Mystery Monday: Sidekick Carl and the Tonka camper van

 

After taking it slow for a while, I decided it was time to get back to this feature. In the course of that decision, I thought of several perfectly obscure items in my collections, but I decided the one I wanted to cover was something that outwardly barely qualifies as a mystery. My underlying reasoning was that there are different levels of mystery. The obvious ones, which this feature has been dedicated to so far, are the strange yet nondescript, haphazardly marked toys that a kid would pick up without knowing or necessarily caring what they were and where they came from. But there are also more subtle puzzles and problems that only an adult hashing things out long after the fact would think of, the questions of when, why and how long. On more careful consideration, there is one seemingly familiar brand that poses more of this kind of question than any other: the Tonka trucks, and the accessories and figures that sometimes accompanied them.

The first part of our mystery lies in the nature of the toys. Tonka trucks have been made for well over half a century, invariably in varying or entirely hazy sizes and scales. By the 1980s in particular, this was contributing to a crisis of branding, as most of the vehicles didn't work well with action figures and other related toys. That, in turn, left the brand at a competitive disadvantage, too big for the Hot Wheels/ Matchbox niche and usually (though as we shall see not always) too small to hold Star Wars and GI Joe figures. Judging from my own recollections, there was a further disconnect between adults and kids about how the brand was perceived. For ungrateful Eighties kids like me, Tonka trucks quickly faded into background noise. I certainly got them, for a very long time, but very few made enough of an impression for me to remember how I received them. When I played with them, it was usually because I needed something, and it didn't really matter if it "fit" with anything else. Here's a few pics of the Tonka toys I encountered more often than any other, the pickup truck and/ or trailer.

These left a minor mystery in themselves because I absolutely remembered that the black truck came with a boat that I could find no trace of. I'm also sure that somewhere there was a bit of text that read "Miami Nice", a terrible pun/ reference I barely recognized. What got disconcerting was that it turned out Tonka had released a number of boats, none of which matched the boat as I remembered it. I did finally find some pics of boats I was satisfied came from the same molds, but still no exact matches. I may cover that little side quest in more detail in another post, but for now, I'm ready to move on to the next part of the mystery, the Tonka action figures, which I last covered in the Dropped Pilots post. Here's some pics of my only available specimen from that line, Sidekick Carl, in a line up with Bossk, the Adventure People diver, and the very first to appear in this feature, the Voltron red guy.

Since I first mentioned this now-obscure line, I have done quite a bit more research, which mostly served to convince me that this was a mystery worth coming back to. What's clear is that by the early to mid-1970s, Tonka started including posable figures with their largest vehicles, particularly the Mighty Ambulance and Mighty Winnebago. (Yes, you read that right.) The first of these were more like dolls than action figures, notably having actual fabric clothing that may have been removable. In 1978, Tonka started including all-plastic action figures referred to as Play People, confusingly in both nominal 3.75" (maybe closer to 3.5" judging from these pics) and 5" size. I haven't quite unraveled the mystery of why or how extensively the larger scale figures were used, though the depressingly obvious explanation is that they were made for the Winnebago and certain older vehicles that hadn't yet been retired or retooled. The smaller size was the one that saw further production, including sale on card. The line has been dated 1979-1981, as per Figure Realm, which may be accurate for figures sold separately from Tonka vehicles. According to Mighty Tonka, a site strikingly critical of the Play People line and concept, the Play People were retired entirely by 1982.

To get a full sense of the line's pros and cons, I finally broke out yet another item I had lying around, a Tonka van/ camper trailer set that may have been one of the first to include the figures. (See the Battlegrip page on the line, already linked to when I first introduced Carl.) I have just enough memories of this thing to recall that I found it different from the trucks, and I just barely remember an already weathered figure that I believed came with it. That figure ended up consuming a lot of my attention, because I thought of it at the time as a woman; however, the only female figure I can find record of with the orange/ peach-colored jumpsuit I remember was in 5-inch scale. From further research, the set normally had a man and a woman, with the former sometimes in orange and the latter typically being blonde with a white or blue outfit. It also came with a dog and some other accessories I certainly have no memory of. I did finally fish out the van and trailer about a week before starting this post. Here's a few pics, with Carl and the Truckstop Queen for reference.

