Tag Archives: Martin Landau

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: WITHOUT WARNING (1980)

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DIRECTED BY: Greydon Clark

FEATURING: Jack Palance, Martin Landau, Tarah Nutter, Christopher S. Nelson

PLOT: An alien hunter is on a killing spree in a small western town, but a pair of teenagers finds they must contend with a sinister truck stop owner and a shellshocked army veteran as much as the murderous monster.

Still from without warning (1980)

COMMENTS: Greydon Clark is a self-professed bargain-basement moviemaker. There’s a reason he titled his autobiography On the Cheap: My Life in Low Budget Filmmaking. (For that price his paperback is going for on Amazon, he probably could have made a whole film.) But that doesn’t set him apart from the many B-movie honchos who ply their trade. No, Clark’s superpower was that he knew how to cast stars. Faded stars, but stars nonetheless, who were willing to put in a couple days work in exchange for a small paycheck and one more moment as the biggest name on the set. In return, Clark got to use their reflected glory to give his movies a sheen of credibility and Hollywood glamour. Such Tinseltown luminaries as Joe Don Baker, Alan Hale, Jr., Jim Backus, Peter Lawford, Pat Buttram, and answered the call of a Greydon Clark production at one time or another. So when it came time for the monster-in-the-woods cheapie Without Warning, you could count on a cast list just as lavish: Larry Storch, Ralph Meeker, Neville Brand, and all signed on for a day or two. It’s that special touch that separates Clark from his contemporaries.

Two of those casting coups are actually the marquee attractions here. Jack Palance and Martin Landau, more than a decade away from taking home Oscar gold, are here to chew up half of the budget and all of the scenery. Once on the set, they clearly weren’t directed so much as unleashed. Palance has his particular brand of discomfiting fun, shouting down his scene partners with wide-eyed, raspy mania. You can’t point a flashlight at your face and tell the kids with a mad laugh, “Hey, I ain’t the crazy one” and not take some joy in your work. Meanwhile, Clark deliberately named Landau’s character Fred Dobbs after Humphrey Bogart’s paranoid fortune seeker in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, and Landau has clearly decided to adopt that mania and ramp it up to the 4th power. The film is giddy fun whenever the two men share the screen, and the pairing has the unexpected effect of making Palance seem cool-headed and grounded in comparison to Landau’s bubbling cauldron of PTSD- fueled mania. 

I’m talking about the actors a lot, and frankly, it’s because the story isn’t all that much. You’ve got a series of mildly gory killings, and you’ve got a pair of teen couples who march blindly into harm’s way. (One of those doomed horny teenagers is none other than David Caruso in one of his first film appearances.) It’s very much your standard horror flick. Clark does try to make the movie a little less by-the-numbers with some savvy choices. The fact that the killer in the woods turns out to be an alien hunter out to collect pelts is novel for its time. (Clark joyfully notes not only that his tale precedes the strikingly similar Predator by seven years, but that they hired the same actor–giant Kevin Peter Hall–to play the equivalent role.) He also gifts the hunter with a sci-fi weapon that looks like a street taco with oozing tentacles, an organic-looking prop that introduces a gross novelty to the proceedings. (Palance carves into the mustard-spewing little creatures with gusto.) And he even manages a neat bit of misdirection with Nutter’s Sandy, a Final Girl with a rare sense of logic and self-preservation. She’s not exactly a feminist icon, but she faces down her boyfriend’s machismo and Palance’s aggression with surprising determination.

There’s a lot of genuine behind-the-scenes talent slumming it here, too, including cinematographer Dean Cundey (future Oscar nominee for Who Framed Roger Rabbit), makeup artist Greg Cannom (future 4-time Oscar winner), and most notably, legendary monster-maker Rick Baker as the uncredited brains behind the alien hunter’s mask (which bears a striking resemblance to this guy). And it is their work that helps the film float a few feet above its humble origins.

Without Warning is by no means a hidden gem. It’s almost entirely devoid of suspense, extremely predictable, and the parts that once reveled in the grotesque now feel almost quaint. But this plucky little film punches above its weight class, succeeding at enough things to be pleasantly diverting. Greydon Clark may not have had a great film in him, but all things considered, this one’s not bad at all, and that’s something.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“This cult favorite isn’t a particularly good movie but it has enough wacky elements and a few moments of genuine tension that have made it a lovable low budget gem… easily the best movie about an alien trophy hunter bagging human prey with the use of flying, plasma-slurping alien flapjacks.” – Brian Bankston, Cool Ass Cinema

(This movie was nominated for review by Brad. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

Without Warning (Special Edition) [Blu-ray]
  • From Greydon Clark, the legendary cult director of Satan’s Cheerleaders, Angels Brigade, The Return, Wacko, Joysticks, Final Justice and Uninvited

WOODY ALLEN’S CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS (1989) AND MATCH POINT (2005)

In 1935, Peter Lorre (in one of his few great roles) seared the screen as Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment (Josef von Sternberg directed, unevenly). is too original to give us a direct adaptation of his literary hero, but he certainly utilizes a   Dostoyevsky diving board  for his own Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989), just as he did (in parody) in Love and Death (1975).

Judah Rosenthal () is a phenomenally successful Manhattan ophthalmologist having an extramarital  affair with flight attendant Dolores (). It’s his first affair, and it turns out to be brief and tragic. Judah consults with both his blind rabbi best friend Ben (Sam Waterston) and his mafioso brother Jack (Jerry Orbach). Both give contrasting advice, as expected. As he did in 1986’s Hannah and Her Sisters, Allen utilizes a large ensemble cast here, interweaving character narratives. Allen himself plays Cliff Stern; a serious low-budget documentarian who, through family connections, has been commissioned to make a promotional film about smug television producer Lester (Alan Alda).

