Archive for Rod Taylor

“Don’t tell him, Pike!”

Posted in FILM, literature with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 4, 2016 by dcairns

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36 HOURS (1964) has a really neat thriller premise, derived from Roald Dahl: James Garner has the details of the D-Day landings in his head, and German psychologist Rod Taylor wants to make him spill. He kidnaps Garner and tries to convince him that traumatic amnesia has caused him to lose all recall of the last six years — it’s really 1950 and the war is over, and to help him recover his memory, he ought to tell the good doctor everything he can remember…

Since Garner’s character is called Jefferson Pike, this whole film is basically “Don’t tell him, Pike!”

The Dad’s Army similarity is reinforced by a bit of ill-advised comedy relief at the end involving the German Home Guard and featuring, among others, an aged, aged Sig Rumann.

The other televisual connection is with The Prisoner. Here’s Jim Garner waking up in a  new environment ~

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And here’s Patrick McGoohan doing the same. ~

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To clinch the resemblance, recall that McGoohan was put through a similar scheme, being tricked into thinking he’d escaped from The Village, in the episode entitled The Chimes of Big Ben.

36 HOURS would be pretty good too, a Phildickian conspiracy thriller, except it turns into a run-of-the-mill escape drama at the end — too bad, they got ninety minutes out of their Unique Selling Point High-Concept, then abandoned it. Garner and Taylor make great sparring partners, and the movie even manages to make its villain sympathetic by giving him a nasty, stupid S.S. officer opponent. Werner Peters plays this part nicely, his purring delivery at times recalling the considerably suaver Anton Walbrook. And he has a cute way of ending a conversation with a mumbled, “H’l’ittler.”

Eva Marie Saint, obviously, is good too, though it seems sadly typical of MGM to cast, as a concentration camp survivor, the least Jewish actor they could find.

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I liked the detail of this newspaper — the Germans have to invent an alternate future, based on the information available in 1944, to convince Garner that it’s 1950. Roosevelt’s vice-president, Henry Wallace, was generally expected to succeed him, and Harry Truman was a nonentity in 1944. Werner Peter’s sickly reactions to Taylor’s recounting of the war’s end is wickedly funny.

I wonder how the original story ends? Dahl was rather good at endings.

One thing about George Seaton’s script and direction — he makes a lot of play of windows, and this pays off nicely at the end, when of course romance must blossom…

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Mutant Testimony

Posted in FILM, Science, Television with tags , , , on May 26, 2015 by dcairns

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Sort of a follow-up to the sci-fi themed blogathon action.

We really enjoyed RETURN OF THE FLY (which has the same initials as Rolling On The Floor) some time back, particularly the moment when a telepod accident with a rodent produces a kind of Frankenstein hamster. There was seemingly something in the water at Twentieth Century Fox in the fifties, so that their science fiction output was more demented than most — check out THE ALLIGATOR PEOPLE sometime.

The first FLY sequel was directed by one Edward Bernds, whose career fluctuated from goofball space movies (QUEEN OF OUTER SPACE) to Three Stooges comedies, and we resolved to check out more of his marvels sometime. The chance came with WORLD WITHOUT END, a fairly poor film which is not without interest. Sadly, the most ridiculous thing in it is a giant killer bug which springs out at the heroes suspiciously as if drop-kicked into shot by a stagehand. Much of the rest is dull, but the film anticipates other, better movies, in a variety of ways.

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Our heroes are astronauts whose Martian mission is blown wildly off-course — they find themselves accelerating out of control, eventually coming to rest on a wild planet inhabited by scary goofy mutants. When this planet turns out to be Earth in the future after an atomic war, the parallel with PLANET OF THE APES is complete. All that’s missing are the apes.

Instead, the movie posits a humane race divided intwo two breeds — the fey wastrels moping about underground in a science-bunker, and the rampaging uglies on the surface. Thus the movie has inverted the Eloi/Morlocks dichotomy from HG Wells’ The Time Machine. And, delightfully, one of the astronauts is played by Rod Taylor, who would go on to star in George Pal’s lovely adaptation of the Wells novel. He’s pretty good here too, giving the whole thing more conviction and dynamism than it deserves, and almost more than the flimsy set walls can contain just because it would kill him not to.

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Bernds’ self-penned script is otherwise pretty dopey — the heroes remark regularly on the strange fact that the listless subterranean dweebs are blessed with curiously dynamic womenfolk, but no explanation for this is ever offered. And, despite having more vim than the men, the women have not taken over, as they often seem to in dystopian fantasies — they are content to be led by a council of crapulent pantywaists.

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I kind of wish I’d seen this movie as a little kid, because I would have been quite impressed with its minor virtues and overlooked its glaring flaws. But on the other hand, I’m definitely glad I had my mind blown by PLANET OF THE APES and THE TIME MACHINE first.

The other seminal sci-fi movies of my youth, mostly seen in BBC2 seasons, were FORBIDDEN PLANET, THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING MAN (the ending!), THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL, THEM! (the beginning!), and I guess WESTWORLD and SILENT RUNNING. I was less taken with WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE and so-so on THIS ISLAND EARTH. THE ANDROMEDA STRAIN seemed cold and slow. Movies that would surely have entered my DNA, but which I didn’t see until I was a bit older, were things like THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON, THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD, INVADERS FROM MARS (one of the only two copies of Famous Monsters of Filmland I ever owned cautioned that this movie was one of the very few it would NOT recommend for small children, which of course made me very keen to see it) and IT CAME FROM OUTER SPACE.

One summer holiday I was playing in the garden when my Dad told me there was something coming on TV I might like, something he’d enjoyed as a boy — the original FLASH GORDON movie serial. Watching it again, he was kind of shocked by its hoakiness, I think, but I was awestruck.

I was devoted to Dr Who, hiding behind the sofa or outside the door when the scary title music played (Delia Derbyshire’s weird sounds), and Star Trek was sometimes scary but always colourful, even on a b&w TV, it seemed.

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Big screen experiences of sci-fi were not so successful for me, until STAR WARS. I was lucky to see the original KING KONG projected, which was a seminal moment, but LOGAN’S RUN freaked me out (I was too young to be seeing it, surely — not sure how that happened) and I have vague memories of a science fictional submarine movie that bored the life out of the whole family. STAR WARS which I was simultaneously obsessed by and a little disappointed in, having built it up in my head first, was followed by CLOSE ENCOUNTERS and a re-release of 2001, both of which were a lot less child-friendly but probably did a lot to advance my cinematic thinking, even if I wasn’t ready for where they were leading me yet.

Hot Rod

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , on January 15, 2015 by dcairns

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My friend Randy spoke in awe of the moment in the not-too-distinguished LONG JOHN SILVER where a young Rod Taylor gets a big scene in front of Robert Newton, playing the titular peg-leg, and blasts away at his dialogue with such fervor that you can kind of see Newton take a step back, eyes rolling more swiftly than usual, as if thinking, “Hang on, I may have a competitor here…”

Israel Hands from David Cairns on Vimeo.

It’s a performance big as all outdoors, and his director isn’t helping him focus or control it (Newton has been left to run riot also) but the sheer muscle is impressive. Control would come later.

Randy encouraged me to think of Mr. Taylor as not just a stalwart leading man in THE BIRDS and THE TIME MACHINE, but as an explosively inventive performer comparable in some ways to a Barrymore or a Brando — and Taylor is NEVER mentioned in such company. I try to give him a small measure of the appreciation he deserves in this fortnight’s edition of The Forgotten, which will be published shortly. Watch this space for the link.

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