The Manipulator

Weird doesn't being to describe this one. Even if you're a fan of bizarre films you're going to have trouble with The Manipulator. Mickey Rooney plays B. J. Lang, a psychopath who is making a film in his own head in an abandoned theatre. He talks to people who aren't there, sees people who aren't there but has a very real woman held captive, whom he forces to play Roxanne in his imaginary film of Cyrano De Bergerac. At some point Keenan Wynn turns up as a tramp. That's the plot.

So, how do you stretch that out to feature length? Well, Rooney basically babbles, screams, dances, sings, rolls about the floor, stares into space, drools, wears a fake nose, wears make up, whispers, talks to dummies, sweeps the floor and plays forward for Manchester Unitied while the film passes by in slow motion, speeded up, flashes subliminal images, changes perspective and even location several times.

There's a ten minute stretch that takes place entirely under a strobe light, which caused me to put off the film for a while to have a break, and another ten minute stretch of people laughing in slow motion while Rooney walks around saying 'love' and holding a baby. Or how about the bit where Rooney rolls about the floor saying 'pills' over and over again? Or the jungle noises? Or the bit where someone goes mental with a moog while Rooney chases that woman about. For about ten minutes. In slow motion.

This film is an endurance test for the viewer and although I'm not sure what the point of it all was, I'd pretty much reserve this film for folks who think they've seen it all, just to see their jaws drop. It's by no means a good film, but it's too weird to hate either. I wonder what Rooney thinks of it (yep, he's still alive…189 years young).

Essentially a two-person stage play with the fatally unhinged former make-up man Rooney recreating his favourite motion pictures on an old, abandoned sound stage using abducted actress Anders as his muse. The film conveys her attempts to escape, and Rooney's lunacy as he flits between vague coherency and outright mania. Larry Cohen's impressive set design is eye-catching, although the music tempo is at times so frantic as to become irritating.

I've read a lot of reviews concerning this movie, and the majority seem to charge it with a contempt normally reserved for those films so pathetic, they even fail on cult status. Sure, it's probably a little too avant garde for the average punter (myself included), and yet, it's strangely compelling with a truly maniacal performance by Rooney. If you'd been accustomed to the Mickey Rooney of the 1940's, then you're in for a shock; his turn is quite raw, maybe somewhat self-indulgent (in showcasing his range), but certainly remarkable.

Anders certainly isn't the acting dwarf some have painted, though her dialogue is scarce by comparison, while the once-ubiquitous Keenan Wynn has a brief but memorable cameo, and there are a host of extras that form Rooney's heyday hallucinations (and who look like a theatrical company) - many of them sans costumes in full-frontal glory just to underline the point that Rooney has totally flipped his switch. I almost fell asleep after just ten or so minutes, but persevered and while not a masterpiece, found the overall result intense if at times uneven and probably unfairly maligned as a turkey.

There's a not insignificant realm of cinema where art unbound roams raging into madness. But less in number are the films that cross into this maelstrom and there not only find meaning but grasp quintessence, and The Manipulator is one of these films. As uncompromising a study of madness as I've ever seen, it tells the story of ageing film-maker BJ Lang and his captive Carlotta who he forces to play Roxanne to his Cyrano in scenes from the Rostand play. The story is barely skeletal, mostly a two handed piece with a short appearance from a wino, its flesh is its dialogue and technique and the two entwine remarkably well, not that you would guess from the average reviewer here, most of whom seem to be hung up on not understanding (nor even attempting to) what they were seeing. Essentially The Manipulator looks at the processes of art in abstraction, removed from their connection to the creation of a cohesive work, and treats them as means of psyche infection, a force that has entirely infested poor BJ Lang, breaking down all the structures that hold him together. In his shadowy and cobwebbed studio he acts the role of director, talks to mannequins as his crew, adopts their voices to talk to himself, plays Cyrano, plays actor, even self aware mad old man. With nothing to hold his notions separate he skips wildly between fiction and reality, artifice and insanity, self knowledge and deceit, even touching on legitimate insights along the way. And in the process slowly but surely a picture of art run to its terrible potential emerges, the manipulations of creating fiction, the manipulations of crafting an actual artwork, these processes of one wielding control over many, we see that complete control, to some the loftiest goal, means the collapse of the individual and rebuilding as collective consciousness, consciousness oh so difficult to hold in any kind of check once developed. It is as you might guess, not exactly an easy film. That it works so well is to a great extent down to Mickey Rooney as BJ Lang, giving an extraordinarily uninhibited performance. Every shade of pathos and mania, even strange grandeur, singing, dancing, physical comedy, there are scarce few other turns in film so free and wild. He is utterly, bizarrely compelling, hateful at times and sympathetic at others, simply superb. Luana Anders does a good job as his foil Carlotta, she mostly has to react, growing steadily more and more desperate and unhinged herself, not quite as showy a turn but still playing very well of Rooney, rather chilling in her plight. Keenan Wynn is good too as a wino, though he has really to do except shifting the plot and sense of reality for a spell. The technique matches the acting in outlandishness, deploying all manner of unbalanced angles, close ups, speedy edits, colored lenses, strobe lighting, hallucinatory sound design, hazy phantasms, all this piled on relentlessly to disturb the viewer as much as the characters on screen. The terrific art direction (by Larry Cohen) goes well with the directorial flourishes too, all manner of mannequins, both whole and in parts alone, free standing or hanging, and an array of beasts as well. And not surprisingly the score is unusual too, ranging from piano and sawing strings to strange noisy burbles. So altogether its a dense film, by the end almost an exhausting one, and most certainly not to all tastes. But for those interested in the intersection of madness and art, of truly bizarre art-house horror or just of unfettered acting exercises this is most certainly a worthy watch. 8/10

WOW a blast from the past - and a pleasant surprise. I got this gem in the Drive-in 50-pack collection. I remember this one from quite a few years ago. I am glad to have this one in the 50-pack. It's definitely one of the better films in the Drive-in 50-pack.

This is a very bizarre film where Mickey Rooney plays B.J. Lang a psycho that is holding Carlotta hostage in his basement. He is creating a movie in his mind and forces Carlotta to participate. Mr. Lang gives us quite a show while "teaching" Carlotta all about the theater. To add to the weirdness, we have Old Charlie in the basement who is dead.

It's not the greatest horror film but it is one of the better one's from the 1970s and in the Drive-in collection.

6/10

Everyone who has commented on this film to date has been right. It is a terrible, nearly unwatchable movie, directed by someone who has seen too many avant-garde short films by Stan Brakhage and Maya Derren and who mistakenly believed that a 90-minute commercial movie could be made using their techniques.

But it is also a filmed actors exercise, an extended acting class in which someone said to Mickey Rooney, "Let's test your chops, and explore the limits of your acting range." Viewing the movie that way, it is a triumph for Rooney. His acting talent is incredible, and in two- or three-minute bites his performance can be mesmerizing. He takes a mess of a script, an insane and unsympathetic character, and crazy lines, and comes off not just as believable but as affecting. You really don't want to see this movie, but if someone showed you a few short clips from it you would gain a new appreciation for Rooney's abilities.

Luana Anders holds her own as Rooney's captive, but it is Rooney's show.