Buried Treasures

As explained in a previous Manor On Movies, one of the reasons this column is a seasonal affair—as opposed to weekly or monthly—is because I prefer to unearth films that truly merit inclusion under the junkfilm umbrella and are also highly entertaining.

There are thousands of releases that are “bad,” but the “so bad, they’re good” ones are rarities.  And since M-O-M is all about rave reviews, I prefer to avoid the strictly “bad” as well as the fashionable practice of “Look how superior I am” snarky pans.  

Ooooh, you can make snide remarks about a no-budget Fifties drive-in bill-filler shot in two weeks.  Aren’t you the modern Oscar Wilde!  Not to mention sparklingly original.”

A second reason for remaining seasonal is that the birth of blogging and personal websites created an army of reviewers, many of whom at least occasionally if not constantly tread turf similar to mine.  Consequently, certain titles have become reviewers’ favorites, especially true for movies that have gotten the Mystery Science Theater or Rifftrax treatment.

And while I strongly urge you to check out the oft-covered, such as The Brain That Wouldn’t Die, I'd rather avoid being the 138th person to discuss them, just for the sake of "creating content” on a more frequent basis.

Which finally brings us to the theme of this season’s column:  a few mopix that have slipped through the cracks, overlooked by the masses but worth being looked over by you fine folks.

There are quite a few films that can be described as “wannabe cult movies.”  These three are “should-be cult movies.”

Battle Beneath The Earth (1967)  Pickers of nit (and noses) may be inclined to dismiss Battle just because its “Chinese military is secretly digging a tunnel to the US in order to plant bombs beneath American cities” storyline asks viewers to ignore one or two miner, er, minor details.  They are as follows.

The unsupported cave would have to be over 7200 miles long and withstand the full weight of the Pacific Ocean (average depth:  13,000 feet) pressing down on it.  There are no:  visible means of ventilation and temperature control; or sanitation and personal hygiene (body cleansing, toilets, laundry) facilities.  

The amount of rubble from such an excavation would be about, oh, let’s call it ten times the size of the Himalayas, and perhaps draw the attention of intelligence agencies.  And the first Yank to hear the rumbling of such an operation is a resident of Las Vegas, 150 miles east of the Pacific, meaning the seismographic equipment in western sea-bordering states is clearly useless.

Okay, okay, the premise the entire film is based upon is totally impossible.  That’s why it is categorized as Science FICTION, not Science Plausible, pal.  Now, go back to recording your Geekly Weekly podcast and discussing a popular zombie series.  Ya know, because brain-eating walking corpses are highly plausible.

Who cares about plausibility, when you have a film starring Kerwin Mathews from The 7th Voyage Of Sinbad and The Three Worlds Of Gulliver facing off against predominantly white actors in “Asian” makeup. spouting profound ancient Chinese proverbs such as “Logic is the American god”?

That’s pretty much the whole show here.  Mathews and his men versus evil Easterners.  And he also has to devise a way to shut down the world’’s biggest borer—and I don’t mean Jimmy Fallon.

It may not sound like much, but one watch will illustrate that a full-budget, major studio (MGM) release can be just as enjoyably junky as any cheapie scripted on a cocktail napkin by a starstruck tire salesman.

Incidentally, you can tell events transpire in Vegas, because there’s a slot machine in the lobby of a nuthouse(!)  Interested now?

Blood Of Dracula (1957) earns a Stately Salute for adhering to an admirable exploitation pic ploy, the highly misleading title scam.  How often does Dracula appear in this flick?  Never.  Is he even mentioned?  Nope.  In fact, no blood is visible, either.

Still, how can you not fall in love with a mopic that starts out with a young lady attempting the murder-suicide of herself and her parents?  And, in fairness, she does eventually become a vampire, even if not related to our favorite Transylvanian.  

Blood Of Dracula is a masterful mix of the standard teen angst “grown-ups are so mean” youth-patronizing picture and a monster movie.  Setting it at Sherwood School For Girls also allowed director Sid Pink to march out a pack of pupils who appear to be mid-twenties in years and mid-thirties in brassieres, ideal for adolescent males to drool over and to whom their dates can relate.

  <--typical "teen"

Missing no tricks, BOD even works in a performance of the sappy, dozen-selling pop song “Puppy Love,” by future Hall Of Fame janitor Jerry Blaine, a crooner with all the sex appeal of Elvis.  Unfortunately for him—and us—it’s Elvis Costello.

Because this is an institution for bad girls—the best kind—new arrival Nancy Perkins (Sandra Harrison) must pass initiation rites to join the in-house gang.

I feel it is my duty to pause here and forewarn those this review may inspire to watch Blood.  The felonious fillies have the most terrifying name in screen and real-life gang history.  Everyone prepared for the shock?

They’re called The Birds Of Paradise.

Self-billed as “noisy but neat,” these raging hellcats are known to dance with chair cushions and occasionally puff a cigarette.

Scariest.  Gang.  Ever.

You’ll have to view it to see how it’s done, but this anti-adults, anti-authority, juvenile delinquent/horror hybrid even manages to deliver a strong anti-science message.

In 1957, a time when the world was in fear of an impending nuclear war, “Science is bad” was precisely what people wanted to hear.  Its inclusion is also a reason Blood’s distributor, American International Pictures, made a tidy profit each year.

Let me squeeze one more in here, yet another John Carradine treat, Horror Of The Red Planet (1964).  

Planet starts out as one of those fun “spot the dopiness” (e.g. Martian waterfalls) efforts; but, then the storyline get a wee bit, um, “familiar.”  Upon surviving a storm, three men and a female named Dorothy follow a golden (you might call it “yellow”) brick road to a distant castle manned by an imposing intellect with a booming voice.

Damn, I know I’ve seen this scenario somewhere before. The film’s alternate title, The Wizard Of Mars, may provide a clue as to why this storyline rings a bell—if I only had a brain.

                           Life On Mars?-->

Have to howl over the equally brainless ballyhoo that appeared on the back of the box upon its VHS release:  “Their final escape makes this scientific fantasy picture beyond explanation.”  Sure got that right!  They also claim the film starred “Lon Chaney”…who died in 1930!!!