The Screengrab : joan collins

Remembering Amicus, the Other British Horror Movie Factory

Phil Nugent — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 18:00:00 GMT

Anyone with an interest in horror movies probably knows something about "Hammer horror", the strain of movies put out by the English production house for some twenty years beginning in the 1950s, which produced its own versions of the classic Universal monster films and made cult stars of such actors as Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. Hammer had its own wayward, dark cousin--the films made in the 1960s and 1970s by Amicus Studios, which might easily have been mistaken for Hammer product by twitchy-eyed buffs on a misspent matinee weekend, or later, by kids parked in front of the TV on a Saturday. As Will Hodgkinson recalls, Amicus was the result of a handshake deal between "a socially inept scriptwriter called Milton Subotsky and a fast-talking hustler called Max J Rosenberg". Subotsky was the hands-on, on-set presence during the company's salad days. Everyone who met him seems to remember him as a very sweet man and a bit of a social misfit and oddball--which kind of figures, very sweet men being in short supply in film production circles. Ironically, he is also remembered as a true horror buff, in contrast the the bosses at Hammer, who happened to find a commercial niche and beat it into an assembly line. "Had it dealt in garbage disposal," the director Freddie Francis once said, "it would have been just as successful." And Subotsky, Hodgkinson writes, was "driven by a deep-rooted hatred for Hammer. In 1956, Hammer had rejected a script he wrote called Frankenstein and the Monster, only to go on and have huge success with a similarly themed film called The Curse of Frankenstein. To Rosenberg, this proved there was money in British horror movies. To Subotsky, the gauntlet had been thrown down." It must have pleased him considerably to feel that he was eating into Hammer's market share, making films pitched to Hammer's audience that sometimes featured actors who were identified with Hammer, such as Cushing and Lee, while telling interviewers that his own stuff was better.

While Subotsky wrote scripts and hung out on sets overseeing the filming and driving the directors crazy, Rosenberg stayed in America, cutting distribution deals and shoveling money across the Atlantic. Not that he shoveled in great quantities; Amicus gave their movies a top-grade look while pinching pennies by hiring actors, ranging from horror stalwarts such as Cushing, Lee, and Vincent Price to the likes of Jack Palance, Burgess Meredith, Denholm Elliott, Terry-Thomas, and Joan Collins, by hiring them for only a few days at a time. Their first real production, the 1965 Dr. Terror's House of Horrors (directed by Francis and written by Subotsky), was an anthology film, with five short stories contained in a wraparound framework with Cushing telling the fortunes of a group of men in a train car. (Subotsky claimed the idea was an homage to the 1945 omnibus film Dead of Night, Ealing Studio's classic fling with the horror genre.) Amicus would later turn out a string of horror-anthology movies, including three with scripts that Robert Bloch adapted from his own stories--Torture Garden (1967), The House That Dripped Blood (1970), and Asylum (1972)--as well as one, 1973's From Beyond the Grave (1973), that was derived from the ghost stories of R. Chetwynd-Hayes, and two, Tales from the Crypt (1972), with Ralph Richardson as the Crypt Keeper, and The Vault of Horror (1973), based on classic EC horror comics. (Comics freaks might almost think of Amicus as the movie equivalent of Warren Publishing to Hammer's EC.) The company almost made one or two unsuccessful stabs at penetrating the art house market, hiring William Friedkin to film the Harold Pinter play The Birthday Party. But Subotsky also had his pragmatic, philistine-studio-boss side; he wrote an ambitious version of the Jekyll-and-Hyde story called I, Monster and demanded that the director, Stephen Weeks, make it in 3-D, despite the fact that "the sets had been built the wrong way round. The script called for the action to go from left to right, but the building lines went the other way." But when the money ran out with the picture unfinished, Subotsky "simply told Weeks to cut whatever scenes he had filmed into something resembling a finished movie. The film was released to terrible reviews - but, like most Amicus films, it made a profit."

According to Hodkinson, Subotsky ended up walking away from the company "for reasons that remain unclear", just when it was branching out into adventure fantasies based on the works of Tarzan's creator. "In 1975, the studio released an adaptation of Edgar Rice Burroughs' lost-world adventure The Land That Time Forgot. It had proved a difficult film to shoot: its star, Doug McClure, was drinking heavily after the collapse of his marriage, while Subotsky was rumoured to be spending more time at Hamleys buying toys than running the studio. His only real involvement with the production was to turn up at a screening with his four-year-old-son, announce that the boy could tell there were men inside the dinosaur suits, and leave." Amicus produced a sequel called The People That Time Forgot (1977) as well as At the Earth's Core (1976), which is best remembered by some of us eternal adolescents for the way that the leading lady, Caroline Munro, really filled out her me-Jane costume, but by then Subotsky was long gone. After working as a producer on one more horror omnibus, 1977's The Uncanny (a linked series of story with the common theme that cats secretly run the world--I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret), the 1980 TV miniseries The Martian Chronicles, and a number of Stephen King-based properties (including King's sole directing job, Maximum Overdrive), he died in 1991. Rosenberg died in 2004. Two years ago, the company name was revived by producer Robert Katz; the first movie from the new Amicus Entertainment was last year's Stuck from director Stuart Gordon.

