Going Back to the Movies: “House of Wax”

This advertisement for House of Wax at the Premier Theatre appeared in The Vidette-Messenger in July 1953.

By Jeffrey Schultz

If wax figures aren’t creepy enough for you, imagine them getting close enough they could almost reach out and touch you. That’s the kind of terror audiences of the Premier Theatre experienced in 1953 with the release of House of Wax starring one of the greatest actors the thriller genre could ever wish for, Vincent Price. But Price was not the movie’s main attraction, however. With House of Wax the Premier got in on featuring the latest revolution in the moviegoing experience, a process popularly known as 3-D. 

The origins of 3-D images begin even decades before the birth of cinema. In the 1830s when photography was emerging, an English scientist named Sir Charles Wheatstone came up with the stereoscope which could display images seemingly in three dimensions merging separate views with the left and right eye. It was the prototype of what people today know as a View-Master that may have been in your toy collection. 

Wheatstone’s concept was later patented for motion pictures by a number of film pioneers who used color film strips, sometimes using two cameras to display the images simultaneously, and tested them on audiences throughout much of the silent film days. Polaroid filters introduced by Edwin H. Land in the late 1930s allowed for two prints, each to be separately viewed by the left and right eye, to be synced up in projection. Hollywood studios would make short films using the 3-D gimmick, but it wasn’t until 1952 with the hit film Bwana Devil when it was introduced into feature films on a wide scale. Warner Bros. planned to be what would be the first major studio produced 3-D movie with House of Wax, a remake of its 1933 film Mystery of the Wax Museum. 

Justin O. Shauer shows the difference in equipment at the Premier.

Days before the film showed at the Premier in July 1953, The Vidette-Messenger gave the theater some press by featuring a photo of Justin Shauer installing the new 3-D movie projector that used a larger reel than the conventional projector. The projectors had to run together simultaneously, and patrons had to wear the Polaroid red and blue glasses in order for the 3-D effect to work properly. 

House of Wax proved to be a hit in becoming the sixth highest grossing film in 1953. The plot involves former sculptor Henry Jarrod, played by Price, whose new wax museum has a taste for the grim after he was badly burned in a fire set by his business partner at his previous museum in order to collect a large sum of money from an insurance policy. Unable to sculpt because of scarred hands, Jarrod is now assisted by a deaf mute named Igor (how original!) to create his waxworks for him. The so-called mystery of the museum – how Jarrod gets his “sculptures” to look so real – may or may not have something to do with the rise of murders and missing corpses from the city morgue. One of the murder victim’s roommates, Sue Allen, suspects Jarrod had something to do with her death after she notices a striking resemblance to the wax Marie Antoinette figure and investigates with the aid of her friend Scott Andrews.

Unless you were there when House of Wax showed at the Premier, it’s hard to imagine just how effective the 3-D technique was compared to today’s 3-D. Since not many people had experienced it before, it’s likely to see the people sitting in front of you dodge in the great fire scene where Jarrod spars with his business partner as he tries to escape. A bottle is thrown in the scuffle towards the audience which would have caused shrieks from every section of the auditorium. The wax statues melt away as if they were falling off the movie screen. My favorite effect is near the middle of the movie where a man on the street in a top hat tries to drum up a little excitement for the Chamber of Horrors grand opening with a paddle ball. He bounces the ball around the crowd and pauses as he turns towards the camera, where he seemingly breaks the fourth wall, as it is referred to in the theater business, and talks to us in the audience. “Wow, there’s someone with a bag of popcorn. Close your mouth. It’s the bag I’m aiming at, not your tonsils.” Although it feels gimmicky, it’s also a moment of great movie magic. 

House of Wax remains a minor classic of the horror genre that boasts one of Vincent Price’s most charismatic performances as the spurned sculptor. The score by composer David Buttolph is grand and dramatic but makes the movie feel a bit overdone, as well as its set design. Still, it’s a fine choice to watch for Halloween, which leads me to give it 3 stars out of 4. 

The novelty of 3-D movies did not last long during its rise through the mid-1950s. When used, it was too often a chore for the projectionist to make sure both cameras ran in sync and audiences complained that the glasses they were required to wear gave them headaches or made them nauseous. A reissue of House of Wax in the early 1980s created a comeback for 3-D and made its way into the horror franchises of Jaws, The Amityville Horror, and Friday the 13th. More recently, a new wave of 3-D technology rose with the 2009 release of Avatar which became the top grossing movie in history. 

DECEMBER 2021 REVIEW: “DOCTOR ZHIVAGO”

Official PoCo Muse Film Critic Jeff Schultz revisits Doctor Zhivago for his December 2021 Review.

Children near and far dream of seeing that man dressed in red as he flies through the air in the last half of December. This year it is Spider-Man but for kids fifty years ago it was the figure of Santa Claus. Like Spidey, Santa got to greet his fans at the movie house. Traditionally during the week before Christmas, Mr. Claus would take his morning break from getting his sleigh ready at the North Pole and transport to downtown Valparaiso, Ind., to grant the wishes of a thousand cherubs at the Premier Theatre. Kids nine years and under each got bags of candy and popcorn and if you were one of the few select winners, not only would you get to take home the prized bicycle, wagon or dolly, but you also got your picture with Santa and Murph Shauer in The Vidette-Messenger. It may have been the magic of Christmas responsible for a room for of joy and wonder, or it may have been the big-hearted executives of First National Bank who sponsored the event for over 30 years. Families would have to visit the FNB branch to snag tickets. What thrilled the young partiers even more was the “no grownups allowed” rule. The children were supervised by Valparaiso’s finest including police, firefighters, nurses and the local PTA, on call in case a miniature brawl were to break out over who got the bike. Attendees were also treated to Disney cartoons. If you were ever one of those “1,000 lucky kiddies,” childhood was never better.

