Archive for Atlantis: The Lost Continent

“Even your words smell of fish.”

Posted in Fashion, FILM, literature, Mythology, Theatre with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 8, 2018 by dcairns

The guy on the left. His face.

Inexplicably, George Pal followed THE TIME MACHINE with ATLANTIS: THE LOST CONTINENT. He had several of the same crew (composer, make-up effects artist), but he didn’t have Rod Taylor or anyone like him and, crucially, he didn’t have an HG Wells source novel. Instead he had unknowns Sal Ponti (credited as Anthony Hall for some reason), a former songwriter who penned hits for Fabian, and Joyce Taylor (no relation to Rod), a Howard Hughes discovery. Neither is terrible, but neither is Rod Taylor. And instead of a Wells book he had an unproduced musical play by Gerald Hargreaves, demusicalized and opened out by Daniel Mainwaring — who worked on OUT OF THE PAST and INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS, but who doesn’t seem at home in the ancient world.

George Pal, Japanese cinema enthusiast? Having borrowed from RASHOMON in THE TIME MACHINE, he seems to have taken a liking to UGETSU MONOGATARI for this misty boat ride.

Here’s a really good, exhaustive report on Atlantis in popular culture, including the only plot synopsis of Hargreaves’ play ever written, seemingly. Hargreaves was keen on having his play filmed — he published the playscript, along with suggestions for a film treatment, and sued the makers of HELEN OF TROY for infringing on his creation — apparently he thought he was Homer. He did manage to get a copy to Cecil B. DeMille, who fobbed it off on Pal, who was sucker enough to go for it.

It’s unfair to blame Hargreaves for not being HG Wells — not that much of Atalanta: A Story of Antlantis made it to the screen anyway, just the idea of a shipwrecked princess and a fisherman. You might argue that they needn’t have credited the play at all, but then Hargreaves would definitely have sued. (It’s amusing to note that the play was dedicated to Winston Churchill, later played by THE TIME MACHINE’s star.) Mainwaring’s talent seems to have deserted him utterly — maybe he was simply miscast as writer of an ancient world science fiction sword and sandal movie. His dialogue is stilted and “epic” in all the worst ways. Apparently a writer’s strike prevented the turd script from being polished.

Even his words smell of fish.

 

So: shipwrecked princess, which is just backstory in the play. Rescued by fisherman. Persuades him to sail her home (no explanation of how she got cast adrift in the first place.)

The best bit: a smoochy love scene upstaged by a mini-Nautilus in the background. The midget sub shadows them for AGES, in utter silence, as they bill and coo and exposit, unacknowledged for so long that I started to wonder if I was seeing things, or if they accidentally used the wrong process plate. So I have to admire them for that.

 

Atlantis!

What got the film made, seemingly, was not the success of THE TIME MACHINE but that of the Steve Reeves HERCULES, which is why the movie features (rather brutal) gladiatorial combat and other sword-and-sandal tropes, and almost none of Hargreaves play (certainly none of its songs). There wouldn’t have been room, once Pal had added all his bonkers scienti-fiction stuff. OK, so there’s a lot of recycled props and costumes and sets and stock footage, but I do think the miniatures of Atlantis are really nice.

This guy, with his runny body paint, not so much.

A healthy, or unhealthy, chunk of Wells has been imported, since the Atlanteans have a “House of Fear” much like Dr. Moreau’s House of Pain, only it works in reverse — they turn humans into animals. “Why do they do that?” asked Fiona, since nobody in the film explains it. “Wouldn’t you, if you could?” “No.” And that’s how I know I married the right woman.

 

Champion sneerer Berry Kroeger is in charge of the animalification process, and taunts Anthony/Sal cruelly, threatening to turn him into various lower mammals, including a buffalo. I really longed for Sal’s character, a Greek fisherman, to say, “I don’t know what that is,” but no such luck. Pal & Mainwaring’s nonsensical reverse-genetic-engineering did remind me of PINOCCHIO and the unfortunate Lampwick, and I think I’ve belatedly figured out why there are so many Disney actors in THE TIME MACHINE — Pal, naturally, wanted to be Disney. He was an animator, why not? It’s a shame, because what George Pal was, was a really good George Pal, but not such a good Disney.

