’s antimatter shield with a stream of mesic atoms… the bird would be defenseless, except for beak, claws and wings.”

While Mitch, Sally and Dr. Noymann get to work, the bird terrorizes a toy train chugging its way across a miniature tabletop landscape. The scientist experience failure after failure until an explosion rocks the laboratory. “The explosion was no accident,” Mitch insists, “I did it on purpose. I used the mesic atom projector!” They quickly outfit an old bomber with the weapon and take to the air just as the creature begins its attack on New York, tearing the top off the Empire State building. They manage to lure the bird away from snacking on the U.N. as panicked extras flee from the crumbling New York skyline (footage courtesy of 1956’s Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, yet another film directed by Fred F. Sears).

In the cargo hold of the bomber, Mitch finishes hooking a pair of massive vacuum tubes to his atom projector and lets the big bird have it. A simple puff of smoke signals the disabling of the creatures antimatter shield. A few rockets are all it takes to bring down the big bird. With their mission accomplished, Mitch and Sally happily embrace as The Giant Claw sinks beneath the waves.

In conclusion: The Giant Claw is a dubious cinematic achievement by anyone’s standard. Yet no careers were harmed in the making of this picture. Jeff Morrow continued to work steadily in film and television throughout the 50’s and 60’s. Some of his other genre credits include This Island Earth (1955), The Creature Walks Among Us (1956) and Kronos (1957). Mara Corday got her start as a model before moving on to films with Universal International, where Morrow was also under contract. Some of her other memorable films include Tarantula (1955) and The Black Scorpion (1957). Despite his relatively brief tenure in the business, director Fred F. Sears was prolific, garnering an impressive list of credits, working in several different genres (sci-fi movies, westerns, J.D. flicks). Though he passed away a few months after The Giant Claw came out, he’d completed five more films that were released in the year following his death.

Low-budget producer Sam Katzman worked in every conceivable film genre beginning in the 30’s and continuing through the early 70’s. A hundred box sets wouldn’t even begin to cover the output of this seemingly inexhaustible showman. Presumably, animator Ray Harryhausen, who Katzman had worked with successfully on Earth vs. the Flying Saucers and It Came From Beneath the Sea (1955), would have handled the special effects for The Giant Claw. Harryhausen was busy with another project (20 Million Miles to Earth, 1957) leaving cost conscious Katzman to make the inspired choice to hire a model-maker based out of Mexico City. The rest, as they say, is history. No one involved with the production saw the final cut of the film (with all those very special effects) until it played in theaters. Jeff Morrow has told the story of how he attended the premiere of The Giant Claw in his own hometown, his friends and family laughing out loud at the bizarre bug-eyed buzzard flapping across the screen. He snuck out of the theatre before the final reel so he wouldn’t have to answer for any of the films obvious shortcomings.

The Giant Claw is one of the four films featured in the two disc DVD set Icons of Horror Collection: Sam Katzman. Disc one of the collection contains The Werewolf (1956) and The Zombies of Mora Tau (1957). On the second disc, The Giant Claw is paired with Creature with the Atom Brain (1955), a crime thriller that features a mad scientist who uses atomic zombies to do his evil bidding. All of the films look and sound terrific despite their age and poverty-row origins. The Giant Claw is presented in its original aspect ratio (1.85:1). Extras on the disc include an episode of the Katzman produced serial Mysterious Island and a collection of trailers (The Giant Claw, Creature with the Atom Brain, Earth vs. the Flying Saucers and It Came From Beneath the Sea).

So, is the big bird in The Giant Claw the absolute worst movie monster ever? Well, there is the walking carpet creature from The Creeping Terror (1964) and Tabanga, the South Seas tree God in From Hell It Came (1957).

A flapping, squawking, turkey marionette would definitely make the Top 5 though.

Cool Cinema Trash: Butterfly (1982)

Dec 30, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

From the author who gave you “The Postman Always Rings Twice”, “Double Indemnity”, “Mildred Pierce”. Now, his most powerful and daring love story comes to the screen!

Honest and hard-working Jess Tyler (Stacy Keach) arrives home one blistering afternoon to find a pouty sexpot (Pia Zadora) sitting on the front porch of his modest desert shack. “Something you want?” he asks.

“How can I tell, till I know what you got?”

And we’re off and running on the sexed-up rollercoaster ride that is Butterfly (1982) the neo-noir melodrama based on the James M. Cain novel.