Meanwhile in 1971, the yuletide spirit was sparser in the weeks leading up to the annual party. Looking at the list of films shown at the Premier during that December and choosing one to review makes me feel like I am at white elephant gift exchange where my choices are a deck of Uno cards, an electronic whoopee cushion, a Pennywise Chia Pet or one of those toy reindeer that poops candy. The movies are “Doctor Zhivago,” “Joy in the Morning,” “Let’s Scare Jessica to Death," and a Disney documentary double-feature of “The Living Desert” and “The Vanishing Prairie.” I want my last movie review of the year to be special but nothing that stands out. I don’t want to spend my time talking about buffalo so that nixes the Disney option, I had already mentioned “Let’s Scare Jessica to Death” in my October Horror-thon review (but tempting since it was director John Hancock’s first film who would later film the holiday movie “Prancer” no more than a stone’s throw away from here), “Joy in the Morning” advertised as a fitting follow-up to “Love Story” (my June review) has never been released on video, and I ask who has time to watch the three-and-a-half hour “Doctor Zhivago” with only a few shopping days left until December 24? Logic dictates Zhivago as my pick since it is the only choice with a Christmas scene.

Like “Gone with the Wind” last month, “Doctor Zhivago” was a reissue for the Premier, having first been released in 1965. Both were major successes for MGM. “Gone with the Wind,” as you remember, is the biggest moneymaker not only for the studio, but for all time if you adjust for inflation. “Doctor Zhivago” is MGM’s second biggest box office hit in terms of ticket sales and ranks eighth on the all-time list, sandwiched between “Jaws” and “The Exorcist.” Apart from their success, GWTW and Zhivago have further things in common. Both are epic love stories set against the backdrop of a civil war. The difference here is trading bonnets for ushankas. They both drummed up considerable controversy. Some people were not happy with the way GWTW portrayed the antebellum south and the Russian government was not amused by the Zhivago story and had banned the book completed in 1956 by Boris Pasternak. Officials considered certain things about the novel to be “anti-Soviet,” details they purported to be critical of Stalinism, and refused to let the movie be filmed in the Soviet Union. Director David Lean decided to film most of the movie in Spain. Despite the Russian characters, the film features hardly any actors or actresses of Russian descent. Playing the title character Yuri Zhivago is Egyptian-born actor Omar Sharif and playing his half-brother Yevgraf is revered English actor Sir Alec Guinness.

The film opens with Yevgraf, a lieutenant in the KGB, looking for his lost niece, the supposed daughter of Yuri and his lover Larissa (“Lara”) Antipova. He questions a young woman he suspects is her but she says she has little recollection of her parents. Attempting any way to jolt her memory, Yevgraf tells her Yuri’s story which unfolds into the movie we’re seeing. Yuri lost his mother at a young age years before the Russian Revolution of 1917. He is taken in by friends of hers and is betrothed to their daughter Tonya. Yuri grows up to become a doctor and one night accompanies his mentor to see a woman who has attempted suicide after finding out her lover’s preying upon her 17 year-old daughter Lara, played by Julie Christie. Shortly afterwards, Lara shoots her abuser in front of several people at a Christmas party and later marries reformer Pavel “Pasha” Antipov. Yuri marries Tonya (played by Geraldine Chaplin, daughter of Charlie Chaplin). Fate crosses Yuri and Lara during the outbreak of World War I. She works as a nurse to search for Pasha after he is wounded in battle. She and Yuri serve at a field hospital for several months and begin a love affair though still being devoted to their spouses. Returning home, Yuri is informed by Yevgraf that the Cheka have noted him as an antagonist to Communism and sees that Yuri flees Moscow to the Ural Mountains, only to be met with a Bolshevek armored train under the command of Strelnikov, the name Pasha has given himself after switching sides.

That’s only Part 1 of the story and telling you Part 2 will take me past my word limit so you'll have to see the movie to find out what happens to Yuri and Lara as they dodge the communists and if the young woman Yevgraf is questioning is their daughter. The movie is currently streaming on HBO Max. Obviously it is a classic movie romance but despite the fact it has sold more tickets than any Jurassic Park movie, Marvel superhero movie and all but one Star Wars movie, I’m guessing not many people today have seen “Doctor Zhivago.” Is it worth seeing? Yes, for grand scale moviemaking. It’s an example of craftsmanship for Lean. This was his follow-up to 1962’s “Lawrence of Arabia” which won Best Picture at the Academy Awards as did his other film “The Bridge over the River Kwai” in 1958. However, I found “Doctor Zhivago” to be much drier than those and other epics. The characters Yuri and Lara are less fiery than say Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara. It’s Lean’s vision and set pieces that move the picture while the characters slow it down. “Doctor Zhivago” won five Oscars for the elements that impressed me – screenplay, cinematography, art direction, costume design, and musical score. Composer Maurice Jarre’s “Lara’s Theme” aka “Somewhere, My Love” or better yet the dancing Goomba song from 1993’s “Super Mario Bros.” movie, is one of the top selling songs of all time.

