Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1962-07-26, Page 4Horror Pictures Are, the Tops, During its long atnei Ugly ca- reer, the movie monster has as- sumed rnonY guises • as Lon Chaney, looking like an over. weight skull in "Phantom of the Opera," as Bela Ltigosi, looking like a hypnotized Arthur Murray in "Dracula," as -Bois Karloff, looking like a badly used doll in. "Prankenstein," a n d as t Chaney Jr,, looking like a swol- len. Pekinese in "The Wolf Man." During tile '40$ and 450s, the hu- man monster went into a decline et the hands of outer-space SOn ders and, blobs of blue ooze, tut .nose he has returned to, power and respectability. thie time in the person of. Vincent Pelee, whose particular asset, as- demon- strated in a series of movies made from Edgar Allan Poe store lea, is that with a little make-tip he can look like the very devil. In 1902, led by the combination of Price and Poe, the classic hor- ror movie is going, to have its 'biggest year le almost two deca- des, The renaissance has beep building for some time, When Hollywood released its pre-1948 movies to television in 1950, the unearthed Frankenstein monster, Dracula, and the Wolfrnan found a whole new generation, of Tans. England's Hammer Films quickly began turning out remakes ("Curse of Frankenstein," "Hor- ror of Dracula"), and they all made money, Last year Hammer made "Curse of the Werewolf" for about $600,000; the movie grossed more than $2 million worldwide. In 1960, American- International came forth with "Fall of the House of Usher," taken from the Poe story and starring Price; this one cost $750,000 and grossed $1,750,000. Last year A-I released "Pit and the Pendulum," another: Poe- Price effort, which is doing even better than "Usher," Cheered by this flow of cash, Hammer is currently spending a million dollars on a remake of "Phantom of the Opera," starring Herbert Lam and Heather Sears (of "Boom at the Top"), for Universal Studios, (Cary Grant actually wanted to play the Phantom, but Universal talked him out of it on the ground that it would be bad for his image.) American-International plans to turn out eight horrors in 19a2, including "Premature Burial," with Ray Millanti, and "Tales of Terror," still another Poe movie,- with Price, Basil Rathbone, and Peter Lorre, The acting in the new crop has been at least competent, and sometimes surprisingly g o o d. Furthermore, the recent movies are putting less emphasis on the gory, more on the story. Even symbolism has begun to creep in. Roger Corm'an, producer-director of, "Tales of Terror," said last month: "You tell the straight suspense story, of course, but you also use symoblism to =touch sub- conscious fears—the fears of the child. 'Premature Burial' has the perfect example: Death—a man being dropped into the ground and silence—the return -to, the womb. That is why Poe is so great, He had a pipeline to the subconscious before Freud ever stealaboat Comfit Agourod The Bon4. I RUPP AND READY — Wearing his speC101 parachute, Tutor, a 5-year-ald Golden Lab- rador, is put through his paces in jumping practice for his first parachute leap from a plane, Private Alan Bunting laoks on during a training session in Aldershot, England, Tutor will be trained by the Medical Corps to be dropped from cr plane in mount* sea- cue work, t.ewo Transfer company lnieks- rumbled down the paving stow which faced the levee until they reached the gangplanks pet ashore from the packet's bow, We all got Putt my mother, my father, and. I, Our hood baggage followed, ,My father signaled one of the hacks to wait "City of Quincy," my grand- mother read aloud from the side of the ornately decorated paddle box, "It was right 'bout here the 'Edward Sates' was tied up when she burned -- burned to the water's edge, That was back in 1854, at least 45 years aeo. Not a one et you. was barn them, If the Edward Bates hadn't burned your father wouldn't have come ashore, He would. have stayed being a steamboat clerk. He wouldn't have gone into business, he might not have married me.. and where would you have been? All five of us started up the gangplank. "We'll see You girls to your staterooms," said Illy father. "'Your mother and I will wave ► good-bye from the levee." The City of Quincy May not have been so grand as the pre- Civil War Edward Bates, But it ► was one of the last regularly op- erating packet beats on the Up- per