Cult-Tastic: Warrior Women

The Arena (1973) / The Hot Box (1972) / The Barbarian Queen (1985) / TNT Jackson (1974) / Silk (1986) / The Sisterhood (1988) / Caged Heat (1974) 

The Arena (1973) Sharp tale of ancient Rome, with Pam Grier and Margaret Markov as female gladiators leading the rebellion and fighting a way to freedom. Persuasive production values, visceral action sequences and fluid widescreen visuals aided by an effective score.

The Hot Box (1972) Equal parts bluntly effective action drama alternates with awkward production and performances as four nurses are kidnapped by freedom fighters and end up fighting for the revolution. Explosions and the final river battle divert interest.

The Barbarian Queen (1985) Luridly misogynistic or feminist empowerment, the argument of perspective is more interesting than the film itself. Lana Clarkson seeks revenge and to rescue her sister, a journey punctuated by bouts of violence but little humor or involvement.

TNT Jackson (1974) Though never exactly dull, a murkily made slice of blaxploitation and female empowerment that never really involves or amuses. Remembered for a topless fight, Jeannie Bell embodies the 70s groove and of course won the first (and only) Ebony Fist award!


Silk (1986) There's an interesting character buried in the narrative shakiness and dreary filmmaking, a female variant on Dirty Harry, portrayed with fierce intensity by Cec Verrell. The story is throwaway but provides actions and explosions.  An inferior Silk 2 (1989) recast and added nudity.

The Sisterhood (1988) Dystopian action that infuses its desolate landscapes and explosive fights with an intriguing setup as the primal, ruling male society is threatened by women with intuitive, natural powers. Thematically confused, yet the potential resonates.

Caged Heat (1974) With its wild mix of the bracingly surreal, bluntly violent and surprisingly comic, a defiantly constructed women in prison movie, yet made with cinematic flair both visually and aurally. Jonathan Demme's directorial debut is gratuitous and good fun.

Films: January 30 - February 5

Time Lapse (2014)
Molly's Game (2016)
The Witch (2016)
That Wonderful Urge (1948)
Det sjunde inseglet (1957)
Coherence (2013)
Jungfrukällan (1960) ///

Time Lapse (2014) Enjoyably mind-bending time travel thriller centered on a camera that takes a photo 24 hours into the future and how three friends quickly fall apart with greed and violence. Always surprising and made with a smoothly cinematic feel that transcends restricted locations.

Molly's Game (2016) A principled Jessica Chastain is abused by the excessive wealth of private card games and faces off against the US government. Typically fluid and smart Aaron Sorkin dialog and glossy, fleet-footed filmmaking can't compensate for the lack of real emotion and involvement.

The Witch (2016) A studied, mesmerizing combination of painterly composed visuals and dreamily off-kilter sound design build an edgy tale of family disintegration, awakening feminism and bloody witchcraft in Puritan New England. Gnawing unease engenders primal scares.

That Wonderful Urge (1948) Routine romantic comedy as Gene Tierney's wealthy heiress turns the tables on gossip reporter Tyrone Power. The power plays of social and sexual politics never rise above the perfunctory, though minor laughs manage to break through. Both stars remain beautiful.

Det sjunde inseglet (1957) Compelling, sometimes bleak, more often poetic, a surprisingly literal search for God as a knight returns from the futility of the Crusades to face the wasteland of a horrific plague. Humour and violence contrast with a need for humanity before the final chess move.


Coherence (2013) An improvised, naturalistic dinner party setup deceptively develops a twisting narrative as a passing comet throws lives into multi-dimensional confusion. Style threatens to become tiresome, yet by the third act the smart surprises turn unnerving and deadly.

Jungfrukällan (1960) Intense and poetic, the pureness of the visuals contrasts with the savagery of rape, murder and revenge. Max Von Sydow towers over the tight narrative, personifying the guilt and questions of faith that courses through all the characters. Still gripping and vital.

Cult-Tastic & Corman's Hollywood


The background to making a series on Roger Corman and his films began in an anonymous hotel in Beijing. It resulted in a circuitous journey to Brentwood via Hong Kong and Bangkok. The trail seems strangely apt.

In China to connect with partners on a film we’d made in Qingdao, there was also the opportunity to pursue potential new business. One of the meetings happened to be with a Chinese company that had recently announced a deal to co-purchase the New Horizons Films library along with Los Angeles-based Shout! Factory. More than 220 movies encapsulating Roger’s career as a producer and studio executive. In essence, his time after taking a break from directing in the wake of the 1971 film “Von Richthofen And Brown”. A break that would last nineteen years until “Frankenstein Unbound”.