After preliminary inspection, it was clear that the set was a semi-realistic van and an accurate approximation of a "popup" trailer, something I don't think I ever fully understood as a kid. This brought me to one more "minor" mystery: In almost all pictures I have found, there are stickers for detail on the table and the foldout bunk. As a kid, I hated this practice so much that I routinely peeled or scraped the stickers off, to the point that I can usually find my own handiwork and reconstruct a toy accordingly. Here, however, the absence of evidence is much more complete than my usual efforts can account for. What that suggests to me is that this is variant that cut corners even on the stickers, which I personally find mindboggling.

In any event, what interested me most was whether Carl could really fit in here. On this point, I had up until recently assumed Tonka vehicles weren't meant to be accessible enough to put an action figure inside, regardless of whether there was enough apace inside, and I don't believe I ever tested anything bigger than a Playmobil figure. However, I quickly confirmed that Carl would fit well enough in both the trailer and the van. Here's a few more pics.

This experiment gave me a different perspective on the cancellation of the Play People line. It would seem "obvious" that once Tonka had both figures and vehicles designed and sized to take them, they would have either continued the Play People line or retired the vehicles has well. On careful consideration, however, this was not an either/ or choice. There were certainly kids who would use Tonka trucks with other toys, if only because they had both. As long as Tonka had vehicles that were roughly compatible with standardized action figures, they could always use that as an explicit or implied selling point, a route that was already being taken by many lower profile manufacturers (egregiously Arco!). Just how many trucks continued to accommodate action figures, and how long, is something I'm already investigating, but for now I'm holding off for another day.

One more mystery continues to be how I ended up with Carl in my possession. I long believed that he would have come with a race car, known in full as the AJ Foyt racing set, but I am now satisfied that figures from that set would have had different markings, particularly on the back.  I concluded in the process that Carl must have originally been marked Team Tonka; I also confirmed he's marked with the year 1979. I am now leaning toward the possibility that Carl was one of the figures sold on card, perhaps as a 2-pack shown on Figure Realm, almost certainly well before I would have been old enough to play with him. What has been of more interest is that I've found pictures of many variations of the figure, indicating that it probably came with any number of vehicles and sets over a significant period of time. I'm not yet satisfied whether 1982 was the end of the line, but again, that will take further investigation.

Having gotten more familiar with the line, I have both a better sense of why it failed and a lot more frustration at the lack of information and general interest. Obviously, they don't compare well with Star Wars or even the Adventure People. Their whole look makes them feel even smaller, cheaper and blander than they were in reality, with plenty of unpleasant surprises left for anyone who handles one. But on the other side, they are still well-made, detailed figures (see especially Carl's back), with a startling number of variations that would surely have been minutely documented in a more successful or notorious line. More importantly, their realism and diversity was move valuable than the manufacturer could ever have intended in a landscape that would soon flooded with soldiers, robots and aliens. Unfortunately, this is exactly the kind of nuance kids would only have appreciated when a story required more civilian and/ or female characters than a single Princess Leia figure could portray. If it comes to that, I suppose that's the reason I ended up with the Truckstop Queen as model/ mascot for this blog; at a certain point, you need "normal" as your reference point.

That's all for now, more to come!

Space 1979: The one that's 77 minutes long and has 7 directors

 

Title: The Dungeonmaster aka Ragewar

What Year?: 1984 (copyright and UK release)/ 1985 (US theatrical release)

Classification: Mashup/ Parody/ Improbable Experiment

Rating: Downright Decent! (4/5)

 

At this writing, I’m still in the “repeat offenders” lineup, with a bit more material under consideration than I originally planned, and even by the standards of this feature, what I have left is bad enough to sap my morale. I decided the best option was to throw one more in the mix that’s actually good, so I turned to a movie I had long been considering from a crew that has already turned up repeatedly. So here is The Dungeonmaster, from none other than Charles Band and Empire.

Our story begins with a scene of a woman we never see again being kidnapped by goblin-like creatures, followed for no obvious reason by some very 1980s aerobics/ dance sequences. We then meet Paul, a hotshot computer programmer who apparently dreamed the opening melodrama, and his artistic live-in girlfriend Gwen, plus a computer he calls “Excalibrate”. It turns out Paul is ready to get married, but Gwen isn’t so sure. While she is thinking it over, she is taken captive by Mestema, an evil sorcerer in search of a new challenge. The warlock then presents Paul with a chance to free her by completing seven trials spread through time and space. The adventure drags the hero and his lady from landscapes of myth and fantasy to the dangers of a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Fortunately, Excalibrate is along for the ride as a protective gauntlet whose powers adapt and expand for each new world. However, Gwen adjusts a little too well when they arrive in a very familiar cityscape, accepting a new identity that puts her in the path of a killer. It’s up to Paul to save her, but first, she must remember who they are!

