Reviews

I've seen The Cabinet of Dr Caligari several times over the years and it continues to make for very satisfying viewing, especially now that it is available in excellent-quality restored prints. The highly-stylised sets, direction and performances make it a visual treat as indeed so many great silent films are, and the story is one that quickly engages the viewer right from the opening scene.

However, the story, about a murderer at work in a small town, operates on many levels. One can, of course, believe that, as per the ending, it is all the figment of the Franzis' delusional imaginations. Or, given that knowing look that the asylum director gives to the audience just before the final fade-out, maybe there was a lot of truth in it after all, and he really is the villain of the piece?

However, my own (current) interpretation is as follows: We know that the bulk of the story is what Franzis relates, and that those events therefore took place before he ended up in the asylum. The crimes as he describes them are perpetrated by Dr Caligari and Cesare, and this can be interpreted as a dual personality of a single man.

The key part of the film is when, having just learned of the unsolved murder of a town clerk, Franzis and his friend Alan encounter Jane, and after she has left them Franzis talks to Alan about how they both love her and that she must be free to choose between them. Immediately after that, Alan is murdered in his bed, but we don't see the killer, only his shadow. The inference is, of course that the killer was Cesare, as per how Franzis' account unfolds. But it's also easy to make the connection from the previous scene that Franzis killed Alan because he had the main motive to do so - he wanted his rival for Jane's affection out of the way. This would then explain why Franzis seems to know, in the following scene, that Alan has been murdered even before the distressed housekeeper has got the words out.

In Franzis' account, there is another man suspected of murder, who admits he was motivated to try and kill because he thought the previous murderer would be blamed for it. This may be the key to Franzis' own motivation, that he was confident that Alan's death would be attributed to the same person who had killed the town clerk, rather than suspicion falling on Franzis himself.

Subsequently, in the account, Franzis tells Jane about Alan's death, but Jane's father comes between them. Later, when Jane is alone in town, Caligari tries to tempt her into his lair but she runs away in fear. This is a representation of the true situation, that with Alan out of the way, Franzis made his move for Jane but she rejected him.

Next in the narrative, Cesare goes to kill Jane but instead abducts her. The alarm is raised and people give chase. Cesare eventually has to leave her behind in order to escape his pursuers. Jane, shaken by the ordeal, identifies the guilty party - curiously, she does not name Cesare, but Caligari. But Caligari had an alibi because Franzis was watching him the whole night. However, when this alibi is shattered, Caligari flees - Franzis follows, a route which, significantly, ends up with the Franzis being inside the lunatic asylum.

So, perhaps the reality of what happened after Alan's funeral is that having failed to win Jane's affections as he'd hoped, Franzis, consumed with desire, made a botched attempt to kidnap her. Even though he escaped without anybody else seeing him, Jane was, of course, able to name him as her assailant. Franzis thought he was safe as he'd set up an alibi but it didn't stick and he ended up in the lunatic asylum.

Inside the asylum, whilst the director is sleeping (or otherwise occupied), Franzis gains access to his office and rifles through his documents. He finds diary entries about a newly-arrived inmate who is a somnambulist and also historical records of an actual case concerning a Dr Caligari.

So, it is possible that Franzis committed his crimes whilst sleepwalking, and after being committed to the asylum, the director noted this with interest and, in trying to understand it more, researched earlier cases. Franzis actually did manage to illicitly access the office whilst the director's back was turned and himself read of the Caligari case, and this then made his disturbed mind confuse the real events with the facts of the Caligari case from years earlier (or, at least, gave him the inspiration for the wild story he subsequently concocts). This is reinforced by the voices of "You must become Caligari", as symbolised by the scene where the asylum director has these visions. Franzis has, in effect, become Caligari, and substituted Caligari/Cesare for himself in the narrative.

In the narrative, when Cesare is brought to the asylum, Caligari finally snaps into total madness - he tries to throttle one of the attending staff, and is put into a strait-jacket. Compare this to the later moment when Franzis himself has 'an episode' in the asylum and loses control - he tries to throttle the director and is put into a strait-jacket. It's likely then that because Franzis could describe a scene so accurately, that he has experienced this procedure already. The symbolic arrival of Cesare at the asylum, which triggered Caligari's collapse into mania in the narrative, was likely therefore a representation of Franzis' own meltdown once he was first brought into the asylum. Franzis' grip on reality is now so far gone that he believes other figures within the asylum to have been those involved in his own twisted view of the events that brought him there.

