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Life Stinks (1991)
Mel Brooks tugs at the heartstrings
1991's "Life Stinks" was a rare departure for writer-director-star Mel Brooks, not a parody like the glory days of "Blazing Saddles" and "Young Frankenstein," but a seriocomic look at the homeless in downtown Los Angeles (the budget was $13 million). Brooks himself plays the arrogant billionaire Goddard Bolt, who doesn't think twice about tearing down a home for the aged or clearing out an entire rain forest if it means turning a profit with another capital venture. Setting his sights on a piece of L. A. real estate to put up his cherished Bolt Center, he's opposed by fellow billionaire Vance Crasswell (a wonderfully smarmy Jeffrey Tambor), who seeks to purchase the property for himself, proposing a wager that Bolt must spend 30 days among the homeless with no money and no ID or forfeit his half of the land. Stripped of his wallet, his gold watch, and his toupee, Bolt is essentially a fish out of water on his own, at least until he's befriended by street smart bag lady Molly, played in scene stealing fashion by the always radiant Lesley Anne Warren. Fine derelict turns from Theodore Wilson as Fumes and Brooks' longtime buddy from YOUR SHOW OF SHOWS, Howard Morris as Sailor ("I was nearly in the navy!"), who gets to recreate a real life incident that Mel used to discuss on talk shows. After his father Hugo passed away, Howard wanted to have his ashes scattered over the Hudson River, so the dutiful son made his way through the bushes to the cold, damp shoreline, bid farewell to his pop, and watched in horror as the ashes all blew back into his coat (he used to say that his father's final resting place was Rand Cleaners!). When Rudy De Luca's J. Paul Getty tries to best Bolt in the amount of money he lost 'during the crash,' the two get into a slapping match that had Johnny Carson asking Mel if Moe Howard got a residual! Comic invention isn't always consistent, and the final third in particular just kind of peters out, but as a challenging change of pace it remains among the director's personal favorites.
L'orribile segreto del Dr. Hichcock (1962)
First seen on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater in 1973
1962's "The Horrible Dr. Hichcock" (L'Orribile Segreto del Dr. Hichcock) served as Barbara Steele's triumphant return to Italian horror after her ill fated Hollywood period, just one notable movie role opposite Vincent Price in AIP's "Pit and the Pendulum." Riccardo Freda was the director who spearheaded the genre's revival in Italy (its first horror film was 1920's lost "Il Mostro di Frankenstein") with the 1957 release of "I Vampiri," on which his cinematographer was none other than Mario Bava, whose "Black Sunday" made Barbara a European star. Freda worked fast in color, the actress spending ten days on set in the midst of shooting of Federico Fellini's "8 1/2," leading man Robert Flemyng as Doctor Bernard Hichcock, a renowned surgeon devoted to submissive wife Margaretha (Maria Teresa Vianello) and their secret midnight trysts, coming to an untimely end with his use of an untested anesthetic that proves lethal. Leaving housekeeper Martha (Harriet Medin) behind to look after things, he abandons his London abode for 12 years, only returning in 1897 with new bride Cynthia (Barbara Steele), whose love for him is severely shaken once they're under the same roof. Mysterious footsteps in the night are all too casually dismissed by Bernard, and each new revelation for Cynthia is ascribed to a vivid imagination. A figure clad in white could lay claim to being Martha's sister, awaiting a trip to the local asylum, but Hichcock's second wife is not so easily deceived despite a nervous breakdown prior to the wedding. She finds an ally in fellow doctor Kurt Russ (Silvano Tranquilli), and ensures her own survival by foiling her husband's carefully laid plans to honor his deceased Margaretha. The finale dispels any suggestion of the supernatural, disappointing those expecting something less traditional, but as always the atmosphere prevails. Barbara Steele at first appears to be playing the stock role of a terrorized bride, but with enough pluck to deny her dismissive husband his long awaited triumph in service to the deceased, cast more to type in a semi sequel, "The Ghost" (Lo Spettro del Dr. Hichcock), also directed by Freda. As one might surmise, the carefully spelled "Hichcock" unsurprisingly references several of Alfred's most famous titles: "Rebecca" (a menacing housekeeper devoted to her former mistress), "Suspicion" (a poisoned glass making its way up or down stairs), "Vertigo" (the protagonist's increasingly obsessive behavior about a deceased loved one), and of course "Psycho" with its suggested necrophilia. Robert Flemyng's almost palpable disinterest fits the devious doctor quite well, though his sideways glances at naked female corpses (and protruding tongue) nearly creates a comic tone despite the unsettling subject matter. He's most effective in silent doses, either fondling the deceased in their coffins or gently watching his first wife take one last breath via injection before he proceeds to ravish her (it's possible that only pedophilia might be just as, if not more, disturbing to filmgoers than necrophilia, as both must be considered off limits since the 'anything goes' explosion of taboo items during the permissive 1970s). Flemyng was a busy television actor almost always cast as military types in feature films (in accordance with his real life service during WW2), accepting this extraordinary role for a trip to Rome before realizing its disturbing implications, rising to the occasion to convey the struggle to hide his unhealthy compulsions in the company of fellow physicians. He would not fare so well with Peter Cushing's "The Blood Beast Terror," in which he was called upon on short notice to play the stock mad scientist part vacated by the sudden death of Basil Rathbone in July 1967 (Flemyng was just coming off a later Emma Peel episode of THE AVENGERS, "You Have Just Been Murdered," featuring a petrified character named Lord Rathbone!).
Un angelo per Satana (1966)
Barbara Steele comes full circle
1966's "An Angel for Satan" (Un Angelo per Satana) marked the final chapter in the Italian Gothic career of Barbara Steele, whose acting roles would decrease over the years, with occasional projects as producer for television director Dan Curtis. Playing to type as a bewitching beauty who casts spells over every male of the tiny lakeside village where a sculptor (Anthony Steffen) has been hired to restore a statue tainted by tragedy 200 years before, her features an exact likeness of its partially naked marble form. A shy schoolteacher, a bulky father of five, a mute gardener, and the captivated sculptor all become willing pawns in this game of bitterness and death, only to have a pair of plot twists wreck the finale after such a promising buildup. Barbara's Harriet is first introduced at the 16 minute mark, and so swiftly transforms into the wicked, luminous Belinda that we never really get to know her in either role, but she proves yet again to be an undeniably powerful presence on screen, actually removing her clothes in one scene, while later showing off her breasts through a sheer nightgown. Coming full circle since Mario Bava's "Black Sunday," effective performing either angelic innocence or seductive sorceress, this was as far as censorship would allow in the mid 60s, perhaps the right time for her to call it quits. This was one of the last films for director Camillo Mastrocinque, best remembered for the Christopher Lee vehicle "Crypt of the Vampire," reunited with pretty Ursula Davis, in a more benign role than before as Harriet's submissive maid. Decades passed before the dubbed version finally came to light, making this usually the last Steele vehicle that buffs got to see, now easily available in a pristine print that looks as though it was shot yeserday, even in black and white.
