The Illustrated Man

From the opening scene, director Jack Smight (Damnation Alley, Midway, Airport 1975) exhibits an ability to `show' the story through cinematography and action rather instead of telling it through dialogue and actors – viewers actually learn a lot before any single character really opens his/her mouth (a tribute to the mood of Ray Bradbury stories, perhaps). This story, which, like The Matrix, struggles with question of existence and the relationship between the real and the perceived, is based on a collection of Bradbury short-stories by the same title. Only three are selected here (including "The Last Night of the World," `The Long Rain,' and `The Veldt,' about a virtual reality play-room of `free involvement and instantaneous atmosphere'). All center around alternate realities, future occurrences, and imagined stories (you be the judge).. It all starts when carnival worker tuned cursed drifter Carl (Rod Steiger) meets up with transient Willie (Robert Drivas) and reveals his `skin illustrations' (don't ever call them tattoos). Unfortunately, Carl's beautiful artwork transmits realistic stories in paranormal emissions to whoever stares long enough, which gets the stories started. They're done in the tradition of The Twilight Zone, The Hitchhiker, Tales From the Crypt and The Outer Limits, only with more involvement from the narrator here. In a flashback, viewers learn about the artwork's origin as Carl arrives at Felicia's house. When we're introduced to him in the past, he's nothing more than a lowly bumpkin pitching tents for a traveling carnival. Horny, he sits under the needle only hoping for sexual gratification. Now, I understand the `tattooing' as an intimate and sexual metaphor here, albeit a `mystical' one, but why does this woman produce such beautiful artwork for free… and why doesn't Carl bleed from all the etching, which would takes months and months to complete? As they kiss, she utters, `Pain is part of anything good,' which further points to the edge of sadism the film carries. Steiger's performance of Carl throughout is a bit too vigorous much for me. I thought the film could have played better if the audience could feel more sympathy for his character, but the screenwriters obviously thought differently and had another agenda. As a result, Steiger is violent, gruff, and obnoxious, though a bit wiser and hardened after his altercation with Felicia (even the contrast between the Carl of the present and the Carl of the past is way overdone). Whatever the case, Felicia certainly gives Carl a new perspective and deeper insight (`Maybe she went back to the future… maybe 1000 years?' he laments). Outside of the hints to sadism, there's a lot of homoerotic content between Carl and Willie… unless it's just a clever ruse to get Carl's shirt off for most of the film. Creepy, nonetheless… unless you're into swinging stranger-hobos! I mean who parades around shirtless in front of strangers and owns a Pomeranian dog named Peke (as in `Pekinese'). I also liked Jerry Goldsmith's experimental electronica, and Steiger's costume in `The Long Rain' sequence. Playing a futuristic space-colonel, he looks like The Beast Rabban from Dune in his apocalyptic rippled-rubber suit!

The power of a movie is how well it sticks with you. This one I saw at a drive-in back in 1970, and though I only considered it average at the time, one scene stuck with me through the years. The setting in rural depression-era United States helps set the mood of the meeting of a young drifter and a hardened hobo.

Recently I acquired a used VHS tape of it and watched it through, and I remember why it stuck with me so well and so long. Not always well done, but yet it has power. The character Carl, well portrayed by the acting of Rod Steiger, starts to tell stories, and they take the young Willie, portrayed by Robert Drivas, on a wild mental ride that changes both their lives. I recommend it highly, and hope one day it will be out on DVD.

This is a set of chilling tales that come to life on the body of the title character. They are the vehicle. They express his pain and his despair. Once he is tattooed, he loses control of the effect of the stories. They are the stories. The one that has stayed with me the longest is the day after the end of the world tale, which has the saddest of conclusions. Some have even said this is a sick story. What would we do to prevent pain? What would we do to show our love? How could we go on with what we have done? These questions float over this episode. Ray Bradbury loves to take fantasy/scifi above the typical and integrate it with romance (not romantic love). He must have absorbed every ounce of his surroundings during his childhood. Here, Rod Steiger brings these tales to life and makes us think.

Rad Bradbury is perhaps one of the most notable names in Science Fiction. Throughout his long and illustrious career, his books have not only made him an icon in many circles, but have also made him a household word. One such book which is required reading in college and sets the stage for many a live play, is " The Illustrated Man." Interesting as it is to read, it rises quickly from the pages of the novel onto the silver screen with the great talents of Rod Steiger, Claire Bloom and Robert Drivas. These three and their fellow Thespians combine to illuminate each of the fascinating tales literally embedded into the skin of a traveling roustabout. While his only purpose is to seek out and kill the woman who decorated his entire body with incredible and fascinating skin illustrations, we are warned not to stare at them. Each illustration 'comes alive' when we look too long and thus we are sent into the future by them. The movie is laden heavy with tragedy, conflict, mystery and intrigue and we cannot help but sympathize with Carl as he travels in search of his victim. I believe Bradbury would agree this is an excellent film. ****

'The Illustrated Man' shows how good a writer Ray Bradbury was, not to mention how his head was full of fascinating ideas. It shows this because the film is incredibly dated today, from the acting styles to the visions of the future we witness. And yet I remained engrossed throughout, because beneath the anachronisms and barmy notions lie the same powerful film that resonated with me as a child.

A lot of the film has little to do with the title character, although Rod Steiger's menacing performance will never let you forget the man with all-over body tattoos that come to life if you stare too hard. Also, Steiger himself has multiple roles throughout, and he delivers them with a mix of the theatrical bellow and long-faced stoicism of the period, but they still have their impact. Meanwhile of greater interest are the short stories each tattoo reveals. Like Bradbury's 'The Martian Chronicles', this film is a collection of tales woven around a central premise. We view his fears about where human society is heading, thanks to the all-pervading intrusion of technology into our lives.

I'm reminded of a Poe line - "without music or an intriguing idea, colour becomes pallor, man becomes carcass, home becomes catacomb, and the dead are but for a moment motionless". What becomes of the human soul when the machines take over? Add the all-embracing pallor and single-chrome fashion of a typical 1960s vision of the future, and you have a very bleak picture indeed. Yet that's how people saw things then (our guesses on things to come will look just as ridiculous soon enough), and the central theme, given how far we've progressed technologically in the interim, cannot be any less relevant. I'm glad our modern perspective yearns for more colour though - never mind technology killing our souls - the achromatic architecture would make anyone suicidal enough already.

Sojourns into futurity do of course suggest sci-fi trappings. Even putting aside the fact that predictions of the future quickly become dated, Ray Bradbury was never scientifically accurate at the time he wrote his stories. In 'The Martian Chronicles' for example, it is possible to breathe on Mars, water flows through canals, and a few blasts from a rocket's engines can terraform the atmosphere. 'The Illustrated Man' takes the same liberties with reality. Yet to dismiss it because of nonsensical scientific premises is to miss the point. The settings are not more than fabulous window dressing - fantasy masquerading as sci-fi. It is the exploration of the human condition in each tale that Bradbury is concerned with, and they are timeless.

As such, while time has not been entirely kind to this screen adaption of 'The Illustrated Man', its emotional core remains intact. The Bradbury flair for the weird and the wonderful is untarnished, and his thoughts still clear. You just need to take a good long look at a rainbow afterwards.