Sunday, June 10, 2012

SPELLBINDER (1988)




PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological*

SPELLBINDER, a minor supernatural horror drama, comes off like "WICKER MAN for Dummies," with a small side-dish of Tom Tryon's DARK SECRET OF HARVEST HOME.  It's a fairly predictable opus, whose most interesting aspect is the prevalence of female power oriented toward the destruction of the male gender.  Interestingly, about two years before SPELLBINDER director Janet Greek helmed THE LADIES CLUB, which dealt with an all-female vigilante group that went around castrating rapists.

Jeff is a young lawyer who's just thrown over his last girlfriend because she wasn't intellectually stimulating.  He comes to the rescue of the beauteous Miranda (Kelly Preston) from an abusive boyfriend. He falls in love with her combination of hotness and intellectual hauteur, but she has worse problems in that she's being stalked by a Satanic cult run by her mother. Or-- is she????

The script, one of the few film efforts of TV-show producer Tracy (SLIDERS) Torme, is predictable and largely artless, except for two scenes.  One is a very strange scene in which Miranda's Satanic mother (played by Audra Lindley of THREE'S COMPANY) comes to Jeff's office in order to verbally harass him, and makes the peculiar claim that she's unearthed his mother's bones for some ritualistic revenge (though nothing comes of this).  Later, the film has one spooky scene:: Jeff and Miranda are trapped in a house by a dozen Satanists, who begin pushing in on a large picture-window-- which seems to *bend* in a supernatural way rather than simply breaking apart.

As I've suggested from the mention of WICKER MAN, Jeff's not going to prosper from his championing of the fair sex.  But apart from the two scenes mentioned, SPELLBINDER is only worth watching for Kelly Preston's Playboy-model looks.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

LEGION (2010), GABRIEL (2007)








PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: (1)*fair*, (2) good
FRYEAN MYTHOS: (1) *drama,* (2) adventure 
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *metaphysical*




I’ve read more than a fair amount about mythology, but I confess that I don’t have a lot of detailed information about the Christian division sometimes called “angelology.”  I do know that for moderns the Biblical figures of Gabriel and Michael have become the most recognizable of the angelic host.  In fiction of a non-religious stripe, these two prominent servants of God are often opposed to one another in some way (as they were not in the Bible).  At times they’re figures, as in the two movies I review here, in the character of battling brothers in the Cain-and-Abel tradition. 



LEGION, a horror-drama heavy with action-elements, bears a structural similarity to John Ford’s archetypal STAGECOACH, in that a disparate group of people are brought together at a secluded outpost and forced to fight for their lives against an invading horde.  The trope has often been re-imagined in terms of apocalyptic horror, with the defenders battling zombies or demons, but in LEGION the marauders are angels sent by God when the creator decides to wash his hands of his creation.  Freed of any compulsion to protect or succor mankind, LEGION’s angels act precisely like their demon kindred, both in Biblical and extra-Biblical sources, and start possessing humans—particularly the “weak-willed” in this storyline—to use against their enemies.



Those particular enemies come together at an isolated truck-stop restaurant out in the Mojave Desert.  Most of these characters are forgettable cannon-fodder for the action-scenes, with two exceptions: Charlie, a pregnant waitress, and Jeep, the teenaged son of the restaurant’s owner, who dotes on and protects Charlie even though she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings.  This selfless feeling, and Charlie’s unborn child, are the only things that can redeem humanity.



Shortly after the ensemble of disparate characters receive their first visit from an "angels-in-demon's-guise,” they meet Michael, who arrives with a trunkful of assault weapons and tells them that they’re the only hope of humanity.  Michael himself was appointed to slay Charlie’s offspring, whose birth in some unspecified way can prevent the apocalypse.  He rebelled precisely because he admired Jeep’s altruism, but apparently this rebellion cuts him off from any supernatural powers, so that he can only help the humans with the use of firearms.  After the desperate defenders repel several attacks from possessed humans, often with freaky demonic talents, God finally sends down his “Big Gun,” the angel Gabriel.



Although the characters mouth all the solemnities and incredulities one would expect of ordinary humans caught in a holy shooting war, the script doesn’t delve into Christian mythology in any meaningful way.  It’s an interesting if minor inversion to see angels acting like demons, and the film’s title almost certainly references the connotation that the name “Legion” has for a demon in Mark 5:9.  In that passage, Jesus exorcises a demon who seems to be a multifold entity, as it claims that ‘we are many.”  The angels in LEGION also act not like defined personalities, but like an infestation that can only manifest through victimizing human beings—though LEGION was probably less inspired by the Bible than by NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD.