What it’s all about: The ‘purty young thing follows Jess around as he goes about his daily chores.

“Don’t it get lonely out here?” the mystery gal asks, “Or is milkin’ that cow good enough for you?” After taking a sip of fresh cream, she licks her lips and purrs, “I like it warm with foam on it.”

With the shameless flirtation out of the way, she finally reveals that she’s Kady… his daughter. “You didn’t think I’d still be a little girl did ya?” No siree, Kady’s all growed up, that much is for certain. She has more news. Jess is a grandfather. After having her baby out of wedlock, she escaped the judgmental stares of her hometown and headed to the desert to reunite with her estranged father.

That night, with a jerry-rigged sheet as a room divider, Jess takes more than a fatherly interest in Kady’s shapely silhouette as she undresses for bed. The next morning he finds her outside near the entrance of the old silver mine, the mine that its Jess’s job to protect. It soon becomes apparent that a family reunion isn’t the only reason for Kady’s visit.

“Is there enough silver in there to make one, maybe two, people rich?” When Jess tells her that indeed there is, she asks the inevitable, “What’s to stop us from tryin’ to get it out?”

Jess won’t even consider her plan until she reveals that the father of her child is Wash Gillespie, the son of the man who owns the mine. “They owe me and my baby! If I take that silver, that’s payment and that’s right and that’s good.”

With all the sincerity of a high school drama student reciting Scarlet O’Hara’s ‘I’ll never go hungry again’ speech, Zadora launches into Kady’s sad tale of growing up in her mother’s boarding house. It may be the best bad movie monologue ever.

“Jess, the first time I ever had a paper dollar bill in my hand I was twelve years old. I let one of the boarders spend the night with me. Maybe that was bad, but the things I bought with that money was good, and I want more for me and my baby. I want good things for him, and if that’s bad… then I wanna be bad!”

Jess’s answer? He drags her to church.

As you might expect, it doesn’t go particularly well when fire and brimstone preacher Stuart Whitman directs his lust and fornication sermon directly towards Kady. She flees and the preacher rather untactfully reminds Jess, “You can only be a daddy to her, nothin’ more.”

Kady arrives home the next morning as unrepentant as ever. At the mere mention of her leaving, Jess agrees to her plan and they head to the mine. After a day of pounding hard rock, Jess prepares a soaking tub for Kady. “Is it gonna be like this everyday?” she asks as she strips down and steps into the water, giving her daddy an eyeful, “Hurtin’ all over and not a thing to show for it? My shoulders feel like somebody’s been mining them.”

She requests a backrub and Jess willingly complies. When things start to heat up, Jess hesitates. “It’s all right if it’s good,” Kady tells him, repeating a mantra that seems to be her answer for just about everything.

“But you’re my daughter Kady.”

“I’m a woman too.”

Much to her dismay, Jess pulls his hand from the soapy water.

They continue to work the mine and find enough silver fragments for a celebratory trip into town. Jess leaves her to do some shopping and comes back later to find her at the local roadhouse in the arms of a randy cowboy. When she decides to leave with not one, but two local boys, Jess does everything he can to protect what little honor Kady has left.

After the ensuing bar fight, Jess and Kady must stand before the local judge on charges of disturbing the peace. Judge Rauch (Orson Wells) takes a shine to jailbait Kady and has her approach the bench for a closer inspection. With a nominal fine and the threat of reform school, Kady and Jess return to the solitude of their desert shack only to find a family reunion (of sorts) in progress.

Kady’s sister has brought Kady’s infant son Danny for a visit. Her baby’s daddy soon comes a callin’ too. Wash Gillespie (Edward Albert) doesn’t have much backbone, but he is awfully rich. Kady plays hard to get at first (“I got one baby suckin’ on me, I don’t need another.”) but quickly accepts his marriage proposal.

Things are going real good until Jess’s tubercular ex-wife Belle (Lois Nettleton) shows up with the man who stole her from Jess years before, Moke Blue (James Franciscus). Nettleton hacks and wheezes with all the subtlety of a silent movie queen and soon takes to her sick bed. As her last dying act she tries to kill Moke with a hatpin, but he’s a slippery snake and escapes with only a flesh wound.

As Belle is laid to rest, Moke’s motives for returning to the desert become clear. Jess finds him toiling in the mine, searching for what’s left of the silver. Jess notices that Moke has a butterfly shaped birthmark that is identical to one that little Danny has. Jess jumps to the conclusion that Moke must have fathered Kady’s baby and blasts him with a shotgun. With his dying breath Moke reveals the truth. Danny has his hereditary birthmark because he’s Moke’s grandson. Kady isn’t Jess’s daughter, she’s Moke’s. Jess drags his rival deep into the mine and leaves him to die.

