Lobby Card Collection - 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

Stanley Kubrick's science-fiction masterpiece needs no introduction from me. Kubrick is a true celluloid hero of mine, and his epic grandiose tale of the origins of mankind remains a landmark in cinematic history. Here is a selection of lobby cards released to promote the film in cinemas.

 

The House on the Edge of the Park (1980)

Dir: RUGGERO DEODATO
Country: ITALY

AKA:
La casa sperduta nel parco

Although Italian director Ruggero Deodato has directed over twenty films in a career spanning four decades, his reputation almost entirely rests on two films that emerged in 1980. Both Cannibal Holocaust and House on the Edge of the Park introduced audiences to a brand of cinematic sadism the like of which was (and still is) exceedingly rare. There had been hints of course in Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man (1976) and more specifically Jungle Holocaust aka Last Cannibal World (1977), but little could prepare audiences for the diabolical double that heralded in the 1980’s. Some filmmakers pride themselves on stylistic audacity, or perhaps a visionary and artistic attitude to persistent thematic preoccupations, or maybe even the articulation of social or political allegories. In the most famous films by the dim witted Deodato he seems more concerned with either repulsing his audience, or boring them to death. Cannibal Holocaust provides the former, House on the Edge of the Park the latter. Cannibal Holocaust is at least an important film, one that generated heated debate over questions of realism, censorship, and exploitation. A deceptively well made and well written picture that critiqued film itself as a means of representation. House on the Edge of the Park however is a mindless and emotionally hollow exercise in cinematic cruelty. The question of how Deodato could descend from the nightmarish brilliance of Cannibal Holocaust to the tedium and stupidity of House on the Edge of the Park in such a short space of time remains a mystery.

Rituals (1977)

Dir: PETER CARTER
Country: CANADA/USA

AKA:
The Creeper

The success of John Boorman’s Deliverance (1972), which dramatised the clash between the white collar urbanity of middle class America and a disenfranchised backwoods rural community created ripples of influence that extended far and wide. Although ostensibly an action orientated adventure movie, there was enough paranoia and nightmarish hysteria in the film to reignite the inspiration of low budget filmmakers working within the horror genre. The rural slasher film subsequently became a sub-genre within a sub-genre, and much of its success was derived from the necessity for location shooting. Another happy by product of the poverty row production values enforced upon such films as The Last House on the Left (1972), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) and Just Before Dawn (1980) was the need to shoot with handheld cameras. This gave these rural horror pictures a sense of verisimilitude that the more slickly produced effects driven slasher pictures lacked. They also tap into a more primal impulse; the survival of the fittest in the face of both nature and an unseen assailant. For me these backwoods chillers represent the most intriguing face of the slasher film, and there are very few that impress as much as Rituals.

The Food of the Gods (1976)

Dir: BERT I. GORDON
Country: USA

AKA:
H. G. Wells' Food of the Gods

Writer/director/producer/visual effects designer Bert I Gordon is living proof that one can be a jack of all trades and master of none. Despite Gordon’s obvious shortcomings there is a certain infectious enthusiasm to many of his films - especially his science-fiction efforts of the 1950’s. How can one not enjoy the absurd prospect of giant grasshoppers in the ludicrous Beginning of the End (1957), the odd poignancy of The Amazing Colossal Man (1957) and the expectation of poorly realised mutant spiders in Earth vs. the Spider (1958)? As with many science-fiction films of the 1950’s the best thing about Gordon’s films were the titles. Nevertheless he managed to deliver distraction and entertainment, that is until Village of the Giants (1965) when his brand of gigantism (he also did a little people film - the awful Attack of the Puppet People [1958]) reached an apex of stupidity and boredom. Against the run of technology Gordon persisted with his visual effects, and more importantly persisted with the themes inherent in the subject of mutation. His science-fiction/horror efforts forming an interesting self-contained universe that might respond well to the auteur theory. In the late 1970’s he returned to his favoured landscape with The Food of the Gods (1976) and Empire of the Ants (1977), two films which took advantage of the ‘Revolt of Nature’ impulse that had been re-popularised in the wake of Jaws (1975).