My favorite thing about “Doctor Zhivago” is probably what most people under age 50 would be, the ice-palace at Varykino that Yuri and Lara visit made entirely of frozen beeswax. It’s a true Winter Wonderland better than any I’ve seen in a Christmas movie and would have been cool to see (no pun attended) on the big screen at the Premier. It can’t hold a candle though to thrill of seeing Santa at the Kiddie’s Christmas Party. Therefore, I give St. Nick four stars and three I give to be shared among “Doctor Zhivago” and the candy-pooping reindeer.

To you the reader, I give you infinity stars. Thank you for Going Back to the Movies with me these past 12 months reliving the golden anniversary of Shauer’s Premier Theater in 1971. Thank you to Kevin and everyone at the Porter County Museum for allowing me to share the love of movies with the community. I hope there will be another chance in the near future and you can learn more about the Premier and the history of movie-going in Porter County by listening to the third episode of the Poco Muse Podcast. I wish everyone a safe and happy 2022.

NOVEMBER 2021 REVIEW: “GONE WITH THE WIND”

Official PoCo Muse Film Critic Jeff Schultz revisits Gone with the Wind for his November 2021 Review.

A system of strong winds and cold moved through New England in late November 1971. The nor’easter dumped over 20 inches of snow in upstate New York. Winds were so strong through the coastline along Long Island that Macy’s called off flying the balloons in its annual Thanksgiving Day parade in fear the giant inflatable Smokey the Bear would fly away. There’s not much you can do to prevent forest fires if you are stuck hovering over the Atlantic Ocean. It was the first Turkey Day without the balloons since WWII when helium had to be rationed. What does this have to do with the history of the Premier Theatre in Valparaiso, Ind.? Well, the Shauers may have predicted the blustery predicament one week prior by showing a movie called “Gone with the Wind.”

Like the turkey and cranberry sauce sitting in your fridge, “Gone with the Wind” was a leftover when it played at the Premier this month in 1971, or that is to say the movie had been shown at the Premier earlier in March as part of the film’s rerelease that year. “Gone with the Wind” is no turkey, however. To this day it still holds the distinction of the movie that has sold the most tickets, in the area of 202 million. That’s a sizable margin ahead of the second biggest ticket-seller, “Star Wars: A New Hope,” which has sold 178.5 million.

You’d think with that prestige I would have chosen it for my March movie review, but I passed since it would be nearly impossible to write about its history and manage to keep it brief. The making and the legacy of “Gone with the Wind” has about as much drama as its source material, the 1,037-page bestseller by Margaret Mitchell published in 1936. Subsequently, while researching the Premier Theatre for the Poco Muse Podcast episode this summer, I learned that Justin Shauer claimed that his theater was the first to show “Gone with the Wind” in the Midwest that was “the size of (Valparaiso)”, which I imagine meant anywhere besides Chicago. “Gone with the Wind” hadn’t played at the Premier originally on March 12, 1940 as I erroneously stated in the podcast but rather the Lake Theatre on North Franklin Street, which the Shauers also had ownership of then.

The Lake Theatre, holding about 200 fewer seats than the Premier, was selected as one of the first theaters during the roadshow run of “Gone with the Wind.” Roadshow screenings were given to big movies by the distributor before they had a proper general release, playing only in a small number of theaters for a short time. Going to these was more like going to see a play. People would dress up in formal attire to go to the theater and be given programs about the movie or lobby cards as souvenirs. Tickets usually had to be reserved ahead of time and would cost more than regular admission. What’s interesting is these engagements were almost always big cities rather than towns like Valparaiso so I looked to the archives to find out more about this presentation.

According to the article appearing in The Vidette-Messenger on March 8, 1940, the Shauers were obligated to negotiate the terms with a representative of Metro-Goldwin-Mayer, which included running the entire movie three times daily and for a “rehearsal” to be held before the first showing. The MGM rep would check “a hundred and one details to see that nothing is left undone that might add to the picture’s effectiveness. The producers insist that all projection equipment checked thoroughly before the saga of the south is presented,” the article said. Theater managers were given a twelve-page booklet instructing them of how to draw the curtains which had to be done at specific times. An announcement had to be made to unseated guests before the overture started. The projectionist was required to count to five at the start of the drum roll to signal opening the curtains. MGM also demanded control of how tickets would be sold. Specifically, no tickets could be ordered over the phone. All advanced tickets had to be paid in full beforehand so MGM could be sure to get its money. Reservations would be required for all evening shows and the Sunday matinee. Theaters were also demanded to spend certain amounts on advertising the movie. “(An) average theater manager considers himself lucky if, after showing “Gone with the Wind” for a week his profits – and his hair – are both not gone with the wind too,” the article said.

Scarlett O’Hara already was a household name by the time “Gone with the Wind” had its world premiere in Atlanta, Ga., on December 15, 1939. The premiere saw 300,000 fans engulfing Loew’s Grand Theater pining to get a glimpse of the film’s stars while parades and bands marched down streets. President Jimmy Carter said he remembered it as the biggest event ever seen in the South. The spectacle was a testament to efforts by the film’s producer David O. Selznick who guided the production to fruition over three years, spending nearly $4 million. Selznick initially held the same hesitancy as other producers in Hollywood when the film rights of the novel were optioned. Despite the runaway success of the book, no one wanted to risk the expense it would involve adapting it into a movie because Civil War films at the time were not having any success at the box office. It took convincing by Selznick’s story editor that he produce “Gone with the Wind.” Once Selznick acquired the rights, he set out to make the movie the best he could. Fans wrote to him their wishes on who he should cast as the leads. Clark Gable as Rhett Butler was no contest. Suggestions for Scarlett O’Hara were otherwise all over the map. Legend has it over 1,400 actresses were considered and finally little-known British actress Vivian Leigh got the part.