With the latest information about his complicated family tree, Jess goes into town to visit Wash and his parents (Ed McMahon and June Lockhart). Since he wants her all to himself, Jess lies, telling Wash that Danny’s birthmark is proof that the child belongs to Moke Blue.

Left at the proverbial alter, Kady doesn’t waste any time moping, “I don’t want nothin’ from the Gillespie’s but what I came here for in the first place… the silver.”

Jess is ready to give her everything she wants and more. They can barely keep their hands off of one another as the race up the mountain to the entrance of the mine and finally consummate their desire. Remember, Kady still believes that Jess is her father. She boinks him anyway.

A meddlesome mine scavenger witnesses their copulation and it isn’t long before they’re arrested for incest. At their hearing, Jess asks the judge what would happen if he pleaded guilty. The garrulous judge tells him that he’d immediately go to prison, “save the taxpayers the money and me the time, trouble and spiritual disgust.”

“Then I’m guilty and I forced her,” he declares.

Before he’s carted off to jail, Kady wants her say. “He didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want to happen.”

On the stand, she tells her tale. “What we did was bound to happen from the first day we met… and when it did… it was good for both of us.” It seems doubtful that testimony of mutual orgasm will get them off the hook, but you can’t blame a gal for trying.

With the threat of jail time for him and reform school for her, Jess finally reveals that they are not father and daughter. Danny’s birthmark is offered as evidence of Kady’s true lineage. The judge asks why he didn’t save everyone the trouble and just tell her in the first place. “Because she never really had a father,” is his wacky explanation.

“I wanted to be everything I could to you,” Jess tells her, “because I love you.”

The case is dismissed.

“You’ll always be my daddy. Always.” Kady tells him on the steps of the courthouse. The wayward lovers sadly part. Kady leaves with Wash, presumably for a less complicated and melodramatic life, and Jess returns to the solitary desert life he once knew.

In conclusion: They say that money can’t buy you love, but apparently, it can buy you a Golden Globe Award. Business mogul Meshulam Riklis, who was Mr. Pia Zadora at the time, not only financed Butterfly, but also paid for the pricy ad campaign that would win his wife the Golden Globe for “Best New Star of the Year”. New star is a bit of a stretch. Though her on screen billing in Butterfly reads: Presenting Pia Zadora as Kady, Zadora made her actual film debut decades earlier in the low-budget Christmas classic, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (1964). The same year that Zadora won her Golden Globe for Butterfly, she also received the dubious honor of two Razzie Awards, one for Worst Actress and one for Worst New Star.

Sadly, Zadora’s film career would quickly befall the “three strikes” rule. After Butterfly, two more flops followed, Fake-Out (aka Nevada Heat, 1982) and The Lonely Lady (1983). Her career seemed dead. But you can’t keep a good Pia down for long. Zadora found success within the music industry, earning a Grammy nomination in 1984 and singing with Jermaine Jackson on the hit single, “When the Rain Begins to Fall”. She’d later go on to a successful stint in Vegas, opening for Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra.

The picture and sound quality of the DVD release is quite good, though it should be noted that the grainy/soft-focus look of the film has to more to do with the style in which Butterfly was shot and less with the quality of the DVD. Extras include a trailer, audio commentary by the cast and the documentary Butterfly: The Steamy Saga of a Cult Classic. Director Matt Cimber, producer Riklis, Zadora and Keach all share their memories of the film, including its inception, the filming on location, its premiere at Cannes and the Golden Globe debacle.

Zadora sings Butterfly’s theme song, the appropriately titled, “It’s Wrong For Me To Love You”. Well, if lovin’ Pia Zadora’s deliciously bad movies is wrong… then I don’t wanna be right.

Cool Cinema Trash: Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (1964)

Dec 23, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

Santa brings Christmas fun to Mars!

Kiddie matinees were a weekend mainstay in many small town movie theatres from the early 50’s until the mid 70’s. Mom could drop the kids off at the picture show while she ran errands and did the shopping. These matinees were often filled with second run family films, animated classics (mainly Disney) and low-budget fare. The holiday film Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (1964) definitely belongs in the latter category. It was produced specifically with the kiddie matinee and television market in mind.