There are certainly parts of Franzis' story which don't stack up - such as why he leads the police investigation into the murders, why Caligari would need a dummy of Cesare when he has no reason to suspect somebody is watching his every move through the window that night, or why Franzis is the only person to chase after Caligari to the asylum. So it is difficult to take his account at face value.

But yes, that knowing look from the asylum director in the closing shot. Maybe he knows the truth of it all rather better than I do...

Whilst many will draw the obvious parallels with King Kong (1933), Konga arguably has more in common with the cycle of horror movies produced by Universal in the 1930s and 40s, particularly those that featured Boris Karloff, Lionel Atwill or George Zucco as a monster-making scientist who becomes so absorbed in their work that they lose all sense of perspective and are happy to justify a few deaths in order to further man's advancement.

Here we have Michael Gough in that role as leading botanist Doctor Charles Decker, returning to London after having been missing-presumed-dead following a plane crash in Uganda a year previous. During his exile, Decker learnt a few secrets from a local witch doctor and is keen to exploit them. This includes developing a serum which accelerates the growth of organisms.

Waiting to resume work with him is his assistant-cum-housekeeper Margaret, whose unrequited love for Decker assures her devotion to his cause but is only infrequently repaid through affection. Decker thrusts himself into his new research, but also resumes his teaching at the local college, where he takes a fancy to busty young student Sandra, who has grown up somewhat since he originally left for Africa. Oh, and Decker also brought back with him a young chimpanzee named Konga... So far, so good. That set-up is pretty solid. Unfortunately, as the plot then plays out, things get increasingly daft.

Decker tries out his new serum on little Konga (of course). And little Konga grows. However, this accelerated growth doesn't occur over days or even hours, but is virtually instantaneous, which is rather unbelievable. On this first occurrence, Konga remains a chimpanzee, but when Decker later administers a further dose of the serum, Konga grows again to a height of about 7 feet, and now resembles a gorilla. (In the process, Konga switches from being portrayed by an actual chimpanzee to being played by a guy in a gorilla outfit.) A further effect of Decker's serum is that it makes Konga obedient to his human 'master'. So, when Decker gets into a squabble with the dean of the college who took exception to certain remarks made to the press, Decker decides to get even by having Konga murder the dean for him. Now, I can buy this up to a point in that an ape could be rendered compliant through drugs, but how it can somehow suddenly comprehend a detailed series of instructions delivered in English is beyond me. Still, I suppose Gough's babbling to the ape is that old plot device of actually explaining to the audience what is going on.

The film continues with Decker becoming more fanatical and ruthless, continuing to use Konga to deal with his rivals in science and love, until eventually Margaret's devotion is strained to breaking point by his infatuation with Sandra and she goes rogue. In trying to bring Konga under her own control, Margaret gives the ape more of the serum causing it to grow to gigantic proportions (a size which lacks consistency from scene to scene here on in). But this merely causes Konga to go on a rampage - of sorts. After smashing up the house he carries the helpless and protesting Decker to the centre of London and, for no apparent reason, stops next to the 'Big Ben' clock tower and just stands there while the same police officers who were investigating the dean's murder react with no surprise to incoming reports of a giant ape running amok and round up the army to deal with it.

Although nominally a 'giant ape' film, Konga only appears intermittently and isn't giant in size until towards the very end. It is actually Michael Gough who carries the film in his role of the fanatical Dr Decker, being on screen for about 95% of the time. The character is fairly interesting, as is the relationship between him and Margaret, although a little more depth would have been appreciated. The other characters in the film are very one-dimensional, with the possible exception of George Pastell as Professor Tragore.

I'm sure the fact this this was a colour production was a big selling point at the time of its original release, but Konga surely would have been more effective as a dark, moody and more ponderous monochrome film, and played up the mystery more by keeping the ape largely hidden until the climax. Its pace feels a little forced and it lacks subtlety, and the ending, with the giant ape offering no resistance, isn't the most satisfying. But one can never accuse Konga of being dull, and indeed it is great fun to watch as long as expectations are not too high!