The Rep Report (June 5 --11)

Phil Nugent — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 15:06:00 GMT

NEW YORK: Anthology Film Archives honors the late work of the consummate entertainer of twentieth-century Hollywood movies, Howard Hawks, with a series devoted to the movies Hawks directed from his 1948 classic Western Red River, with John Wayne and Montgomery Clift, through his later masterpiece with Wayne, Rio Bravo, down to their final collaborations (1967's El Dorado, featuring Robert Mitchum and a young James Caan, and the 1970 Rio Lobo, where you get to see Wayne beat up George Plimpton; the cast also includes Jack Elam and later Paramount Pictures and 20th Century Fox studios chief Sherry Lansing in her starlet days), which were assembled from parts scavenged from their predecessors. For Hawks fans, the series offers a chance to re-evaluate some works not usually ranked among his finest efforts, notably Land of the Pharoahs with Joan Collins, which proved that Hawks was no more a natural at getting English actors to look unembarrassed while pretending to be ancient Egyptians than any other mortal (even, or maybe especially, when he had William Faulkner working on the script) and Man's Favorite Sport?, starring Rock Hudson as an "expert" author of fishing book who thinks fish are disgusting. (The movie receives an extensive subtextual reading in Mark Rappaport's 1992 Rock Hudson's Home Movies.) In fact, the only Hawks feature from 1953's Gentlemen Prefer Blondes to the director's death in 1977 that's not included is his ambitious, personal, and disastrous 1965 race-car movie Red Line 7000. Maybe the programmers were afraid to screen it for fear that it still wouldn't look a lot better than Speed Racer.

"Open Roads: New Italian Cinema" (June 6-12) at the Film Society of Lincoln Center showcases the work of what the programmers see as "a new generation of Italian filmmakers .. defined by neither a political position nor an aesthetic approach but unified through a spirit of independence that has allowed them to break away from old models and genres." It includes Biùtiful Cauntri, an eco-minded drama that is being shown in conjunction with the Film Society's "Green Screens" program, and The Waltz, which tells its multi-character story in a single, continuous ninety-minute shot.

Opening today and running through June 15th: "NewFest 2008: The 20th Anniversary NY LGBT Film Festival". On tap and buzzed about: Affinity, Meadowlark, and the documentary SqueezeBox!, a movie whose accompanying party at the 2008 Tribeca Film Festival took no prisoners.

BERKELEY: Through June, Pacific Film Archives presents a quartet of punk concert clips and documentaries just in time for anyone looking to get nostalgic over the fortieth anniversary of the summer when London punk in particular was in full, frothing snarl mode. The schedule begins tonight with The Blank Generation, which captures such New York bands as the Ramones, Talking Heads, and Television when they were young, loud, and snotty. Still to come: D.O.A., in which Johnny Rotten does not spend the Sex Pistols' "terminal" American tour desperately looking for the man who's fatally poisoned him, and Penelope Spheeris's first and finest document of noisy West Coast alientation, 1981's The Decline... of Western Civilization.

New Front Opens in Sheen-Richards Divorce Wars

Phil Nugent — Wed, 28 May 2008 14:00:00 GMT

Sometimes a dead weight fixture of the celebrity culture turns a corner and reveals unsuspected talents that are very different from those that are most useful in the area where he or she has been flaunting his or her inadequacy all these years. George Hamilton and Leslie Nielson become self-parodying comedians; Ben Affleck, to the shock of one and all, reveals that God and nature meant for him to be a director. Now Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards, both of whom once burned brightly as a mouthpiece alter ego for Oliver Stone and a walking pin-up in Wild Things respectively, before sliding very far very fast, have found their niche. Neither is going to be winning any Oscars or mistaken for a rocket scientist any time soon, but it turns out that they were put on this Earth to star in one of the splashiest public divorces since the golden days of Joan Collins and Peter Holm. ABC News and Sheila Markikar provide a handy timeline of the ongoing breakdown in the Sheen-Richards peace negotiations, which took a rocky turn this week with the premiere of Richards's new reality show on E!, It's Complicated. "She is out there bringing the issues up again by appearing on TV; he should understand at this point that any communication with her has a risk of going public and that's true for her too," said Los Angeles attorney Gloria Allred, who may or may not have offered her comments while sitting on a lawn chair on Rodeo Drive next to a cardboard sign reading, "WILL TALK ABOUT CELEBRITIES' LEGAL PROBLEMS FOR FOOD". "Obviously, it's the divorce from hell."

