Bryan Forbes wrote the screenplay and directed one of the most suspenseful films of the 1960's. Myra (Kim Stanley, who received an Oscar nomination for her work) is a psychic medium living in a big dark house with her ill, out of work husband Bill (Richard Attenborough). The pair, completely out of touch with reality, are not living well on the once-weekly readings Myra gives in her sitting room. They hit upon a horrible plan, but with what they think are good intentions. They decide to kidnap a child and hold it for ransom. Then they will offer her psychic services to the grieving family, magically divine where the child and ransom are, and reap the rewards. The kidnapping goes off without too many glitches. The couple fools a businessman's daughter into thinking she is in a hospital with German measles. In reality, she is locked in their upstairs spare room, painted white for effect. Bill procures the ransom after Myra drops some tantalizing hints to the child's family that the girl is all right. Bill begins to have a change of heart but Myra has other plans.
Despite a confusing first twenty minutes, this is incredible stuff. Forbes grabs the viewer by the neck and forces them to feel both sympathy and revulsion at the kidnapping couple. Kim Stanley, a native of New Mexico, pulls off a British accent without a hitch. She is the most disturbed caregiver in movie history until Kathy Bates came along in "Misery." Bill is a milquetoast who follows Myra along like a lap dog, careful not to upset his psychologically fragile wife. Their scenes together, where they manipulate each other, are brilliant pieces of acting. Forbes turns the suspense up past the Hitchcockian degree. His scenes with the girl's mother at a seance while the child is calling out for her in the next room are priceless. His camera is always doing interesting things without disturbing the actors' work. The sound design is also good, see how long it takes before the constant ticking clock in the living room drives you mad. John Barry's musical score is great, and wisely used sparingly. The black and white photography does not age the film, but adds to the already gray characters. These are people you feel for, and hate, at the same time. Despite the title, this is not a horror film. This is a psychological thriller that no one seems to be able to make anymore in this day and age of panic rooms. No special effects here, just quiet madness lurking in the same room as where you watch this film. I will not be able to get "Seance on a Wet Afternoon" out of my head for awhile, and you should probably try to get it into yours. Definitely fantastic.
Thursday, April 23, 2026
Papa's Delicate Condition (1963)
Silent screen star Corinne Griffith's account of growing up with a hopelessly alcoholic father is given its own big screen treatment- and let the hijinks ensue!
Corrie (Linda Bruhl) is a sweet little six year old who worships her father, Jack (Jackie Gleason). Jack is a railroad supervisor in turn-of-the-century Texas, and would do anything for his young daughter, and some old Scotch. Jack drinks like a fish, giving him an excuse for flamboyant behavior and compulsive decisions. Jack's wife Ambolyn (Glynis Johns) and older daughter Augusta (Laurel Goodwin) are sticks in the mud by comparison, unable to unclench long enough to enjoy life with Jack. The first two-thirds of the film shows us that Jack's heart is as big as his liver. He conjures up a fake raffle to get a neighbor to repaint a purple house. He buys a pharmacy so the young clerk there can turn the tables on his old boss, plus Jack and his friends can have a private place to drink. The circus comes to town, and Jack buys the whole thing from two shady owners (Murray Hamilton and Elisha Cook) just so his Corrie could have a cart and pony. Ambolyn has had enough and goes home to her father Anthony (the always good Charlie Ruggles), the mayor of nearby Texarkana, where his reelection is no longer certain. Jack tries to save the day, but accidentally injures Ambolyn in the film's goofiest scene, and he decides to leave his family for good.