Celluloid Sounds - Midnight Express (1978)

One of the very first soundtracks I purchased was Giorgio Moroder’s pulsating score for Alan Parker’s controversial and brutal prison drama Midnight Express. Midnight Express was the Italian’s first soundtrack, and at the time he was heavily embroiled in the late 70’s disco scene. It was a musical trend particularly receptive to Moroder’s brand of repetitive synth based pop. In addition to being a capable musician, Moroder was also an accomplished song writer and producer. His most notable successes his collaborations with Donna Summer and his first electro album From Here To Eternity, which saw the light of day in 1977. Moroder then might not have seemed the most logical choice to score a film involving a harrowing and nightmarish descent into the sadism and brutality of a Turkish prison. The film itself has had to answer to charges of racism over the years. Its representations of the Turkish authorities is unremittingly negative, and at times borders on the farce of caricature. But Moroder’s musical contribution stands in isolation to those arguments. The most famous piece is the throbbing electronica of The Chase, used wonderfully in the film when Billy flees from the authorities through the markets of Istanbul. The plodding repetition of the main beat creating a tension, paranoia and remorselessness that indicates that Billy is unable to escape his tortured destiny. When reduced to a radio friendly edit The Chase became a major hit single in almost every territory it was released in.

The other notable piece is the more understated and subtle Love's Theme - a track which forms the backdrop to a cathartic homosexual encounter between Billy and another inmate. Here Moroder shows a deft touch which compliments the on screen events to such an extent that it becomes one of the most emotive and touching moments in the film. Somehow the crisp modernity of Moroder’s production techniques and the spacious clarity of the music creates an ironic counterpoint to the abysmal conditions of the prison. It hints at a life outside of the concrete that entombs Billy, and eventually offers a hope of escape. The soundtrack was originally released on LP in October 1978 on Casablanca Records. Its importance was recognised by it’s victory at the Academy Awards in early 1979. On the strength of his musical involvement with Midnight Express, Moroder would go on to compose a number of soundtracks in the 1980’s - other credits include American Gigolo (1980), Cat People (1982), Scarface (1983), Superman III (1983), Electric Dreams (1984), The NeverEnding Story (1984) and Metropolis (1984).

TRACK LISTING
01 Chase
02 Love's Theme
03 (Theme from) Midnight Express
04 Istanbul Blues - vocal
05 The Wheel
06 Istanbul Opening
07 Cacophoney
08 (Theme from) Midnight Express - vocal

The Norliss Tapes (1973) - TV Movie

Dir: DAN CURTIS
Country: USA

Original Transmission Date: 21/02/1973

History tends to be written by the winners, and as a result the landscape of 1970’s horror strains under a stifling orthodoxy. A prevailing critical consensus (partly attributable to academia as well as fan worship) that propels names like Argento, Craven, Romero, Hooper, Cronenberg and Carpenter into the forefront at the expense of others doing equally important work in the genre. One such man whose contribution to the typography of the genre in the 1970’s remains criminally underrated is Dan Curtis. The problem is that Curtis spent the majority of his career working (either as a writer, producer, or director) in the restricted confines of television. If you want a simple index of how culturally insignificant American television was considered in comparison to American cinema in the 1970’s look no further than Dan Curtis. Curtis is now most recognised for his cult television series Dark Shadows (1966-1971) and his three TV movies The Night Stalker (1972), The Night Strangler (1973) and Trilogy of Terror (1975). His only directorial credit on the big screen was the indifferent Burnt Offerings (1976) which was more of a showcase for the histrionics of Oliver Reed and Karen Black than it was for Curtis’ direction. However when one delves deeper into the filmography of Mr. Curtis one is surprised by the number of hugely entertaining and generically progressive TV movies he worked on. One such example is the very enjoyable The Norliss Tapes.

Lobby Card Collection - Kiss of the Vampire (1963)

For your viewing pleasure - a selection of lobby cards for the under-appreciated Hammer horror production Kiss of the Vampire (1963)

David Lynch Poster Gallery

Eraserhead (1977) - US poster

Eraserhead #2 - UK Quad poster

Eraserhead #3 - Japanese poster

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Elephant Man (1980) #1 - Hungarian poster