There was initially discussion on a list of potential remakes which we prepared, shaped around specific genres that could appeal to a modern, international audience. Instead, it was decided to proceed with a typically Corman concept – reuse and exploit the material already available. Many years ago, we made a long-running series for the BBC that utilized the riches of British film libraries. The idea there was to make an entertainment for a broad audience while at the same time providing a comprehensive view of British cinema from the 1930s to the 1980s. We ended up producing 5 seasons and 67 episodes, a fascinating dive into the past. The one frustrating element at the time was the lack of care taken in some of the archives, a period when there was little interest in restoration and it was not uncommon to find dust in cans which should have held celluloid. At the same time it was exciting to make discoveries of forgotten gems and realize the riches available.


As with “Best Of British”, the concept with Corman was to chose central genres and illustrate them with clips from the NHF movies. Yet it was also quickly obvious that Roger himself was a vital and intrinsic part of the library, the beating heart and calculating mind behind the low-budget factory. Consequently, the new series would maintain a thematic basis, but would also feature interviews with Roger and Julie covering the films under discussion. All-encompassing talks that would address background, production, anecdotes and release.

In keeping with the low budgets which Roger demanded for all his projects, we also made the series on financial fumes. Monetary reward was not the driving force for making the series – it felt important to create a permanent record of Roger’s career, told by the man himself, a series of interviews to stand on their own as well as being part of shows which illustrate his work visually. First of all that meant a preliminary breakdown of the films into primary genres. The proposal was for thirteen 30 minute episodes, although as we prepared the scope of the interviews it was obvious that they would need to be hour long pieces. It also meant viewing sessions to hone down the content available and work out the kind of questions and information required. Viewing that amount of R-rated material quickly resulted in blood and boobs seared onto the eyeballs. And to be completely honest, there were a number of films that didn’t even pretend to be good, just product on the conveyor belt.

Yet at the same time, there was much more that had a sense of style and energy, of wit and intelligence, or of pure, brazen enthusiasm. Rough, ready and sometimes wildly inventive. Roger had (and has) an intuitive instinct for raw talent.


In the summer of 2018, we planned an ambitious three month schedule. On first meeting Roger, any worries over the pressures for a (then) 92-year old were wiped away – a fast, determined intelligence, a mind that was equally able to focus on memories or future plans. That’s not to say there weren’t ongoing issues – it was an intense time for all. Yet we ended up with 19 hours of solo sessions with Roger, two and a half hours with Julie, and one hour thirty on a joint interview.

Sometimes there were recollections and stories honed from repetition, but also there was insight, argument and humor. Two particular sessions stood out. The very first was in a sense getting to know each other, yet it was also a discussion on the conflict between women’s roles and exploitation, and the influences on all our lives. A later session examined distribution strategies stretching from the 1950s and thoughts behind appealing to broad audiences beyond the traditional studio system. An independent view on creating films. It also provokes ongoing questions of ethics and taste, and what constitutes entertainment and art, a discussion that remains entirely relevant since the type of product churned out by exploitation film-makers of the 50s and 60s have essentially been consumed within the tentpole movies of today.


Originally called “Corman’s Hollywood”, production on the series became entwined with the edit and continued viewing of films. In fact all the work was done in the Corman offices, using the edit rooms which had serviced so many productions over the years. In addition to a decapitated monster costume in the corridor, Corman’s movies literally surrounded us, ranging from reels to tapes to digital hard drives. We were also able to expand the library through the inclusion of films that had lapsed copyright and were now public domain. It was also important to view the vital productions Roger had made as a director, since episode 13 was to be centered on Roger and Julie’s more personal memories of their movies. Quite apart from being able to luxuriate in the lush Poe adaptations, this allowed us to examine the searing intelligence behind “The Intruder” and the anarchic spirit summed up by “Wild Angels”.

The purpose of the series was not to make claims that Roger Corman’s films need to be revered as classics, either as director, producer or distributor. However, there is not doubting his ongoing status and that the films are a testament to survival and focus in an unforgiving business. The final title of the series became “Cult-Tastic! Tales From The Trenches With Roger And Julie Corman” and includes clips from 124 of Roger’s hundreds of films. As such they also reveal the man himself, a razor-sharp combination of fierce intelligence, polite generosity and determined authority. Nobody else would have released Demme’s “Crazy Mama” in a drive-in double-bill with Bergman’s “Cries And Whispers”. 

Nobody else quite encapsulates the craziness and calculation, the brutality and beauty, or the reach and possibilities, of the cinematic from.