The She Beast (1966)
First shown on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater in 1978
1965's "The She Beast" (La Sorella di Satana or Satan's Sister) arrived at the tail end of Barbara Steele's reign as Italy's Gothic queen, working with first time director Michael Reeves, who used $17,000 of his own money to finance the picture (total cost was $38,000). The 21 year old novice had made quite an impression on producer Paul Maslansky the previous year, doing second unit work on Christopher Lee's "The Castle of the Living Dead," earning his chance on a script conceived under the pseudonym 'Michael Byron,' with assistance from Roger Corman regulars Charles B. Griffith, Mel Welles, and F. Amos Powell, all appearing on screen in various roles (the shooting title was "Etruscan Ruins"). Modern day Transylvania was the setting (filming in both Italy and Yugoslavia), actor/dancer Jay 'Flash' Riley in impressively gruesome makeup as 18th century witch Vardella, not dispatched before placing a curse upon the descendants of her executioners; 200 years later the arrival of newlyweds Veronica (Steele) and Philip (Ian Ogilvy) spur her revival by taking possession of the bride after their car is directed toward a forbidding lake. The two stars share great chemistry, as relaxed and witty as they are believable, inquiring about the Draculas shortly before meeting the current Count Von Helsing (John Karlsen), who laments that the last Dracula is long gone, only remaining to keep a watchful eye out for the witch on the 200th anniversary of her demise. With her dark tresses parted in the middle, Barbara Steele proves as alluring in modern dress as in period Gothic, even displaying a bit of skin during her love scene with Ogilvy, with only Italy's "An Angel for Satan" and West Germany's "Young Torless" (as a prostitute) preceding her stepping away from the spotlight for a few years. She'd finish the decade with one British title, Boris Karloff's "The Crimson Cult," then an American TV movie shot in Spain, Janet Leigh's "Honeymoon With a Stranger," choosing a carefully selected array of cult items over the next several decades, achieving further acclaim as producer on two Dan Curtis miniseries, 1983's THE WINDS OF WAR and 1988's WAR AND REMEMBRANCE. Reeves would of course be best remembered for his final two features, Boris Karloff's "The Sorcerers" and Vincent Price's "Conqueror Worm," after which he suffered an accidental, fatal overdose combining barbiturates and alcohol in a lifelong struggle against depression (contrary to some reports, Gordon Hessler had already completed Price's "The Oblong Box" well before Reeves' untimely death). First time viewers may be disappointed at the preponderance of humor at the expense of horror, in particular the Keystone Kops-like chase for the finale (apparently put together with little input from Reeves, lacking the budget to make any changes), a rush to the lake to exorcise the revived witch. After working in Greece on Roger Corman's ATLAS, screenwriter Charles B. Griffith stayed behind for the odd film here and there, joined by fellow madman Mel Welles to punch up the Communist satire with one unsubtle, gruesome touch, the bloodied sickle tossed to the floor alongside the infamous Soviet hammer (one memorable exchange has the local police chief complaining that a corpse is obstructing justice by being dead!). The casting of boyhood pal Ian Ogilvy was a no brainer for Reeves, here making his feature debut as newlywed husband Philip opposite the ravishing Steele, available only for a single day which lasted an exhausting 18 hours. The US ads from Europix International compared the titular beast to both Dracula and Frankenstein, though her rampage only claims a single victim before spending most of the film in a harmless coma from Von Helsing's narcotic injections.
Dr. Cook's Garden (1971)
Bing Crosby in his last and most unexpected role
1970's "Dr. Cook's Garden" was an ABC-TV Movie of the Week (broadcast Jan. 19, 1971), boasting the unexpected casting of Hollywood icon Bing Crosby in the challenging title role of Dr. Leonard Cook, who takes the same kind of pride in his country town as in his personal garden. As the only physician in the Vermont community of Greenfield, the nearest hospital 30 miles away, he has no qualms about making house calls even in the middle of the night, welcoming home one of his former patients, Jimmy Tennyson (Frank Converse), who once idolized him as a child, now a capable, full fledged doctor in his own right. What Tennyson isn't expecting is Cook's rejection of him as a replacement, tensions rising over the huge amount of poison in his locked cabinet, and the curious terminology between his flowers and his patients (the letter 'R' stands for 'Removal'). The philosophical question of how to save lives by taking them is the centerpiece of this Ira Levin story, first produced as a flop Broadway play in 1967 (closing after only 8 performances), with Burl Ives as the old doctor, Keir Dullea his younger counterpart, James Stewart up for the Ives role in a proposed feature film. What makes it work is the offbeat presence of Crosby, as an actor best remembered as the benevolent priest Father O'Malley in "Going My Way" and "The Bells of St. Mary's," whose facade of compassion comes off as believably genuine, until the threat of exposure brings out his more dangerous, self centered side. By contrast, Frank Converse's one note performance fails to truly resonate as a figure for audience identification, inevitably the loser in his confrontations opposite the redoubtable Bing (the lovely Blythe Danner comes off better in a subordinate role as Cook's dedicated nurse).
The Legacy (1978)
Lukewarm ripoff of the "Omen" series
1978's "The Legacy" is chiefly remembered as the film that brought together Katharine Ross and Sam Elliott, who fell in love during shooting on location in England and eventually wed in 1984. For some odd reason, the book adaptation (cobbled together in a matter of weeks after the picture's completion) became an unexpected best seller, outshining its long forgotten parent, originally a Jimmy Sangster script set in Detroit (titled "The Devil's Doorway") before being relocated to his own stomping grounds at Bray Studios, the site of past triumphs "The Curse of Frankenstein" and "Horror of Dracula." Similar to another Anglo American coproduction, "The Omen," only this one suffers from cardboard characters and a pace that quickly bogs down once the leads find themselves at the estate of the dying Jason Mountolive (John Standing). It's a predictable catalog of elaborate deaths that don't actually kick in until an hour has passed, during which Ross and Elliott literally get the runaround trying to escape, whether by motorcycle, Rolls Royce, or even horseback. Roger Daltrey, lead singer of the rock quartet The Who, allowed the use of his own Holmshurst Manor in Sussex on the condition that he be allowed to costar, playing to type as a music producer who likens the worship of Satan to being a day job like any other (his memorable demise involves receiving a fatal tracheotomy while choking on a chicken bone). Sam Elliott seems more committed than his future bride, just as he was in 1972's "Frogs," grounding the incredible happenings in some semblance of believability. It's certainly a treat to see Hammer veteran Charles Gray from "The Devil Rides Out," but like the other victims it's sadly inconsequential and could have been played by anyone (both Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee were supposedly up for the part). The late 70s were dire for the ailing British film industry, Hammer itself going into receivership following its final feature "The Lady Vanishes," but the low budget likes of Pete Walker ("Frightmare") and Norman J. Warren ("Satan's Slave) kept afloat a bit longer.
