"Age of Consent" (1969) d/ Michael Powell

One surefire cure for Monday that might have you dreaming of faraway posh locales and sun-soaked goddesses is tonight's entry,  from British director Michael Powell who gave us the excellent Peeping Tom nine years earlier, and starring two of my favorites, James Mason and Helen Mirren, a statuesque blonde in her first major role, who really strikes a fatal blow against my 'brunettes are better' argument here in a significant way. Not usually the type of thing we'd normally look at, but as someone who confessedly has been into Helen's work for a long time I can say without reservation: If you're a big fan, this film will make you a bigger fan. Nudge, nudge. Snap, snap. Grin grin, wink wink, say no more?


There's a Moray Eel joke I'd make here if I were a lesser man...
Celebrated artist, Brad Morahan (Mason), jaded by his success in the Big Apple, returns to his native Australia to re-ignite the passion he once had for his craft on the suggestion of his agent, but after a week long roll in the hay with a lady friend (Clarissa Kaye, who would later become his wife), his old buddy Nat (Jack McGowran) who's well behind in alimony payments makes the scene, borrows money, and tries to siphon Brad's cool to pull a few birds, to boot. Deciding that isolation is key, Brad sets up in a dilapidated shack on the far end of a sandbar of a small, mostly uninhabited island on the Great Barrier Reef with....Godfrey, his...dog.....of course. (You're gonna have to insert your own breathy dramatic Mason pauses from here on out, folks, the novelty has already worn thin for me). It isn't long before his beach combing, barefootin', n' boatin' is interrupted by Cora Ryan (Mirren), a wild, young blonde (who fishes the reef with her big tits and sticky fingers) who's pilfered his groceries and more recently, a neighboring spinster's chicken, and when Bradley's suspected as the culprit, he pays for the poultry on the promise that Cora not steal anymore. As an added incentive to help the girl realize her dreams of being a hairdresser in Brisbane someday, he pays her to model for him, as well. Half a dollar an hour, too.Imagine, renting Helen Mirren for eight hours for four bucks. You know, I'm not Edgar Cayce, but I'll bet this passionate young creature is exactly what ol' Brad needed in the first place...


The Great Barrier Reef is home to great big tits, errr, triggerfish. Triggerfish.
At this point, Nat shows up on Brad's shackstep looking for a loan to keep the cops off his back and ends up staying. When he tries to seduce the spinster next door for money, she goes for it, after which he expeditiously breaks camp, jacking Brad's money, and even some of his ...drawrings, as well(There I go again). Things get worse when Cora's gin-sucking hick grandma catches her posing in the buff for the older man, accusing him of getting Nugent with her until he parts with the last of his cash to make the accusations disappear like her granddaughter's clothes. When Cora finds out that 'Ma' (Neva Carr-Glynn) has found her tucked away hairdresser bucks, a chase ensues and then a struggle, and finally, drunken old sot tumbling down the hill and eating broken neck death. After the notorious lush's death is ruled accidental, that night Cora goes to Brad's shack but when he shows only professional interest in her, she disappointedly dashes out into the water. He follows her, and in the end, sees her for what she really is...


"I wish I could see how Brad's painting is turning out," said nobody ever.
Dame Helen Mirren, as magnificent a physical specimen (you may need a lobster bib while watching this one) as she is a gifted actress, surely steals the show; director Powell's take on Shakespeare's The Tempest with Mason opposite Mia Farrow was to follow, but lack of funding marked it's premature end. Though Mason's Aussie accent here sounds mostly artificial, overall, he's good as always. Even if this mid-life crisis-turned-unlikely romance stuff sounds like a lotta hooey to ya, at the forty-five minute mark, there's a scene that makes it all worth while, even to callous-hearted sons a' bitches like ol' Woppo. "Coragio, bully-monster, coragio!" Three biggies.


Frankly, even the Sand-Helen has my pulse racing, folks.

"Frankenstein:The True Story"(1973)d/Jack Smight

Tonight's entry is another plate of clammy made-for-tv leftovers one might mistake for a twenty-eight hundred dollar Wagyu ribeye at first glance, due to the ensemble cast assembled for the production.The venerable James Mason heads the list that includes a pre-Sir John Gielgud, the always lovely Jane Seymour, Ralph Richardson, Agnes Moorehead, and even Tom "Dr. Who" Baker, and all are game faced for this interesting variation(in the most politcally correct of terms) on the Shelley novel that has more in common with the modern Hammer Frankenstein series than the classic book.In fact, the special makeups are even provided by Hammer vet Roy Ashton, and to his credit, they're appropriately Hammer-y-looking, if that makes any sense at all to you.Originally broadcast in ninety minute-long halves, the production begins with an introduction sequence that features Mason stepping through the tombstones in St. John's Wood cemetery in London, incorrectly whiffing on the suggestion that Shelley was buried there, despite standing in front of a headstone that might lead you to think he was actually telling the truth.The author is actually buried in Dorset, where rumor has it, her remains can be heard ever-spinning on a flaming spit since Hollywood had the moose balls to market this long-winded take a 'true story'.Michael Sarrazin plays the monster, who starts off looking dandy then decays into what looks like a late stage terminal AIDS patient more than a superhuman creature assembled from parts of various corpses as the plot unravels(slowly.).Definitely worth a look if hearing Mason speaking Chinese or seeing some gratuitous dummy violence(and one fuck of a rotten severed head) sounds like a good time to you.