What it’s all about: After the bouncy theme “Hooray for Santy Claus” (featuring a children’s chorus that sounds like it was on loan from Peter Pan records) we go straight to a pre-holiday news broadcast from KID TV. The on-the-spot reporter makes a few lame North Pole jokes before a live interview with Santa Claus (John Call). The Big S is as jolly as you might expect, though the frenzied pace of the holiday season has left him so scatterbrained that he refers to one of his reindeer as “Nixon.”

On the planet Mars, Kimar (Leonard Hicks) worries that his children are spending too much time in front of the video set. Bomar (Chris Month) and Girmar (Pia Zadora) placidly watch earth programs. They won’t eat and they won’t sleep. “Something is happening to the children of Mars.”

In a smoky Martian forest where the alien trees are made of two by fours draped with synthetic angel hair, Kimar and members of the counsel consult Chochem (Carl Don). The ancient one appears in a magical puff of smoke and proclaims that Martian kids are just too serious. “They must learn what it means to have fun,” he croaks, “We need a Santa Claus on Mars.”

“Desperate problems require desperate deeds,” declares Kimar, “Earth has had Santa Claus long enough.” Kimar and his crew blast off in their rocket ship but are confused when they find a Santa Claus on nearly every earth street corner. “With so many, they won’t miss one.”

Voldar (Vincent Beck) the mustachioed Martian antagonist gripes, “All this trouble over a fat little man in a red suit.”

When the Martians land, they encounter young Billy (Victor Stiles) and Betty (Donna Conforti). “What are those funny things sticking out of your head?” precocious Betty asks.

“Those are our antennae.”

“Are you a television set?”

Precocious it seems, but not too bright.

Voldar calls them nincompoops before dragging them along to the North Pole. When the children hear of the Martian’s kidnapping plot, they make a quick getaway in hopes of warning St. Nick. A guy in a shabby polar bear costume briefly menaces them before Torg the futuristic robot (played by a guy in an even shabbier cardboard robot costume) captures them. Billy and Betty are taken back to the spaceship while the Martians use Torg to raid Santa’s workshop.

The oversized toy doesn’t threaten Santa, though after a close inspection he declares that Torg is “very well-made”. Voldar uses his Wham-o air blaster to freeze Santa’s helpers. “We don’t want to hurt you Santa, so come along quietly.”

The kidnapping of a seasonal icon makes international news on earth. Voldar can’t stand that the jolly old elf handles his abduction with such a cheery disposition. After some expositional dialog that clearly spells out the jeopardy they’ll soon face, Voldar places Santa, Billy and Betty into the ship’s air lock and blasts them into space.

An embarrassingly hokey fistfight ensues when Kimar learns of Voldar’s treachery. But he needn’t fear, Santa and the children escape certain death with the help of Santa’s magical yuletide powers.

Kimar brings Santa to his space age Martian home (complete with a tower of crystal fountain by Dawson of N.Y.C.). Santa does a meet and greet with Kimar’s family, “I’m not accustomed to entering people’s homes through the front door, but you have no chimney.” At first Bomar and Girmar eye Santa suspiciously, but the holiday spirit proves to be contagious. They’re soon laughing it up for no apparent reason.

Holed up in a cardboard cave, an excommunicated Voldar plots his revenge along with his dimwitted compatriots. “We cannot eliminate Santa Claus, but we can discredit him.”

Meanwhile, Santa oversees toy production in his high-tech Martian workshop. With the push of a button, toys roll off an assembly line. “That’s automation for you.”

Once Santa has retired for the evening, Voldar and his crew engage in some tepid slapstick before sabotaging the toy machine. When Santa and the children arrive for work the next day, the machine spits out defective toys.

Droppo the Martian (Bill McCutcheon), whose only purpose so far has been to provide annoying comic relief, shows up dressed like Santa. Voldar mistakes him for the real Santa and takes him hostage. Voldar soon realizes that he’s got the wrong earthling and returns to the workshop to get the genuine article. Billy, Betty and the Martian children fight him off with a barrage of toys that they let loose with gusto. Despite the fact that he’s carrying a Wham-o freeze gun, Voldar is easily defeated. The only thing left for everyone to do is have a hearty good-natured laugh.

When Santa sees Droppo in his signature seasonal attire, he declares that, “You don’t need me here. You’ve got a wonderful Santa Claus of your own.” With the Jeudo-Christian holiday tradition firmly established on another planet, Santa’s work is done. “Merry Christmas everyone…Away!” he dramatically declares as if he were making a magical exit. Instead, he just walks out the door.

