Carry On Regardless (1961)

 "P.. P.. Panting?"

"No, that's the way I always breathe."

These early Carry Ons are fascinating... and, don't get me wrong, they're not unfunny. But it'll be a while before we get to the really good stuff. I'm afraid I'm anal about these things. I'm doing them in order.

Like most of the early films, this is a much gentler farce than would later become standard. It fits the early pattern. Surprisingly, Kenneths Connor and Williams predominate, with Williams slightly evolving from "intellectual" to "camp", and Charles Hawtrey sidelined a bit, although his boxing skit is hilarious.

Yet we have interesting, nay fascinating features here. A young, tough, Bill Owen, long before Last of the Summer Wine. Joan Simms giving an extraordinary performance in the wine tasting skit. The unique Stanley Unwin, with a language of his own. Incidentally, on the subject of said oddball, I suggest you type "Wubble U" and "Petal". This is a man of the '50s who looms large-ish in rave culture.

The film is... quite good, but no more than that. Sid James makes some progression towards the laughing lech he would become, but at this point is still far more of a straight man. Esma Cannon, as ever, is superb. Why is she not more well known?

Overall, though, it's clear why this film, while perfectly fine, is no highlight. It's a stepping stone. Greater stuff lies ahead.

Petticoat Pirates (1961)

" You long haired idiot.

Meh. I mean, this film isn't exactly terrible, but there's a reason why it- and Charlie Drake- are pretty much forgotten.

Yes, the social attitudes on display here are different from today, and one must make allowances. But that's not really an excuse. The same could be said of the Carry On films, and they are far superior to this mildly amusing but underwhelming comedy about the hilarity that ensues when a Royal Navy frigate is taken over by women. The sexism on display is not particularly extreme by the standards of the time, and the whole "battle of the sexes" angle is good humoured, and the ladies pretty much come out on top. Regardless of social attitudes, a film is either good or not, and this film is not.

No, it's not that. And nor is it the script, which may not be brilliant but is perfectly serviceable. Nor, mostly, is it the cast. Anne Heywood, in particular, is superb.

No: it's Charlie Drake. He's just not very good. He's a very generic Norman Wisdom type comedy actor, with no charisma and no discernible talent. For him to have apparently become a star simply beggars belief.

Perhaps I'm being a little harsh. The film is harmless enough, and passes the time. But any humour is mild, and much of the interest comes from the fact that this film is an artifact from another time. I'd suggest, sadly, that this isn't exactly a film greatly worth bothering with.

The Terror of the Tongs (1961)

 "Like all occidentals, you find it impossible to accept the inevitable."

This is one of those occasional non-horror films Hammer did in their glory days, a tale of a tong rather than a vampire and something a bit different for Jimmy Sangster to write and Christopher Lee to star in.

You can see from the pic that there's an unfortunate amount of yellowface here, prominently so with Lee; it appears that, aside from Burt Kwouk (who inevitably appears), there are no Chinese actors available for speaking roles so the Chinese characters all have to be played by white actors with various degrees of yellowface. Some attempt to sound Chinese; the likes of Lee and Roger Delgado sound English as ever- or, in the case of Yvonne Monlaur, French.

It's a fairly standard revenge plot, although with surprisingly little action overall, with Geoffrey Toone suitably square-jawed as the heroic and very British Jackson Sale.

It is, of course, all told from the perspective of the colonising British, with lots of unfortunate othering of Chinese ways and Chinese culture; it's not just the yellowface that means I'm hardly not exactly going to be able to deny the casual, unthinking racism and racist tropes that permeate this film, many of which no doubt have failed to catch my attention. There's a character called Confucius, after all. But it was 1961, and the past is a foreign country. It's also interesting to see Hong Kong as a place where cultures meet, and what that means for organised crime.

Lee is decent enough- he phones in his performance somewhat, but he's good enough to get away with it. Roger Delgado is also excellent- charismatic and commanding. The plot is standard stuff but decent enough. The direction, though, is sadly flat and uninspired, with unimaginative camerawork and lighting. But the script and performances raise the film to the level of an entertaining curiosity, from a time when no one batted an eyelid at portraying cultures in this way.

Mothra (1961)

"We are living in the atomic age!"

I know this isn't a Godzilla film, but I know it crosses over later, so I'm watching and blogging it now in the interest of watching everything in the correct order. It’s a very different film, and not just because it’s in colour.

It’s not until more than an hour until the eponymous giant insect appears, but we get plenty of time before then to get to know our heroes- square jawed scientist Dr Chujo and comic relief pair of reporter Senichiro and photographer Michi. We also meet the villainous Nelson, from the fictional nation of Rolisica, which is the most thinly disguised fictional version of the USA ever. We spend that first hour seemingly in a different genre entirely as an expedition explores an unknown (and, of course, radioactive) island in the South Pacific. Here they find strange fauna, much weirdness and, er, the discovery that the Japanese were just as prone to blacking up as “natives” as anyone in any western country. Oh dear. Still, at least this is partly mitigated by the strong subtext about not exploiting people from “primitive” cultures and leaving them alone. Particularly not kidnapping little ladies and putting them in freak shows as “fairies”.

