| Guilty Pleasures No. 109 |
[Nov. 9th, 2009|07:47 pm] |
My second-favorite sci-fi horror western of all time is "The Beast of Hollow Mountain" (1956), in which long-time MooT fave Patricia Medina plays Sarita, the sultry love-interest of an American cowpoke, Jimmy Ryan (Guy Madison).
The story (written by Willis O'Brien, the man who designed and animated the original "King Kong") concerns Ryan's discovery that the cattle that keep goin' missing from his Mexican ranch are hors d'oeuvres for a local T Rex (actually, an ill-temepered Allosaurus).
The surly dino lives inside a hollow mountain (aptly named Hollow Mountain), and local legend has it that the creature emerges only during times of drought to forage for water, a few tons of steak tartar, and unlucky Mexicans. Between the local village and the mountain is a treacherous swamp, full of quicksand, from which no one who attempts to negotiate it ever returns.
Sound like the cinematic equivalent of a cow-pie?
You might think so, but I encourage all MooT followers to give "Beast" a chance — it's not that bad. Hell, it was filmed in "Nassour Regiscope." So, it's got that going for it.
Regiscope was a contrived name for replacement animation, essentially animation created by filming multiple, rigid models instead of one super-articulated puppet.) In this case, the models were all fired clay figurines (just like yours truly made in elementary school), sculpted in various poses and painted to match a larger version, as well as a costume some actor wore for closeups.
 Nassour refers to stop-motion guru Edward Nassour, who co-directed "Beast" with live-action director Ismael RodrÃguez, and who supervised the painstaking process of shooting 20 different clay miniatures of the Allosaurus to create the illusion of a running and jumping monster. Many scenes in "Beast" are combos of traditional stop-action and Regiscope footage of the clay minis.
"The Beast of Hollow Mountain" is actually a quite charming and colorful example of post-Korean War matinee fodder, and packs a lot of action into just 78 minutes. It's superior in a dozen ways to the recent "Land of the Lost," mostly because of its way higher cute factor and blazing color palette. It's also got a good-natured self-awareness that reminds me of "Son of Godzilla."
Okay, back to the story.
Madison is as charismatic a piece of man-cake as you'll find in Fifties B's, and along with the voloptuous Medina, carries this thing. He looks so campy-debonair in his brightly colored Roy Rogers shirts that you just want to work as one of his fun-lovin' ranch-hands. He's outdone on the catwalk, however, by the dandy Mexican Vaqueros, whose elegant charro suits, hallucinatorily bright silk neckerchiefs, and exquisitely detailed sombreros evoke wilder notions of what a Nudie suit could be. The costumes and locations are the stuff Technicolor was made for.
Medina is just lovely, a walking dream I might've had that mixed Jane Russell with Faith Domerogue. Notable, though, is the fact that her character has more resourcefulness and independence than most period monster-movie eye candy we're used to. She's resilient, sassy, brassy, and tough. When she falls and twists her ankle when running from the beast, she snarls and pulls out a six-gun. She's no whiner! She's just scrappin'!
The rather formulaic plot furnishes a vintage red herring in the form of evil Enrique Rios (Eduardo Noriega), a rival rancher who is engaged to Medina. The jealous and possessive Rios has an ... ahem, a beef ... with Ryan when he finds out his wife-to-be is in deep smit with the fancy-pantsed gringo. Ryan, whose competitive male dander is instantly up, accuses Rios of poaching his cows.
 Did I mention that there's an annoying brat too? I mean really annoying. I mean he makes Short Round from "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" seem like a well-behaved li'l delight. Panchito is his name (I told you he was little). He's the orphan son of a local who ventured into the swamp and was never seen again. When you meet Panchito, you'll chalk up his Dad's disappearance as suicide.
The Jurassic rustler himself (herself?) — who doesn't appear on screen until the film's final 20 minutes — has the longest, reddest tongue I've ever seen on film (except for footage of KISS in concert). But that's not the fakest-looking aspect of what is a pretty striking stop-motion creation (you must consider that the great Ray Harryhausen didn't have a hand in the production). That award goes to the obvious painted rubber boot feet used by an actor in an Allosaurus costume for certain shots. Oddly, those goofy feet are the focus of numerous closeups — it's one of the few times the production values veer into the cheesy Godzilla-Gumby end of the rubber creature scale. In those herky-jerky moments, I feel like we're watching a Groinpullasaurus with back spasms doing the Macarena. The SFX team of Jack Rabin and Louis DeWitt ("Kronos" and "Atomic Submarine") aren't close to being in Harryhausen's league, but they give us a serviceable if unsophisticated monstrosity most of the time.
 "Hey, this Mexican McNugget tastes like plastic."
I do love this beast of the empty hillock. And I think it's a boy. He's just so mischievous. He's feisty. He causes a cattle stampede (actually, speeding up the camera does) — to, what, tenderize his meal? And each cow he catches is devoured with uncommon joy. He (thankfully) terrorizes little Panchito. Smelling a trap, he clumsily moonwalks backwards out of a giant mud puddle. Sarita and Panchito hole up in a house and he runs around it woo-wooing like a dopey dervish — just to drive them batty, I think. He slides down a dirt embankment on his prodigious butt and chases after a horse. Through it all he wiggles that tongue crazily and brays like a cross between a cougar and a hyena.
"TBoHM" certainly inspired Harryhausen's "The Valley of Gwangi" (1969), which turns out to be my favorite — and perhaps the best — Western monster movie ever made. D'ya think Gila Golan, "Gwangi's" version of Sarita as I call her, has something to do with that?
Watch "Beast" here, in its entirety, as it resides in the public domain.
In the meantime, a few more pix of funky cool Medina might help explain my gushing ...
That hunk of man up there with Patty is Lex Barker; the still is from "Duel on the Mississippi" (1955), in which she played a man-eater named Lili Scarlet.
She was never not sexy.
PS. Patty turned 90 this past July. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 9th, 2009|12:44 pm] |
OH BOY IM GONNA INTERMINGLE MY PANEL WEDDING NONSENSE WITH A FUCK JOURNAL HOW ABOUT THAT
hey meowzbow
sorry im going to new york for five days
im sorry!
DONT TAKE IT OUT ON HIBIKI ILL BE BACK
so i went to new yorkrkrkrkrkrrk for a wedding but well mostly for dess's panel with cactus and messhoff where they get to talk about how they're really good at making games and WHY ISNT EVERYONE SHOWEING THEM WITH MONEY
or something
here are some pictures
( BUT FIRST A BURGER LOLITA ) |
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