The Devil's Rain (1975)
Conventional storyline buoyed by stellar cast and bubbly special effects
1975's "The Devil's Rain" made little splash at the box office due to distributor Bryanston going belly up not long after their best remembered release, "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre." Shot on location in Mexico by director Robert Fuest, this Sandy Howard production secured the services of a stellar cast, including Ernest Borgnine, William Shatner, Ida Lupino, Eddie Albert, and Keenan Wynn, with only a brief appearance from John Travolta in his screen debut, whose line as deputy Danny ("get him, he is a blasphemer!") is shortened and redubbed to just a single "blasphemer!" Borgnine's Jonathan Corbis is the devil worshiper seeking a book containing souls of the damned, all imprisoned inside a container where rainfall is omnipresent, Shatner fighting a losing battle over the film's first half; the less interesting Tom Skerritt takes over and events begin to repeat themselves until the climax where the shattered bottle starts a deluge drowning cast members in bubbly melted wax. Tom Burman's crew supplied the special effects using pieces of sex dolls to simulate body parts, the goop seeping through the eye sockets to create a genuinely disturbing look that goes on so long that it loses its effectiveness. The picture received a new lease on life in late 1976 on the bottom of a double bill with John Travolta's next movie "Carrie," adding Shatner's name to boost receipts.
Gli orrori del castello di Norimberga (1972)
Mario Bava's most conventional horror shot in Austria
1972's "Baron Blood" (Gli Orrori del Castello di Norimberga or The Horrors of Nuremberg Castle) was shot at Burg Kreuzenstein, a 12th century castle near Leobendorf in lower Austria (just north of Vienna), the perfect location for Italian director Mario Bava after its discovery by producer Alfredo Leone (Bava's previous Gothic was the 1966 "Kill, Baby...Kill!"). It might have been a return to form for the director but was hampered by a conventional script by Vincent Fotre that held few surprises, though it did become his last box office success for AIP, the company that helped create a splash with Barbara Steele's "Black Sunday" and Boris Karloff's "Black Sabbath." The sadistic Baron Otto Von Kleist, known as 'Baron Blood' for his penchant for torture and murder, is revived by an incantation left to his great grandson Peter (Antonio Cantafora), still bloodied and scarred after being cursed by a witch he had burned at the stake. Joseph Cotten accepted the role of wealthy American Alfred Becker (turned down by Vincent Price and Ray Milland), while leading lady Elke Sommer does screaming honors in an extended nighttime chase through brightly lit fog that highlights the sweat on her lovely brow. Surprises are few but arresting images are plentiful: the spikes inside the iron maiden slamming down upon the terrified face of Luciano Pigozzi, blood oozing under the door once the Baron's resurrection is confirmed, a Coke machine situated in an ancient castle preceding the hanging demise of the unlucky mayor. The climax is just unusual enough to make it worth your while, though Joseph Cotten doesn't arrive until the midpoint of the film, and only truly features in the final two reels. Elke Sommer would return in the next collaboration between Bava and Leone, the eerie valentine of death "Lisa and the Devil."
El monte de las brujas (1973)
Tame, dreary storyline has its defenders, this viewer not among them
1972's "The Witches Mountain" (El Monte de las Brujas) was a neglected film that never saw theatrical distribution in Spain due to censorship trouble, either forbidden nudity or its depiction of witchcraft. Director and coauthor Raul Artigot was a longtime cinematographer who only had three more credits as a writer (just two as director), capturing the scenic wonder of Spain's northwest region of Asturias to the detriment of almost everything else. Having been involved in the writing process, Artigot had only himself to blame for the sluggish pace as John Caffari's photojournalist Mario takes up with Patty Shepard's Delia en route to an assignment in the neighboring Pyrenees, a few shots of her bikini clad form on the beach enough to strike up a relationship. At first hesitant to join him, Delia's home finds Mario accosted by loud chanting that she herself never hears, then they rest for the evening with innkeeper Victor Israel, where a hooded face greets her at the window. Delia's inexplicable wanderings, coupled with Mario's stolen car, images from an empty village shown only in photographs, and a muscled caveman in chains, should all tip them off that something is afoot at the foot of the Pyrenees. More a showcase for the breathtaking scenery provided by location shooting and the all American beauty of Patty Shepard, a native of South Carolina who spent her entire three decade career working in Spain. Still only 27, she was making a real name for herself in horror films opposite Paul Naschy ("Assignment Terror," "The Werewolf vs. The Vampire Woman," "The Killer is One of 13"), happily continuing a string of similar entries right up to her final role in 1988's "Edge of the Axe" (she died in 2014). Monica Randall's Carla vanishes from the film after torching her witch child in the bewildering precredits sequence, a brief reunion with Patty Shepard from Tonino Valerii's "My Dear Killer" (Monica would also bewitch Paul Naschy in his directorial debut "Inquisicion"). With a totally predictable 'surprise' ending that merely produces yawns, it turns out to be a sad case of all buildup and no payoff for even the most patient of viewers. The mind boggles at what could possibly have so outraged the Spanish government, so tame that it could be shown virtually intact on American television during the late 70s as one of 13 titles included in Avco Embassy's Nightmare Theater package.