Mississippi. Fees if any passengers made lengthy business trips on these • packets by 1599, Railroads paral- • lelecl the river. They were incom- e perebly faster and were ap. preaching their heyday. But the packets still c-arried freight un- til the river froze up, And the four or live day cruise between St. Louis and St. Paul made quite a fashionable excursion. One of my father's business as- sociates always sent his family to their cottage on one of the Minnesota lakes, Lake Minne- tonka, and it was economical and convenient to send up a span of their horses and a surrey by boat, This time the family joined the hones and "L.M." Rumsey had suggested -to my father that our family join his since they, too, had taken a cottage on the same lake. Our hand baggage now arrived In the custody of two white-coat- ed Negro stewards and we were shown to two adjoining state- rooms. eneeeese e-en3- We had the stewards stow our sags and then my father wanted to show me the pilothouse before he went ashore. We climbed up and up, it seemed, to the roof of the "texas" and then entered the surmounting glass-enclosed cupola from which the bow and stern of the packet, the city, 'the levee, and the river lay spread out around us. Today's river boats (most of them the immensely powerful "tow boats" which push, not pull) are steered by steam or electric power, The pilots stand between two levers which they move to activate the motors which, in turn, enove the rudders. But the "Quiney'2 ' belonged to the 19th century, IA wheel was a good 10 feet in diameter, the lower half concealed under the pilot- house floor. The pilot's own hand applied the needed power to the rudders by way of wire cables wound around a big steel and wooden drum. Beside the wheel was a mystifying array of bell- pulls and speaking tubes. Across the hack of the "house" stretch- ed the long, high bench on which favored passengers and, in Mark Twain's day, guest' pilots might enjoy the spendid view of the river and the big white steamer plowing up it. Then we walked down to the hurricane deck and got a closer look at the forward main deck, still piled with unstowed freight, boarding passengers, and 15 or 20 roustabouts carrying sacks and boxes in a stooping trot up the forward gangplank. All the roustabouts were Nee mite alone Vincent Pelee, who more than anyone else is responsible foe leading the horror movie :bade from the crave, was an ardent Poe fan long before lie was east in Poe pictures, end says he has read KrefftsEhing "to find, out what motivates people to strange behavior," But Priee. views itte labors with amusement as well tls enthusiasm, is One of the Most, unassuming actors in Hollywood, and one of the most cultivated,. It. is the considered opinion of many that he makes movies in, puler to get money to spend on his art collection, unlike many actor's, who start an art collection to ,get rid of some of the money they Make from movies, A Yale lAtlf1,. who did postgraduate work in London and Nuremberg, Price has written a book on art ("i Like What I. Knew"),. and is about to embark on 44 lecture, tour on Tennessee Williams, Walt Whitman, and Whistler which will take him through some • 25 cities arid universities, "The fun of doing horror. movies Is that you are dealing with unreality from .the start," said. Price to a visitor in his Bel. Air home. "I've always believed in heavy make-up, anyway, Did yeti know that Laurence Olivier —who goes all-out with make-up •—has never worn his DV711, nose? He builds up some new kind of nose for each part, I always make it a point to sit and fiddle. with the make-up before I go on, It has a real psychological effect for me, going behind a mask, "In one of the three stories in Toles of Terror,' I play an old man who is killed physically but kept alive in his mind. The question was: What would a man look like in this state? We set- tled for an old-fashioned mud- pack—it dries and draws the skin, up and then cracks Open. It worked beautifully. "Bet the hardest job was the part where the dead man actual- ly comes back to life. They de- cided upon a mixture of glue, glycerin, corn starch, and make- up paint, which was, boiled and poured all over my head, Hot, mind you. I could stand it for only one shot, then I'd have to run, It came out beautifully, It gave the impression of the .614 man's face melting away . "You know, a great many scientists and college