A reprise of the theme song follows as the rocket ship with Billy, Betty and Santa returns to earth. Once the end credits finish, karaoke lyric appear on the screen so that the young (and the young at heart) can sing along with all the happy children of the world.

S-A-N-T-A C-L-A-U-S. Hoo-ray for Santy Claus!

Indeed.

In conclusion: Santa Claus Conquers the Martians has always maintained a certain level of notoriety among cult film buffs. It experienced a mainstream surge in popularity when it was featured on a memorable episode of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Aside from the nostalgia it offers to those who spent their holidays in front of the warm glow of a console TV, the movie’s biggest claim to fame is that it marks the film debut of a young Pia Zadora. Who could have guessed that the adorably chubby little girl Martian would grow up to bare it all in the pages of Penthouse and in cult films like The Lonely Lady (1983).

Another charming part of Santa Claus Conquers the Martians is its rock bottom production vales. All of the sets have a two-dimensional feel, as if they were once part of a grade school Christmas pageant. Every scene in the film (including those that take place outdoors) was shot at the Michael Mayerburg Studios in New York. In actuality, the “studio” was a retrofitted aircraft hanger on Long Island. It’s hard not to admire the filmmaker’s can-do attitude.

The original copyright for Santa Claus Conquers the Martians long ago fell into the public domain. Countless companies have distributed it on video and DVD over the years and most of them used the same worn-out source print. The battered nature of Santa Claus Conquers the Martians adds a certain retro appeal, like you’re watching it on the late, late show on a local UHF channel.

But if HD is more your thing, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians made it’s Blu-ray debut in 2013.

Equal parts holiday, family and low-budget sci-fi film, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians has a genre defying charm that can be enjoyed any time of the year.

Cool Cinema Trash: Santa Claus (1959)

Dec 16, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

Calling one of producer K. Gordon Murray’s Mexican-made flicks bizarre is like calling the sky blue or saying that corn flakes are crunchy… it’s simply a given. But words cannot express the severity of holiday weirdness on display in Santa Claus (1959) a children’s fantasy that mixes religious and secular traditions in an intoxicating brew that is sure to leave even the strongest bad movie fan with an unforgettable holiday hangover.

What it’s all about: The parade of the bizarre begins with a castle floating in the clouds. No, it’s not Mount Olympus, home of the Greek Gods. Santa, it seems, forgoes his traditional workshop in the frozen North for a palace in the sky where he can keep a God’s eye view on the children of earth.

Santa sits at his pipe organ, which is outfitted with a viewing screen, to check in on Toyland, a sweatshop where the children of many nations make the gifts he’ll deliver on Xmas eve. “Here are gathered the boys and girls of different races and creeds,” explains the omnipresent narrator, “They have come from many lands to help Santa bring joy and happiness to all of the Earth’s children.”

The workers don’t really work, they stand around in their native garb singing indigenous folk songs, much like a live-action version of Disneyland’s “It’s a Small World”. The looks on the kid’s faces range from mild indifference to outright boredom as the camera captures their multi-cultural performances. The African children hop around in leopard skin loincloths banging on drums while the Mexican children sing “La Cucaracha”. The kids from the U.S. warble “Mary had a Little Lamb” and are dressed like miniature versions Roy Rogers and Dale Evans.

Meanwhile, in the fiery pits of Hell, Pitch the devil leads his brethren in a production number. Lucifer tells Pitch to knock it off and get down to some evil doing, “If you do not succeed in making all the children of the Earth do evil, you will be punished!”

Wishing to avoid the forced consumption of chocolate ice cream, Pitch heads to Earth where three young hoodlums immediately catch his eye. How can we tell they’re bad? They wear leather motorcycle jackets of course. Pitch provides them with rocks that they throw at a Christmas window display. “Nothing that happens on Earth is unknown to Santa Claus,” the narrator reminds us. Santa definitely knows something is amiss and asks his young friend Pedro to check in on the children of earth.

“By the magic powers look for the child we are seeking,” Pedro commands, “whether she is in a cave or behind a million mountains.” Santa’s magic observatory is filled with strange machinery the likes of which even Dr. Seuss couldn’t dream up. Using the Master Telescope (which comes complete with a retractable and slightly creepy “Master Eye”) they locate little Lupita at a Mexican Xmas carnival.