Within a few months after its premiere, “Gone with the Wind” catapulted to the top of the list of highest grossing films of all time with $18 million, surpassing the previous record holder “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.” It would be rereleased in 1942 and 1947 and was converted to widescreen for its 15th anniversary in 1954 when it raked in an additional $7 million. It doubled that with $14 million for its 1961 rerelease commemorating the centennial of the Civil War. In 1965, it was dethroned by “The Sound of Music” as Hollywood’s biggest moneymaker but recaptured the title briefly in 1971 thanks to its profitable rereleases in 1967 and 1971, fetching $36 million more during those years. It would soon be knocked off once more, this time by “The Godfather” in 1972. However, “Gone with the Wind” is still considered the most successful movie in history when adjusted for inflation. In today’s money, its adjusted worldwide gross is $3.74 billion.

Even as the most popular movie ever, “Gone with the Wind” has not been universally loved. Its romanticized vision of the Antebellum South met protesters even before the movie was first released and its critics continue today who accuse the film of stereotyping its black characters. Selznick worked to remove the more objectionable racial content contained in the novel and the Academy Awards honored Hattie McDaniel for her portrayal as Mammy with the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress, but those protesting felt it did not excuse the film’s characterizing the relationship between slave and master as idyllic. Representatives of the International Labor of Defense and the National Negro Congress both marched outside theaters chanting “Lincoln would have banned ‘Gone with the Wind’” reportedly at the Chicago premiere in January 1940. Picketers also showed up at a few theaters for the 1967 rerelease during the time of the Civil Rights movement and in 2020, controversy stuck again as the film was temporarily pulled from the HBO Max streaming service. HBO reinstated the film with an introduction saying it is important to discuss Hollywood films like “Gone with the Wind” and the context in which they were made.

Another discussion the film has brought through its existence is how long is too long for a movie. My aunt remembers seeing the film at the Premier in 1971. It was a wondrous experience for her, she says, but her date found it a back-aching four hours of sitting. I can sympathize with both of them. My opinion of “Gone with the Wind” is that it is a three-star soap opera in a four-star movie. It is storytelling at its grandest, a labor of love not only for Selznick but for all of Hollywood. However, it’s all story and no plot. The best I can fathom is it is about a headstrong, self-centered young woman hopelessly in love with a man named Ashley Wilkes, then a lot of other things happen. When people talk about what they love about “Gone with the Wind”, it’s Leigh as Scarlett O’Hara, Gable as Rhett Butter, the romance, the music, the images, the costumes! All these technical elements work beautifully in creating something that rightfully cannot be topped. But as for the plot, I wonder if anyone gives a damn.

This advertisement appeared on page 8 of The Vidette-Messenger on March 2, 1940.

OCTOBER 2021 REVIEW: HORROR TRIPLE FEATURE

Official PoCo Muse Film Critic Jeff Schultz revisits Dracula Has Risen From the Grave, The Return of Count Yorga, and What’s the Matter with Helen? for his October 2021 Review.

What’s the matter with Helen? To be fair, we all have idiosyncrasies that most people will find peculiar. Mine could be eating Fruit Loops as a grown man or that I never wear open-toed shoes in public. Mystery writer Agatha Christie had the idiosyncrasy of eating apple slices in the bathtub as she thought of murder plots. Helen’s quirks are a little darker as the audience at the Premiere Theatre on Halloween night 1971 discovered at the end of her movie. She was in the backyard murdering the rabbits.

As much as I was intrigued to discover “What’s the Matter with Helen?”, I admit to being underwhelmed by the horror films listed in the Premier’s lineup for 1971. When movie fans think of the 1970s and horror, they see golden visions of Sissy Spacek burning down the gymnasium using only her mind, pea soup firing from Linda Blair’s mouth, a giant shark devouring beachgoers, Jamie Lee Curtis being chased by the boogeyman, and Sigourney Weaver getting up close with a drooly alien. Rarely do they think of Shelley Winters as Helen turning the white bunnies into pink bunnies. That’s because 1971 was still years away from the classics that we watch every Halloween. Films like “What’s the Matter with Helen?” were still piggybacking on the success of 1962’s “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?,” usually with a former A-list movie actress and film titles containing a name and question mark. Other examples are “Who Slew Auntie Roo?” and “What Ever Happened to Aunt Alice?”, each about as unremarkable as the other.

Meanwhile, the legacy of Universal Studio’s classic monsters was, unlike its many characters, still alive and well. Toy shops throughout the 1960s and into the 70s regularly kept stock of books, trading cards, records, comic books, games and figurines revolving around Boris Karloff as the Frankenstein monster and Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula. Although occasionally rereleased in theaters like the Premier, most of the older monster movies were shown through syndication on TV. A newer brand of films exhibited in theaters took many of the elements from the Universal series and introduced new ones that could not get past the censors before -- technicolor for blood to flow red and largely exposed neck lines on young maidens (to the preference of vampires, I suppose). Hammer Film Productions, which got its start producing adaptations of BBC radio series, quickly took the reins on the horror genre in the late 1950s with the releases of “The Curse of Frankenstein” and “Horror of Dracula” and colloquially became known as “the studio that dripped blood” with plenty of sex and gore in lavish Gothic style. Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee became the top horror stars of the time. Horror was Hammer’s bread and butter. It tried its hand in other genres such as martial arts and swashbucklers but the studio fizzled out once American tastes became more modernized later in the 1970s with “Jaws” and “The Exorcist.”