professors, are fans of horror pictures," Price concluded. "It isn't true that you make such entertain- ments to appeal to 12-year-old. Minds. It's just that a lot of fine minds revert to 12 years old for relaxation." — From NEWSWEEK WOS TOO Good To. Be True of my face in a bingo hall was as welcome as a yell of fire; the place would clear like magic. "The others knew they were westing their time. I'd won seventeen goes in a row and col- lected enough gifts for the next dozen family weddings. "And it wasn't only the bin- go," he went on, bitterly, "No- body would come with me to the putting-green or t h e billiards saloon, or take a hand at poker. Why, my own mimes refused to play a hand of crib with me. Said there was no future in it and she might as well sit knit- ting, "I was reduced, one rainy af- ternoon, to playing ludo against myself," "Ha! And the result?" "Draw," said' Mr, Carter. "My right hand couldn't lose and neither could my left." I gave Mr. Carter a hard look. No twitch of the eyebrow, no lift of the lip. He was telling the truth. "Unaccountable," I mur- -inured. "No, no," he stated, "Not un- accountable, Not if you believe in these things as you have to, when they happen. Yes. It was a gypsy woman let me, In for this, On -the seaside race- course, the first day of that holi- day. "She -had a baby in her arms and, being in a holiday mood, I gave this kid a ten-bob note. And the mother smiled as she took the note off the baby and CAPITAL GAIN Whatever a person saves from his revenue he adds to his capi- tal, and either employs it him- self in maintaining an additional. number of productive hands, or enables some person to do so . for a share of profits, As the capital of an individual can be increased only by what he eaves . . , so the capital of a society can be increased only in the same manner. —Adam Smith, said: 'Now you'll always be lucky, kind sir.' " "And you are? Then you can't go wrong!" I exclaimed.• "You could make thousands — lions — on the dogs, the Stock Exchange . . ." "And what use," asked Mr. Carter, passionately, "would my millions be to me? Use' your loaf! I could retire — to what? Bridge-playing. is out. Golf is out. Chess is out. EverythIng's out. "I can't even have a' game of darts in a pub, once I'm- known. Do, you want to play with me again? Course not. It's worse than having mumps. "Anyway, I doe't want mil- lions. I'm a quiet family man. Mind you, I make an easy thou- sand a year out of this — 'er — disability of mine—" His Luck A Complete Story By HESTON CLARKE He looked so wretched, sitting there gnawing away at his pint as though each mouthful were 'a foretaste of eternity, that I'd an urge to cheer the chap up a bit, I said: "Care for a game of darts?" "No.,, A pause. "Well, dominoes?" "No" Another pause. "Oh," I said in an injured tone, "Oh. All right," But I'm a sociable sort. My friends call me nosey. I call it being interested in people. This chap was middle-aged and plump; he was well-dressed and the picture of health. Surely he couldn't have a care in the world. Yet he looked tired of it all. "Me," I persisted, "I like a gaine of darts, Not that I'm much good. So you needn't fear you'd lose." "I'm not afraid of losing, brother I never lose!" "Oh, don't you?" I said. "Don't you indeed? Well, I do. I'll play you for a pint." He rose, unwillingly, "As you like." We moved our glasses to the table by the window and played, The chap seemed a poor player, or else he just wasn't trying. This annoyed me, Dernmit, I wasn't a sponger angling for a free drink. Then, unexpectedly, he chalk- ed up a fifty and a double. twenty and the game ,was over, He'd won. But he said, curtly; "You needn't buy me any beer." That irritated me in o r e, "Drinks. I said and drinks it is. Let's play another," I bought him his pint and we played. He played as though he couldn't have cared less, And he won. When I'd paid for another pint he gave me, a cigar and said: "Sorry. But you did -insists And I told you I wouldn't lose." "Even if you're the local champ," I retorted, "you must lose sometimes," "I'm not the local champ. In fact I'm about the .worst player in the world. No practice, you see.