La novia ensangrentada (1972)
Le Fanu's "Carmilla," Spanish style
1972's "The Blood Spattered Bride" (La Novia Ensangrentada) was first issued in the US on a double bill with Paul Leder's ultra low budget "I Dismember Mama" by Europix International, advertising a special, free 'Up-Chuck Cup' for the faint of heart. Filmed on location in Galicia, on the northern coast of Spain, it was an adaptation of J. Sheridan Le Fanu's 1871 "Carmilla," updated to the present by director/screenwriter Vicente Aranda, husband Simon Andreu (we never learn his name) stopping off at a hotel with new spouse Maribel Martin as Susan, still wearing her bridal veil, whose initial fantasy about losing her virginity is a violent one (apparently the 17 year old actress used a body double for all her full frontal nude scenes since her face is never shown). Hubby accedes to her request to leave, returning to his boyhood home where portraits of the family patriarchs adorn the upstairs hallway while all the females are stored in the dark, dank cellar. Curiously, the full length painting of Mircala Karstein has had its face cut out, sporting rings on every finger turned around to face the palms, a sharp dagger in her right hand to take the life of a husband who made her commit 'unspeakable acts' on their wedding night two centuries earlier. The newlyweds' honeymoon period first appears to be a pleasant one, but once the dagger is introduced to Susan by Carol (Rosa Maria Rodriguez), the caretakers' young daughter, the bride swiftly loses interest in wedded bliss, soon fixating on the naked stranger discovered submerged in the sand with only a snorkel to breathe. This is Alexandra Bastedo as Carmila, the same countenance seen by Susan on her wedding day, the undead Mircala come back to repeat past events with Susan her new partner in crime, intent on both consuming as well as spilling blood. Clearly more adult in nature than Hammer's Karnstein trilogy, depicting a modern relationship between a virile male and virginal female, the latter swept up in a lesbian tryst with a vampire who only preys on young women. From the outset we are inclined to side with Susan due to her inexperience, yet as she grows more distant there's no one else to fully empathize with (unlike Christopher Lee in "Crypt of the Vampire"). The dagger mysteriously keeps turning up, under a pillow or in a clock, one nightmare showing Susan relishing the repeated stabbing of her sleeping spouse before Carmilla bids her to cap things off with a blood dripping castration (ouch!). It's no wonder that the final scene has the would be hero reportedly cutting out the hearts of the three women who meant to do him harm, the fact that all were vampires going unmentioned in the headlines. Perhaps the title was meant to evoke a virgin on her wedding night, leisurely paced at a fully uncut 101 minutes, Maribel Martin already a 10 year screen veteran (1969's "The House That Screamed" comes to mind), going on to play a naive cousin who survives the carnage in "Bell from Hell." As Carmila Karstein, British-born beauty Alexandra Bastedo kicked off her career at 16 as one of "13 Frightened Girls," a 1963 William Castle adventure, as well known on television (THE CHAMPIONS) as on the big screen, soon to play opposite Peter Cushing in Tyburn's "The Ghoul." Indeed, some ghoulish set pieces raise its creep factor over Hammer's "The Vampire Lovers," and it might have the edge over Christopher Lee's more stately "Crypt of the Vampire"; lesbian vampires were clearly in vogue at the time with "Daughters of Darkness," "The Velvet Vampire," and Jesus Franco's inevitable "Vampyros Lesbos," but what could be more erotically charged than the encounter between Gloria Holden and Nan Grey in the 1936 "Dracula's Daughter." Add the teenage Rosa Maria Rodriguez, similarly paired with Martin in the superior "Bell from Hell," plus the underage female lead Geri Reischl in cofeature "I Dismember Mama," and you have a disquieting viewing experience guaranteed to drive viewers 'insane.'
The O. Henry Playhouse: A Madison Square Arabian Knight (1957)
John Carradine and Tom Conway
"A Madison Square Arabian Knight" (broadcast Sept. 14, 1957) was the 33rd episode of Thomas Mitchell's O. HENRY PLAYHOUSE, lasting only a single season in syndication, directed by serial veteran Frederick Stephani (best known for Buster Crabbe's 1936 "Flash Gordon"). Carson Chalmers (Tom Conway) is a loving yet concerned husband with a flirtatious actress wife (Midge Ware) sailing off to London for an engagement opposite an adoring leading man (Bill Allyn). Knowing that his friend dislikes dining alone, O. Henry selects a highly intelligent vagrant, Sherrard Plumer (John Carradine), to keep the nervous Chalmers company for a most unusual evening, as Plumer soon reveals the reason why he gave up a career as a successful artist for life as a hobo, an uncanny knack for capturing the truth behind the facade in every portrait he sketches: "people can practice treachery and deceit, but it must never show in their faces!" After successfully rendering the butler's snooty countenance, Chalmers requests a portrait of his wife from a photo kept on the mantle, yet once finished he cannot bring himself to dare glance at it; this indecision is soon rewarded by her unexpected return, beaming at her husband's description of her: "the face of an angel." Plumer's refusal of remuneration is nevertheless rewarded by an offer he could not refuse, a new commission for Christmas, no portraits, just landscapes! Carradine is as always a delight, making his second appearance on the show after costarring opposite Charles Bronson in "Two Renegades."
Berlino appuntamento per le spie (Operazione Polifemo) (1965)
Better than expected though quite convoluted
1965's "Spy in Your Eye" aka "Bang You're Dead" (Berlino = Appuntamento per le Spie) was theatrically issued by AIP on a double bill with Richard Harrison's "Secret Agent Fireball," an entertaining bit of fluff but little more. Brett Halsey's Bert Morris is on the trail of a formula for a powerful laser, his superior, Colonel Lancaster (Dana Andrews), unwittingly aiding the enemy after the surgical insertion of a glass eye that acts as a TV transmitter. Fast moving from one location to another, above average production values yet quite convoluted, the villains are an assorted lot of Russians, Chinese, East Germans, and Arabs, with varied twists and turns and a plethora of promising gadgets that often disappoint (an effigy of Napoleon boasts a fatal gift). The climax must be seen to be believed, an interrogation chamber transformed into an operating room in the blink of an eye before another breathless escape. Alas, once Lancaster learns of his traitorous orb he promptly vanishes for the remainder of the film, luscious Pier Angeli frequently absent for long stretches, though it's a bonus to see her kidnapped from a bubble bath!