The Dungeonmaster was a production of Empire Pictures International and senior producer Charles Band, originally titled Ragewar: The Challenges of Excalibrate. The film starred Jeffrey Byron as Paul, Richard Moll as Mestema, and Leslie Wing as Gwen. Byron was also credited as cowriter of the script, the only writing credit in a long career in TV and movies. The film was divided into several semi-independent segments with a total of seven directors, including Ted Nicolaou, who went on to direct Terrorvision, stop-motion animator David Allen, and Band himself. A version of the movie was released with a PG-13 rating from the MPAA, very soon after the rating was introduced; this may have been a 73-minute cut of the movie sometimes listed. More recent home video releases feature a 77-minute cut that would almost certainly be rated R in a modern theatrical release. A famous and frequently repeated clip from Mythbusters appears to have been a direct (if possibly unconscious) quote from the movie by Adam Savage.

Going straight to my personal experiences, I had absolutely no knowledge of this movie until I watched it from Netflix streaming, one more thing that disappeared long ago. At the time, it made a favorable impression, and I immediately noticed the Mythbusters connection (which I will get to further on). As usual, I had to buy it on disc to watch it again, a few months before the present review, but fortunately, it proved to be available in a very inexpensive 4-pack. As far as I remember, I went in with no doubt it would be here sooner or later, but the very odd nature of the film put me off enough that I left it as one more for the “maybe” lineup. By the usual procedure, I gave it another go when I decided to review it. Even with a recent viewing under the belt, however, it still wasn’t what I was expecting, and not always in a good way.

The first and foremost thing I can say about this movie is that it has more than enough “good” to stay in the memory long after initial viewing. The effects, sets, and costumes are all up to the usual Band/ Empire standards, especially a stop-motion giant statue in Allen’s segment. The story is willfully disordered, but the pace and tone are just right to keep the movie going. What really shines is the dialogue between Byron and Moll. The villain is the kind of character that should be ludicrously cliched, but instead goes out the other side into archetype territory. The performance from Moll, previously sighted as the ice creature in Caveman, is priceless, delivering the usually boasting and threats with the occasional surprisingly personal revelations. It’s worth further note that the extra touches make it clear that the character was once human or at least mortal (despite certain references elsewhere in the script), while leaving his backstory appropriately mysterious. The hero is more than satisfactory as a foil, speaking out for virtue, enlightenment and the value of human fallibility. The high point of the repartee is surely when Paul gives a quite accurate account of the principles of ahimsa, very possibly the last thing people would expect me to have an interest in.

Unfortunately, the flaws of the movie are equally obvious, if not always easy to define. The episodic format inevitably leads to a few misses, conspicuously the Mad Max-inspired post-apocalyptic segment, and the length of certain segments contributes to the problem. This shows most in the segment set in a modern city (the one credited to Byron), which starts intriguingly but relies on increasingly contrived developments to move ahead. What weighs the film down far more is the disconnected nature of its scenes, an issue already seen with The Day TimeEnded from the same crew. The “random” approach can make for good fun for a while, but past the hour or even half-hour mark, it definitely begins to wear thin. What is perhaps worst of all is that Mestema rarely if ever directly involves himself in the challenges. This helps preserve the “quest” narrative device, but it also postpones the confrontation between the main characters, to the point that the otherwise satisfying dialogue between the pair starts to feel more and more like empty posturing from both sides. It doesn’t help that the final battle we do finally get is more like a pro wrestling match than a duel of the fates.

For the “one scene”, meanwhile, my choice is an early sequence where Mestema sends Paul to what looks like the Greco-Roman underworld, directed by John Buechler, who would go on to rival Allen as the lead effects guy for the Band crew. He is greeted by a horned creature, portrayed with an iffy-looking puppet that resembles a faun more than a demon. (How closely the posited battle of good and evil lines up with Judeo-Christian theology is repeatedly raised but never resolved.) The lord of the underworld promptly summons a squad of zombie-like minions, representing possibly the best effects of the film. Of course, Paul quickly bests the undead, so  the horned creature follows up with a far more sinister vision of the hero’s own undead body, representing his supposedly inevitable defeat. But Paul promptly dispels the apparition, through means that aren’t really explained, leaving the demon-faun apparently impressed. Then Mestema’s voice calls down, warning him that what he has seen is a “future reality”. Paul responds with the line immortalized by Mythbusters: “I reject your reality and substitute my own!”