The only angels who possess defined personalities are Gabriel and Michael, who symbolically figure as, respectively, the obedient and disobedient “sons” of God.  LEGION’s script probably borrows this conceit from Milton’s PARADISE LOST, in which the obedient angels agree to bow down before mankind while the disobedient ones refuse and are so consigned to hell.  But LEGION necessarily reverses the importance of being obedient, for at the eleventh hour Michael, after being slain by Gabriel, rises from death and prevents his sibling from ending the life of the “Christ-child-that-is-never-actually-called-a-Christ-child.”  Moreover, Michael’s defiance succeeds in getting God to change his mind, so that the Apocalypse is deferred once more.



Despite these myth-motifs, LEGION’s script isn’t really interested in the tonality or resonance of Christian myth.  Rather, the film “worships” the phenomenon of superior FX.  One such FX-scene shows the angel Gabriel spinning around to protect himself from gunfire with his wings.  On one hand, it’s an enjoyable scene just in terms of kinetic excitement, but it’s also amusing in that it puts me in mind of comic-book characters like Thor or Wonder Woman using similar absurd devices to ward off bullets.  I’d be the last to deride comic-book devices, but I must admit that this sort of thing doesn’t lend itself to the sort of “high seriousness” one might expect of a film dealing with the End of Days.


In contrast, GABRIEL—a film with a much smaller budget but which manages to keep from looking cheap—succeeds just where LEGION fails, in terms of conveying the emotional resonance of Christian myth.  Guilt, pride, transgressive lust, the loss of faith— all of these aspects of emotional conflict come to the fore in GABRIEL, and they carry with them much of the dramatic impact one finds in authentic Biblical stories, at least before they’re subjected to the bland and righteous popularizations, like this one.



GABRIEL has much of the hyper-noirish look of the 1998 Alex Proyas film DARK CITY, as well as making use of the trope of a world that is essentially a “copy” of an Earthlike-environment. But where DARK CITY accomplished this through science-fictional devices, GABRIEL recasts the metaphysical idea of “Purgatory”—the realm to which souls go when their fate’s not yet decided—and makes this otherworld the site of yet another apocalyptic battle of good and evil.



Purgatory, as noted above, looks like nothing but a modern urban “city of dreadful night,” and it’s inhabited by the souls  of the not-yet-judged, who think and act as if they were living humans.  But the souls of Purgatory have little to do in the story, which revolves around an ongoing contest between the forces of God’s angels—called “the Arcs”—and the forces of hell, “the Fallen”—another trope that strongly resembles Proyas' DARK CITY.  Angels and demons both take on human form when they enter Purgatory, but they can work only minor miracles (like spontaneous healing) and depend far more on human weapons, especially guns.  By common agreement Heaven and Hell send their agents—though never more than seven at any given time—to contend for possession of Purgatory. 


The film begins as one of the noblest angels, Gabriel, enters the contest.  He defeats his first few adversaries but soon learns that the city is dominated by Sammael and his henchmen, whose favorite demonic vice seems to be prostitution (a good choice given how frequently the topic appears in Biblical texts).  Most of Gabriel’s potential allies have lost the will to fight, accepting the demons’ rule, or have gone into hiding, such as one of Heaven’s most notable angels, the redoubtable Michael.  Gabriel decides that he can only beat Sammael by whittling down his legion of supporters.



As I’m analyzing this film in terms of its mythic tropes, I can’t avoid disclosing the very noirish Big Reveal at the end: to wit, Gabnel finally learns that the real Sammael was killed some time back, and that Michael—who is rebellious in a bad way this time—has taken his place.  In contrast to bland Bible-stories, in which evil is no real threat to good, GABRIEL’s stifling visuals insist on the prevalence of corruptive forces in the world.  For those viewers attracted to plaster saints, such an admission would probably be blasphemous.  But in the world of GABRIEL, corruption is the yin to the yang of redemption.  It’s an adventurous take on the usually constipated world of Christian metaphysics, and deserves for that reason alone to be better known.
















Tuesday, June 5, 2012

SCOOBY DOO IN WHERE'S MY MUMMY (2005)



PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *comedy*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological*


It's not that much of a compliment to say that this is the best of the Scooby-Doo direct-to-video films, since most of them are pretty lame.  But even if one isn't a big fan of the Great Dane and his not-so-great coterie of mystery-solvers, MUMMY is a fast-moving comedy-adventure with good design-work (particularly on the Egyptian settings and furnishings) and some decent jokes.