Operazione Goldman (1966)
Shown on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater only in 1970
1965's Italian-Spanish "Lightning Bolt" (Operazione Goldman) was picked up by Woolner Brothers for a double bill with Stewart Granger's "Red Dragon," TV veteran Anthony Eisley popping up mostly in low budget features like "The Wasp Woman," "The Navy vs. The Night Monsters," "The Mighty Gorga," and Al Adamson's "Dracula vs. Frankenstein." FSIC (Federal Security Investigation Commission) is assigned the case of American rockets drawn off course by radiation on their way to the moon, an obvious echo of the debut James Bond feature of 1962, "Dr. No" (the original title and Florida settings also recall "Goldfinger"), Eisley's Lt. Harry Sennett posing as a frivolous American playboy with checkbook always ready, his smarmy narration of every little detail wearing out its welcome fast. Folco Lulli plays the villain Mr. Rehte, whose likeness adorns his own brand of beer, safely hidden near Cape Kennedy in a subterranean stronghold, one that the Bond series would adopt a decade later for "The Spy Who Loved Me." A science fiction element is added with hibernation chambers keeping his enemies in a state of suspended animation, all reduced to skeletons during the explosive climax, an impressive display of set design and special effects for director Antonio Margheriti. An unlikely chase scene at the halfway mark finds our hero trying to prevent the latest launch by driving headfirst toward the site, which reminds one of Robert Loggia in 1957's "The Lost Missile." Eisley just doesn't look the part of suave secret agent, and for once the girls aren't much help, though brunette captain Diana Lorys scored a 1961 triumph with Jesus Franco's "The Awful Dr. Orlof," later appearing in Amando de Ossorio's "Fange of the Living Dead," Christopher Lee's "The Bloody Judge," and Paul Naschy's "The Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll."
Creature from Black Lake (1976)
Better than the usual run of Bigfoot titles
1976's "Creature from Black Lake" emerged as a latter entry from regional filmmaker Joy N. Houck Jr., Gerald McRaney's "Night of Bloody Horror" and Micky Dolenz's "The Night of the Strangler" among his previous items. Plotwise, it basically treads the same ground as 1972's "The Legend of Boggy Creek" (another Howco International release), wisely refraining from an unfocused 'true life documentary' approach, and benefiting from the presence of Hollywood veterans Jack Elam and Dub Taylor (filmed as "The Living Legend" in Sept.-Oct. 1975 in and around Shreveport, Louisiana). The opening reel leaves no doubt of the monster's hungry presence, Elam's trapper Joe Canton barely escaping with his life but losing his partner in the process. Dennis Fimple and John David Carson play anthropology students eager to find traces of the titular creature in Oil City, running afoul of the local sheriff (Bill Thurman) but meeting up with Joe in the slammer after a night of partying with the lawman's daughter (Dub Taylor's Grandpaw Bridges earlier accepted a $25 reward for information about the beast, but kicked out his guests for scaring his wife). The pair get more than they bargained for on a trek deeper into the swamp, an angry creature out to add more humans to its varied diet of boars and wild game, yet in the end they learn nothing from their injuries and plan to continue. These rather dim leads prove far less interesting than the locals, and Larry Buchanan regular Bill Thurman sinks his teeth into the role of sheriff, starting out a tad unfriendly but soon changing his tune to become a staunch ally (if Catherine McClenny looks familiar as the pretty waitress, she's the younger sister of Dallas-born Morgan Fairchild). Elam provides solid blustery support but isn't seen as often as we would like, an early credit for longtime cinematographer Dean Cundey, just two years before John Carpenter's "Halloween" allowed him to graduate from low budget projects to more elite features like "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" and "Back to the Future." The natural characterizations make this a marginal improvement over "The Legend of Boggy Creek," but both films suffer from a decided lack of tension; it must be said that the 70s Bigfoot craze fizzled out much like The Abominable Snowman did two decades before, not much bang and more of a whimper.
The Legend of Boggy Creek (1972)
A huge success in its day, quite the yawner now
1972's "The Legend of Boggy Creek" was the debut feature for Arkansas director Charles B. Pierce and a surprise hit for regional distributor Howco International, but hardly the first film to deal with America's version of the Yeti, with John Carradine's 1969 "Bigfoot" doing the honors in low budget fashion (Carradine's P. T. Barnum bluster makes his picture look more like a comedy). Pierce was a Texarkana advertising executive who read about the rumored 'Fouke Monster,' capitalizing on actual rural locations for authenticity, near the borders of Texas and Louisiana. The amateurish look and documentary style may have contributed to its box office success, but the repetitive nature of the staged sequences utterly fail to convince, the frequently spotted beast leaving an occasional footprint but little else (all it ever seems to do is shake, rattle, and roll without doing much damage). At least one longtime woodsman states categorically on screen that no such being exists, and with the debunking of the grainy 1967 Sasquatch footage taken by Robert Gimlim and Roger Patterson, skeptical viewers who desire more persuasion likely won't be convinced, for no matter how often people so adept at hunting keep firing at some shadowy figure they apparently can't hit the broad side of a barn! A triumph for regional filmmaking but sadly a washout in dramatic terms, for none of the numerous Bigfoot films can truly lay claim to be definitive. For a more satisfying take on a bayou boogeyman, try "The Spanish Moss Murders," the 9th episode of KOLCHAK: THE NIGHT STALKER, its hulking creature (played by an unrecognizable Richard Kiel) created from the childhood memories of a sleeping subject.
The Legend of Hell House (1973)
More a clash of egos than a survival test
1973's "The Legend of Hell House" became the first and last independent production completed by James H. Nicholson since leaving American International Pictures, the company he originally founded in 1954 with attorney Samuel Z. Arkoff, dead from a brain tumor at age 56 six months before the picture's release. Author Richard Matheson adapted his own novel "Hell House," toning down its sexual violence for a PG-rating, very similar to Robert Wise's 1963 "The Haunting" (and its 1959 source novel "The Haunting of Hill House," by Shirley Jackson), both featuring a quartet of psychic investigators trying to survive the unseen forces in a haunted mansion. 'The Mount Everest of haunted houses' is the location for "Hell House," actually Wykehurst Park in West Sussex, 50 miles south of London, a suitably eerie setting for our brave foursome, tasked to discover evidence of the afterlife for aging millionaire Roland Culver: top billed Pamela Franklin as mental medium Florence Tanner, Roddy McDowall as physical medium Ben Fischer, Clive Revill as Dr. Lionel Barrett, a renowned physicist accompanied by wife Ann (Gayle Hunnicutt), boldly assertive and certain that his newly built generator can disperse any electromagnetic energy inside the house. Fischer, the sole survivor of the last expedition 20 years before, relates the background on the owner, Emeric Belasco, a tyrant known as 'The Roaring Giant,' who built the place in 1919 and lived in the shadows to conduct a series of depravities before mysteriously vanishing after ten years, leaving behind over two dozen corpses in his wake. Florence and Barrett frequently clash over how to proceed, Fischer simply content to keep up his guard and collect the $100,000 paycheck. It's as much a battle of egos as a survival test, a fine directorial effort from John Hough, building up to a climax in Belasco's unholy chapel (I prefer this over "The Haunting" just for clear evidence of an actual ghost). An unbilled Michael Gough provides the demonic face and voice of the long dead Belasco, the obvious inspiration for a 4-part storyline written by Doug Moench and drawn by Don Perlin in Marvel Comics' WEREWOLF BY NIGHT (issues 34-37), its ghostly villain named Belaric Marcosa!