Mothra doesn’t initially fly but slowly swims across the Pacific, in larva form. The larva isn’t all that visually impressive, truth be told, yet the sequences of its attacking Tokyo and being fought by the military are awesome. Yes, colour can be more exposing to effects work than safe old monochrome, and it’s obvious most of the time that the effects are done with models, but this is proper effects nevertheless- none of this modern CGI nonsense.

There’s a nice little satisfying ending in “Rolisica” involving church bells and a combination of a “native” religious rites and Christianity- which is, interestingly, seen from a politely interested Japanese perspective, an unusual little bit of east-to-west anthropology. It’s a satisfying end to a film that somehow manages to be highly impressive and exciting in spite of a Mothra being a bit rubbish in both her forms.

The Misfits (1961)

“Because we're all dying, aren't we?"

This is a film well known for ominous reasons. It had a troubled production, with John Huston frequently drunk and Marilyn Monroe frequently late or absent through the heavy drinking and prescription drug use that would eventually kill her. And Arthur Miller may be one of the twentieth century’s finest playwrights (A View from the Bridge is sublime), but this script is essentially a love letter to his wife- but during filming his marriage to Monroe was falling apart. Add to this that Clark Gable was past his prime and, while a superb leading man, not necessarily the greatest actor.

And yet the film, while tragic, is extraordinarily good. Miller’s script is literary, subtle and multi-faceted but Huston manages to raise this tale of how feminine compassion takes the tough men of the west into something even more poetic, and the performances of Clark and the troubled Monroe, along with the extraordinary method man Eli Wallach, are elevated into something special. This is a film where the Old West is gone and everybody knows it, but the few surviving cowboys band together to eke a living that way because “anything’s better than wages”- but they know they’re a dwindling band, they have no future and they know it. And Gay (yes, I know, and his son is called Gaylord...), Perce and Guido all have their demons, whether parental estrangement, abandoned ambition or being away from children- Gay’s drunken longing for his kids is a shockingly vulnerable moment.

The three men are all doomed, in a sense, while Roslyn is lonely after her divorce and deeply compassionate but fundamentally melancholy- did Miller write this part for his wife because he saw her like that? The film ends on a note of hope for Roslyn and Gay, as they seem to have a future together- but the future beyond that is full of foreboding for everybody.

The Pit and the Pendulum (1961)

"Do you know where you are, Bartolome? I'll tell you where you are. You are about to enter Hell, Bartolome, HELL!... The netherworld. The infernal region, The abode of the Damned... The place of torment. Pandemonium. Abbadon. Tophet. Gehenna. Naraka. The pit... and the pendulum!"

One of the first films I did for this blog was Roger Corman's House of Usher; I didn't expect it to be quite as long until the next one of his Edgar Allan Poe films which happens, coincidentally, to be the second one made. I seem to have accidentally managed to do them in order so far.

This is a far superior film to its predecessor, with the use of a blurred and tinted picture for the flashbacks being a particularly inspired directorial flourish and Vincent Price being superb. Only the very end of the film is faithful to Poe's (very) short story with a plot invented to sound vaguely Poe-like, utilising many of his tropes, not least of which is premature burial. It works, and the plot is superb with a fantastic twist.

This is a profoundly gothic film in which the sins of the past- both before and after the twist- threaten to destroy the well-meaning but helpless present generation with the sheer weight of their evil. In this case it is the tortures of the recent Spanish Inquisition which weigh oppressively on the present, and the acting and superb direction Jane this a genuinely powerful and disturbing film. I'm left to ruminate that gothic horror is fundamentally progressive: it is fascinated by the past but all too aware that bad things happened there.

I was expecting a bit of campy fun with this film but instead, in spite of John Kerr's dodgy acting, I found a genuinely excellent film. Highly recommended.

The Parent Trap (1961)

"We're twins, aren't we?"

The main selling point of this veeeery sloooow paced film is the technical wizardry of getting Hayley Mills to play a pair of twins on screen at the same time for much of the film, and I'm duly dazzled. It's a pity, though, that Mills' American accents are somewhat comically unconvincing even to my British ears. We're talking Dick Van Dyke levels of unconvincing here.

The film has its moments, pacing aside, but there's a disturbing social conservatism at work in that we're supposed to see it as desirable for the divorced parents to get together even though it's explicitly said that Maggie has been violent towards Mitch in the past. Still, the film may be slow and reactionary but it's entertaining enough for most of its length, and it's a pleasure for this blog to finally encounter an actress of the stature of Maureen O'Hara. It's also nice that we have a child's eye view through most of its length.

Oh, and I like the funny vicar.