Still from Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989)Landau earned an Academy Award nomination for his role. He had been nominated for the previous year’s Tucker: A Man and His Dreams and would be nominated again (and finally win) in 1995 for playing in ‘s Ed Wood. Landau shines in his nail-biting, pacing-the-floor moments, but it’s Alda as the vulgar, bouncing-off-the-walls, dumbed-down producer who steals the film.

Both Lester and Cliff are competing for Halley (Mia Farrow). Will she choose the romantic outsider artist, or status through money? As Ed Wood () tells Georgie Wiess (Mike Stall) in Ed Wood, “Georgie, this is drama.” Actually, here it’s bleak comedy, and the film peaks with this love triangle.

Crimes And Misdemeanors repeats familiar Allen themes. As in The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985) there is love unrewarded. As in Dostoyevsky, there is murder unpunished. Despite those familiar themes, Crimes and Misdemeanors excels in lucid, innovative storytelling. There is symbolism aplenty (the blind rabbi, the ophthalmologist’s father warning him that God can see everything). It is the type of film that literary minded students are prone to dissect, but Crimes’ self-assured humor is what wins us over.

In Match Point (2005), Theodore Dreiser’s “An American Tragedy” serves as Allen’s literary reference (in addition to Dostoyevsky). Some critics found it a weaker sibling to Crimes and Misdemeanors, but also noted it was Allen’s best film in a decade. Putting aside sophomoric better than or weaker than gauges, Match Point again finds Woody in superior narrative form. He has listed it as being his best work, undoubtedly aided considerably by Remi Adefarasin’s icy, noirish lens work. At 124 minutes, it is also his longest film to date.  Refreshingly, Allen is forthright about influences when Chris (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) is depicted reading “Crime And Punishment.”

Still from Match Point (2005)The object of Chris’ obsession is Nola (), and the two lead actors give sizzling performances. Myers’ mechanically cold blue eyes contrast with Johansson’s earthy anxiousness (Allen worked with her again in 2006’s Scoop and 2008’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona). Like the antagonist/protagonist in Dreiser’s epic work, Chris comes from poverty. He is on a tennis tour when meets affluent pro Tom (Matthew Goode). Tom’s girlfriend is the wannabe actress Nola. At the opera, Tom plays cupid, introducing Chris to his single sister Chloe (Emily Mortimer). The seeds of marrying right are planted. However, after Tom dumps Nola (she doesn’t live up to familial expectations), Chris throws the proverbial monkey wrench into his own machinery when he begins a torrid affair and impregnates Nola.

Allen takes a smarter route than George Stevens did in A Place In The Sun (1951), his update of “An American Tragedy.” In the earlier film, Stevens cast as an unattractive, pathetically nagging girlfriend to Montgomery Clift. When Clift contemplates murdering Winters to further his romance with the wealthy Elizabeth Taylor (in one of her most sensuous roles), we can only feel relief. Although none of the characters in Match Point rise above being reprehensible, Johansson, at her most complex, inspires more sympathy than Winters did. As in the source material, there is a pointed condemnation of unfettered capitalism, but Allen also makes a comment about existence without meaning: “I’d rather be lucky than good.” By removing himself from the film’s ensemble cast, Allen’s commitment to the unfolding narrative is complete. Upon its release, many critics cast it as Allen’s most atypical film. There is a degree of truth in that, but Allen also manages to make avarice and homicide pay, when we almost expect a Dickens-like Scrooge to heed the ghost’ warning. In Allen’s world, the response is quite different.

ED WOOD (1994), TIM BURTON’S GLORIOUS SWANSONG.

In 1980 , two years after Ed Wood‘s alcohol related death at 54, film critic Michael Medved and his brother published “The Golden Turkey Awards” and gave Wood the award of being “The Worst Director of All Time” and naming his film Plan 9 From Outer Space “The Worst Film of All Time.”  The forever constipated Mr. Medved must had the biggest bowel movement of his life when he discovered that he and his brother unintentionally put the wheels in motion for the cult celebrity status of Wood who, to Medved, was little more than an object of derision.

Quite simply, Ed Wood was an outsider artist, whose medium was film.  He managed to create two highly personalized “masterpieces” of naive surrealism; Glen or Glenda (1953) and Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959) with “star” Bela Lugosi, who was clearly at the end of his tether.

In between these two films Wood made Bride of the Monster (1955) , also starring Lugosi (the only one of the three Wood films in which Lugosi actually ‘starred’), but that film was more of a concession to the genre and lacked the pronounced Woodian weirdness found in either Glen or Glenda or Plan 9 From Outer Space.

Fourteen years after Wood’s cult status rocketed out of the pages of Medved’s book, Tim Burton produced his valentine to Eddie.  Clearly, Ed Wood was as personal a film for Burton as Glen and Plan 9 had been for Wood.  Burton faced immense difficulty in mounting the project and was given what, for him, was a small budget.  Artistically, the endeavor paid off and even did so financially, in time, although it took Touchstone years to realize the film’s cult potential for the DVD market.
Still from Ed Wood (1994)
In 1994 Tim Burton was the perfect artist to bring Ed’s story to the screen.  Burton, recognizing a fellow auteur and genuine oddball, treated Wood, not with derision, but with the respect he deserved.  Before Ed Wood, Burton, although trained at Disney, was still an outsider with Hollywood backing, which makes him (in that regard) a kindred spirit to Stanley Kubrick.  Burton’s first big budget feature effort Continue reading ED WOOD (1994), TIM BURTON’S GLORIOUS SWANSONG.