Midnight Movie of the Week #127 - Something Wicked This Way Comes

I'm not gonna be that guy who comes on the internet the day after a celebrity dies and says he's their biggest fan. In the case of Ray Bradbury, I'd be insulting all the people out there who actually READ.  But I do intend to pay tribute to a wonderful author - one who changed my view of science fiction when I read Fahrenheit 451, and one whose name I couldn't help finding on plenty of movies and TV shows that shook my genre-lovin' mind.  Outside of Fahrenheit 451, a younger Mike occasionally got Bradbury confused with Richard Matheson - an honest mistake, I assure you - but it was an adaptation of one of his novels, Something Wicked This Way Comes, that cemented why I love the stories of Mr. Bradbury.

My generation may have lost some of the Bradbury's themes in the works of Stephen King - The Dead Zone refers to it directly and Needful Things is almost a remake of the thing - but we should do our best to look more carefully at this 1983 film.  Directed by veteran filmmaker Jack Clayton - who made the jaw-dropping horror thriller The Innocents 22 years earlier - the Disney produced film is exceedingly macabre for the family-friendly studio's tastes.  Bradbury's story, originally published in 1962, didn't require the blood, babes, and beasts that were common in early '80s horror films - though there is a wickedly implied decapitation - but still packs a lot of dark intrigue.

The story revolves around the fictitious Green Town - setting of several of Bradbury's works - and a mysterious carnival - Dark's Pandemonium - that rolls in to town deep into October.  Jim Nightshade and Will Halloway, two young adventurers who seem to stick their noses in all of the town's business,  find the timing very peculiar and begin snooping - which confirms dangers beyond the fears of their imagination.  But it's Will's father - a man who feels much too old to keep up with his young son - that is the character who has the most fear to deal with.

Charles Halloway - played to perfection by Jason Robards, Jr. - is a good man. It's just that he's a man that is afraid of death.  Robards was over 60 at the time of filming, and his performance seems to very naturally represent a man who is struggling to deal with what is left in his life.   Early scenes in the film make it evident that he can sense that something isn't right about this carnival, but the physical strain of having to deal with this and the sinister implications of what he must face slow his desire to face this evil.  He's kind of like me when I realize I need food to survive, but have to pay for and or cook it....it's a real buzzkill to have to put effort in to it, I'd rather just ignore it.

Charles soon comes face to face with the man behind the dark (no pun intended) magic - a sneering and well bearded Jonathan Pryce (Bradbury tried to convince the studio to get Peter O'Toole or Christopher Lee, the studio stood firm on "Hey, let's save money.") - and a battle between good and evil (or perhaps between eternity and frailty) follows.  The film hits its highest point when Pryce's Mr. Dark calls out all of Halloway's fears and threatens to literally rip years from the aging librarian's life, a showdown in the dark halls of the town library that is very tense and even a bit heartbreaking.  The film also gets some good mileage out of a mostly silent Pam Grier as Dark's seductive cohort, though some special effects that haven't aged well halt her effectiveness at times - especially compared to the grandstanding of Pryce and his wonderful hat.

As the adaptation of Bradbury's tale of seasonal madness rolls through its final scenes, there are more than a few hiccups.  I hate that I haven't read the book before now - I've seen the movie a dozen times, there's really no excuse except that I'm lazy - and I know the author wasn't entirely pleased with the movie in its final format. (The author did say in later interviews that it was one of the "better" adaptations of his work.)  But through all the minor problems, the merging of human and supernatural horrors and the all-encompassing ability to produce dread shine through. Those aspects of the film seem to come directly from the author, hearkening back to his willingness to let characters confront inner fears in Fahrenheit 451 or his mastery of the balance between life and death in The Creatures That Time Forgot. 

This movie certainly can't replace the powerful prose of Fahrenheit 451 - which has to be one of my favorite stories out there - and I'm sure there's more to be found in the novel.  But when the topic is Bradbury on film, I'm generally going to lean toward Something Wicked This Way Comes.  I can see the work of a great mind behind it, and that mind inspires me to be look for better horror and sci-fi tales on a daily basis.  The man may be gone, but I'm going to be grateful to have his works for a long time to come.