The film is most famous for its Academy Award-winning song "Call Me Irresponsible," but should gain its infamy from the way the song is presented in the film. The viewer is overwhelmed with the song "Won't You Come Home, Bill Bailey?," until a drunken Jack sputters "Call Me Irresponsible" while alone in the dark with his wife's headless dress dummy- and this is not a musical. Gleason's constant asides are sometimes funny, although his "how sweet it is" line gets old quick. The biggest problem here is the point of view of the story. Corinne is looking at the past through the rose colored glasses of love and youth, so Jack's "delicate condition" does not seem to be a big deal. Gleason's sober Jack and his drunk Jack are identical, except for the singing sequence, so all the "wacky" things Jack does because of his excessive drinking don't seem all that incredible. The camera is on Gleason almost all the time, and some subplots suffer. Bruhl is a delight, Johns is okay, but Goodwin is given nothing to do. Marshall's direction is especially dry, not able to find laughs in the comedy, or tragedy in the drama. Also of note is Edith Head's costume design, which is pretty good. From the cutesy title and the cast, you might expect a little more than what you get.
Even with the lowered expectations I developed after I started watching "Papa's Delicate Condition," I was left unmoved, even by the cheery ending. We'll call the film disappointing, and leave it at that.
Corrie (Linda Bruhl) is a sweet little six year old who worships her father, Jack (Jackie Gleason). Jack is a railroad supervisor in turn-of-the-century Texas, and would do anything for his young daughter, and some old Scotch. Jack drinks like a fish, giving him an excuse for flamboyant behavior and compulsive decisions. Jack's wife Ambolyn (Glynis Johns) and older daughter Augusta (Laurel Goodwin) are sticks in the mud by comparison, unable to unclench long enough to enjoy life with Jack. The first two-thirds of the film shows us that Jack's heart is as big as his liver. He conjures up a fake raffle to get a neighbor to repaint a purple house. He buys a pharmacy so the young clerk there can turn the tables on his old boss, plus Jack and his friends can have a private place to drink. The circus comes to town, and Jack buys the whole thing from two shady owners (Murray Hamilton and Elisha Cook) just so his Corrie could have a cart and pony. Ambolyn has had enough and goes home to her father Anthony (the always good Charlie Ruggles), the mayor of nearby Texarkana, where his reelection is no longer certain. Jack tries to save the day, but accidentally injures Ambolyn in the film's goofiest scene, and he decides to leave his family for good.
The film is most famous for its Academy Award-winning song "Call Me Irresponsible," but should gain its infamy from the way the song is presented in the film. The viewer is overwhelmed with the song "Won't You Come Home, Bill Bailey?," until a drunken Jack sputters "Call Me Irresponsible" while alone in the dark with his wife's headless dress dummy- and this is not a musical. Gleason's constant asides are sometimes funny, although his "how sweet it is" line gets old quick. The biggest problem here is the point of view of the story. Corinne is looking at the past through the rose colored glasses of love and youth, so Jack's "delicate condition" does not seem to be a big deal. Gleason's sober Jack and his drunk Jack are identical, except for the singing sequence, so all the "wacky" things Jack does because of his excessive drinking don't seem all that incredible. The camera is on Gleason almost all the time, and some subplots suffer. Bruhl is a delight, Johns is okay, but Goodwin is given nothing to do. Marshall's direction is especially dry, not able to find laughs in the comedy, or tragedy in the drama. Also of note is Edith Head's costume design, which is pretty good. From the cutesy title and the cast, you might expect a little more than what you get.
Even with the lowered expectations I developed after I started watching "Papa's Delicate Condition," I was left unmoved, even by the cheery ending. We'll call the film disappointing, and leave it at that.
Scanners (1981)
"The exploding head scene! You gotta see the exploding head scene!"
I have been hearing that for years, and finally took this little piece of gore out to see the exploding head scene so I could get on with my life. Except for the exploding head scene, this film is pretty mediocre. An evil corporation (are all corporations in sci-fi films evil?) sends a good Scanner to kill a bad Scanner. Scanners are people who have a vague telekinetic power they achieved after their pregnant mothers took a drug released by the evil corporation. There are good Scanners, who gather in little apartments in a circle. They seem to be waiting for marijuana brownies and a poetry reading. The bad Scanners pack heat, and the ability to make people's heads explode. The main good Scanner Cameron (Stephen Lack) and bad Scanner Darryl (Michael Ironside) meet in the end in a silly finale.