At Pitch’s urging, the adorable little ragamuffin considers stealing a doll from a street vendor. Lupita puts the doll back much to Santa’s delight, “Hooray for her! Hooray for her! All my friends can ignore the devil! All they need to win is to be good in spirit.”

He next checks in on poor little rich boy Billy. Though Billy is asleep, it doesn’t stop Santa from prying into his mind with the Dreamscope. Billy fantasizes of unwrapping refrigerator-sized boxes on Christmas day. “Why they contain what a child loves best,” the narrator gushes as Billy opens his gifts, “His parents!” Wow. Talk about mid-century social conditioning.

“A dream is a wish the heart makes,” Santa declares after witnessing the touching scene. Since Disney doesn’t take kindly to copyright infringement, let’s hope Santa has a good legal team on retainer. Santa checks in again on Lupita, who dreams of the doll she so desperately wants. Thanks to Pitch, the dream becomes a nightmare as little Lupita is surrounded by two-faced, dancing zombie dolls! While the dolls spin and twirl, the young actress playing Lupita looks to the camera as if to ask, “WTF!?!” Where is the child safety board when you need it?

“You must be evil if you want a doll,” a satanic dancing toy tells her.

“To steal is evil and I don’t want to be evil.”

Atta girl Lupita, you tell ‘em.

At the post office, bags of Santa’s mail get tossed into the furnace, where the letters rise up on the smoky air to Santa’s heavenly home. Santa is really, really happy to be buried in mail. After sorting through some of the letters, Santa visits Merlin’s laboratory. While preparing Santa’s “magic stardust”, the wizened wizard engages in some schtick that does little more than pad the running time. Santa heads down the hall to visit Vulcan, iron forger to the Gods and maker of magic keys.

Santa’s slaves… er, helpers of many nations, prep Santa’s sleigh and white plastic reindeer. “Don’t forget,” Pedro insists, “You’ve got to return to the castle ahead of the sunrise because the sun will turn the reindeer into dust.” Huh? Are they vampire reindeer? No, Santa takes out a giant key and winds them up. So… they’re oversized mechanical vampire reindeer? Does this make any sense?

“Be off my reindeer and glide through the heavens as fast as you can go! May my palace of gold and crystal enjoy peace and Jesus the Son of God join us on earth so that we can all have joy and good will!” And with that odd request for the resurrection of Christ, Santa is off on his yuletide deliveries.

On earth, Billy’s parents tuck him in bed before leaving for a night out on the town, while the three little hoods hide on a rooftop scheming about kidnapping Santa Claus. Lupita has a heart to heart with her mom, explaining that if Santa brings her two dolls, she’ll share one with little baby Jesus.

Santa parks his sleigh in the clouds and climbs down a rope ladder to begin his deliveries. Pitch makes a few half-assed attempts at thwarting him, but nothing can keep St. Nick from his gift-giving errands. Billy awakens to find Santa Claus in his living room, “Santa Claus! You love me don’t you? Say you love me Santa!”

Jeez, talk about needy.

Billy has everything but the love of his mother and father. Santa gives him a very special gift… a guilt trip for his neglectful parents. At their chi-chi soirée, a “waiter” slips them a magical holiday Mickey that reminds them that they have a son at home all alone. A merry Christmas Eve reunion takes place. Billy’s dream has come true.

Pitch tries to enlist the help of the troublesome trio in putting a stop to Santa’s do-gooding ways. A comet (or something) passes by, scarring the kids into abandoning their plot. They hurry home to discover lumps of coal in their stockings.

At his next house, Santa forgoes the traditional rooftop delivery and traipses through the front yard instead. Pitch sicks the family dog on him, forcing Santa up a tree. Pitch then awakens most of the neighborhood so that they can all witness Santa’s embarrassing predicament. The police and fire department race to the scene, while the family inside the house draw their weapons, preparing to shoot any intruders they find.

Using the Tele-talker machine in Santa’s observatory, Pedro and Merlin overhear Santa’s cries for help and suggest he use a toy cat to distract the ferocious canine. Once the hellhound has been dealt with and Pitch has been drenched by the fire department, Santa makes a run for it. “I still have one more friend to visit, I mustn’t fail her.”

Lupita awakens as her father returns from a long night of job hunting (He spent all Xmas Eve looking for work? Sure, that makes perfect sense). Lupita runs outside to find a doll as big as she is. Her mother makes the sign of the cross. It’s a Christmas miracle!