Hope you were ambidexterous...
Enter Victor Frankenstein(Leonard Whiting), an affluent, and brilliant, young surgeon-to-be who's engaged to Elizabeth Fanshawe(Nicola Pagett), studying anatomy from an unorthodox, spastic scientist named Clerval(David McCallum) in London after having lost his younger brother to a tragic boat accident and vowing that he'd work with the devil himself if he could restore life to his perished sibling.When Clerval isn't dramatically grasping at his heart, he's working on logic-defying experiments that preserve human tissue long after death, using electricity and the sun as a catalyst for ushering in a new super-race of indestructible beings from the body parts of cadavers.After constructing a nifty, isolated 40's style mad scientist laboratory in an abandoned chateau, the two scientific groundbreakers luck upon a local mine collapse which provides peasant parts a' plenty for their weird experiments, but on the night before their historic attempt to resurrect the dead, Clerval discovers that a disembodied arm he'd been keeping alive has begun to "reverse the process", or "turns hella ugly" as the screenwriters must have meant.The unsightly mitt causes Clerval's heart to cash its chips in, before he can complete the entry in his diary.Frankenstein, oblivious to the reversal, not only carries on without his partner, but also lends the dead man's grey matter for the final ingredient in their voltage-driven god-play.Lo and behold, when the cheap visual effects subside, a flawless, handsome, and articulate creature(Michael Sarrazin) has been created, with nary a mismatched section or even a stitching scar, ferchrissakes.After grooming the monster for entry into English high society and passing him off as a foreign relative of few words, Frankenstein discovers the ugly-arm-in-the-cupboard, realizing that his new patchwork pal is probably doomed to suffer the same fate, judging by the sudden appearance of sores behind his ears(yeah, bleech.).The monster, being something of an attention whore, has issues dealing with his sudden unpopularity, and after his brutal puss scares the landlady(Agnes Moorehead) to death, he repeatedly shanks himself in the labonza and swan dives off of the white cliffs of Dover to a watery end...of part one.

Get out from under those carriage wheels, you fuckin' dummy.
The resilient creature wanders off into the woods only to befriend a blind violinist, but in true Herman Munster fashion, manages to kill the old man's grandson and drive his granddaughter into the path of an oncoming carriage.Darn!Darn!Darn!The monster, smitten with the dead granddaughter's beauty, carries her broken frame back to the laboratory, only to find it currently occupied by Dr. Polidori(James Mason), Clerval's former mentor, who's whipped up some ressurrection experiments of his own, sans electricity(which he's frightened of...pussy.), but with far more colored liquids, sparklers, and Chinese coolie assistants.Polidori convinces Frankenstein, who's been trying to get the bitter taste of his prior failure out of his mouth through hum drum domestic tedium with his new bride, to assist him in creating a perfect woman(he needs the young surgeon since an earlier lab accident has left both of his paws looking like beef jerky)during the young man's honeymoon(!!)."I'll be back in a few short months, baby, and you're in for it then..."Of course, the experiment is successful, with the result, a stunningly beautiful female that Polidori has dubbed "Prima"(Jane Seymour), a decorative choker camoflaging the creature's lone stitching scar upon her throat.Polidori then looks to Frankenstein's wife's family to educate and prepare his ward for entry into high society, and here she proves mischievous and amorous towards Victor whenever his suspicious wife has her head turned.On the eve of Polidori's successful unveiling, the male creature drops into a splendid ball uninvited and proceeds to pull Prima's head from her shoulders in front of a throng of screaming partygoers.Victor and Elizabeth leave the police inquiry behind for American shores, unaware that not only is Polidori on board, but the murderous creature has stowed away, as well.The creature rips Polidori's gloves off revealing his meaty claw before hanging his screaming ass up from the crow's nest during a violent electrical storm.The mittless old fool soon eats lightning-singed death, while the creature does away with the ship's crew and Victor's pregnant wife, setting a new course for the North Pole.Victor awakens to find his bride frozen solid on the deck and his creation standing in a nearby ice cavern, where Victor shouts for forgiveness from the makeshift man, and causes an avalanche to abruptly bury both sorry bastards.Roll credits.

There's something sexy about Jane's elegant neck so close to such a dirty pair of chick-chokers.
Though I remember being a pissed-off little kid having to invest three sugar-driven hours in tonight's review(remember, I was never all that big a Frankie fan to begin with), I'd always give it a look these days, if just for Mason, Gielgud, and Seymour, who's especially young and delicious here, all favorites of mine.Still, it's an interesting idea, adding Polidori, a real-life acquaintance of Shelley's who partook in the famous literary competition that Frankenstein was born out of in the first place, as a character to the story, utilized Hammer-style as an older scientist that the younger Frankenstein reluctantly works with.Most modern viewers will find the gaps between the sparse thrills wider than a three finger Aerosmith 'Walk This Way' gap, I think.If Frankie's your bag, or you're a relic like me who's into impressive acting performances, you'll wanna queue this one up on your 'to see' list of movies.On the scale, it merits two Wops.Check it out.