Aside from the exploding head scene, this was rather a disappointment. The leading man Lack is awful. His entire emotional gamut seems to be blank stares and whiny line deliveries. His lines with the over-the-top Ironside are so flat I thought Ironside might be fall asleep. Patrick McGoohan, as the evil corporation's pawn Dr. Paul Ruth, slumps in his seat in all his scenes and delivers his lines like he has a mouthful of marbles. Jennifer O'Neill, at the beginning of the end of her career, is simply window dressing to the leading man, running around and ducking for cover. The best actor here is the always underrated Ironside. He relishes his role as the evil Scanner, and the movie only lights up when he is onscreen. Whenever someone "scans," the actor looks intently at the subject and moves his head a little from side to side, bugging his eyes out slightly and sweating a lot. I did the same thing watching this film. Cronenberg has a good reputation, but I found "Scanners" to be a letdown. He let all his earlier success go to his exploding head. Thank goodness Ironside is here to make it half-mediocre.
I have been hearing that for years, and finally took this little piece of gore out to see the exploding head scene so I could get on with my life. Except for the exploding head scene, this film is pretty mediocre. An evil corporation (are all corporations in sci-fi films evil?) sends a good Scanner to kill a bad Scanner. Scanners are people who have a vague telekinetic power they achieved after their pregnant mothers took a drug released by the evil corporation. There are good Scanners, who gather in little apartments in a circle. They seem to be waiting for marijuana brownies and a poetry reading. The bad Scanners pack heat, and the ability to make people's heads explode. The main good Scanner Cameron (Stephen Lack) and bad Scanner Darryl (Michael Ironside) meet in the end in a silly finale.
Aside from the exploding head scene, this was rather a disappointment. The leading man Lack is awful. His entire emotional gamut seems to be blank stares and whiny line deliveries. His lines with the over-the-top Ironside are so flat I thought Ironside might be fall asleep. Patrick McGoohan, as the evil corporation's pawn Dr. Paul Ruth, slumps in his seat in all his scenes and delivers his lines like he has a mouthful of marbles. Jennifer O'Neill, at the beginning of the end of her career, is simply window dressing to the leading man, running around and ducking for cover. The best actor here is the always underrated Ironside. He relishes his role as the evil Scanner, and the movie only lights up when he is onscreen. Whenever someone "scans," the actor looks intently at the subject and moves his head a little from side to side, bugging his eyes out slightly and sweating a lot. I did the same thing watching this film. Cronenberg has a good reputation, but I found "Scanners" to be a letdown. He let all his earlier success go to his exploding head. Thank goodness Ironside is here to make it half-mediocre.
Scanners II: The New Order (1991)
The dynamic duo from the first film apparently got together and had children. Those children have grown up to become super Scanners in this unnecessary follow-up. This time, the evil corporation has been replaced by an evil civil servant moonlighting at an evil corporation. A young man meets with him, solves a lovely subplot crime involving poisoned children's milk, finds out his new boss is not nice, and turns against him. The evil civil servant wants to start a "new order," where there would be no crime because the Scanners would run everything. The evil corporation does have a bunch of Scanners in their basement, hopelessly addicted to a new version of what turned them into Scanners in the first place.
This film has the adult children of the original's scanner couple, although the films were only ten years apart. David Cronenberg had nothing to do with the series of sequels his film spawned. Deborah Raffin, second billed, does not show up until an hour and ten minutes into this, her character is explained in such a way that it must have been written in on set. We are treated to more violence, more gore, more good Scanners, and more bad Scanners. Obviously, the good Scanners win in the end, and yet this was followed by a few more sequels. "Scanners II: The New Order" is just a retread of the first film, which was no classic to begin with, and I felt the same way here as I did with the original: meh.
This film has the adult children of the original's scanner couple, although the films were only ten years apart. David Cronenberg had nothing to do with the series of sequels his film spawned. Deborah Raffin, second billed, does not show up until an hour and ten minutes into this, her character is explained in such a way that it must have been written in on set. We are treated to more violence, more gore, more good Scanners, and more bad Scanners. Obviously, the good Scanners win in the end, and yet this was followed by a few more sequels. "Scanners II: The New Order" is just a retread of the first film, which was no classic to begin with, and I felt the same way here as I did with the original: meh.