Rating this movie has been an especially difficult decision. I finally decided the best frame of reference was the other Band films previously featured here. By that standard, it’s certainly an improvement over The Day Time Ended, and vastly so over Laserblast. Comparisons with Terrorvision and Dr. Mordrid are more difficult. This is certainly a more ambitious and sophisticated production than the later films, but we have already seen that the Band crew was usually better off with simplicity. I finally went with 4 out 5, because I genuinely like this one and also because I’ve been getting a little tired of my recent streak of movies that can’t do better or worse than 2 or 3. This is certainly well above the rest of that lot, even if it doesn’t feel as good as it “should” be. If you just want to have a bit of fun, you can do a lot worse. Trust me, I checked.

Rogues' Roundup: Shiny Truckstop Queen variant!

 

I'm already behind a day with posts, so I decided to keep this short, and I also decided it was time to show off one of my latest acquisitions. I've already devoted much of this feature to the Truckstop Queen and her sisters. Recently, I finally shelled out a little extra to get one more for the family. This time, I'm  calling her the Trailer Park Princess, or just Cameron. Here's a closeup of the new girl, more or less in the packaging, with Cassie, the other figure I purchased in box (and the stand).

The backstory for this one is that the manufacturer, Moore Action Collectibles, did a variant of the short-haired version of Cordelia from their Buffy/ Angel line. This time, she came with a bright red top and black pants, as well as the same accessories originally included with the "long hair" version. The figure was released in supposedly limited numbers at comic conventions in 2002. As previously mentioned, prices run higher than for other figures, though the numbers usually top out at about $50. I got this specimen for about $15 before shipping. When I got it, I opened the box for closer examination of the figure and accessories. For the moment, I have kept the figure in the inner plastic packing, in large part because I figured out with Cassie that you can't really put them back. Here's one more pic.

The big surprise with the Princess is that everything is shiny. The top is almost metallic, while the pants are so glossy they shine on their own. The hair also looks just a little lighter, though I can't tell for sure. Finally, the button for the pants is painted a brassy-copper color that just might show up in one or two of these pics. The downside is that something in the paint or plastic didn't age well. I tried a little handling of the figure and found a number of places where the surface felt soft or even sticky; in the process, I added some smudges that won't be visible to anyone but me. That ended up being a major reason I put the figure back in the box, because I definitely don't want to see what happens if dust gets stuck to her. 

Meanwhile, I tried out the accessories, and once again discovered these figures don't hold their own any better. The main items were a rather large purse and an axe. On testing, the purse wouldn't stay on the Queen's shoulder, despite being literally made for the figure, but it worked with the short-haired figures. Then there was the axe, which is very wonky but clearly intended to look cool above all else. Here's pics with the Queen and Cassie holding the accessories.

What is this thing, an armored laptop bag?

For some reason, everyone compliments my outfit when I'm holding an axe.

The figure also came with two small accessories, which I temporarily lost when taking the pics for this post. One is supposed to be a stake, but really looks more like a very fat pencil. The other is a flashlight, which judging from other collectors' photos never seems to have come out quite right. Despite their small size, they proved almost impossible to get in any figure's hands. Here's the Truckstop Queen barely holding the remaining accessories.

Why do you keep asking if I need batteries?

All in all, I certainly don't regret the purchase, but I'm still not sure what to do with this one, which is one more reason the Princess is staying in her box. For any display, the rest of the sisters are more than enough. While I'm at it, here's one more pic. Ooh, the shiny!

That's all for now, more to come!

Space 1979: The one that's a zombie movie with only one zombie

 

Title: The Incredible Melting Man

What Year?: 1977

Classification: Parody/ Mashup

Rating: For Crying Out Loud!!! (2/5)

 

In the course of this feature, one thing that’s given me very few surprises is comedies. I anticipated back in my Introduction that I wouldn’t be doing that many of them, and many if not most of the ones I have covered have been ones I already had in mind back then. Something I do find noteworthy in hindsight is that hardly any of the comedies I’ve reviewed have been from filmmakers who came up on my radar again. Dark Star and Night of the Creeps were debut features for new talent who soon moved on to much higher-profile work. Critters and Caveman came from filmmakers who otherwise stayed within “mainstream” circles. Killer Klowns From Outer Space was made by a crew that never helmed another film. It’s therefore rather too fitting that the first “repeat offender” in this category would be the one who already had the most mixed of results. I introduce The Incredible Melting Man, a film by the same guy who made Galaxina.