I'd recalled seeing this on television back in 1992 and being disappointed with it at the time. Giving it another go after all these years, I did enjoy it rather more, with expectations suitably managed. I think its main problem is that fans of the horror movie genre, particularly British ones of the early 1970s, will often be left feeling rather underwhelmed given that much of the narrative revolves around the relationship of two elderly sisters.

Things start promisingly enough, with a soldier being attacked and savaged in a wood by someone or something - but after that, it's nearly all talk with only fleeting action when a few more killings occur by some force unseen.

The plot revolves around an outbreak of horrific murders of soldiers at a rural army camp. Nearby, two elderly, unmarried sisters still occupy their childhood home. As we follow the dominant Joyce and the younger, innocent Ellie, it gradually becomes clear that whatever is doing the killing is known to them, for it is something they've had locked up in their cellar and from which it has escaped.

On this new viewing I did find myself appreciating the dialogue and depth of character afforded the two sisters, superbly performed by Flora Robson and Beryl Reid who undoubtedly save this film from being unwatchable. However, as sensitively as their two characters are crafted, the remaining characters in the piece are very one-dimensional, and few in number also, betraying what was probably a very low budget. The suspense is minimal, the killings surprisingly lacking much impact, partly because none of those killed have anything of note to say or do before they are dispatched.

***SPOILERS*** The backstory, when we learn it, is actually interesting, and involves the sisters' loving father coming back from the 1914-18 war a changed man, given to violence. The surprise addition of a male child, Stephen, to the family serves to fuel his anger and the child is sent away to boarding school. Years later he returns, and with Europe on the brink of war again he is determined to follow in his now-deceased father's footsteps and become an officer. Equally determined not to see his life similarly destroyed by service in the army, Joyce persuades Ellie to help her in a plan to incarcerate Stephen, and brick him up in the cellar where he can neither be discovered nor be free to choose his destiny. What was intended as a relatively short term solution ultimately resulted in Stephen's imprisonment lasting for decades.

Whilst the story goes a long way to explaining Stephen's homicidal behaviour, it comes up rather short in justifying how a man weakened by such a dismal existence could so easily overpower and kill a number of fit, healthy, well-trained (and armed!) soldiers. It's also disappointing that the backstory is delivered via a lengthy speech from Ellie rather than via some more imaginative mechanism.

That said, it does hint at more than we are directly told, and more than the naïve Ellie has deduced for herself. The father's complete dislike of Stephen does strongly suggest that the boy was not his own child. Furthermore, given Joyce's rather obsessional need to protect Stephen, there is even a hint that she might be his true mother. Why, also, is she in the habit of secretly donning her father's army clothes when Ellie is out of the house?

It also has to be considered that madness was something that runs in the Ballantyne family line and was only exacerbated by the father's war experiences rather than being the original cause of it, given the actions of Joyce and Stephen.

Overall, the construction of this film, with its extended scenes of dialogue, small cast and limited variance in locations, would almost make one believe it was an adaption of a theatrical play. I'm sure it will continue to disappoint many, but there is certainly sufficient substance to commend it if one approaches it with the right mindset.

Although I've marked this review as containing spoilers, it's difficult to judge what might actually 'spoil' any first-time viewing of this film as it is primarily an artistic experience rather than a straightforward story. Nevertheless, there is a plot (of sorts), points of which I will refer to.

When I first watched The Knack, I came to it totally unprepared. Naively, I was expecting this to be a straightforward situation comedy piece and found myself left rather cold by characters I couldn't empathise with, dialogue that just didn't seem realistic, baffling and rather unfunny routines which seemed to go on interminably and a plot which seemed to lurch from one scenario to another as though someone was making it up as they went along. Without its solid cast, lovely John Barry score and myriad nostalgic views of a bygone London, I probably would have switched off through a combination of boredom and confusion. However, I stuck with it and towards the end things started to click a little as I gradually became more attuned to the film's wavelength.