Crowhaven Farm (1970) - TV Movie

Dir: WALTER GRAUMAN
Country: USA

Original Transmission Date: 24/11/1970

The relative emptiness of The Celluloid Highway’s Cult TV Archive has bothered me for some time, so I’ve decided to make a conscious effort to explore in more detail, the often fertile soil of the small screen. In the United States the made-for-television horror movie became something of a cult institution, and flourished from 1968 to 1989. I personally consider this to be the time period of greatest interest. This is a subjective choice on my part, so I hope nobody gets there knickers in a twist if they disagree. One of the benefits of being from the UK is that I never got to see many of these TV movies when I was growing up, and therefore I do not approach them now wearing the rose tinted spectacles of nostalgia. Just check out how many reviews for these TV movies give them undue credit simply because they generate a childhood nostalgia! Of course there were a handful of elite TV horror movies that broke the shackles and enjoyed wider distribution - Duel (1971), The Night Stalker (1972), Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark (1973), Killdozer (1974), and Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1981) just to name a few. But for every Dark Night of the Scarecrow there is a Crowhaven Farm. The title might have a certain rustic pastoral charm, but the reality is that this particular effort from November 1970 is a dreary exercise in tele-visual tedium.

The Stone Tape (1972)

Dir: PETER SASDY
Country: UNITED KINGDOM

Original Transmission Date: 25/12/1972

The 1970’s represented a high watermark of creativity in the small screen landscape of British television. Fans of science-fiction thrilled to the ongoing adventures of Doctor Who (1963 - present), Doomwatch (1970-72), The Tomorrow People (1973-79), and Blake’s 7 (1978-81). Meanwhile fans of the supernatural were catered for by the BBC’s annual Ghost Story for Christmas (1971-78) and such adult anthology programmes as Dead of Night (1972), Beasts (1976), and The Mind Beyond (1976). Many of the creepiest and most disturbing of genre programmes were reserved for children, with serials such as Escape into Night (1972), Shadows (1975-78) and Children of the Stones (1977) providing sleepless nights for youthful imaginations. One man who had a consistent gift for unsettling material was the writer Nigel Kneale. In the 1950’s enraptured audiences excitedly followed the three serials he wrote featuring the gifted scientist Professor Bernard Quatermass. In the 1960’s Kneale spent a lot of time writing film screenplays, but still found time to return to the small screen with the prescient science-fiction allegory The Year of the Sex Olympics (1968). The 1970’s saw Kneale working exclusively in television, and in 1972 he wrote his penultimate script for the BBC…the chilling feature length festive fright The Stone Tape.

Lobby Card Collection - Suspiria (1977)

A selection of lobby cards for Dario Argento's nightmarish fairy tale Suspiria from France, Spain, and the United States. 

Lobby Card Collection - Deep Red (1975)

Dario Argento's stunningly composed giallo Deep Red was released in Spain under the title Rojo oscuro. Here are a selection of lobby cards that were used to promote the film in Spanish cinemas.

James Bond - Title Screens

Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1981) - TV Movie

Dir: FRANK DE FELITTA
Country: USA

Original Transmission Date: 24/10/1981

Very few made for television movies have achieved the cult prominence of Halloween favourite Dark Night of the Scarecrow. It was originally broadcast on CBS in October 1981, became a network mainstay for many years, a success on video rental, and an unlikely success in other territories as well. I can personally attest to this by remembering several screenings on British television during the 1980’s which haunted my fractured dreams. In confirmation of the films cult credentials US distributor VCI belatedly issued a DVD in September 2010, and more impressively still issued a blu-ray in October 2011. Naturally the strictures and regimentation of US network television meant that the emphasis was very much placed on the writing. The teleplay was provided by J. D. Feigelson, and he produced a literate and well constructed plot, peppered liberally with some wonderfully acerbic moments of dialogue for the villain Otis P. Hazelrigg (Charles Durning). Nevertheless there are still several moments of surprising violence (the shooting of Bubba, the pitchfork fate of Hazelrigg), and one particularly unpleasant moment of off screen violence (the death of Harless). But it is the films almost total reliance on a carefully cultivated atmosphere of simmering small town tensions that sets it apart from contemporaneous efforts in the horror genre.

A Super(natural) Halloween Collaboration

Regular visitors to The Celluloid Highway may well have noticed a little image in the sidebar promoting a very special Halloween collaboration. I was invited by my erstwhile colleague Franco of the effervescent and consistently informative blog The Film Connoisseur to contribute to a themed post exploring the esoteric nature of the supernatural in film. My brief was to provide five obscure and interesting British examples. Also along for the ride was my good friend and Lone Wolves collaborator Brian Bankston of Cool Ass Cinema and Nottingham’s finest film expert Neil Fulwood of The Agitation of the Mind. It was a pleasure to partake in another excellent collaboration, and I thank Franco for extending me the invite.