As Santa’s sleigh rockets through the heavens, the narrator concludes with this, “Once again Santa returns to his palace from his yearly Christmas rounds. He is happy and gay, for once again he has brought joy to the children of the world.”

The holiday adventure is wrapped up with this sentiment presented on a needlepoint sampler, “Blessed are those who believe, for they shall see God. Peace on earth. Good will toward men.”

In conclusion: Audiences have K. Gordon Murray to thank (or blame depending on your point of view) for bringing Santa Claus to American movie houses and TV screens in the mid 60’s. The Florida based producer repackaged and dubbed Mexican product for the U.S. market and became particularly well known for the kid’s matinée titles he distributed. Murray rarely copyrighted these films and, after their initial run in theaters and on television, most of them faded into obscurity. Long in the public domain, Santa Claus can usually be found for free online or in stores around the holidays on budget priced/no-fills DVD.

2013 marked the Blu-ray premiere of this odd holiday classic. Fully restored and loaded with kitchy bonus features, Santa Claus can now be enjoyed in all it’s wonderfully wierd HD glory!

Cool Cinema Trash: A Rage to Live (1965)

Dec 9, 2014 | Cool Cinema Trash, Movies

The names and places didn’t matter… only when!

What it’s all about: Though she was twenty-eight at the time, Suzanne Pleshette plays Grace Caldwell, a teenage jezebel with A Rage to Live (1965). One afternoon, as she changes out of her school clothes, Grace is watched by her brother’s friend Charlie Jay (Mark Goddard of television’s Lost in Space). After some snappy banter with her uninvited admirer, she announces that she’s going to take a shower. “Maybe I could scrub your back?” he suggests.

“That would be dull.” Grace deadpans. Unwilling to take no for an answer, Charlie wrestles her onto the chaise lounge. Trying to fight him off, she shouts, “I hate you.”

“Bet you don’t hate this,” Charlie growls as he kisses her. Proving that there is indeed a thin line between love and hate, Grace submits to his brutish advances.

Grace’s mother is worried about her daughter’s behavior. After a prolonged absence from a party one evening, she goes looking for Grace, only to find her in the drive-way, in the backseat of a car. Grace explains that she was “Just getting some air.” In the backseat of a Chevy?

Grace’s mother confesses her concerns to the family doctor during a checkup. With a rather progressive attitude, he espouses this child raising gem, “When they’re fifteen years old we tell them, sex is dynamite…don’t touch it. Six or seven years later they come around, tell you they’re gonna get married, you say, ok fine…play with the dynamite.”

Meanwhile, Grace is partaking in some afternoon delight with Charlie Jay in the basement rec room of his family’s split-level ranch. After being caught by Charlie’s mom (Brett Somers of television’s Match Game) Grace isn’t ashamed, but indignant, and walks out with her head held high.

“Charles, tell your father what Grace Caldwell was doing here, that sweet, refined, little slut.” After an interrogation by his disciplinarian father and ball-busting mother, Charlie side-steps responsibility by telling them that he isn’t the only one Grace has been with.

After receiving a neighborly phone call, Grace’s mother confronts her about the affair. Knowing that it’s no use playing the innocent, Grace downplays the scandalous accusations. “We were necking, just necking. I don’t expect to get a gold star for that, but it’s a long way from what she’s talking about.”

Some clarification is in order, “What do you call necking?”

Like a wild animal backed into a corner, Grace lashes out, “I told you nothing happened!”

“Very well dear, I’ll take your word for it.” Though she knows very well that her daughter has become the town tramp. Moments later, Grace rushes downstairs to find that her mother has collapsed.

After a doctor’s exam, rest and relaxation are prescribed for her “condition”. Grace’s older brother (much, much older, he smokes a pipe for crissakes) comes home from Yale to handle the situation. He insists that Grace reform or risk their mother’s life. When asked about her affair with Charlie Jay, Grace attempts to explain her sexual compulsions, “I don’t care how it sounds. When I feel that way, I can’t think of anything else. Doesn’t matter who I am or what I’m supposed to be. Nothing matters. I can’t help it.”

At a country club Christmas soirée Grace is fixed up with reputable Sidney Tate (Bradford Dillman). When a drunken Charlie almost ruins their evening, Sidney gallantly defends her honor. After a tame goodnight kiss, grace sums him up, “You’re very nice Sidney.”