• Nobody 'will play with me, Because I always win," He took a,gulp. "It began tine summer afternoon, last year at the seaside — a bingo session." "Began? What began?" "What I'm telling you about. Name's Carter, by the way. Jim Carter. Where was I? Oh, yes. This bingo place. "I'd left the missus grilling herself on the sands, and took a stroll along the front. "Into this bingo hall I went. Paid My money, took my card, listened to the clickety.click, legs-eleven man, And I won, I won a teddy-bear. Another card. Another win: a clock. Another. Another Win. "I won five times off and looked as though. I'd done a smash-and-grab at a gift-shop." "Five in a row? Didn't anyone complain?"' Mr, Carter cackled; "What do you think? After my third, an attendant came and glared over my shoulder. After my fourth, half the people pack- &:1, it in and went back tin the beach. "After my fifth the big 'hoes himself came along, Making flee- ty remarks, More people Walked out, I thought it best to do the eame," Itrri, And how long did this luck hole° "It'd still holding," declated Mr, Carter. "And it spoiled that holiday," "Spoiled it? Whyri "Within two dayii tilt eight Dog Burial Creates Problem Where should dogs be buried? Are those who have given years of affection to 'their masters or mistresses entitled to a niche in thAelaFmitilnychymaualnt?,s,Georges thinks so. Where his devoted pet, Felix, died last year, he buried him in the family vaults in, the churchyard at Attigues; a village hear Bordeaux. The local mayor, however, con- siders- this act to be a vulgar sacrilege. Churchyards, says the inaythe ate sacred places, set aside for • human remains. He gave IVIceesieut Blois fifteen days which to exintine Felix and bury him on the POtter`e field, the local dogs' burial graed, But Blois has appealed to the Conseil d'Etat, the Stipreine Witt of France. And. shied top legal decisions in trance take as long as they do in Cenadav should.be midisturbed tor Marne ( SUCCESS LADDER This mouse uses. a convenient toy fodder to reach his goat, a"Gouda cheese, in Ottawa, Olt. "A thousand a year? How?" "Oh, it comes in dribs and drabs, My fees vary, of course, 1 charge a guinea," explained Mr. Carter, "not to buy a ticket in a charity raffle. "A fiver to stay away from a whist drive. A hundred guineas to absent myself from the dog- track, Oh, yes, all the organizers know about me; and it's pay up or pack up — for if I go along, everyone else stays away." "Blackmail!" "One must live," said Mr, Car- ter. "But , . but , . ." "Listen," he said, "Would you sooner I brought every game and contest in the „country to a stand- still? Think of the dullness, the unemployment, the blow to healthy sport! No team, with my name in it, would ever get a fixture," He stared at me woefully, and went on: "Don't get the idea I want it this way. I reckon that gipsy-woman fastened a curse on me with the very best intentions. "I've nothing left to live for. No spice of danger. No excite- ment, It's always in the bag. "It makes me bored and irri- table and then I quarrel with the missus." As I wagged My head in sym pathy over Mr. Carter's sad story, I remembered noticing gypsies in the neighbourhood as I came along to the local that evening. 'those who 'put spells on," I declared, "can take them off. You'll have to go to the gypsies again . . ." "I've tried! They laughed at me!" "Perhaps the wrong approach, Mr. Carter," I suggested. "Novv-think. Yoh did a gypsy- woman a goodt turn once and .she gave you a run of luck.. Toe much so. Right. Now you want to redress the balance — collect the evil eye.", "Eh?" said 'Mr. Carter. "Oh, no, no!" "Yes, yes. To balance matters, don't• you understand — to put you back where you were be- fore." "You've only to upset one Of their baskets: of paper- flowers," I argued, "cuff one of their kids, tread on a corn." It took a long time, but in. the end reason prevailed., We. finished our drinks and *sallied'. forth. Sure enough, right , there on the •paVement stood.a gypsy -With pe0easket, waiting for a 'bus, her back towards us, "Nor'I hissed to Mr. Carter. He shrank back. "Now!" I urged. "Nceen. They say the gypsies are vanishinge Get your lucky. streak 'bent back before they 'disappear for ever!" Carter took a deep breath, arid advanced. Maybe it was nervousness, or feat of the accent, or maybe Mr. Carter baulked When he saw the Mit-brown baby in her arms, Be it as it may be, blunder- ,ed about and might have sent gypsy, pegs. and hutebrowe baby all tindet the appreachirig bus if I hadn't lugged them all back in the nick of time,, The *Omen snapped 'a 'strati-4e,, andseihister Word at Peer