Costume Desires (IV): The Magic Bow & Jassy

 


Kent’s erotically choreographed dances in “Caravan” exemplify the powerful use of music in these melodramas. A vital part of the Gainsborough formula is to link the romantic elements with a strong, memorable theme that weaves its way in and out of the narrative. In “The Wicked Lady”, it was Patricia Roc's love song; in “Madonna of the Seven Moons”, Phyllis Calvert’s mournful signature tune. With “The Magic Bow” (1946), though, the music actually became a central character. The film purported to tell the story of violinist Niccolo Paganini and his rise to fame as the greatest musician of his era, but its concentration was shifted more to his romantic life, and most especially the difficulties with his true love, Jeanne de Vermond. In itself a rather frivolous and slow‑moving movie, despite the careful work of the technicians (especially designers Andrew Mazzei and John Bryan in their re‑creation of Genoa), and in comparison to the other films it’s certainly disappointing. But there are some elements to enjoy.

Particularly strong is the casting of Stewart Granger, whose ably captures the moody, short‑tempered but charismatic Italian. Originally the part had been assigned to James Mason, who spent weeks practising the violin so as to get his miming perfect. In the end he fell out due to creative differences with director Bernard Knowles and subsequently sent his violin to Granger’s dressing room with condolences for the work he’d have to do with the instrument. Granger picked up the challenge with enthusiasm and his performances are convincing: face furrowed with determined intensity, his fingers fly across the strings with the confidence of someone who’s been playing all his life.



Opposite Granger is Phyllis Calvert - a teaming which marked their fourth and last time on screen together. As the emotional anchor, she commits to every scene and most especially in the final reconciliation sequence, where, shimmering in a rippling, sequinned white dress, she is the epitome of the romantic heroine. In reality the two stars didn’t get on well, but on celluloid none of this animosity is reflected: as screen lovers they radiate a charm and passion that is always endearing.

“The Magic Bow” proved to be the last production initiated by the Ostrer and Black management and was intended to be a prestige piece. As such it was even given its world premiere at the Cannes Film Festival. Its real claim to fame was the hiring of Yehudi Menuhin to play the violin solos. Producer R.J. Minney flew him from America, with the Stradivarius and player both expensively insured at Lloyds of London. It was worth it. The playing is not merely some elaborate publicity stunt, it adds another dimension and lends the film badly needed energy.


Sydney Box became the new boss of Gainsborough Studios in 1947, after the enormous commercial success of his famous James Mason and Anne Todd melodrama “The Seventh Veil” (1946). A stunning box office hit both in the UK and the United States (it played to full houses in one New York theatre for more than six months) and, though Gainsborough films were still raking in hefty ­profits, it was felt that his dynamism and experience could pivot towards modernizing the filmmaking style. Box and his wife, Muriel, shifted the emphasis towards modern melodramas, concentrating on contemporary, controversial issues and during his tenure, the company made its last two costume melodramas.

The first of these was the lavish “Jassy” (1947). In an interview, designer John Bryan revealed how he was told that ‘this was the big one ‑ we could do anything’, and from a technical perspective it is quite magnificent. Jack Asher’s luminous Technicolor photography creates a dream‑like atmosphere, whilst Elizabeth Haffenden, who did months of film tests to adapt from the black‑and‑white designs she had been used to on prior projects, provided sublime costumes, a wondrous combina­tion of soft pastel shades. And the sets (on which 90 percent of the film was shot) are quite outstanding in their scope and texture ‑ powerful reminders of a bygone era of film‑making.



Director Bernard Knowles was too concerned with these outward trimmings, though, and not wary enough of the uncertain narrative. It begins promisingly with drunkenness, suicide and a gypsy girl with powers to see the future. The girl is ‘Jassy’ Woodruffe (Margaret Lockwood) and it is her story that is mainly followed, through the murder of her father, her friendship with Dilys (Patricia Roc), the revenge on the man who killed her father and her eventual happiness in the arms of Barney (Dermot Walsh), a friend from childhood. Yet Lockwood's character changes so rapidly ‑ from revenge to forgiveness ‑ that the viewer is left with no story thread to hang on to; others characters are equally ill-defined and undeveloped. Reports of difficulties and delays in shooting account for some of this. but cannot excuse it all.

The best moments come when the film resorts to Gainsborough’s old style of visual dream: the lord (Basil Sydney) exploding into sadistic violence when he sees his wife being unfaithful; the villager beating his young daughter senseless in the kitchen; or Roc suddenly saved from the savage force of her father by being whisked away to an awaiting carriage in the arms of her young beau. The violence, in fact, gained a deal of notoriety at the time, critics branding Box a cheap sensationalist. One reviewer wrote: ‘Some film‑makers like to put their own personal signature on each film that they make… Alfred Hitchcock, for example, always makes an appearance on the screen. But Sydney, Box likes to distinguish himself by a gratuitous surplus of sadism’. It forced the producer to defend his artistic principles in an open letter to the press, in which he complained that he was simply trying to produce a piece of honest entertainment.




Films: September 7 - 13

Young Sherlock Holmes (1985)  Speak No Evil (2024)  Drive-Away Dolls (2024)  The Runner (2026)  Den hemmelige kvinde (The Secret Woman)...