A Pal ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU, with manimals by William Tuttle, could have been quite a thing. Get another good actor, or two, or more — Rod Taylor, Tony Randall, and I’d call that a good night out. Use stop-motion for the goat legs and stuff…

Note the Krell laboratories gear, swiped from FORBIDDEN PLANET, behind the guy’s comedy hat.

Also sneering at poor Sal are John Dall from ROPE, as the Caligula-type debauched usurper, and heroine/snooty princess Joyce Taylor, who gets the most terrible line of all, which I have titled this post with.

Volcanoes! Earthquakes! Lasers! The movie expires in a welter of stock shots and unusually large water droplets.

I always get some kind of pleasure out of Pal’s stuff. I’ve written about DR LAO and THE POWER. I want to revisit DOC SAVAGE, which upset me as a kid(animated snakes killing a man is NOT a cause for comical music, damnit!) and WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE, which bored me. But clearly, WAR OF THE WORLDS needs to be in there too.

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Tomorrowsday #7: England’s Dreaming

Posted in Fashion, FILM, literature, MUSIC, Politics, Science with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 7, 2018 by dcairns

For my previous piece on THE TIME MACHINE, see here. The comments are particularly good.

Newer thoughts based on yesterday’s viewing ~

A very Twilight Zone opening with clocks floating about in limbo, ticking at us. Which came first?

A sundial, various clocks, and then the sun rising on the main title itself — the sun, our primary temporal device, the great diurnal timekeeper — and weather changing behind the main titles. There’s a kind of simple poetry to it.

Then, with a Scottish air on the soundtrack to accompany Alan Young’s mild-mannered Filby (not a very Scottish name – Young lived in Edinburgh as a toddler and seems to have made his character Scottish as an act of sheer bravura), we join an unusual gathering. Scrooge McDuck, Gavin Elster, Bagheera and Dr. Teenage Frankenstein are impatiently awaiting the arrival of the Time Traveler, Pongo AKA Mitch Brenner AKA Boysie Oakes AKA Travis McGee AKA Daddy-O AKA WInston Churchill.

Come to think of it, Doris Lloyd, who plays the housekeeper, Mrs Watchett (absurdly on-the-nose name!) voiced a rose in the cartoon ALICE IN WONDERLAND, making this a very Disney gathering. Tom Helmore seems to be the only one without a credit for voice work, but then, you wouldn’t want to let criminal mastermind Gavin Elster loose in a world of cartoon physics and logic, would you. The risk of him getting a time machine is bad enough!

The warm relationship between Young and Taylor’s characters isn’t really there in the book. You don’t miss it — Wells has other fish to fry — but it seems of central importance to the movie, put over by Young’s sentimental Dickensian eunuchoid characterisation and Taylor’s soulfulness, which he didn’t really get to reveal elsewhere. Their relationship seems much more important than the love interest with Weena. It IS the love interest.

I love everything about this film — you’ll get no snarky comments from me on this one. The opening expository stuff is masterful: Fiona points out that Taylor’s he-man qualities in no way stop him convincing as a brilliant scientist, since the intensity and passion — and love — he applies to his onscreen work is so convincing. In other words, he uses leading man qualities of strength and romantic interest to be a scientist.

The design of the machine, first seen as a miniature, is exemplary, never bettered, though the gizmo in TIME AFTER TIME is graceful enough. Frankly, this is a design classic and the next time someone’s foolish enough to try to remake this they should just dust off the original chrono-jalopy. Samantha Mumba may also be available.

And I cannot fault the enchanting time travel, with Taylor transported into a timelapse and Puppetoon wonderland as he fast-forwards through the decades. One of screenwriter David Duncan’s most pleasing updates to Wells is to have the Traveler stop off in recent history, distressed by the world wars he encounters. The near future bit — set in the sixties — may be unsatisfactory from a production values standpoint, and Young struggles to play his own son as an old man in a silver jumpsuit with the dignity such a role obviously demands — but the idea behind it is so excellent and the pacing so breakneck it hardly matters.

(It’s hard to work out how Duncan could have written this — even with the terrific source material to go on — and also THE MONSTER THAT CHALLENGED THE WORLD, THE LEECH WOMAN and even FANTASTIC VOYAGE. But he was also a magazine sci-fi writer and I’m curious what his fiction was like.)