Scanners III: The Takeover (1991)
Filled to the gullet with trepidation, I watched the third in the Canadian series about telekinetics and exploding heads. The film makers this time try something new. A brother and sister team of Scanners, but not the siblings from the second film, live a life of luxury. Their daddy is a scientist still trying to get that latest Scanner drug right. The brother accidentally kills his best friend at a party by scanning him right out an open balcony door, and he leaves for a Buddhist monastery in Thailand (as all scanners are wont to do). Sis back home starts taking daddy's very experimental drug, and suddenly turns evil. She gets nekkid in a hot tub and Scans daddy to death, taking over his position and starting, everybody now, "AN EVIL CORPORATION." What is with this series and capitalism? Anyway, bro comes back, he and sis argue all Scanner-like, and good triumphs over evil...again.
Surprisingly, the basic plot was not too bad. However, the whole evil corporation shtick is getting really old. Also unexplained is why the sister has a Polish accent, and the brother has a Canadian accent. Once again, there are lots of stunt people getting jerk roped through walls and windows and doors, and lots of blood and gore as heads and bodies explode. The love interest for the brother here is one of those smart and beautiful research scientists at the evil corporation whose character is completely naive as to the sister's goings-on. The Scanners in this film do not just stare googly-eyed at their prey, they whip their heads at them like a groupie at a B-52's reunion concert. I guess Scanners do not get dizzy. The Scanners series is like an exploding head: painful to watch but you cannot look away. "Scanners III: The Takeover" is underwhelming.
Surprisingly, the basic plot was not too bad. However, the whole evil corporation shtick is getting really old. Also unexplained is why the sister has a Polish accent, and the brother has a Canadian accent. Once again, there are lots of stunt people getting jerk roped through walls and windows and doors, and lots of blood and gore as heads and bodies explode. The love interest for the brother here is one of those smart and beautiful research scientists at the evil corporation whose character is completely naive as to the sister's goings-on. The Scanners in this film do not just stare googly-eyed at their prey, they whip their heads at them like a groupie at a B-52's reunion concert. I guess Scanners do not get dizzy. The Scanners series is like an exploding head: painful to watch but you cannot look away. "Scanners III: The Takeover" is underwhelming.
Rush Week (1989)
Dude! Somebody's, like, killing nubile young co-eds and the only one who can solve the murders is a cutie-pie spunky young college newspaper reporter! Dude! "Rush Week" is yet another in a long line of uninspired slasher films. A young transfer student must write a fluff piece about rush week. She falls for the president of a wild fraternity, who also happens to be our main suspect in the murders. Young women are being hacked open with a giant axe just after posing nude for photographs taken by the cafeteria cook. The women are disappearing all over, and of course the final frat party has a Halloween theme, just to throw in more red herrings than you can shake a severed head at. The party scenes feature so many poor local bands trying to make the most of their big cinematic break, I wanted to hunt down the party committee chair and off him with an axe. The way too long finale takes place in "the science building," apparently fictional colleges do not name their buildings after former university presidents, and the real killer is revealed.
The film piles on so much evidence that the frat president is the killer, you can pretty much guarantee he is not. He takes long midnight walks alone, has vicious mood swings, and goes to rescue spunky reporter in the finale wearing the exact same hood and robes as the killer. Is the killer the cafeteria cook? No, he just takes the nude pictures, he does not seem the killer type. Is the killer the biology gofer named Mort who skulks around the university's only cadaver? No, this minor suspect disappears half way through the film. Is the killer the spunky reporter's advisor, Gregg Allman? No, he has two scenes that last slightly longer than his marriage to Cher, and he proves he should not quit the classic rock county fair tour to start doing Shakespeare. Is the killer the dumb-named Dean of Students Grail? I was hoping his murdered daughter's name was Holly Grail, but no such luck. He is the only adult who is preoccupied with all the sin going on during rush week...hmmm... The final nail in the coffin, as it were, is that we never see the nude models killed. Sure, the maniac comes in and swings an axe, but no blood and no bodies! The whereabouts of the bodies is never discussed and the crime scene has just three drops of blood. The only murders onscreen occur in the finale, and now we find out where the special effects budget went. In desperation on the film makers' part, the killer even jumps up to attack again after everyone figures they are dead. Like most Hollywood films set on campus, no one ever goes to class, they just party. "Rush Week" is no rush, and very weak. I do not recommend it.
