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The Hypnotic Eye (1960)
The Great Desmond Lives Again!
The new burn-on-demand DVD from Warner's has a solid, widescreen print with only minor speckling and one or two "cigarette burns" - a surprisingly good remaster of a loopy shocker that I've been waiting to see in a good print for years. Allison Hayes is luscious and sinister, Merry Andrews reminds me of Simone Simon in profile, and although I had a crush on the Great Desmond when I saw this as a youngster, Jacques Bergerac is just plain oily now, although possibly the perfect actor to play the part. A silly, but fun, bit of psychotronic fluff that's best viewed with a wide-open mind and one's critical faculties set at their lowest point.
Saturday Night at the Baths (1975)
An (almost) charmless mess! Rent it, don't buy it...
While watching this I was faced with conflicting thoughts. I was a young man in NYC in the 70's, and had discovered the fabled Continental Baths a year previous to when this was released. The Continental was a ground-breaking establishment - up until then the majority of the bathhouses were Mafia-run, filthy, run-down and unsafe, and then Steve Ostrow took over the decayed health club in the basement of the Hotel Ansonia and turned it into a true pleasure palace - with original art (I remember a series of wicked Tomi Ungerer drawings and some early Plexiglass sculptures), great lighting, music, a juice bar - and a private elevator up to the roof sun deck. For me, just coming out, it was an exhilarating and liberating space to be in, where I could freely express my sexuality and begin to meet the rest of the community (that I'd barely knew existed).
So to see the few interior shots, and the shots of Greenwich Village as it looked in the 1970's was a treat - as was seeing a bunch of skinny men with so-so bodies and remembering that we didn't have to face the Gym Facists back then - it was enough of a wonder to just be young and queer.
On the other hand, the film is a shapeless mess, with a thin plot and an abrupt ending that I found infuriatingly simplistic and weak. Some of the acting's decent, (there's also an eerie Judy Garland turn by Caleb Stone and an all too brief glimpse of Jane Olivor performing), but the film feels partly like a pitch for the Continental (no surprise, as Steve Ostrow is listed as a producer and appears in a few scenes as well).
Duke Bluebeard's Castle (1988)
The only video recording extent, and an excellent one!
Composed in 1911, modified in 1912 and 1917, and first performed in 1918, "A kékszakállú herceg vára" ("Bluebeard's Castle") is a piece of music I enjoy inordinately, especially the 1965 Walter Berry / Christa Ludwig recording, which I think the best of all.
It's an adaptation of the tale by Charles Perrault, with Duke Bluebeard arriving at his castle with his new bride, Judith, and her simultaneous dismay at the dark, dank atmosphere of his home and determination to open windows and let the light in (delve into his secrets). She accomplishes this by coaxing the keys to seven doors from her husband; as she opens each she finds a torture chamber with its walls weeping blood, an armory with bloody weapons, a garden where the flowers bleed when cut, a treasure trove where the very stones are blood, Bluebeard's kingdom (beautifully executed here), a lake of tears and finally, behind Door #7, Bluebeard's first three wives, which Judith, accepting her fate, must join. As each door opens, both the actual lighting and the music become "brighter", until there is a climatic high C at the fifth door, after which, the darkness begins to descend again, until, at the end, the music has returned to the opening key of F, and the castle is once again in gloom and shadow.
As a visual adaptation (and I think the only one to date), this is a beautiful production, using the medium of video to enhance the acting and the story-telling in a way that cannot be achieved on a large stage. The camera angles, the subtle cutting, the lighting, the interiors - all bring the dank, gloomy atmosphere of the castle to life, and catch every nuance of expression and gesture by Laurence and Lloyd, making this a very satisfying experience. The music and vocals don't have the edge the 1965 recording possesses, but since this is the only visual recording out there, I won't complain. It's sung in the original Hungarian, and there are subtitles which, although somewhat obtrusive, are a graceful translation by Sarah Distin.