Our story begins with astronauts in space, one of whom eloquently describes viewing “the sun through the rings of Saturn”. Jump cut to Earth, and we learn that the mission has gone awry, leaving several astronauts dead with the commander and sole survivor under observation. Things go further amiss when the astronaut breaks loose, killing a nurse who panics at his appearance. It soon becomes clear that the astronaut is deteriorating into a zombie-like creature with an appetite for human flesh. The story proceeds with alternating scenes of the titular “melting” man, a sympathetic doctor and assorted military brass trying to find him, and various innocent bystanders who cross the creature’s path. Things get literally close to home when the astronaut turns up near the home of his old friend the doctor, whose wife is expecting. With help from a lawman who sees through the coverup, the friendly doctor tracks the astronaut to a power plant (I think). Can friendship reach the monster? Will the authorities help or make things worse? If you’ve seen literally any other movie, you can already guess that this won’t end well.

The Incredible Melting Man was probably the most successful film by William Sachs, previously known for the “satirical documentary” Secrets of the Gods. The film was produced and distributed by the notorious AIP, which Sachs criticized for edits and added scenes that downplayed comedy elements in the original script. William Rebar was cast in the title role of Steve/ the Melting Man, with Burr DeBenning as the doctor, Ted Nelson. The makeup and creature effects were provided by famed effects guy Rick Baker, who also worked on the AIP-distributed Squirm. His effects were reportedly scaled back, in part because Rebar refused to wear several prosthetics that were proposed or built. The movie was commercially successful and would be mentioned as an influence on a number of later sci fi/ horror filmmakers. The demise of Emil (played by Paul McCrane) in Robocop was acknowledged by Rob Bottin as a direct homage to the film. Sachs’ subsequent output shifted toward “straight” comedy and action/ adventure, as early as the 1979 film Van Nuys Blvd, with 1980’s Galaxina being arguably his last science fiction film.

In my own recollections, this movie is first and foremost one whose concept intrigued me far more than the film itself ever could. At one point, I even thought of using it as the basis for an Exotroopers adventure, with a very different conception that I quickly dubbed “The Wax Man”. Thinking about it further, I believe that only an animated film could have really done justice to the idea. What the movie showed instead strikes me as a case of “too much and not enough”, too silly to be truly unnerving and too gory to be comical. At any rate, I know I saw the movie on Netflix streaming ages ago, and I looked it up again as a possible entry for the Revenant Review. At the time, I wasn’t even satisfied that there was enough here to support a review. Still, I kept it in mind, and when I thought of a “repeat offender” series, it very quickly came out on top. So I watched it again, doing my best to try to find some sense in all of it. The final verdict is that I could still barely work with it.

The one thing I can say in the film’s favor is that I have no trouble at all believing that it was meant to be a comedy. To begin with, a good chunk of the film is off-balance vignettes that show the creature interrupting ordinary and usually silly situations; the best of the lot is when a group of kids run into the monster. There is plenty of dark humor in the astronaut’s dissolution, especially the early discovery of an ear, accompanied by a steady stream of pseudoscience and flat nonsense, including the egregious pronouncement that the melting man is somehow getting stronger as his condition advances. We also get effective, mannered satire from the military men, who never seem to consider not implementing a coverup. What really seals the deal is the music, provided by the late Anton Ober, who went on to score Child’s Play and the theatrical version of Robotech. The music is full of riffs, non sequiturs and willful cliches, including a repeated chord that seems to have been ripped straight from a “stoner” movie. It’s tempting to wonder further if the soundtrack was the one thing the studio couldn’t change on short notice.

Unfortunately, it’s the story and characters that don’t do nearly as well. It’s not hard to sympathize with the doctor, while the military men are developed enough to see their point. On the other hand, the wife feels pushed in for obvious effect, and I needed the second viewing just to figure out several other characters were related to her. The story all builds up to the pointedly tragic finale, which is where different viewers are likely to go in different directions. On one hand, it finally and effectively utilizes the relationships among the characters, with a legitimate twist. On the other, it represents a jarring shift in tone from the rest of the movie, and still feels uneven in itself; certain scenes and shots are dramatic and dark, while others just seem willfully over the top. What lost me every time is that it’s all followed by an incomprehensible sequence where a groundskeeper cleans up what’s left of Steve, shaking his head all the while without really seeming to register what he’s dealing with.