Shaping horror films at the same time as Hammer was a studio here in the U.S. taking a different approach. American International Pictures, or AIP, started in the early 1950s by Samuel Z. Arkoff and Jim Nicholson who were not a part of the Hollywood system. They were independent producers who with director Roger Corman developed the knack for making movies on a dime scale at a fast pace. Corman could shoot a film in less than ten days. His 1960 film “The Little Shop of Horrors” reportedly wrapped production in two days. These cheapies often didn’t make as much buck as Hammer films, but the profits they did make added up when so many could be produced. Arkoff and Nicholson noticed the major Hollywood studios spent virtually no time on making movies for teenagers and when they did they often missed the mark on what teenagers wanted to see. AIP crafted an entire genre in its early years with films like “Shake, Rattle & Rock!”, “Dragstrip Girl,” and “High School Hellcats” that had characters who could walk the walk and talk the talk of rebellious teens. It was the film “I Was a Teenage Werewolf” in 1957 that AIP widespread recognition when comedians like Jack Benny and Bob Hope parodied the title on their shows. More horror films with eye-catching titles poured out of AIP like “The Killer Shews,” “Night of the Blood Beast,” and “Earth vs. the Flying Saucers.” While Hammer spent hours creating its monsters in the makeup chair, AIP could flip over a flower pot, draw some angry eyes, tape pointed arms for claws and have it be a giant mutated fungus from outer space when filmed in close up. AIP eventually made some horror movies that garnered respect like “The Pit and the Pendulum” and “House of Usher,” both starring Vincent Price. As the culture of America changed towards the late 1960s, AIP followed with films to reflect the times, many starring Peter Fonda on a motorcycle before he did so in “Easy Rider” for Columbia Pictures. AIP was also a studio that grew the Blaxploitation genre with “Coffy” starring Pam Grier and “Slaughter” starring Jim Brown, but eventually the studio’s efforts to create bigger budgeted movies in the late 1970s failed and led to it being sold off to Filmways, Inc.

Like a mad scientist assembling a creature dug from graves, I created my own horror-thon from movies shown at the Premier Theatre during 1971 with Hammer’s “Dracula Has Risen from the Grave,” AIP’s “The Return of Count Yorga” and “What’s the Matter with Helen?” which was made by Filmways. The best for Halloween is “Dracula Has Risen from the Grave” with its classic feel and setting. This is the fourth of Hammer’s Dracula series and the villagers are unconvinced the count’s curse has stopped despite him being frozen in ice in the last movie. A monsignor attempts to appease the malaise by exorcising Dracula’s castle, only to have an assisting priest stumble and crack his head on Dracula’s icy grave, reviving him with drops of blood. Rising from the grave, Dracula discovers he cannot enter his castle after it’s been cleansed of evil and so he decides to return the deed by targeting the monsignor’s niece as his next victim.

The next of my horror-thon Count Yorga returns from the grave as well, shockingly, in this sequel to 1970’s “The Loves of Count Yorga, Vampire.” Debonair as his co-bloodsucker Dracula, Yorga roosts at an orphanage in San Francisco and uses mind control to fool the police when people go missing. His skills are enough to even fool a sergeant played by Craig T. Nelson who a decade later would have to deal with the supernatural again in the 1982 hit “Poltergeist.” The Yorga films I found to be stylishly filmed with a more subdued color than Hammer’s palette, relying more on atmosphere and dread, but I have to say they are dull, especially for vampires and not the cheesy fun AIP was known for. The studio released a more legendary vampire movie a year later that was the quintessential 70s blaxploitation horror film, “Blacula”, and soon Yorga became forgotten.

Lastly, there’s Helen, sweet, pitiful Helen. What happened to Helen? Her son and another young man went to prison for committing a particularly brutal murder of an innocent woman in 1930s Iowa. Helen and the other convicted killer’s mother Adele (played by Debbie Reynolds) flee to Los Angeles, change their identities and start anew as dance instructors looking for the next Shirley Temple. Adele meets a smooth-talking suitor played by Dennis Weaver (who afterwards starred in Steven Spielberg’s high-octane TV-made thriller “Duel”) and soon all the jealousy and stress take a toll on Helen’s sanity. After she pushes a man with a letter addressed to her real identity to his death, Helen becomes unhinged and Adele comes home to find the rabbits killed. Adele phones for help but it might be too late. Shelley Winters gives a great performance here and there are a few scenes reminiscent of Hitchcock but the film turns a bit too campy by the end.

For my triple feature this month, I rate the following on a four-star scale:

Dracula Has Risen From the Grave (2 ½ stars)

What’s the Matter with Helen (2 ½ stars)

The Return of Count Yorga (2 stars)

Those looking to conjure the Halloween Spirit, you can find “Dracula Has Risen From the Grave“ and a number of films from Hammer on HBO Max, including the original “Horror of Dracula.” For free, you can find many AIP films on YouTube or the free TV/movie app Tubi including Corman’s “A Bucket of Blood,” which may have inspired the byname given to the Lake Theater located on Franklin Street, also run by the Shauer Family. Patrons referred to it as “The Bucket” for its reputation of showing violent westerns or exploitation films, the kind of fare AIP had been producing. Speaking of buckets, I’d advise keeping one close by if your choice is to binge-watch “The Twilight Saga" which you can find on Netflix.

Special Note: All three of these features played at Valparaiso’s Premier Theatre at different times in and before 1971.