Consequently, I decided to give it another try a couple of weeks later to see if it really was as bad as I'd imagined or whether having different expectations from the outset would enhance the viewing experience. I'm glad to say that I did enjoy the film a lot more the second time around.

The Knack is an allegorical story to be interpreted, rather than just followed. My own interpretation after this second viewing is that the whole piece is a metaphor for the position of sexual intercourse in society. The whole film is punctuated by comments from bystanders consisting of the older generation which are judgemental and disapproving, representing how sexual intercourse, although a vital part of life and essential for the continuation of the species, is generally taboo, deemed to be dirty and immoral by the senior cross-section of society, with more than a hint of jealousy towards the youth they themselves have lost.

Arriving into the lifestyle of big city comes young, attractive and naively innocent Nancy Jones (Rita Tushingham), the metaphor for a woman coming of age. Her unfamiliarity with how things work in the big city (eg the luggage lockers at the station) demonstrate how she's unaware of how relationships in her life work now that she's unwittingly become an object of sexual desire. And even though she's free of any notion of sexual promiscuity, the fact that she looks beautiful means that the public automatically assume she's 'up for it' and putting herself around, hence she's the target of criticisms from the older onlookers. However, women soon learn not to take men's smooth-talk at face value, witnessed by the scene in the clothes store where Nancy catches the salesman out giving the same compliments to every female customer who comes in.

Then there's the young man, and he comes in three forms. First, there's Tolen (Ray Brooks), the man who's successful at pulling the women. At the start of the film we see dozens of slim, curvy women all dressed identically, queuing up to enter his bedroom, symbolising the numbers he goes through to satisfy his desires without him ever seeing them as individual people - they're all just sex objects in his eyes. Tolen never uses his first name, nor will he reveal it, suggesting that there are aspects of his character that he had to shed or suppress in order to achieve and maintain his status as the great lover.

Then there's Colin (Michael Crawford), the man who wants sex but can't get it, and his carnal desires border on the downright lustful at times, hence he sees himself as being one of the dirty old men peering through the fence as the teenage schoolgirls play sports. He's jealous of Tolen's success with women. First of all he tries to learn from him, and the water-skiing episode shows him just trailing far behind in Tolen's wake, finding himself out of his depth. Then he tries competing against him, thinking that it's just a question of having the right equipment to attract the opposite sex, so he gets himself a bigger bed. Size envy?

And then there's Tom (Donal Donnelly), the man who's more interested in his hobby to think much about sex. His passionate hobby (in this case, painting everything white) is of no interest to anyone else, but unincumbered by sexual thoughts he's a benign presence who's a genuine friend to everyone, behaving as he does without any hidden agenda.

So, events transpire to bring Nancy together with the three men. Tom is just friendly towards her. Colin is smitten with her. Tolen sees her as just another potential conquest. He commences his method of being dominant. Colin, meanwhile, should be dominant also as he's fooling around pretending to be a lion, but he just shows how hapless he is, whereas Tolen is far more dominant in his role of 'lion tamer' and soon has Nancy under his spell.

But there's a fine line between dominance and force. When Nancy claims rape, all three men quickly shy away from her - although no one else in society, it seems, is interested in her claims, perhaps a reflection on the times that people would easily judge a girl by assuming that just because she happened to be good-looking she must have been asking for it.

There's another man in the plot, though we never see him. Rory is mentioned early on by Tolen as another man who is a hit with the girls. Tolen doesn't see him as a serious rival at that stage, but wants to be associated with him, thinking it will be to his own benefit. There are further references to Rory later in the film, suggesting he is becoming a bigger hit with the women. And by the latter stages, when Tolen's confidence and reputation are crumbling after Nancy's claims, Tolen finds the hard way that the women are now only interested in Rory and not him. He had not appreciated the transient nature of his status as the top dog in town, and the girls have now all moved on to the next big thing.

We never see Colin finally 'get his leg over', but his relationship with Nancy blossoms as she builds his confidence, allowing him to be himself rather than trying to be like Tolen. The film ends with him and Nancy walking off together to share a future that will be meaningful while, significantly, Tolen watches from the sidelines, having suddenly joined the ranks of the bitter, jealous older generation.