Operazione paura (1966)
Neglected Bava still among his best
1966's "Kill, Baby...Kill!" (Operazione Paura or Operation Fear) served as a welcome change of pace for Italian director Mario Bava, working without studio interference from AIP executives who were responsible for the US versions of classics like "Black Sunday," "Evil Eye," "Black Sabbath," and "Planet of the Vampires." It also served as his farewell to the type of Gothic atmosphere he kicked off with "Black Sunday" six years before, moving on to more modern pursuits with titles like "Hatchet for the Honeymoon," "Twitch of the Death Nerve," and "Schock." Giacomo Rossi Stuart stars as Dr. Paul Eswai, completing his journey to the isolated village of Karmingam in 1907 Carpathia, where a series of mysterious deaths have Burgomeister Karl (Luciano Cattenacci) and Inspector Kruger (Piero Lulli) at odds as to their investigation. The villagers are of course too frightened to talk, while a local sorceress (Fabienne Dali) does what she can to alleviate their misery. At the center of it all is the elderly Baroness Graps (Giovanna Galletti), whose long deceased daughter Melissa (Valerio Valeri) has been seen with her bouncing ball, an image that usually indicates death is near. The shock moments are relatively few as the impenetrable fog maintains an oppressive mood that Bava achieves in record time, shot on a dare in a mere 12 days with exteriors at the dilapidated village of Faleria (he'd soon return to AIP for "Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs"). The shadow of a hand on a window pane, coupled with a child's laughter, are enough to elicit chills right from the start, lovely Erika Blanc on hand as comely heroine in one of her earliest genre roles, more sinister ones still ahead with "The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave" and "The Devil's Nightmare." In 1973 Europix International gave it new life as "Curse of the Living Dead," the second feature in a special triple bill with Elio Scardamaglia's "The Murder Clinic" (retitled "Revenge of the Living Dead") and Amando De Ossorio's "Malenka, the Niece of the Vampire" (now called "Fangs of the Living Dead"), all in somewhat truncated form and jumping on the George Romero bandwagon despite no flesh eating involved (poster artwork done by makeup artist Alan Ormsby, whose own zombie opus was "Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things").
4D Man (1959)
Another classic from Valley Forge PA
1959's "4D Man" emerged as a worthy follow up to "The Blob," from Valley Forge producer Jack H. Harris and director Irvin S. Yeaworth, boasting a fine cast of players and even better special effects. While the previous film dealt with a topical science fiction premise (a creature from outer space that seemingly cannot be stopped), this was more down to earth, the screenplay (titled "The Fourth Dimensional Man") by Theodore Simonson and Cy Chermak focusing on a love triangle that results in tragedy for everyone involved. Reliable television actor Robert Lansing made his screen debut as scientist Scott Nelson, whose younger brother Tony (James Congdon) has been experimenting with the fusion of solid mass with impenetrable objects, what he refers to as the '4th Dimension.' Both brothers are reunited at Scott's research facility, where the supervisor takes all the credit for his employees' success, Tony swiftly becoming as smitten as Scott with lab assistant Linda Davis (Lee Meriwether, a former Miss America also doing her debut feature). Recent exposure to radiation causes migraines for an ailing Scott, his enhanced brainwaves accomplishing what Tony's machines could not, passing his hand through a solid piece of metal to his own astonishment. Swearing Tony to secrecy for the time being, Scott uses his new powers to help himself to $50,000 at a local bank but awakens in the morning looking decidedly aged. A visit to his concerned doctor (Dean Newman, doubling as makeup artist) results in sudden death, for by passing his hands through another person's body, they rapidly die of old age to replenish Scott's own youth and vitality. Tony discovers the stolen money and works with the police to stop his maniacal brother, but not before several self serving colleagues at the institute get their just desserts. Believe it or not, 12 year old Patty Duke was already a veteran with two movie roles behind her, making a solid impression in just two scenes that recall Boris Karloff's encounter with Little Maria in the 1931 "Frankenstein," a similar fate in store each time. The special effects prove most convincing, and Lansing's believable madness still earns a touch of sympathy for his incredible plight. The picture was later reissued by Harris in 1965 as "Master of Terror" on a double bill with "The Master of Horror" (Argentina's 1959 Poe anthology "Obras Maestras del Terror"), the producer frequently giving his titles a new lease on life (his 1972 "Son of Blob" would be back in drive-ins in 1982 under the tagline 'the film that J. R. shot!' due to its being directed by Larry Hagman).
