Tuesday, October 10, 2023

Haunts of the Very Strapped

 


Following a recent showing of Barbie, a fellow moviegoer ventured the opinion that what we had just watched was an "art film." I felt it necessary to point out that a major Hollywood studio, in this case Warner Bros., isn't likely to shell out a reported $145 million dollars on anything that's not an arguably guaranteed crowd-pleaser, and an art film is rarely that. Nevertheless, Barbie's plot, a good deal of which takes place in a land where dolls come to life, necessitated loads of abstract imagery which may have made the whole thing accidentally avant-garde. And I wonder if that could work in reverse. An ambitious--in terms of story--science-fiction saga with a lower-than-Death Valley budget, could in the end resemble an art film, albeit unintentionally. Which brings us to 1957's Plan 9 from Outer Space. Yes, there are those who say it's the worse movie ever made, but the film's slapdash, flea market dreamlike imagery has always held my attention, an 80-minute workout that prevents the eyeball muscles from atrophying. The above photo, culled from a movie memorabilia auction site, is a behind-the-scenes portrait of some of the characters, and we can all agree that they were characters, involved in the making of Plan 9. The good-looking, dapper young prole crouched in the foreground is not Johnny Depp, but the film's producer, director, and writer Edward D. Wood Jr. Moving clockwise from Wood we have Swedish professional wrestler-turned-actor Tor Johnson, who plays a zombie under the control of disdainful space aliens; local LA horror movie TV hostess and Elvira, Mistress of the Dark precursor Vampira (Maila Nurmi) as another zombie; the movie's narrator, the Amazing Criswell, a local LA television psychic; and just above Wood, cinematographer William C. Thompson, who had begun his career in 1914 and lived long enough to witness the advent of the drive-in movie. Conspicuously missing, mainly because for some reason he seems to have been cut out of the picture, is Bele Lugosi, who according to the photograph's ballpoint penned copy should be standing to the left of Wood. Plan 9 from Outer Space was Lugosi's last movie (in fact, he died in the middle of filming and was replaced by a younger, taller man holding a cape over his face!)  Also missing, conspicuously so only because it seems rather odd that someone would have had it deliberately removed, is some nondescript prop, maybe a pile of nondescript props, situated between Vampira and Criswell. The imagination reels! I suppose there's some enterprising digital wizard out there who could make this photo once again complete, but I'd advise against it. Incompleteness was crucial to Ed Wood's art. It's what made him, however unintentional, avant-garde.  



Nice try, Eddie, but it's not nearly as scary as the 118th Congress. 




10 comments:

  1. I think I need to see this again. I remember it being so bad it was good.

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    1. Bear with me, Mitchell, I feel a ponderous mood coming on.

      For instance, given the odd collection of characters he chose to cast his movies with, I ponder whether Ed Wood may someday be seen as a non-ironic predecessor to John Waters. If that's too much a ponderable and I best confine myself to the horror genre, then I ponder whether Plan 9 from Outer Space will one day be seen as a non-satirical precursor to George A. Romero's Night of the Living Dead (1967). The very imagery si very similar at times, and both movies have outer space explanations for people rising from the dead (in Plan 9, it's aliens; in Living Dead it's a malfunctioning satellite.) But Romero knew his budgetary limitations, thus we're spared the spectacle of a toy satellite on strings. We're only TOLD that's the reason for all the mayhem.

      Someday I'll do a post on Glen or Glenda. One step at a time.

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    2. Funny you should mention the original Night of the Living Dead. I was just talking about that with a friend last night. We had all-night movies when I was a freshman in college, and that was included. It gave me nightmares... and then I rented a house with 4 other guys across the street from a revolutionary war cemetery. It took me a long time to not be terrified when I walked by at night.

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    3. The Spirits of '76, Mitchell.

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  2. Ed Wood Jr may not have made art films but he certainly made cult classics! I loved the biopic made with Johnny Depp, incidentally.

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    1. I liked the Depp movie, too, Debra, though I question whether the real-life Wood talked like Jon Lovitz's Master Thespian character on SNL.

      Depp looks a lot more like Wood than he does Hunter S. Thompson.

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  3. Hello Kirk, I have not seen the Barbie movie, but commercial films can definitely be seen as artistic, especially given the advantages of time and analysis. A lot of the early cartoons/animations are now seen as surreal and avant-garde, and are now "classics" even if originally intended as simple entertainment. Many highly regarded directors started off slowly with independent films that while flawed, showed the kernel of their genius--think John Waters, or Peter Jackson's Bad Taste, etc.
    --Jim

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  4. Jim, I often find myself fighting a losing battle in keeping this blog from being seen only as a simple-minded paean to pop culture. One of the things I try to do is show how things underground or alternative--alternative culture, alternative politics, alternative social movements, even alternative people--seeps into the mainstream, i.e., popular culture from time to time. Thank you for your comment and insight, Jim.

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  5. That would seem like one of those movies that would have been on USA 's "Up All Night".

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