The film's style, which includes lots of imagery and various instances of trick effects, would have seemed far more innovative back in the mid-1960s than is the case nowadays. For instance, there's a sequence involving the characters going into and coming out of lots of different doors, an idea that's been put to use many times since in things like Scooby Doo cartoons, so in that respect it probably hasn't aged well. A lot of the comedy just isn't that funny (an example being Colin picking up a milk crate thinking it's his briefcase, whilst the unwitting milkman has picked up Colin's briefcase) and the five minutes of screentime where Rita Tushingham continually says "Rape!" in a light-hearted manner is rather uncomfortable, given that it should never be a light-hearted subject.

However, The Knack is lively and original, and has depth. It will certainly quickly alienate many viewers, but should also still have the power to win a few fans. 6 out of 10.

Having enjoyed several viewings in the past of Republic Pictures' 1949 serial 'King of the Rocket Men', I had long been intrigued by the supposed existence of a follow-up serial using the same type of 'Rocket Man' character and finally got around to seeing it.

And what a let-down it proved to be!

I was prepared to cut this production a lot of slack. Firstly, it was a story about space travel made before such a thing became a reality, so the science was expected to be somewhat off the mark. Secondly, the requirements of the chapterplay format was always going to be a handicap to the progression of the plot. Some of the old film serials still managed to work extremely well in spite of the need to cram action set-pieces and the all-important cliffhanger into each individual 15-minute segment, whereas others suffered from turgid repetition.

Radar Men From The Moon has enough of an expansive plot for it to avoid the pitfalls of such repetition and at least gives the sense throughout most of its individual chapters that plot is actually progressing. But only just.

The main storyline is a simple one, yet bold: Earth is under attack by the inhabitants of the Moon (I said I'd cut it some slack), who are preparing for a full-on invasion of our world.

Yet despite such a broad canvas, the limitations of the budget mean that this interplanetary battle is actually played out between three small groups of protagonists, each in their own private headquarters.

Firstly there is our group of heroes, a team of crack scientists headed by Commando Cody (George Wallace) whose achievements include building himself a rocket suit which allows him to fly in the air, and also the construction of a rocketship capable of travel through space.

Which is very handy, as this allows Cody and his pals to travel to the moon to investigate the cause of a series of mysterious attacks on major installations on Earth.

There Cody discovers evidence of an advanced civilisation in the form of a vast city, and on further investigation he just happens to wander into the main laboratory where the first person he meets is the ruler of the Moon, Retik (Roy Barcroft), who in perfect English reveals that the attacks from the moon's advanced ray guns have the aim of softening up man's defences prior to a planned invasion. Retik explains that because the moon's atmosphere has become so thin, his people now need a new home, and intend to make the Earth their own world. In this incredibly low-key portrayal of mankind's first ever encounter with an alien intelligence, Cody responds in rather deadpan fashion by telling Retik that he won't find the Earth so easy to conquer, and rather than seek a peaceful resolution by offering help to the endangered civilisation, he pulls a revolver on him and initiates a fight which ignites an action-packed runaround between the Moon and the Earth as he and his team seek to thwart the planned invasion.

The third group who play a major part in the proceedings is Retik's agent on Earth, Krog (Peter Brocco). Hiding in a cave which he has converted into a makeshift laboratory, Krog is assisted by two petty thugs, Graber (Clayton Moore, before his Lone Ranger fame) and Daly (Bob Stevenson). It is Graber and Daly who prove to be the biggest thorns in the side of Cody as they drive around the countryside using their alien ray cannon, or generally just turning up somewhere (including at his office) to try and put him out of action. Why two Earthmen are so hellbent on assisting an alien takeover of their own world is never addressed.

There are many of the expected set-pieces present, such as cars going over cliffs, planes going into a crash-dive, heroes seemingly trapped in a dead end inside an underground cavern as a deluge (of lava, in this case) approaches... And sadly far too many are cheaply resolved with the insertion of a previously unseen shot of the hero escaping the situation before the deadly climax.

Of the other action, again as might be expected there is the obligatory fist-fight in virtually every chapter, and a plethora of shoot-outs in which the hero Cody often shows a blatant disregard for the safety of others - for example, at one point he's shooting at a plane knowing full well that his pretty assistant Joan (Aline Towne) is held captive aboard it, and in another sequence he's shooting indiscriminately at Graber and Daly's car as it speeds along a city street full of innocent bystanders.