Grave of the Vampire (1972)
Youngstown's Michael Pataki one of the screen's unsung vampires
1972's "Grave of the Vampire" came and went with hardly a ripple on its initial release, a double bill with the hour long "Garden of the Dead," both directed by exploitation veteran John Hayes, best remembered for his 1977 collaboration with producer Charles Band and star Christopher Lee, "End of the World" (the pairing was still in theaters ten years later, with "Grave" sporting a new title, "Seed of Terror"). It starts off well in a fog shrouded cemetery in the year 1940 where a young man proposes to his sweetheart in the place where they first kissed (!), but as they consummate their relationship both are unaware of an undead observer, Michael Pataki's Caleb Croft. Croft is a real piece of work, entombed for three years after being electrocuted during a police chase, only now returning to conscious life due to his being a 17th century vampire, dispatching the man for a quick meal then dragging his screaming fiancée into an open grave where she is brutally raped and left for dead (he dashes off to a nearby basement to avoid the rising sun). A thorough examination reveals that the victim is pregnant with something that is not alive, merely feeding off of her like a parasite, but she refuses an abortion and gives birth anyway, its deathly pallor and distaste for milk virtually assuring its demise. Only an accidental cut of the mother's finger, and the gruesome visage of the baby's lip smacking relish of her flowing crimson, leads her to sacrifice her needs for his, growing up into a half human hybrid named James Eastman (William Smith), seeking to find and destroy the creature that spawned him. What would one expect a centuries old vampire to do in modern day Los Angeles (at least in 1972) but teach night courses on the occult while simultaneously draining the college of its nubile female students on a regular basis. The cat and mouse game between father and son holds great intrigue, but here is where director Hayes is let down by film editor Hayes, allowing tedium to bring the narrative to a dead stop with additional, unnecessary characters that only clutter things up before the climactic showdown. Pataki's intimidating Croft proves to be a real scumbag, using any handy tools around to ensure the most painful death for his victims, even slitting the throat of a would be disciple who yearns to join him as undead concubine (he reasons that eternity would make things go stale rather quickly). This is quite adept for an early depiction of how such a vicious vampire can exploit his surroundings to survive the centuries, unafraid to get down and dirty in any situation, unlike the more refined Robert Quarry, whose 'lord and master' depictions of Count Yorga (twice) and Khorda ("Deathmaster") were simply above it all, using underlings for more menial tasks (shot in 11 days on a budget of $50,000). An inescapable sour note is the miscasting of William Smith, easily the biggest name in the cast, but unable to overcome character deficiencies already present in the David Chase screenplay (within two years, he had become script supervisor on Darren McGavin's KOLCHAK: THE NIGHT STALKER). Not long after viewing "Seed of Terror" at my local cinema in 1982, I chanced to glance through the LA telephone directory and promptly rang up actor Michael Pataki, who was astonished to learn that I was calling from Youngstown OH, and proudly professed to be a native of Youngstown himself! (at least until the age of 5, born in 1938). We talked about his earliest roles opposite Marlon Brando ("The Young Lions") and Gary Cooper ("Ten North Frederick"), his two forays behind the camera (Richard Basehart's "Mansion of the Doomed" and Rainbeaux Smith's "Cinderella"), and how my sister first identified him for me at a drive-in screening of "Dracula's Dog!" (a pity we never connected again before he passed away in 2010).
Garden of the Dead (1972)
Sure beats sniffing glue
1972's "Garden of the Dead" served as second feature to topliner "Grave of the Vampire," both titles directed by John Hayes (Christopher Lee's "End of the World"), and shows how the zombie subgenre was still evolving after George Romero's flesh eating ghouls arrived on the scene in 1968. Little more than a threadbare outline as a failed breakout attempt leaves all the convicts dead, only to be revived by their addiction to formaldehyde, gathering up weapons to punish the living. Joe Blasco was a dependable makeup man for such low budget outings, a pasty faced crew with dark rings around the eyes, moving swiftly to kill without warning, and occasionally growling their lines. Among the mostly no name cast is pretty Suzanne Charny, soon to be immortalized by her silent depiction of a snarling vampire in a memorable episode of KOLCHAK: THE NIGHT STALKER ("The Vampire"). Roughly ten years later, both films would see rerelease and be promptly reviewed as 'Dog of the Week' by Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert on SNEAK PREVIEWS.
Niente rose per OSS 117 (1968)
John Gavin one and done as OSS 117
1968's French-Italian "OSS 117 Double Agent" aka "OSS 117 Murder for Sale" (Pas de Roses pour OSS 117 or No Roses for OSS 117) was the 5th entry in the 60s OSS series, director Andre Hunebelle at the helm for the 4th time, location shooting in Rome and Tunisia. The first two actors cast as Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath aka OSS 117, Kerwin Mathews and Frederick Stafford, both played the role twice, the latter unavailable as he was busy filming Alfred Hitchcock's "Topaz." By sheer coincidence, the one chosen to replace Stafford for this lone entry was "Psycho" leading man John Gavin, just good enough to catch the attention of producer Albert Broccoli until Sean Connery returned to the 007 fold for "Diamonds Are Forever." Perhaps the finest cast assembled for any OSS title begins with luscious Luciana Paluzzi, only three years removed from the biggest Bond blockbuster, "Thunderball," Curt Jurgens still a decade away from Roger Moore's "The Spy Who Loved Me," add Margaret Lee as leading lady and a regrettably brief naked cameo from Rosalba Neri for additional eye candy, plus the welcome return of villainous Robert Hossein (from "Shadow of Evil"), and there are the makings of a film almost as good as Stafford's "OSS 117 Mission for a Killer." Hubert impersonates a notorious assassin to infiltrate 'The Organization,' keeping their paid killers in line via a slow acting poison, for without the antidote administered by Hossein's cold hearted Dr. Saadi they are certain to perish. Curt Jurgens is in familiar form as the criminal mastermind known as 'The Major,' George Eastman his main henchman, assisted by beautiful doctor Luciana Paluzzi, who sadly vanishes from the picture after the phony 'vaccine.' Hubert's assignment is to cause a rift between warring tribes eager to sign a peace treaty, foiling the plot by kidnapping the intended victim and replacing his 'corpse' prior to the fatal explosion, Margaret Lee a delightful love interest and damsel in distress (apparently on loan from Harry Alan Towers). The plot tends to move in fits and starts, one impressive early scene with Hubert forced to fight while preserving his unclothed modesty, the climactic rooftop skirmish falling short much like its wicked protagonist (a soft jazzy music score is no help either). This 60s series could not lay claim to be classics but they weren't cheap ripoffs either, just diverting enough to offer solid fare for undiscriminating viewers.
Furia à Bahia pour OSS 117 (1965)
Solid screen debut for Frederick Stafford
1965's French-Italian "OSS 117 Mission for a Killer" (Furia a Bahia pour OSS 117 or Fury in Bahia for OSS 117) finds the completely unknown, Czech-born Frederick Stafford replacing Hollywood's Kerwin Mathews in the role of Colonel Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath, better known to international audiences as secret agent OSS 117, cast only after a chance meeting with director Andre Hunebelle on location in Bangkok for previous entry "Shadow of Evil" ("how would you like to make movies with me?" "why not!"). Stafford acquits himself well considering this was his screen debut, similar to George Lazenby when called upon to use his fists in various well choreographed encounters, shooting in both Rio de Janeiro and the neighboring state of Bahia (hence the original title). A series of suicide deaths by hand grenade are perpetrated against political figures by trusted associates of each victim, under the evil influence of some type of mind altering drug, putting Hubert on the trail of a Brazilian organization seeking world domination. There's no shortage of action or pretty girls, and its production values are on par with the early James Bond titles. One hair breadth escape finds Hubert fending off a lighted blowtorch, while locations like Sugarloaf Mountain and the Iguazu Falls foreshadow the 1979 "Moonraker." It may be the best of Hunebelle's three OSS 117 films thus far, though perhaps a bit too leisurely at 99 minutes. Stafford only completed one other OSS film ("OSS 117 Mission to Tokyo") before starring in Alfred Hitchcock's "Topaz," whose box office failure was typically placed at his feet.