Directed and co-written by Joe Sichta, a veteran of the WHAT'S NEW, SCOOBY DOO teleseries, MUMMY tosses in some nice contemporary spoofs ("Fear Factor" becomes "Fear Facers") and a better-than-average villain (seen above, being menaced by a mummy-queen) with the risible name of Amelia Von Butch.  This time Scooby and his pals have come to Egypt to help out Velma, who's participating in an archaeological excavation.  Von Butch and her gang of treasure hunters intrude, just as the mummy of Cleopatra comes back to life, along with a small army of equally menacing mummy-soldiers.

It's no great giveaway that the supernatural menace in a Scooby-Doo story is not the real thing, and when the Big Reveal comes, it's not any more convincing that most Scooby-solutions.  But though the mummies are phonies, the flick is still within the domain of the marvelous, thanks to a separate (and mostly irrelevant) plotline in which Scooby and Shaggy are menaced by a giant robot scorpion.  That said, the phenomenality of all Scooby Doo movies is automatically marvelous just by virtue of having a talking dog in all the stories, no matter whether the monsters are real or not.

BRIDES OF DRACULA (1960)



PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological, psychological

Following 1958’s HORROR OF DRACULA, Hammer’s next exploitation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula mythos appeared in a film with no Dracula, or rather with a Dracula manqué named Baron Meinster, against whom Peter Cushing’s Van Helsing contends.  Scuttlebutt has it that Christopher Lee would not reprise the master bloodsucker for what Hammer was willing to pay.  Thus BRIDES starts off by informing the audience that, contrary to the film’s title, Dracula remains dead but that the vampire cult that spawned him and others remains an ever-present menace.  Possibly CULT OF DRACULA might have been a more appropriate title for this film. The men behind this opus— among whom were two of the key creators of HORROR OF DRACULA, director Terence Fisher and scripter Jimmy Sangster— could not have known whether or not there would be further appearances of the master vampire.  It’s possible they envisioned more encounters between Van Helsing and the far-flung vampiric cult.  Whereas Stoker’s book dimly alludes to a Satanic school, the Scholomance, which may have schooled the Count in his evil, Sangster’s script emphasizes that the vampire cult is a last survival of pagan religion, striking back against the dominant forces of Christianity through the revival of the undead.

The script for HORROR eschewed the novel’s slow build toward Jonathan Harker’s horrified realization of his host’s monstrous nature; instead, the Harker of HORROR is Van Helsing’s “secret agent,” out to destroy the Count before his evil can spread.  As I noted in my review of that film, Harker’s visit to Dracula’s castle duplicates the novel’s Oedipal fascination with Dracula’s wives, albeit cutting it down to just one wife in the film.  Before the audience knows that Harker has come to the castle on a search-and-destroy mission, he seems to be an innocent coming to the rescue of the Count’s maltreated paramour.

What was a deception in HORROR is the simple truth in BRIDES.  Marianne, an innocent young French schoolteacher, passes through a small town in Transylvania on her way to her next employment.  Circumstances come about (possibly through manipulation) in which her stage stops in that town, but Marianne can find no good lodgings until she’s invited to stay at the castle of the aged Baroness Meinster.  At first it appears that the Baroness and her aged female servant Greta are the castle’s sole occupants, but soon Marianne discovers the presence of a young man as well.  The Baroness spins a story to the effect that she confines her son to the castle because he’s mad.  Marianne nevertheless seeks out the imprisoned youth.  Meinster’s soft-spoken demeanor and good looks convince the schoolteacher that he’s unjustly imprisoned, so the young woman comes to his rescue, stealing the key to Meinster’s chains.  Shortly afterward, Marianne learns the truth from the Baroness: that because she was indulgent and allowed Meinster to fall in with an exceptionally bad crowd, Meinster became infected with the disease of vampirism. 

While Meinster avenges himself upon his mother for his years of imprisonment by converting her to the ranks of the undead, Marianne (rather improbably) gets away. She's so traumatized by the events that she selectively forgets what has happened to her.  Thus, when she falls into the company of Van Helsing, who’s been summoned to the area to seek out the solution of a new vampire outbreak, she has nothing to tell him. 