For the “one scene”, there was truly only one choice, and it is very early in the movie. Just a few minutes in, the astronaut is in a hospital room covered in bandages. When the doctor and nurse leave he rises and uncovers his face in front of a mirror. His face is already hideously scarred,  sending him into a frenzy. That is when the nurse returns; she screams and retreats, without making any attempt to summon help or lock the door. (In the process, she drops a jar of blood a doctor ordered for the patient, in one of many “scientific” touches that really have no further bearing on the story.) As the music goes into one of its most madcap riffs, she races down the hall far ahead of any sign of pursuit; it’s worth further note that she looks more plump than pretty, which on a “real” nurse would mean solid muscle. She is still going full steam when she reaches the glass door, and literally goes straight through it. It’s silly, it makes no sense, but it works and it genuinely sets a mood and tone for the movie. Unfortunately and as usual, the rest of the film never really lift up to it.

In the final assessment, I have given this movie and Galaxina the same rating, but for nearly opposite reasons. Galaxina was a movie that really tried to do something interesting, and it succeeded well enough that I could recommend watching it despite its flaws. This one, on the other hand, feels like nobody would or could invest their full energies into it, with the possible exception of Sachs himself. It doesn’t help that on both occasions, the filmmaker protested about studio interference, which was undoubtedly true up to a point but is much less convincing repeated twice. I can’t quite actively hate this one, or else I would rate it lower than I have, but I certainly wouldn’t look forward to seeing it again. I would once again say I’m happy to move on… except I’m still on the “repeat offender” lineup, and what’s ahead could make even this look good.

Planet Puzzle: 1970s plastic puzzle haul

 

It's my day off, and I still ended up needing something quick, so I'm back with another installment of puzzles. This time, I'll be covering a lot I got online after making the only bid, all from a company called Reiss. I remember playing with a few games and puzzles from this manufacturer growing up, but these puzzles were familiar simply because they were clearly the basis of more recent and inexpensive puzzles I have been encountering for decades. To start with, here's the best of the lot, in the box.

This particular puzzle has been sold both by the name Equilibrium and UFO seen here. I know the pattern from one that came from the same bulk lot as several I covered for Mystery Monday. I have found further evidence of earlier versions manufactured in the 1960s or earlier. I have considered it a personal icon, in opposition to a certain group that uses puzzle pieces as a symbol. What I like is that every piece is essential to the whole. The one featured here looks about twice as big as the cheap one I already had. It looks quite nice, and is pretty easy to handle, though the sliding action of the "key" piece is a little hit or miss. It came in a sealed box, as did the others, but it was clear from the price that opening them wasn't going to be a big loss.

The next two were sold as The Star and Cell Block. They both arrived already unmoored within their packaging, and I haven't tried to get them back in. The first is an archetypal pattern I had seen frequently before. The second is one I'm almost certain I encountered at least once before. The same pattern appears to have been used by another manufacturer for a puzzle called Curious Cross that seems to have been manufactured in good-quality reissues quite recently. Unfortunately, I haven't quite worked out how to take it apart. Here's the pair together, plus a pic of the unsolved puzzle with the pieces slid out.

And, here's a pic of "The Star" with a cheap counterpart.

Finally, here's one more that came with the lot. It's a big version of a "pinball" puzzle, with an extra tricky twist. I would probably go nuts if I spent more than 5 minutes working with this thing.

All in all, these have been nice additions to my collection. They aren't exactly a trip down memory lane, but they are a glimpse of what came before, familiar but just a little different. With that, I wrap this up. As always, more to come!

Space 1979: The other one by the 2001 effects guy

 

Title: Brainstorm

What Year?: 1981 (filming)/ 1983 (release)

Classification: Irreproducible Oddity/ Prototype/ Evil Twin

Rating: What The Hell??? (3/5)

 

At the time of this writing, I’ve finally taken a break from blogging. That, in turn, gave me a little time to plan out what I want to do, which brought me to an idea I’d kicked around before: Revisit a few directors and filmmakers I had covered before. Now, I have already covered some chronic offenders, including none other than Roger Corman. But what I have in mind for this feature are filmmakers who never really made the big time, yet still left an indelible legacy. I already knew there was one movie that was going to be in this lineup, by someone who already turned up multiple times but only once in the director’s seat. I present Brainstorm, the second of two films directed by legendary effects guy Douglas Trumbull, and it’s going to take a long, hard look to decide whether one was already too many.