While on vacation in the Bahamas, Grace plays nursemaid to her ailing mother. Despite a respectable beau back home, Grace begins to feel that familiar itch, and she needs it scratched. She sneaks out of her room for a moonlit rendezvous with a hotel employee. When Grace returns she finds her mother on the floor, the victim of a fatal heart attack.

After a respectable mourning period, Sidney proposes marriage and Grace decides to come clean about her past. “I’ve done some foolish things, some bad things. They weren’t meant to be bad but…well, I guess you know what I mean. I’m ready to give all my love to you Sidney, but I had to tell you.”

After her white wedding (who is she kidding?) Grace manages to achieve a certain level of suburban bliss, a husband, a country house, and a son of her own. It even looks as if Grace has squelched her sexual compulsions, until contractor Roger Bannon (Ben Gazzara) arrives to do some handiwork.

When a girlfriend picks her up for a day of shopping and sees the swarthy looks Roger is giving Grace, she asks, “Grace is everything alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know.” Yup, we sure do.

One rainy afternoon, after a cozy ride into town, Roger confesses his long standing obsession with Grace. “From the first time I saw you I haven’t been able to stop looking. Not that I wanted to stop. Looking at you became one of the big pleasures in my life. Maybe the biggest. And all that time, I’ve been wanting you. And I guess I’ll go on wanting you until they shovel me into the ground.” That’s all she needs to hear. After a passionate afternoon in his office, they begin a steamy affair.

After seeing her flirt with newspaper editor Jack Hollister (Peter Graves), Roger confronts Grace on the country road that leads to her house. “I’m in love with you. Sure, I know, we started off like a couple of animals, but it’s not like that any more. Oh Grace I need you.” He sees a future for them, but she has no intention of sacrificing her family. Grace takes off in her car, nearly running him down. “Rich, lousy, slut!” he shouts after her.

Later, at a roadside motel, Roger takes out his frustrations on an innocent woman, “Whores! You’re all whores!” He causes such a commotion that the police are called and a car chase ensues. After taking a turn too fast, Roger flips his truck and it explodes.

Jack Hollister hushes up the true circumstances behind Bannon’s death to protect Grace. When he returns home to his lush of a wife Amy, she lashes out at him, thinking he’s late because he’s sleeping with Grace. With their relationship in shambles, Jack announces that he’s ending their marriage. “You’re leaving me for that tramp?!”

Watch out Grace. As they say, hell hath no fury…

The next day, Grace prepares for the women’s auxiliary charity event that she’s hosting. Word of Roger Bannon’s half-mad ravings about Grace on the night of his death eventually make their way to Sidney. When he confronts her, she tearfully tries to make amends, “I never loved him. Not for a second.”

“There’s no love or regret here, you’re just sorry you got caught. Well, you said to hell with the rules, and to hell with me, so Grace…the hell with you.” After the charity carnival he plans on leaving and taking their son with him.

Its big drama under the big top when Amy comes searching for her estranged husband. Grace tries to take Amy outside, but angry and belligerent, she wants everyone to hear her tale of woe, “Get your hands off me, I’ll say whatever I want.”

Attempting to control the situation, Grace tells her to, “Shut up.”

“You steal somebody’s husband and she’s supposed to shut up? You don’t have that much money you tramp!” Grace slaps her and Amy crumples to the ground, a sobbing, emotionally broken woman.

Under the mistaken impression that she’s had affairs with Bannon, Jack Hollister and God knows who else, Sidney’s had enough and leaves to pack his bags. Grace runs after him, but is left alone to finally realize that her search for physical love has destroyed the only true love she has ever known. “Oh my God…Sidney.”

As the soundtrack swells to an orchestral cocophany of gothic strings that bring to mind pain, suffering, and eternal damnation, this moralistic prolog appears on screen:

Wise wretch! With Pleasures too refin’d to please;
With too much spirit to be e’er at ease…
You purchase Pain with all that Joy can give
And die of nothing but a Rage to live.

In conclusion: A Rage to Live (1965) and Butterfield 8 (1960) are cinematic siblings, of sorts. Both are based on books by John O’Hara, and both tell the story of a tramp trying to achieve respectability, only to ruin the lives of those she loves. Butterfield 8 is the more popular of the two because of Elizabeth Taylor’s Oscar win and her behind-the-scenes shenanigans with co-star Eddie Fisher. But with moody black and white photography and a delicious performance by Suzanne Pleshette, A Rage to Live deserves the same attention as its Academy Award winning sister.