Banco à Bangkok pour OSS 117 (1964)
Kerwin Mathews bows out in his second outing as OSS 117
1964's French-Italian "Shadow of Evil" (Banco a Bangkok pour OSS 117 or Panic in Bangkok for OSS 117) was the second OSS (Office of Strategic Services) title for director Andre Hunebelle (first in color, following "OSS 117 is Unleashed") in the long running series of films that kicked off in 1957 (five years before "Dr. No"). Hollywood leading man Kerwin Mathews returns for the second and last time in the title role of Hubert Barton, the subject of 88 published stories by French author Jean Bruce dating back to 1949, four years before Bond's 1953 debut in Ian Fleming's "Casino Royale." Barton is dispatched to Thailand to replace an assassinated operative on the trail of an organization called 'The People Elect,' elitists out to use a new plague virus in place of vaccines to orchestrate a vast takeover of the entire world, killing huge numbers of animals as well as 'inferior people.' The obsessed villain is established early on as Hindu seer Doctor Sinn (Robert Hossein), whose lovely sister Lila (Pier Angeli) is quick to switch sides when Barton is endangered. Structurally, it truly plays out like a Bond film with OSS 117 briefed by a supervisor before his assignment, then filming on location to ensure authenticity, but even on his second go round in the part one wishes for greater charisma out of Kerwin Mathews, already a Hammer veteran with Christopher Lee's "The Pirates of Blood River" and Jimmy Sangster's "Maniac" on his resume (one more reunion with Pier Angeli for her final movie role, 1971's hideously cheap "Octaman"). Alas, these henchmen prove a bit too easy to defeat, from an intruder who leaps to his death rather than be interrogated, to a scientist falling victim to his own truth serum, revealing all to Barton at roughly the halfway mark; it's still diverting enough and certainly benefits from a rat infested climax, Robert Hossein returning as a different villain in 1968's "OSS 117 Double Agent."
The Big Game (1973)
Good cast only saving grace in mostly dreary spy meller
1972's "The Big Game" (La Macchina della Violenza in Italy, Todesgrube von Gamma 03 in West Germany) is an international production featuring location shooting in Rome, Hong Kong, and South Africa, with a diverse cast of veterans in Stephen Boyd, Ray Milland, France Nuyen, and reliable Cameron Mitchell. Alternate titles "Control Factor" and "Explosion" are more descriptive than the silly original moniker (more suggestive of a Monday Night NFL matchup), based on a little known novel called "The Two Sides" by Ralph Anders, adapted by Anders, producer Stanley Norman, and director Robert Day. The MacGuffin for this rather dreary spy meller is a mind control computer device conceived by Milland's Professor Peter Handley (intended as a weapon of peace), which passes inspection before security team Leyton van Dyk (Stephen Boyd) and Bruno Carstens (Cameron Mitchell). Unfortunately, Handley's two sons inspire little confidence, Mark (Michael Kirner) of somewhat greater assistance than playboy Jim (Brendon Boone), just returned from Hong Kong after being captured and tortured by the enemy. He's an easily duped and obvious security risk in this too casual, drawn out setup, en route by ship to Cape Town when a band of masked machine gunners board and take over for a new destination. It's a long slog to reach the final two reels, which at least deliver long promised action, but audience interest proves difficult when Boone's total milksop is the main focus, and luscious France Nuyen vanishes from the film for such a long stretch (like Ray Milland, she hasn't much to work with). The most pleasant surprise is Mitchell being cast against type in a heroic role, easily outshining the top billed Boyd with an easygoing nature and predilection for practicing his golf swing aboard ship, even warding off an assassination attempt with a pillow!
Dimension 5 (1966)
Saved by the sultry presence of France Nuyen
"Dimension 5" could have been a Eurospy entry had it not been made on a low budget in Hollywood (filming commenced Mar. 15, 1966), leading man Jeffrey Hunter having already completed his role as Captain Christopher Pike in the first STAR TREK pilot, "The Cage," soon to be salvaged into the two part first season episode "The Menagerie." Veteran director Franklin Adreon was coming off Michael Rennie's "Cyborg 2087," again working from an Arthur C. Pierce screenplay dealing with time travel, used as sparingly as if in one of Adreon's numerous serials, a shame considering this was his last feature film. Believe it or not, Hunter's secret agent is named Justin Power, shockingly devoid of either wit or charm as an unassuming James Bond knockoff that couldn't hold a candle to Dean Martin's smarmy Matt Helm. Donald Woods as Cane serves as the equivalent of Bernard Lee's 'M' (perhaps thoughtlessly named for his walking stick), Jon Lormer a lower level 'Q,' Bond veteran Harold 'Oddjob' Sakata suitably cast as Big Buddha, whose Communist Dragon society threatens to wipe out Los Angeles unless the Americans evacuate Southeast Asia; in other words, they gotta get their big buddha outta there! From its opening sequence at ubiquitous Bronson Caverns, the storyline never leaves Southern California, the time travel gimmick represented by a wristwatch and a belt that fits around the waist. The bearer must be careful not to kill anyone in the past lest they alter the future, in a time span lasting seconds or weeks (unfortunately, one must occasionally be reminded that Austin, err Justin, can still foul things up in his own Justin time!). By far the standout performer is sultry France Nuyen as Ki Ti Tsu, like Barbara Feldon's 99, an agent so adept at her job that she's always rescuing her supposedly superior partner from certain death (even on the poster, her luscious likeness dwarfs that of the supposed hero). Simply too one dimensional to even conceive four more less than stellar dimensions (the British title was actually "Dimension 4"), villains so incompetent that a foolproof explosion can be foiled by sheer dumb luck, Justin out to purchase another drink, Ki Ti admiring bikinis in a shop display. Many familiar faces from television abound (Robert Ito, Deanna Lund), including STAR TREK veterans like Jon Lormer, Robert Phillips, and Maggie Thrett, but no one can dim the luster of France Nuyen, as famous as fellow Asian beauty Nancy Kwan for off screen trysts as for their on screen prowess, among the most notable guest stars to appear opposite David Carradine on the acclaimed 70s TV Western KUNG FU. Whether using poison darts to affect a swift resolution, to identifying herself clad only in a shirt before Hunter's astonished gaze, this was a sadly typical role for the Vietnamese-French performer, just two years before a defining reunion with Broadway costar William Shatner in TREK's "Elaan of Troyius."