SEPTEMBER 2021 REVIEW: "LE MANS"

Official PoCo Muse Film Critic Jeff Schultz revisits Le Mans for his September 2021 Review.

An idea came to me while I was walking through the 42nd Annual Popcorn Festival in downtown Valparaiso a few weeks ago that I regret not having earlier. About two blocks from the PoCo Muse were some inflatable bounce houses that looked similar to some of the older buildings around town. How neat would it have been to have had a bounce house in the festival this year made to look like the Premier Theatre in celebration of its 100th anniversary, I thought. Kids could climb up on the marquis to watch the parade, like some folks back in 1979, and no one would fuss since bounce houses are made to monkey around. In fact, how cool would it be to have a whole line of bounce houses based on the architectural designs of Charles F. Lembke? This would include blow-up versions of the Memorial Opera House and many others. If anyone wants to support a petition for the festival committee for next year, let me know.

Another musing I had that day was getting up before 7 a.m. is way too early for any reason on a Saturday, particularly running. Perhaps while petitioning the committee on bounce houses, a second part could be to move the 5-mile Popcorn Panic race to a more lenient start time of 8 a.m. to better meet the needs of citizens who rely on Saturdays to catch up on sleep. Ultimately my petition would be doomed for overlooking one essential element to racing which is the dedication. A superior runner knows not to complain of whether the race is at 7:00 or 5:00 for real glory takes sacrifice. Sleeping in is for the gutless. In honor of that spirit, I've selected the Steve McQueen film “Le Mans” for this month’s Going Back to the Movies, a film that required a lot of dedication. “Le Mans” played at the Premier Theatre during the week of September 9, 1971.

Audiences around this time knew Steve McQueen as “the King of Cool,” a rebel type with similarities to James Dean (incidentally, like Dean, McQueen was born in Indiana). After being discharged from the army in 1950, he went to New York to study acting thinking it would be great gig to meet girls. To earn some money, McQueen would race motorcycles at the Long Island City Raceway on the weekends. He later headed to Hollywood and landed a small role in the 1956 film “Somebody Up There Likes Me,” a film that was to star James Dean if it had not been for his untimely death. McQueen did get the lead for “The Blob” in 1958 fighting off a giant jelly substance devouring everything in its path but it was playing bounty hunter Josh Randall on the CBS series “Wanted: Dead or Alive” that the public came to know him. He essentially outgrew television making a big impression in “The Magnificent Seven” in 1960 and became a bona-find leading man of Hollywood with 1963’s “The Great Escape” where he did his own stunts on a TR6 Trophy.

The pinnacle of McQueen’s career came in 1968 with the releases of “The Thomas Crown Affair” and “Bullitt,” containing some of the most iconic imagery in cinema. The latter features McQueen as a San Francisco police detective chasing down mobsters in his Ford Mustang at speeds exceeding 100 miles per hour. It created enough momentum to get his passion project into production, a film about racing he fought to make since 1965. McQueen raced cars regularly during his time making movies and was enamored with the sport. He wanted to make a movie about the world’s most prestigious racing event -- Le Mans, the 24-hour competition where the drivers come to prove which car is the best. While McQueen was enthusiastic about the project, the studio heads in Hollywood were skeptical, leading to a troubled production. It was not clear what type of film it would be. McQueen argued with his friend and director John Sturges whether this would be a documentary or a love story with a racing backdrop. The movie essentially had to be filmed twice, once in 1969 during the race so the cameramen could test where to place cameras for the real shoot the following year. During filming, crews went on strike, Sturges dropped out, and McQueen, to show his dedication, agreed to take no pay in order to get the film finished.

Watching “Le Mans” on a big theater screen like at the Premier would have been a great experience. There is plenty of scenery in the opening scenes of the old French town as McQueen’s character Michael Delaney drives around to catch a glimpse of a lovely blond woman played by Elga Anderson who we learn in flashback is a widow of a driver killed in an accident involving Delaney in the previous year’s Le Mans race. A somber note to open on, but after we are put in the hustle and bustle of the 1970 Le Mans with a symphony of revving engines and national anthems as the drivers make their way onto the circuit. The camera zooms in and out continuously to make sure we get all the details. While there is much to hear on the soundtrack, no dialogue is directly made in the first 37 minutes other than the announcer over the loud speaker. The audience picks up the story through the images, the body language of the characters and the tension of the cars through each turn.

Directing the film is Lee H. Katzin who in the 1960s directed episodes of TV suspense shows like “Mission: Impossible” and “The Mod Squad.” Katzin directs the movie in a sort of documentary style that McQueen was going for but the execution doesn’t work as well when we are off the track. The little dialogue the movie has is usually about road conditions (a rain turns the race into a virtual deathtrap) but somewhere along the way is a confusing love story involving the widow, Delaney and a rival driver. In contrast to the scenes on the raceway, the subplots slow the movie down which is an ironic and undesirable effect in a movie about racing.

Some fans argue “Le Mans” is the greatest racing film ever made. A valid claim given the race scenes are crafted in an masterful way. Katzin films the opening race with careful precision the way Alfred Hitchcock would film a murder scene. The story the movie tells is convoluted and forgettable, however. I give “Le Mans” the same critique as I did for “Catch-22” in March. I liked a lot of what I saw and heard but the plot was lost on me, good enough for 2 out of 4 stars.