 Our story begins with an inventor trying out what looks like a virtual-reality headset made from a 1970s car stereo. We learn that the apparatus is really a device for recording and transmitting thoughts and experiences, and its inventor Dr. Brace seems driven to obsession to perfect it. He still seems reluctant when he has to team up with his wife, Karen, who manages to get the device down to manageable size. Meanwhile, the inventor and his colleagues seem determined to one-up each other in recording or simulating strange and increasingly dangerous experiences. Things finally go too far when a coworker dies of a heart attack and leaves a full recording behind. Brace must decide what kind of legacy he wants to leave behind, but it becomes a race against time when the military decides to take control of his research.

Brainstorm was the second film by Douglas Trumbull, 9 years after the independent/ low-budget film Silent Running, and following a return to effects work in Star Trek: The Motion Picture. The movie starred Christopher Walken as Brace and Natalie Wood in her final role as Karen, with veteran Louise Fletcher as Lillian, whose on-screen death is recorded with the machine.  The movie was filmed mainly in late 1981, before being interrupted by the actual demise of Wood (which I am choosing not to go into). Trumbull ended up in a lengthy fight with MGM to finish the film, which was ultimately paid for in part by the insurer Lloyds of London. The final budget was estimated as $18 million, compared to an estimated $10M box office in limited release. The movie soundtrack was composed by James Horner, who scored his breakthrough film Star Trek 2: Wrath of Khan as well as Krull while the film was awaiting release.

Out of all the movies I have watched for this feature, this is possibly the most unsettling to watch based on its history alone (and I have covered at least one film tied to a real-life homicide before). Viewed on its own merits, it feels like nothing more or less than an “evil twin” to Tron, which would have been made at effectively the same time, though on further comparison, it’s almost embarrassing how well and maturely the present film handles the subject matter. Add in the real-life tragedy, and the film’s already dark storyline gets extremely uncomfortable, very possibly to the point of being unwatchable. What tempts the viewer to become invested is knowing just how much pure Hell those involved went through to make it. It’s only when you get a good way in that it becomes apparent just how many later films are anticipated here, conspicuously Sneakers, Flatliners, and even Ready Player One. It’s all the more jarring when compared to Silent Running, which couldn’t stand up to the science of its own time; this film, on the other hand, gets so far ahead that it seems to “belong” more to the 1990s more than the 1980s. Ultimately, however, it becomes all the more frustrating that the actual movie still isn’t that good.

Going down to the details, the one thing to bear in mind is that the movie gets a lot of things right at the start. This is something where Trumbull should by all means be given credit, especially considering the problems in his previous work. The first half-hour at least is a top-notch job of worldbuilding, with any number of small details adding to the whole. This includes some scenes that could be easily criticized as random or pandering, like a sequence where one of the lab crew wears a streamlined version of the helmet on a waterslide, but it all follows naturally from the premise. It’s further sustained by a sense of enthusiasm and energy from both the characters and the filmmaker, at times reaching into true “sense of wonder” territory. A darker mood sets in by the 40-minute mark, yet the story does adjust accordingly, providing moments that are genuinely moving and others that are every bit as disturbing as they should be.

It’s really only after the first hour that the movie’s flaws really start to overcome its strengths. It would be easy to put the blame on Lillian’s death, which I’ll get to in more detail momentarily; certainly, that is the likely point of no return for anyone already put off by both the story and production history. But what stands out far more to me is a seeming effort to rehabilitate Brace/ Walken far more than he needs to be. Up to this point, he has been a flawed and troubled character, clearly at risk of going over the edge without much of a push. In the final act, however, he is very quickly set up as a borderline martyr, simply because he is suddenly displeased with what others want to do with his work. I am absolutely convinced that this is exactly where the movie fails. What should have been a literal inward conflict is largely replaced by a routine melodrama, with no corresponding sense of resolution for the character. What is far worse is that it’s here where the movie is drawn out much longer than necessary, turning what could have been intriguing and introspective at 90 minutes into a slog that approaches 2 hours.