Midnight Movie of the Week #55 - The Illustrated Man

Before we officially name The Illustrated Man as this week's Midnight Movie of the Week, I have to give one disclaimer.  There's a lot more naked Rod Steiger in this movie than most movies I would recommend to you all.  In fact, the amount of naked Rod Steiger in this movie can be quite uncomfortable at times.  Like, really, ridiculously uncomfortable. And then there's this weird looking guy, Robert Drivas, who co-stars and is naked when the film begins too...which is also uncomfortable.  But hey, naked dudes happen.  We all had gym class growing up, we know it.  We just have to move on.

So, now that that's out of the way, let's talk about the 1969 adaptation of Ray Bradbury's The Illustrated Man.  Featuring three stories from Bradbury's 1951 collection of the same title, plus a wraparound story about how a carnival worker (Steiger) becomes a human canvas for a mystical redheaded woman (Claire Bloom).  He shares his story with a drifter (Drivas, who looks like Tom Cruise's weird cousin), while resting on the side of a lake, which leads to the three stories and discussions of how he has to find the woman (who he repeatedly claims has probably gone "back into the future".  Marty McFly ripped him off).

The three stories all star the trio of Steiger, Bloom, and Drivas, and bounce between virtual reality worlds, rainy ghost planets, and a gloomy future where the world is soon to end.  In The Veldt, Steiger and Bloom play the parents of children who are increasingly addicted to the virtual reality room their parents have provided them.  There are strong similarities between this setting and the "picture walls" of Bradbury's Farenheit 451, but there's something much more deadly at work in this surprisingly vicious little tale.

The Long Rain is probably the dullest point of the film, and thus it's probably good that it was dropped in the middle of the film.  In it, Steiger and Drivas wander a rainy planet that is alleged to be home to "Sun Domes" which will hold all the pleasures they seek.  Most of the story focuses on the battle between the men as they search for the Sun Domes, which allows Drivas a little too much time to try out this thing called "acting" that he's not very good at, but the story looks sufficiently bleak and the characters' plight seems to parallel the scenes we often see in war movies.  It's an interesting idea, but the abrupt ending doesn't do this segment of the film any favors.

The third segment is entitled The Last Night of the World, and it also spends most of its time trying to get at us psychologically.  In this story Steiger and Bloom are again parents (the same child actors from The Veldt return, and the film's minimalist casting across dimensions is kind of cool to see), this time in a society that has decided the world will end on this evening.  Apparently, a bunch of elders had the same dream, and thus they know the world will end.  The society's children did not have the dream, and thus will be spared the horrors of the apocalypse - by being given cyanide capsules by their parents.  The dilemma, of course, regards whether or not these parents dare commit such an unpseakable act, and the short story features an effective twist ending (which is handled slightly hammily by Steiger).

In the meantime, segments between the tattooed - excuse me, they are "skin illustrations" - Steiger threatens to kill the woman who did this to him, and the drifter becomes more and more convinced that the illustrated fellow is dangerous.  And that's pretty much the whole movie.

The more I write about The Illustrated Man, the less I care for it on a cinematic level.  Steiger overacts often, Drivas is primarily terrible, and Bloom looks amazing but is used far too sparsely for the character(s) she plays to really impact us.  Director Jack Smight really seems to show no control over the film's stories (the pacing is atrocious), and Steiger just kind of takes over the whole movie.

There are several positives about the film, of course, or I wouldn't be listing it here.  Jerry Goldsmith offers another fantastic score, and the visuals and makeup are top notch.  The film tries hard to be a sort of warning to society - telling us that looking to the future can trip up the present - but there's not enough connection between all the segments to really sell that.

So, when it really boils down to it, I can't pinpoint why I'm choosing The Illustrated Man - a critical and financial failure that I can find plenty to complain about - as a Midnight Movie of the Week, but there's something mystical about it that sucks me in despite the flaws.  Though it doesn't succeed in many regards, there's something incredibly gripping to me in its awkward stumblings.  Maybe it belongs in the "so bad it's good" pile, or maybe it's got a deeper meaning that I haven't figured out yet.  But for some reason, that darn tatted Steiger grabs my brain and hooks my attention, never to let go until I'm left pondering what exactly happens next for The Illustrated Man.

Yeah, I know there's a book with fifteen more stories that I could read to find out.  But sometimes the middle-of-the-road movie is good enough for me.