Carter. who slunk' quickly ,away dowh, eidestreet. Then she turned to Me With a ',jig, bright Smile of gratitude. That was a Week age. I saw Jim tarter in the local tonight; Reeking pleased With hiMself, "Howes your WOW". I asked, "Fine," he said. , "I never what's '1614' to happen, next and lee -see geed as a tonic, . date for a genie of darts?" "What's the- use?'1 f asked, des, pairingly. "r always Wien' see From groes. They were bossed; by th .mate, .a burly trumpet,osele* white man, apparently obsess with the conviction that. no Mate ter how fast the men trotted they ought to trot faster. Finally there came a melodi- ous announcement by one of the cabin stewards "All that ain't 1 agoin' please to git asho'." Then to especially stentorian directions by the mate the roust- abents, hauling on lines, swung the gangplanks inboard to their voyareng position pointing sky- ward over the prow. The deep-toned whistle eseuided, and the City of Quiney, with much clang- ing of engineroOm bells and coughing of steam from the ex- hattq stacks, backed off from the im'Qe and swung upstream breasting the current. The long journey up the twisting, turning, beautiful Upper Mississippi had be eat For me there was much to see, and all at once. With my mother's hesitant permiesion I dashed from frantic waving to my father and grandmother over the forward railing, back through the long saloon to look down em Mr. Rumsey's carriage horses on the afterdeck and at the.milky tor- rent gushing astern from the paddle wheels out of the huge "boxes" which encased them — then forward again to watch the greet river we were ascending. Before long a chorus of "ohs" and "ahs" announced our entry into that strange and exciting phenomenon; the blending of the waters at the eonflm rice of the "Big Muddy," the Missouri, and the relatively clear Upper Mis- sissippi. Great eddies of clay- bank brown and smooth patches of blue-green intermingling as these two gigantic streams pour- ed into each other. The four of us family voyagers entered the great dining saloon for luncheon, Then we emerged on deck in time to see the Alton Palisades, a sculptured wall of cream-colored dolomite rising three to four hundred feet di- rectly from the water's edge and stretching 20 miles from the lit- tle city of Alton, scene of Love- joy's ante-bellum martyrdom, to its turn up the east bank of the Illinois. We were to see a number of such palisades before we reached St Paul — those made famous by Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn around Hannibal, Missouri; the even loftier ones near Dubuque, Iowa; and Winona, Minnesota. People who think of the "Father of Waters," placidly flowing through monotonous flat plains should make a voyage up or down at least part of the "Up- per River." We touched at the levee of the city which had given our packet its name: Quincy, Illinois. All river towns, from Vicksburg, Mis- sissippi, to St. Joseph, Missouri, look somewhat alike, as do sea- coast cities from Halifax, Nova Scotia, to Charleston, South Caro- lina — at least as view at the water's edge. Farther north, after we had entered Lake. Pepin (the Keokuk Dam had not been dreamed of, much less built) we ran into a terrific storm in late afternoon. I know now it must have been the fringes of a tornado. Unlike a seagoing vessel, The City of Quincy did not head for open water to ride it out. We nosed into a "tow head," a clump of cottonwoods on a bar, and the roustabouts, aided by the mat's trumpet voice, made fast to the green-gray trunks, The paddle wheels, revolving slowly, kept the packet's bow firmly pressed against the muddy bank. The violent storm of wind and rain cleated away as quickly as it had come up. The boat backed off and headed upstream. The drenched roustabouts' huddled on the forward deck. Good ladies from St, Louis' Vanderventer Place and Compton Hill saw nothing improper in tossing small change over the rail down am- ong them and laughing discreet- ly at the battle royal which en- sued. e Then two days later, days filled with peaceful bends and grand panoramas, came the Falls of St. Anthony — St. Paul, the head of navigation — and the voyage was over. — By Edward B. Orr in the Christian Science Monitor, Dreams of Summer MENTAL CLINKERS Correct living adds to the probability of success; no man can work well or think well with his life line filled with clinkers, —Ed, Howe. a neeareSkg .