It's not easy to find, but not impossible, either, and well worth seeking out, even with the inherent limitations of the VHS format (at least it's a VHS Hi-Fi stereo tape). It would be a complete joy to have it reissued on DVD, but I've read that in June of 2006, Warner Classics (the distributor in the UK and US), lost its helmsman, Matthew Cosgrove, and the division has been rolled into Rhino, Warner's reissue line, so for now this performance must remain an esoteric pleasure for those lucky enough to come across it.
Hot Tomorrows (1977)
A wonderfully quirky film about Death, Laurel & Hardy and Oingo Boingo
I first saw Martin Brest's "Hot Tomorrows" at the Seattle Film Festival in 1977 (or 1978?) and immediately fell in love with it: assured, dreamlike, odd and very much a personal film. Brest made this short (73 minutes) film for $33,000 in 1977 while a student at AFI, and after a few festival screenings, it immediately dropped out of sight (I don't believe it ever had a regular theatrical engagement) and has remained elusive ever since, although diligent searching on the 'Net will turn up a DVD well worth seeking out.
The beautiful black and white photography was by Jacques Haitkin ("A Nightmare on Elm Street"); the quality shifts from a subtle grain to an out-and-out old home movie quality when the images represent Michael's memories, and the exposures are "hot" - bright lights tend to glow with a glorious aura, lending an other-world quality to the images, especially the musical numbers with Oingo Boingo.
Fats Waller's jazzy organ solos are used throughout the soundtrack (they were also used by David Lynch in "Eraserhead" the following year) and add the right quirky touch, and the musical performances by Danny and Marie Elfman and Oingo Boingo are terrific.
Aside from dour Ken Lerner (brother of Michael) and bouncy Ray Sharkey, there are no well-known names (although Orson Welles does a wonderfully creepy/funny voice-over for a radio ad for a local mortuary), but the amateurs playing small roles are mesmerizing, with beautiful idiosyncrasies and manners - you KNOW these women in the few minutes they are on the screen, and Rose Marshall (Tante Ethel), who has no dialog, is especially believable and touching, as is the lady with the postcard.
The story takes place in Los Angeles during a span of hours on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Michael (Ken Lerner) and his childhood friend Louis (Ray Sharkey), who's visiting from the old neighborhood in the Bronx are complete mooks; Michael is a budding writer in his early 20's with an obsession about age and dying (and Laurel & Hardy), and Louis is somewhat of a clown, not too intelligent but full of beans.
They head out for a dismal night on the town and end up at the Paradise Ballroom, a faded, near-empty venue where the Mystic Knights of the Oingo Boingo are performing in tuxedos and deathly white makeup - Marie Elfman vamps the Marlene Dietrich song "Jonny" and Danny Elfman does a great version of "St. James Infirmary" a la Cab Calloway (see the Betty Boop cartoon "Snow White" to hear the original - it's dynamite). Michael is entranced, Louis is restless and bored.
At the bar they run into likable expatriate Bronx-ite Tony (Victor Argo) and his best friend, a viciously drunk "little person" named Alberict (Herve Villechaise) who is a complaisant husband considerately staying out (and getting drunk) while his wife entertains her lover at home. After hanging out with them, and after Louis is unsuccessful in picking up a shy young woman, they head out for some food but get sidetracked by the mortuary ad Michael hears on the radio and pay a visit to it for coffee (and a chance for Michael to further explore his curiosity about death).
They return to the Paradise just before it closes; Tony and a passed-out Alberict are still there. Louis finally confronts Michael about his obsession, they have an argument, and Louis decides to leave on his own, offering to drop the sleeping Alberict home on his way. I can't speak to what then ensues without spoiling it, but the ending is bizarre, touching and audacious (especially given the production budget).
As a plot, it's not much, but it allows for a multitude of great moments and great performances, some stunning visuals and an oddly satisfying experience that has remained a pleasure throughout repeated viewings.
A sidenote: "Alberich" is the evil dwarf in Wagner's Ring Trilogy, although the Villechaise role is listed as "Alberict" in the IMDb database...