In fact, although he's meant to be the hero, Cody cuts a very questionable figure. His objectives often end in failure (for example, his insistence that his colleague Ted leave the vital alien ray gun behind so that they can save their own necks ultimately places the Earth in greater peril) and he's not even very chivalrous, failing on every occasion to check that Joan is okay whenever she suffers some mishap such as when she is rather brutally slugged unconscious on the rocketship by their unwilling alien passenger.

I struggled to be convinced by George Wallace in the leading role, he looks decidedly unlike a typical action hero when not dressed in the rocket suit. Though I gather he was a tough cookie in real life and suffered for his art in making this serial by performing many of his own stunts.

There's plenty throughout the serial that just lacks sense. Whether it's the moon ruler's lab or Cody's lab, the enemy can just walk right in unchallenged, and not just once but repeatedly. Graber and Daly, with a weapon in their possession capable of reducing a whole building to rubble in an instant, instead go to the ridiculous lengths of trying to kill Cody by feeding a deadly gas into the air conditioning of his laboratory. Realising the room is filling with this gas, Cody doesn't think to throw a chair or something to smash the window.

Then there's Al's Diner, a place where Cody learns that Graber and Daly sometimes hang out. Sure enough he finds them there and engages them in combat. So, knowing that they might no longer be safe to frequent the place, Graber and Daly continue to go back. And the proprietor, knowing that last time Cody turned up there his place got trashed and his customers were all scared away, calls him back and suffers the same outcome.

Oh, and I can't post this review without pointing out that this invasion of Earth also relies on the moon's Earthbound agent Krog raising necessary funds by organising a bank robbery!

Some of the special effects are very good, but the best ones are generally pieces of footage lifted from earlier productions. The rocketship looks quite unspectacular compared with the ones that populated the Flash Gordon serials many years earlier, likewise the alien laboratory lacks the kind of visual impact that the labs of Ming the Merciless or Doctor Frankenstein could boast back in the 1930s.

Yet in spite of being utterly ridiculous, Radar Men From The Moon is good solid fun in the best tradition of the old film serials. It certainly never gets dull!

Although made on a limited budget, much of what is seen on screen in Phantom From Space actually looks quite decent. It is generally well shot and although there are no big names among them, the cast generally acquit themselves very well.

Unfortunately the film is poorly served by its script. Dialogue lacks punch, characterisation is flat and one-dimensional and there's not even a hint of any sub-plots. Even these shortcomings might be excused, but for the fact that the main plot is just very thin.

Much can be made from the concept of an alien visiting Earth and certainly scores of other movies, particularly in the 1950s, make use of this idea in many entertaining ways. Yet Phantom From Space contrives to squander the opportunities for a good, exciting tale.

There's a complete lack of suspense, particularly in the first third of the film when the visitor isn't even seen, and an almost documentary style of presentation has too many key events being reported rather than actually shown, such as the visitor's arrival and his initial, somewhat violent encounter with two men.

Things improve a little when the mysterious alien becomes more involved in the on-screen action but even then there's just too little happening... He's running away (to where?) and to aid his escape, he discards his essential spacesuit because he's invisible without it on. So there's a bit of cat and mouse action as the token crew of scientists and the obligatory investigative reporter attempt to track him down, and of course it's the female member of the group who finds herself locked in a room with him - but not, it seems, in any actual danger, so again suspense is minimal.

Ultimately the creature needs to retrieve his discarded spacesuit in order to survive which begs the question as to why he discarded it in the first place rather than attempt to make peace with his pursuers. And ultimately, when he does get it back, this being from an advanced race is so scared by a camera flash that he flings his essential helmet against a wall, smashing it and thereby effectively condemning himself to death. Which is rendered even more bizarre by the fact that up until then the scientists have been remarking upon how indestructible his spacesuit is, so how come the helmet is so easily smashed into smithereens?

The film ends with very little attempt to explain any of the preceding events, ultimately leaving the viewer with the nagging question "Well, what was the point of all that?"