The film piles on so much evidence that the frat president is the killer, you can pretty much guarantee he is not. He takes long midnight walks alone, has vicious mood swings, and goes to rescue spunky reporter in the finale wearing the exact same hood and robes as the killer. Is the killer the cafeteria cook? No, he just takes the nude pictures, he does not seem the killer type. Is the killer the biology gofer named Mort who skulks around the university's only cadaver? No, this minor suspect disappears half way through the film. Is the killer the spunky reporter's advisor, Gregg Allman? No, he has two scenes that last slightly longer than his marriage to Cher, and he proves he should not quit the classic rock county fair tour to start doing Shakespeare. Is the killer the dumb-named Dean of Students Grail? I was hoping his murdered daughter's name was Holly Grail, but no such luck. He is the only adult who is preoccupied with all the sin going on during rush week...hmmm... The final nail in the coffin, as it were, is that we never see the nude models killed. Sure, the maniac comes in and swings an axe, but no blood and no bodies! The whereabouts of the bodies is never discussed and the crime scene has just three drops of blood. The only murders onscreen occur in the finale, and now we find out where the special effects budget went. In desperation on the film makers' part, the killer even jumps up to attack again after everyone figures they are dead. Like most Hollywood films set on campus, no one ever goes to class, they just party. "Rush Week" is no rush, and very weak. I do not recommend it.
The Runestone (1991)
The Vikings discovered America, but not to start a mediocre NFL team, no, they had to bury a giant rock half a mile under modern day Pennsylvania. The rock held a Norse demon who can only be released when the stone is dug up- and guess what archaeologist Martin (Mitchell Laurance) does? Martin calls his former love Marla (Joan Severance), who brings her new hubby Sam (Tim Ryan), and everyone has a gander at the giant runestone, which resembles a big candy bar with strange etchings in it. Before you can say "uff-da," Martin is possessed by the creature and begins to run around New York City virtually unnoticed. Marla seems to be the prey, but maybe the creature is just trying to get some of Stella Adler's basic acting guides delivered to her. Cue a gaggle of unnecessary characters. William Hickey is crazy old Lars (what a stretch) who knows all. His grandnephew, mopey teen Jacob (Chris Young), finds out later he is integral to the killing of the demon, thanks to legend, folklore, myth, hearsay, and other convenient exposition. Peter Riegert is the Pez popping, cussing detective Fanducci who keeps shooting the indestructible creature but cannot seem to convince boss Chief Richardson (Lawrence Tierney) that something is killing policemen by the claw full. Sigvaldson (Alexander Godunov, who was so good in "Die Hard," "Witness," and "The Money Pit") is brought in way too late to help matters. His entire role until eighty minutes into the film consists of standing in a room full of clocks and and uttering nary more than two words. Once Godunov gets going on the demon, he proves he should have been a major action star who never seemed to find that breakout role. Eventually, David Newman's excellent, bombastic, and all-wrong score indicates the big finale, complete with collapsing skyscraper floors and dimension travel.
Most of the violence takes place off screen, but this seems to be a budgetary decision more than anything. The gore is there, but nothing special. The creature effects are especially weak, all claws and fur, but with a most unconvincing mask. One shot shows the masked actor's eyes a little too clearly. "The Runestone" is a noble failure that should have worked on more levels than it does.
Most of the violence takes place off screen, but this seems to be a budgetary decision more than anything. The gore is there, but nothing special. The creature effects are especially weak, all claws and fur, but with a most unconvincing mask. One shot shows the masked actor's eyes a little too clearly. "The Runestone" is a noble failure that should have worked on more levels than it does.
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