The script’s vague on the matter of Van Helsing's advent. Logically, the vampire hunter had to be in progress some time before Meinster obtained his freedom.  The script does allow one “out” in that prior to being vampirized, the Baroness admits that she satiated her son’s unholy bloodthirst by securing young women for him to consume.  By this method the Baroness could keep her son with her in a semblance of life rather than destroying him as she should have.  However, when Van Helsing arrives at his destination, he only investigates one case of a woman rising from her grave.  What happened to the others to whom the Baroness alludes?  Did she and her only servant manage to put them down before they could become vampires?  For that matter, did the Baroness intend Marianne to become food for Meinster? If so, the Baroness and Greta do a particularly poor job of keeping watch over the schoolteacher, and apparently miss an easy opportunity to drug Marianne during their first and only dinner together.

While Van Helsing investigates, Marianne proceeds to her place of employment, but Meinster follows her to her new ladies’ school.  Soon he’s enthralled Marianne and several other females—the “brides” of the title.  Van Helsing contends with the new vampire-lord and almost gets vampirized himself, but by film’s end the crusader vanquishes the corruption, climaxing with Hammer’s most spectacular vampire-execution.

In DREADFUL PLEASURES James Twitchell takes the hyper-Freudian position that Dracula and all his kindred represent the tyrannical father, always oriented on keeping all the community’s young women for himself.  This might apply moderately well to HORROR OF DRACULA, but BRIDES breaks with the pattern by emphasizing a tyrannical son-figure. Meinster’s youth isn’t even an illusion created by vampiric powers: he really is just a nasty young man who happens to be undead.  The script doesn’t work very hard to portray Meinster as a formidable new villain, and in some ways the psychology of the Baroness is more interesting.  After her husband perishes, does she compensate for the husband’s loss by allowing her son every indulgence?  After he’s become a vampire, the Baroness supplies him with young women.  Are these surrogates for her own incestuous desires?  That might explain her laxity with Marianne, which ends up with the release of her son, who immediately vampirizes the Baroness rather than Marianne.  In her final scenes as a vampire before Van Helsing executes her, she seems rather less than tormented by her fate.  Meinster’s battle with Van Helsing is physically impressive, but he’s such a bland villain that it’s not surprising that Hammer didn’t continue to spawn more “sons of Dracula.”  Within a few years, Dracula himself returned with a vengeance, and any vestiges of a far-flung vampire cult would remain subordinate to his mythic authority.   



 

Friday, June 1, 2012

TERMINOLOGY UPDATE

Over on this post at the Archetypal Archive,I've formulated a category I term "the combative" to denote those types of narratives that emphasize the Kantian quality of "dominance."

I won't explore any of that here, but I decided that over the next week or so, I'll add four new labels that pinpoint when this quality appears within (respectively) the four mythoi of adventure, comedy, drama and irony.

I don't expect to making reference to the term within the context of reviews here; it's strictly for use on the Archive.  The four new labels will be

Combative Adventures
Combative Comedies
Combative Dramas
Combative Ironies

DOCTOR SYN (1937), DR. SYN ALIAS THE SCARECROW (1963)



PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological, psychological*

In the early 20th century Russell Thorndike wrote several swashbuckling novels about the 18th-century hero-villain Doctor Christopher Syn.  Syn had been the bloody-handed pirate Captain Clegg in his younger years, but he faked death and assumed a new identity as Syn, vicar of a small coastal village near Romney Marsh in Kent.  Many of the locals supplemented their meager livelihoods with smuggling, and so suffered retribution from the King's soldiers.  Thus Syn determined to help his fellow villagers by managing the smuggling operations under the masked identity of the Scarecrow.  His closest aides also dressed up as boogeymen, the better to make onlookers think them phantasmal spirits.

DOCTOR SYN was both the first film adaptation of Thorndike's series and the last film of star George Arliss.  Arliss, 67 at the time of filming, was in some sense an unlikely choice for the masked crusader, but the film's English producers solved this difficulty by stressing that Captain Clegg has been "dead" quite a long time.  Arliss is never seen clearly in Scarecrow-regalia (though his assistants are glimpsed by the King's soldiers, pretending to be phantoms), and the name of the Scarecrow is only used once or twice.  This Syn even has a grown daughter Imogene (Margaret Lockwood), who lives in the same village but has been raised by adoptive parents without knowing that Syn is her father.  One presumes that he wanted her raised separately to safeguard his identity.  Imogene's mother (who had the same name) was killed by one of Clegg's crew, a manic mulatto, whom Clegg strands on a desert island.  The mulatto survives and is one of the tools that the king's soldiers use in their efforts to ferret out the Scarecrow's identity.  There's a pleasant if disposable subplot about Imogene wanting to marry a man above her commoner station: naturally, by film's end true love wins out over class restrictions, and Clegg/Syn, though technically a criminal, escapes the clutches of an unjust legal system.