Then Taylor meets the Eloi, or millennials as we call them, with their VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED hair, and a whole new story begins — the pacifist terms of the opening scenes are reversed as Taylor has to teach man’s descendants how to fight. At one point, Taylor’s VO refers to the Eloi as “little” but they don’t seem notably jockeyish here. In the book, Weena is four feet tall.

The idea that the air raid siren of the twentieth century has become a siren call, luring the Eloi to their doom, preying on some distant race memory that says, when the siren sounds, you have to go underground — outstanding, sir, outstanding! “It is all clear.”

I notice I’ve been calling the character George by the actor’s name, Taylor, perhaps because I’m a little uncomfortable with the Time Traveler actually being HG Wells. I think it’s OK that the film hints at his identity but doesn’t nail it down. TIME AFTER TIME is a lovely, silly film, and the silliest thing is that it makes Wells its hero — but it gets lots of good mileage out of this goofy idea. Of course, Taylor is the name of another time-traveler, the hero of PLANET OF THE APES, whose parallels with this one suddenly strike me as enormous.

“There’s no future,” says time-bimbo Weena, anticipating John Lydon by seventeen years — or following him by thousands. I wonder if, rather than befriending the cattle of the future and fighting the farmers, Taylor should instead have tried reasoning with the Morlocks — eating people is wrong! But the Morlocks, despite their engineering abilities, seem pretty degraded too, as if, having reached a certain level of civilisation, have let their minds go to rot, mechanically maintaining a way of life they no longer understand.

This being an American production, the Eloi are cast with US actors, a hilarious bit of inadvertent satire. The Brits of the future have devolved into Yanks. Of course, one still thinks of the Morlocks as essentially Cockney. But it’s easy to forget we’re still in London — this post-Atomic yet prelapsarian pastoral, with the weather seemingly permanently balmy, presumably due to nuclear climate change of some kind, feels quite Californian. I’ve just read, in various sources, that John Wyndham in The Chrysalids and Leigh Brackett in The Long Tomorrow simultaneously invented the post-apocalyptic bucolic scenario in 1955, but here Wells has beaten them to it.

The talking rings are marvelous, with their posh BBC voices (the inevitable Paul Frees). Exposition is something a lot of writers fear, but it doesn’t have to be NOT entertaining.

“The rings have told us that story.”

“But you didn’t LISTEN. You didn’t LEARN anything!”

That’s just GREAT. There must be other good writing by David Duncan out there.

What do the Morlock machines DO? They don’t seem to relate to the provision of giant berries for the Eloi, which seems to be the main Morlock activity other than eating. I am forced to consider the possibility that they are tanning Eloi hides to make the Morlock’s leather nappies. A grim fate — picture Yvette Mimieux’s mortal remains, stretched around the loins of a slouching troglodyte. Not nice.

Fiona points out that the defleshed Eloi skeletons are mostly intact, like the Morlocks don’t tear them apart, they just pick them clean where they lie.

  

The Morlocks — based around Makeup man William Tuttle’s one design idea — aren’t pretty, or exactly convincing (you can see the fabric of their fake skin), but they’re unpleasant, alright. One dribbles blood onto his moobs, and there’s the very memorable time-lapse decomposition guy. A shame we never get to see him REcompose, but Taylor does, and he can’t take his eyes off it.

Russell Garcia’s music is very nice — who is he? I see he did ATLANTIS: THE LOST CONTINENT, but not much else in the movies. He seems to be paraphrasing Once I Had a Secret Love. Well, why not? There’s almost constant music in this movie, and it’s never annoying or inappropriate. This is kind of an opera. (I would totally watch a Time Machine opera.)

THE TIME MACHINE brought BBC1’s science fiction season to an end, and it was no anti-climax. Seven-year-old me couldn’t understand the stuff at the end about dragging the machine from across the lawn in 1895 to get it out of the sphinx in the year 802, 701 — I THOUGHT I’d understood the explanation of time and space at the beginning, but this was beyond me. I think my big brother patiently tried to explain it. Eight-year-old Fiona, a little ways off in Dundee, watching the same screening, processed it easily.

“Which three books would you have taken?” I LOVE this Desert Island Discs conclusion. And it’s entirely the invention of the movie. Wells gives his chrononaut a knapsack and a small camera.

With the Eloi as your starting point, what works of fact or fiction would be best suited to creating a new civilisation? I want your suggestions below.