Other films came to mind while watching "Le Mans" that I liked better, particularly the recent films “Rush” based on Formula 1 drivers James Hunt and Niki Lauda and “Ford v. Ferrari” that also featured Le Mans. I might propose Will Ferrell’s “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” as the greatest racing movie, but like a Premier Theatre bounce house or a later start time to the Popcorn Panic, that may be asking too much.

Special Note: Le Mans played at Valparaiso’s Premier Theatre on September 9, 1971.

AUGUST 2021 REVIEW: "THE ANDROMEDA STRAIN"

Official PoCo Muse Film Critic Jeff Schultz revisits The Andromeda Strain for his August 2021 Review.

Nightly sounds of the black field cricket are a hint of summer’s end. Less subtle are the sandwich board signs outside cafes informing the passerby that pumpkin season will be here soon, no matter what temperature it will be outside. Perhaps even less are the displays of Halloween candy at the end of every aisle at the supermarket. August always feels like the Sunday of a long weekend and it’s time for the school and work routine to resume. Why look at it that way when it can be the Friday that leads into the autumn season? That seems to be the push these days and interestingly it was like that way at Shauer’s Premier Theatre in Valparaiso fifty years ago when kids could get a triple dose of the creepy-crawlies before they head back to classroom with a “Triple Frankenstein and Dracula Show” comprised of Hammer Films’ “Dracula Has Risen from the Grave,” “Frankenstein Must be Destroyed” and “The Face of Fu Manchu” which played there during the week of August 19, 1971. I’m holding off on those kinds of films for October when it’s timely but for this month we’ll look at a film that played a week earlier which also packed a triple-punch of fear with mysterious substances from outer space, germ warfare, and government agents who drag you away from your late-night cocktail party.

Premier audiences got to look at the confidential files of “The Andromeda Strain,” a science fiction thriller starring Arthur Hill, David Wayne, James Olson, and Kate Reid as an assembled team of scientists called to unravel what turned a remote Arizona town into a valley of corpses. None of the actors provided much star power although they had some notable roles prior in TV and film. Wayne played the Mad Hatter in a few episodes of “Batman” alongside Adam West. Olson appeared in the 1968 film “Rachel, Rachel” playing a love interest for Joanne Woodward and Reid starred as the mother of Natalie Wood’s character in “This Property is Condemned,” released in 1966. Hill would be the lead in a TV series for ABC called “Owen Marshall, Counselor at Law” a short time later in the fall of 1971. The bigger name on the movie is the film’s director, Robert Wise. Wise won Oscars twice for directing “West Side Story” and “The Sound of Music.” The latter was the highest grossing movie of all time for five years before “Gone with the Wind” recaptured the title in 1971. He also directed the seminal sci-fi film “The Day the Earth Stood Still” two decades earlier.

Nowhere near reaching “The Sound of Music” in terms of success, “The Andromeda Strain” was a modest hit when first released with a gross of $12.4 million against a budget of $6 million. Unbeknownst at the time, the movie planted a seed and a large one at that. It was the first screen adaptation of a novel by Michael Crichton which makes it part of a billion-dollar cinematic empire today largely due to a film series based on his later novel “Jurassic Park.” Crichton wrote “The Andromeda Strain”, his sixth novel, inspired by British spy publications at the time that also paid much attention to detail to science. He received an MD from Harvard Medical School but dropped out of practicing medicine to pursue writing. His studies fueled his inspiration to write medical fiction (and create the popular TV series “ER”) although his most lucrative creations are that of science gone bad. He directed his own screenplay for “Westworld” in 1973 that featured vacationers fighting rogue cowboy robots at a theme park. It’s been revived as an HBO series.

The film version of “The Andromeda Strain” is also heavy on science lingo and details. Once the satellite carrying the deadly pathogen is retrieved securely from the town, it is taken to a secret underground lab known as Wildfire to be studied. The four scientists are herded through each level of the facility, starting with decontamination that’s even more elaborate than what we’re used to in our current pandemic (i.e. washing our hands for 20 seconds each time). Electronic voices on the intercom are constantly directing them to Sector E or G or some other letter, than proceed to Chamber B past Control room 1-H, etc. It’s tedious but this is where we see the characters’ personalities. The older ones are the most compliant and serious while the other two, one is a sharp-minded woman with a sarcastic personality and one is a proud bachelor, provide much needed humor. Then there’s the monster of the movie, the green slime that seems to be growing and mutating at lightning pace that it could obliterate all life on earth if it escapes. The little devil causes blood to crystallize, resulting in the victim’s immediate death when inhaled. The government above is a little more than ready to take drastic actions if necessary and the lab itself is armed with a nuclear self-destruct device should containment be breached.

Despite its ample amount of “people doing science” throughout, “The Andromeda Strain” is a taut thriller and impressive for what was considered science fiction at the time of its release. The genre formed in the silent movie days by filmmakers with big ideas on what the future would look like such as Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis” in 1927 and the 1936 film “Things to Come” based on H.G. Wells’ works. After WWII, the genre turned to tales of giant creatures transformed by nuclear energy from atomic fallout. There were only so many reptiles and insects that could level entire cities until director Stanley Kubrick brought philosophy back into the fold with the film “2001: A Space Odyssey” in 1968 at the height of space exploration. It was a movie as different as anyone had seen before, and quite frankly ever since. Now elevated beyond the days of Buck Rogers, the genre was more about science and less about fiction, at least in tone like “The Andromeda Strain” and “Soylent Green.” Don’t expect the same though for “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.”