SYN is directed very smartly by Roy William Neill, later known for his exemplary Sherlock Holmes films.  Neill manages to keep the film moving at a rapid clip with a wide variety of horseback scenes, though there are relatively few scenes of actual violence for this type of film.  To be sure, though, Arliss's Syn does actually engage in one fight-scene in which he beats down a younger opponent and kills the nasty mulatto with a harpoon for good measure.  In contrast to the Holmes films, the uncanny aspects aren't put across with the sort of spooky mood one might have expected from Neill.

DR. SYN, ALIAS THE SCARECROW was first shown on television in separate parts on the Wonderful World of Disney teleseries, and later collected for theatrical and DVD showings. Given the nature of the project, SCARECROW is much more episodic than SYN, and places little emphasis on the vicar Christopher Syn's past history as an ex-pirate.  The Scarecrow and his men operate in full costume but they make no attempt to portray themselves as phantoms as they carry on their smuggling operations while undermining the king's soldiers and press-gangs.

As with Disney's 1957-1961 ZORRO teleseries, the scripts validate the lawbreaking activities of a swashbuckling rebel by framing his activities against an evil hegemony that oppresses the people as a whole.  This time both Syn and Scarecrow are portrayed by thirtysomething Patrick McGoohan, who, forty years before Christian Bale's Batman, gives his masked identity a harsh, grating voice that conceals his identity just as well as the stunning Scarecrow-mask.  (For that matter, McGoohan's scary-voice blows Bale's out of the water). 

However, despite the greater youth of the actor playing the masked hero, the direction and script doesn't include much more action than DOCTOR SYN.   I remembered watching the teleseries' original broadcasts and being disappointed that the Scarecrow didn't get into more swordfights or gun-fights, in marked contrast to the impressive fencing-battles of ZORRO.  Director James Neillson had worked on two ZORROs before SCARECROW, and seemed able to adapt to the strong action qualities of a single BATMAN episode later on ("The Clock King's Crazy Crimes").  So I suspect that someone in the Disney organization decided to emphasize suspense over swordfights, which resulted in scripts full of talk talk talk.

Still, even the stories are forgettable, the mask and voice of this Scarecrow carry all the spooky vibes needed for a good uncanny film, and the theme song is one of the best produced for Disney's television properties-- not just in the 1960s, but even up to the present day.

BANDITS OF CORSICA (1953)



PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny*
MYTHICITY: *fair,*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological, psychological*

I've not read Alexandre Dumas' CORSICAN BROTHERS, and haven't seen any other adaptations of the book in recent years.  However, BANDITS OF CORSICA isn't an adaptation but a loose sequel to earlier events.  At the start, Mario Franchi (Richard Greene), a married nobleman opposed to the tyrannical governer Jonatto (Raymond Burr), believes that his brother Lucien, formerly a Siamese twin separated surgically at birth, is dead.  The truth is that Lucien is alive but amnesiac, living with a gypsy caravan but tormented by elusive quasi-memories and moments when he experiences unexplained pains.

The common image of the Corsican Brothers is that they feel one another's pains and pleasures.  However, in this film the psychic link is a one-way street: only Lucien feels sensations from his twin, which goes a long way toward explaining why Mario remains unaware of Lucien's existence until circumstances bring them together.  Noble Mario is happy to see his brother and sees his return as an opportunity to conduct a guerilla war against Jonatto, allowing Lucien to masquerade as him in regular society while Mario dons a mask and fights Jonatto's forces.

Unfortunately for Mario, the return of Lucien's memory means the return of his hatred for the brother whose existence plagues him.  Not only does Lucien plot Mario's death, he also covets his brother's wife even though Lucien has a pretty gypsy lass on the side.  In the final swashbuckling conclusion, Lucien finds himself torn between conflicting emotions, at one point saving his brother, and then attacking him, with the result that Lucien's torments are finally ended.

Though Mario assumes a mask at one point, he never uses it for any other purpose than concealment, and thus doesn't take on a particular costumed identity as seen with the Ghost of Monte Cristo.  However, this creditable B-film does use the physical fact of twinship to achieve an uncanny effect by giving the hero a way to use his "freakish flesh" to his advantage, while the psychic linkage between the brothers qualifies as an "outre skill," albeit a rather passive one.