Skip the Valtrex, homepiss.You're gonna need to spackle that facepiece once.

"Salem's Lot"(1979)d/Tobe Hooper

To say a LOT of Stephen King's work has been translated to the screens,both big and television,would be a gross understatement.The best genre directors in the world have served up takes on his writing,some succesfully,others... not so much,quite frankly.I read a lot of his novels growing up(yes,even the thousand plus page "The Stand")and his early books remain favorites of mine to this day.Cinematically speaking,Salem's Lot,a three time Emmy nominated 1979 tv miniseries(originally offered up to George A. Romero who declined when they decided against turning it into a movie),directed by Tobe(Texas Chainsaw Massacre)Hooper,is right there at the top of my King list,next to Kubrick's "The Shining"(1980) and DePalma's "Carrie"(1976).Plus you gotta love a screenplay that incorporates a fictional place named "Pabisciutti Hill"(!).Come ON,now!

The evil Marsten house,built upon Pabisciutti Hill(yeah I just wanted to say that again).
Ben Mears(David Soul,aka "Hutch"),a novelist,returns to Salem's Lot,the place of his birth,for writing inspiration and to face his childhood fears,most of which stem from a supernatural dwelling on the hill(I'll spare you the name this time)called the Marsten House.At the same time the haunted home in question has been bought up by a quaint old man in black,named Straker(James Mason,at his sarcastic best here)who,with his silent partner,Barlow(Reggie Nalder of "Mark of the Devil"), plan on pushing antiques on the local populace.As Mears settles in to write and cope,he revisits familiar faces from his past and meets new ones.One young boy,Mark(Lance Kerwin),reminds Ben of himself at that age,toying with magic and models and writing for high school plays as he did years ago.They're certainly both rocking the same goofy haircut.Some of the townsfolk are suspicious of Mears and his blazers with suede elbow patches,but one girl in particular,Susan(Bonnie Bedelia),becomes enamored of him.

For the love of God,no,please don't make me listen to "Don't Give Up on Us" again!
Soon Straker enlists Cully Sawyer(George Dzunda of "The Deer Hunter")to fetch one of Barlow's crates of antiques back to the Lot for him with his truck.Sawyer in turn,farms the work out to two local handymen instead,as he plans to catch his nympho housewife Julie in bed with her boss,Larry(Fred Willard!).Unbeknownst to anyone involved,the crate in question holds more than mere antiques,and is in actuality the daylight resting place of Barlow,an ancient vampire,who bears more than a striking resemblance to Count Orlock(Max Shreck) in "Nosferatu;Eine Symphonie des Grauens"(1922).Maybe they're cousins.Salem's Lot at night becomes a harbinger of death,as Barlow begins to feed on the townspeople.Mark's school chums,"The Glick boys"(Glick?) are supped upon by the master,as is Larry,Mike(Geoffrey Lewis of "Every Which Way But Loose" fame),Ned Tebbets,the Glick boys' mother Marjorie,and the list grows.Ben enlists Mark and one of his high school teachers to investigate the deaths,and examine those suddenly suffering from overnight "pernicious anemia"(!),while the local constable questions Straker,who proves much too witty for the lawman,of course.

"Back,shaman!Back,holy man!Back,priest!You can do NOTHING against the master..."
When Straker and Barlow barge in on a meeting between Mark's parents and the local priest,killing the adults but sparing the boy for another night,Mark and Ben set off for the Marsten House,where Susan has been taken,armed with makeshift crucifixes and wooden stakes(In hindsight,David Soul should have brought a recording of his lone pop hit,"Don't Give Up on Us",from the same year,the vampire's pointy blue ears would have bled out.).Though Straker has superhuman strength,the duo remove him from the equation with a pistol.As the sun sets,Barlow awakes in time to be staked through the heart,putting up little resistance save for an annoying hiss or two.The two set the Marsten House on fire,with Susan,now also a vampire,possibly trapped inside.We fastforward to a small town in Mexico,where the vampire hunters are hot on the trail of Susan and her undead minions...

Holy water,Batman!
James Mason was always a treat to watch,and he shines throughout this miniseries as my favorite character in the production.The floating bestial vampire children in the mist scratching at Mark's window was a memorable effect,and Barlow is one terrifying blooddrinker,though it didn't hurt that Reggie Nalder was hideous to begin with.Inspiring a flaccid sequel,""Return to Salem's Lot", and a television remake in 2004 starring Rob Lowe,Donald Sutherland,and Rutger Hauer(as Barlowe!),The Lot remains a pleasurable viewing experience for me(and one of director Hooper's last watchable works,alas),and it will for you too,on a stormy night when you've got 180 plus minutes to spare.Check it out!
Three out of four B.W.'s