My rating for “The Andromeda Strain” is 3 out of 4 stars. Funny thing I would lastly note is the movie received a G rating from the new Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) rating system. Keep in mind the G rating then included non-children’s films like “The Odd Couple” and “The Green Berets,” but I believe “The Andromeda Strain” to be the least G-rated-G-rated film you’ll ever see. Not only is there occasional profanity and nudity, including a topless female cadaver, the town scenes are highly disturbing. If you think Disney’s talking mice are creepy, the scientists stumble upon an old woman who hung herself and a man who drowned in the bathtub. Perhaps the MPAA got into the Halloween spirit a little early too.

JULY 2021 REVIEW: "WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY"

Official PoCo Muse Film Critic Jeff Schultz revisits Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory for his July 2021 Review.

I’ve heard fantastic, carefree tales about what is like to be a kid in the 1970s. Car seats? Heck no, just throw your rugrats in the back of your station wagon, seat belts optional. Drinking from a garden hose? If it’s good enough for the plants, it can’t be that bad. Playing unsupervised? Live and learn. Junk food? Those who lived back then will tell you they ate and drank nothing but potato chips, stacked bologna sandwiches, hot dogs by the pack, Charleston Chews, Dolly Madison fruit pies, Zagnut bars, orange dreamsicles and a liter of grape or cherry Kool-Aid on a daily basis and never gained a pinch of fat on their torsos. The trick supposedly was their metabolism spiked beyond imagination because they were not tethered inside to their Xboxes, a slam to kids today. One author wasn’t letting the generation off the hook that easily and wrote a morality tale about the ramifications of childhood gluttony and consumerism. He was Roald Dahl and his book “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” was made into a film with Gene Wilder that showed at the Premier Theatre in July 1971.

Rather than oppose candy culture, the film mainly revels in it. The opening credit sequence could be described as a tribute to Pavlov’s dog with mouth-watering close-ups of creamy chocolate being stirred, molded into treats, packaged and shipped to a store near you. If it looks too much like a commercial, it’s because it is. The title of the film was changed to “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory” as opposed to “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” so it could promote a new line of candy bar made by the Quaker Oats Company. Producer David Wolper used Quaker Oats as sponsor for television shows he was making and agreed the movie would be a good tie-in for their Wonka bars. Reportedly Quaker’s Wonka bars melted too easily so they didn’t last long before the line was sold to another company. Unlike the candy, the movie escaped from being a disaster, and even though it was not a hit when released 50 years ago, it has become a timeless fantasy loved by many.

Living poor as church mice, the Bucket family gains a reason for hope. Their youngest member Charlie could win the prize of five lifetimes – a tour of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory with lifetime supply of chocolate – if he’s a lucky finder of a golden ticket inside a Wonka bar. His odds are diminished having only enough money to scrounge for two candy bars while kids of rich parents hire workers to unwrap thousands until they find one. Charlie’s faith finds him a ticket and next it’s off to the factory, which coincidentally is in his town and has enough mystery to it as a spooky old house. “No one ever goes in, no one ever comes out,” a popular legend claims. The procession into the factory is a media event and emerging for the first time since he locked the place up is the enigmatic Willy Wonka who dishes out delectable confectioneries as well as karma. This marketing gimmick we learn eventually is a disguise of Wonka’s way of choosing a successor to run his little kingdom of chocolate rivers, gum mountains, lick-able wallpaper and oompa-loompas, but it must be someone of unimpeachable character.

If there are five golden tickets for “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory,” it’s these – the imagination of Roald Dahl, the music by Leslie Bricusse (who you may remember we discussed in the January review of “Scrooge”), art direction by Harper Goff (who also worked on “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea”) the bond between Charlie and Grandpa Joe, and the genius of Gene Wilder. Wilder agreed to do the role on one condition, that he would limp when we first see him and then somersault his way into a leap. This is so those watching the movie won’t know if Wonka is ever telling the truth, Wilder said to his bosses. Wilder broke into film with a memorable short role in 1967’s “Bonnie and Clyde,” but his second film launched him to stardom co-starring in Mel Brooks’ “The Producers” as nervous accountant Leo Bloom. It would be three years after Willy Wonka that Wilder would star in a pair of films again with Mel Brooks, the Waco Kid in “Blazing Saddles” and as Dr. Fredrick “Fronk-en-steen” in “Young Frankenstein.” After that, he would find another comedy partner, Richard Pryor, starting with “Silver Streak” in 1976.

The factory scenes get most of the pizzazz, but just as rewarding is Dahl’s satirical bite that’s part of the potpourri of the first act. Reports are flying in on TV of Wonka mania and the candy is being used as the ransom in kidnappings and the inspiration of super-computers designed to pinpoint where the golden tickets are. Watching the movie in 2021 evokes memories of when people were sparring with one another over toilet paper. Veruca Salt would have been one. The rampant greed shown provides the contrast to Charlie’s integrity. His hero moment leaving the Everlasting Gobstopper in Wonka’s office instead of selling it to competitors brings forth our moral. Wonka, paraphrasing Shakespeare, looks and says “So shines good deed in a weary world.”

“Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory” shines itself in a deluge of other films studios were throwing at kids at the time like “Godzilla’s Revenge”, “Pufnstuf,” and “Digby: The Biggest Dog in the World.” I had before considered “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” a minor film but today I find it among the ranks of “The Wizard of Oz” or “Harry Potter” where there is real magic within the movie and we’re not just seeing actors in costumes like many kid fantasy offerings. I give it 3 ½ out of 4 stars. The Premier’s owners probably felt the magic too by a rise in sales at the candy counter.