 Head on over if you dare!!

Celluloid Sounds - Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982)

The regeneration and resurrection of Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982) has been something of a personal crusade for me. It was the first Halloween franchise film I ever watched (yes, even before Carpenters 1978 original) and its impression on me has remained undiminished in the intervening twenty years. While I would by no means argue it is the best film in the franchise, that honour does comfortably belong to the first film, I’m firm in my conviction that it is the second best. Halloween III is possessed of an attitude that is deeply pessimistic and cynical. It is perhaps the most unremittingly grim and paranoid mainstream American horror film of the 1980’s. It highlights the ease with which a force of evil can gain purchase within America, if it manages to tick all the right capitalist boxes. It illustrates the manner in which the media can be used as a tool of propaganda, and indicates how malleable the adult population is when confronted with the demands of children. The film does have a number of serious shortcomings, not least of which is a rushed finale, and uninspired direction. Much of the tension and atmosphere instead is derived from a chilling electronic score courtesy of Alan Howarth and John Carpenter. I even find the much maligned advertising jingle for Silver Shamrock a great piece of music. Its repetition in the film an intended strategy to irritate both the characters and the audience. It does my heart good to have read a number of positive reviews for Halloween III over the last few weeks, and I feel that slowly but surely, its critical standing is on the ascent in the horror community. This edition of Celluloid Sounds is a celebration of what I consider to be one of the finest horror soundtracks of the 1980’s.

Nightmares and Dreamscapes - Battleground (2006)

Dir: BRIAN HENSON
Country: USA/AUSTRALIA

Original Transmission Date: 12/06/2006

The Stephen King short story Battleground remains one of my favourite pieces from the worlds leading writer of dark fiction. I first read it at the age of fifteen and its ingenious narrative and rapier sharp construction left a lasting impression on me. It was first published in the September 1972 edition of Cavalier, and then in the wake of the tremendous success of Carrie (1974) Salem’s Lot (1975) and The Shining (1977) was anthologised in King’s first collection of short stories Night Shift (1978). For my money this still remains King’s most original and consistent collection of tales. The decision to include Battleground as a part of TNT’s anthology series Nightmares & Dreamscapes left me both excited and worried. In the past television’s treatment of King’s works had gone from the sublime to the ridiculous. The first mini-series to be based on his work was Salem’s Lot, which aired in November 1979. In many ways this was as good as it got. Since Tobe Hooper’s memorable and chilling effort, small screen adaptations of King have struggled to live up to this early benchmark. Amongst the very worst of King’s mini-series adaptations include such abominated trash as The Tommyknockers (1993), The Langoliers (1995) and Rose Red (2002). The made for television movie hasn’t fared much better with stinking offal such as Sometimes They Come Back (1991), Trucks (2000), and Desperation (2006). How would the first anthology series based on King’s work fare?

Paranoiac (1963)

Dir: FREDDIE FRANCIS
Country: UK

Distributors have been slow to mine the archives of Hammer for potential high definition blu-ray releases. To date we have had only three; the dual edition package of Vampire Circus (1972) courtesy of US distributor Synapse, UK distributor Optimum’s dual edition package of Quatermass and the Pit (1967) and Eureka’s presentation of Paranoiac. The latter was the first Hammer title to see the light of HD as Eureka took early advantage of their relationship with Universal (future HD releases from this label include Silent Running [1972], Touch of Evil [1958], Repo Man [1984] and Two Lane Blacktop [1971]). Although Paranoiac was not the most obvious title for the champagne treatment, it was the first time the film had enjoyed a digital release in the UK. Unfortunately it isn’t a particularly good film. It is boring, long winded (despite only running for 81 minutes), predictable and hopelessly riddled with generic clichés. These are major shortcomings, but in its favour the film looks beautiful. The monochrome cinematography of Arthur Grant is stunning, and totally justifies the decision to release this title in HD. That the film is so gorgeously shot is not a major surprise when one sees the name of cinematographer extraordinaire Freddie Francis as director.