Richards, 37, and Sheen, 42, married in 2002 and filed for divorce in April of 2006. Their legal battles, which have now been going on for half as long as the marriage did, center on custody of their two daughters, thee-year-old Sam and two-year-old Lola. But a close examination of the evidence makes you wonder if, parental issues aside, these kids don't still have deep feelings towards one another, one way or the other. "Sheen," writes Markikar, "accused Richards of asking for his sperm; Richards called said sperm 'prostitute-tranny infested.' Sheen claimed Richards calls him for no reason; Richards said Sheen sent her a text message telling her to 'get cancer' and 'rot in hell'." She considered sending him a text message back telling him to start looking like a scary lesbian with dyed black hair and a botched face lift so that he'd be reduced to taking a job in a sitcom with the guy who played Duckie, but then she realized that there are things no one should ever say to the father of one's children. There have been lulls in the action since 2006, period when both parties tried to make nice and showed that they were getting on with their lives by going on talk shows and refusing to shut up about their ex. But then things flare up again, with shrapnel flying in the direction of innocent bystanders, such as their kids and Richie Sambora. Sheen has been engaged since last year to Brooke Mueller, a real estate investor who refuses to comment on rumors that she's just using him to get to Duckie. It was around that time that Richards told Harper's Bazaar that she and her ex-husband may have been incompatible because, "I've never done drugs, never been around a prostitute, never known any porn stars. I couldn't even fathom that lifestyle. I grew up in Illinois, not L.A." (Maybe Richards used a stunt double for every minute of her performance in Wild Things except for saying the line, "It's warm today.") Now things are flaring up again because of the E! show; Sheen, having failed to get a court order barring Richards from allowing their kids to be shown on-camera, issued a call for a boycott through People magazine. (For her part, Richards, promoting the series on Larry King, made this clarifying statement: "I have nothing against Charlie's sperm...but I don't want anymore of it." Dissatisfied with this response, Sheen told ABC "that he's going to get a 'computer DNA expert' to prove on live television that Richards did indeed e-mail Mueller asking for Sheen's sperm." It is good that, this election year, our C-list celebrities are doing what they can to keep Americans focused on the issues that matter.

Why Sean Connery Never Discovered Joan Collins's Naked Body Painted Gold, and Other Dubious Claims

Phil Nugent — Tue, 20 May 2008 16:00:00 GMT

As part of its recognition of the centennial of Ian Fleming, the Telegraph had a bright idea — they turned to professional vixen Joan Collins to share her expert opinion on the evolution of Bond movies, which she never had anything to do with and which she'd never heard about until, "shortly after Anthony Newley and I became engaged, we were strolling around Harrod's when we heard a familiar Scottish burr hailing us. It was Sean Connery, who'd just been signed up to play the super-agent in Dr No. 'Congratulations,' Tony said. 'You'll be great, and I'm sure this film's going to be wonderful.' 'Oh, it'll be just another job,' Sean shrugged. 'Then I'll be waiting for the phone to ring again as usual.'...We hadn't the slightest inkling that Dr. No would be the first of a film series that was destined to become the most popular of all time and that would catapult Sean Connery to stardom." I was really hoping that the next sentence would be, "Otherwise, I'd have dumped Anthony Newley on the pavement like a hot turd and, batting my eyes at Sean, asked if he'd like to go look for the nearest linen closet," but it looks as if we'll have to chalk that up to a golden opportunity missed.

The article--which is a classic of its weird kind, as the reader follows Collins as she charts her efforts to connect herself somehow to as many dips and turns in the franchise as she can manage--establishes many a missed opportunity in Joan's and 007's shared universe. Collins turned down the Shirley Eaton role in Goldfinger because she didn't like the idea of lying around on the set with her body painted, which would indeed seem to be a deal-breaker. Her shot at appearing in the notorious rogue Bond spoof Casino Royale went down the tubes when her doctor "informed me I was in fact enceinte," which extensive on-line research has confirmed means "pregnant," no lower than eight on my list of guesses. She did feel vindicated when Timothy Dalton landed the role of Bond, because she had just been shouted down in her efforts to have him cast as her romantic partner in a TV project because the mummies in charge of the studio felt he lacked sex appeal. Here they were daring to contradict Joan in one department where she claims expert status. "Sean Connery had what's known as 'it'. I can't explain it: it's not just sex appeal, but a certain something about men that makes women go weak at the knees, and a certain something about women that makes men drool, and it's an absolute prerequisite if you're going to go anywhere in this fickle business." (Seen Anthony Newley lately?) It is Joan's informed opinion that of all the Bonds, Pierce Brosnan came closest to getting the role at precisely the right time in his life to serve as "the physical embodiment" of the character. Collins does mention that she heard that Fleming was keen on James Mason for the part--which is a new one on us, but maybe she just needed an excuse to include her story about Mason and the "small rickety plane, going through turbulence that threatened our breakfast to a repeat appearance. While Steven Boyd and I slung down copious rum punches, getting plastered to kill our fear, I noticed James Mason calmly reading his Times. 'James,' I said. 'Aren't you terrified? It's so bumpy we could crash!' Without even glancing up, James replied in his mellifluously reassuring voice, 'Oh, no my dear, I'm never frightened in planes. I fly so much, what is there to be anxious about? They're perfectly safe,' and he continued reading his paper. That's when I noticed his paper was upside down."