Meanwhile, I knew as soon as I watched it that the “one scene” for this movie would be Lillian’s demise. It’s amply foreshadowed by previous complaints of chest pain (which we now know isn’t always experienced by women at risk), but then downplayed when the men are working on a simulated jet flight. Only then do we jump to Lillian, working alone while music plays. She has a convulsion that knocks over a boombox, and at first she is only annoyed. When the pain clearly grows worse, she scrambles for medication, then for a phone, all while Horner’s very familiar horn motifs play. Abruptly, she gives up and makes her way to the machine, which she starts quite methodically. As the lights flash and the screen comes online, she goes through a final convulsion, and it looks as if she is already done for. Still, the machine keeps running, clearly registering something. The cameras stay on the screen and instruments, right until the readings level off. Only then does the tape come to a halt, with one last cut to Lillian still at the controls. It’s all truly harrowing, and at the same time startlingly low-key (music and all). The real problem is that nothing in the remainder of the movie comes close to building on it.

In hindsight, Brainstorm is a movie that is bound to feel “off” for reasons far beyond its already considerable flaws. Still, it continues to stand out as a worthwhile experiment, all the more so for the ordeal that those involved went through. I rate it in the middle of my scale, which is exactly where I would say it belongs on its own merits. At the same time, I must admit that the urge to find a movie that was cursed from reaching its potential is almost certainly wishful thinking. What we really have is the work of a filmmaker as flawed as the characters on the screen, who with his best efforts had finally reached the borderline between competent and good. All in all, that’s impressive enough, and possibly better than he might have done under more ideal circumstances. I for one am more than happy to move on.

Space 1979: The one that was stomped by its sequels

 

Title: Star Trek The Motion Picture

What Year?: 1979

Classification: Runnerup/ Anachronistic Outlier

Rating: For Crying Out Loud!!! (2/5)

 

When I came up with this feature, some of the first decisions I has to make were how to deal with “franchise” movies. For the most part, this really didn’t pose any significant difficulties; if a movie was enduringly influential and popular in its own right, especially when Star Wars was already on the board, it wasn’t within the scope of this feature. I quickly decided on the further policy that sequels were fair game, which allowed me to cover the franchise trends. Still, there was one movie where no decision has ever felt quite right, and once I decided to keep this feature going, I knew I was going to have to get to it. Here is Star Trek The Motion Picture, the oddest, most mistreated and most unclassifiable movie that ever happened to spawn a franchise.

Our story begins with a tense confrontation between the Klingons and a mysterious object that promptly wipes the floor with their fleet. We then catch up with Spock, who has completed his training in the quasireligious discipline of Kohlinar, Kirk, a now-Earthbound admiral, and the Enterprise itself, now refitted and under a new captain named Decker. When word arrives that the object which destroyed the Klingons is headed for Earth, Kirk pulls rank to retake command of the Enterprise, leading to tensions with the new commander. Along the way, they pick up a new crew member named Ilia, who makes a point of informing Kirk of her vow of celibacy. The crew manage to intercept the object, which proves to be a vast automated world-ship that dwarfs even the Enterprise. After a further attempt at contact goes awry, Ilia is seemingly disintegrated but then reborn as an avatar of the world-ship’s intelligence, which identifies itself as Veeger. The world-ship mind further reveals that it believes Earth holds the secret to its own origins, but views humans as “infesting” vermin. It’s a race against time to find the true nature of Veeger, before its search destroys Earth.

Star Trek The Motion Picture was the product of Gene Rodenberry’s efforts to revive the franchise. While preproduction for a Star Trek film existed as early as 1975, the project did not advance until 1978, following the success of Star Wars and also Close Encounters of the Third Kind. The movie was directed by Robert Wise, a “mainstream” director who had broken into science fiction with The Andromeda Strain. The effects were provided by John Dykstra and Douglas Trumbull (see Silent Running), with much of the work being completed entirely in postproduction. The score was composed by Jerry Goldsmith, including a main theme that was directly reused for Star Trek: The Next Generation. Reports would emerge of delays caused by problems with the effects as well as significant pressure to meet a late 1979 release date. The movie was finally completed for an estimated $44 million, and earned $139M at the US box office. A tie-in action figure line was released by Mego, who had previously produced toys based on the original series. Other merchandise included McDonald’s Happy Meals and a novelization by Gene Rodenberry.

Looking back on my own experiences, what Star Trek The Motion Picture makes me think of is the Street Fighter video game series. Back when I was transitioning from elementary to middle school, everybody was playing Streetfighter 2, and it was obvious from the name that something had come before it. However, even when I asked around, I only ever met one or two people who said they had seen or played the original game (or knew someone who had), and most people really didn’t seem to care. “Trek 1” may never have quite sunk to that level of obscurity, but it’s well within the ballpark, especially for anyone born in the 1980s. We talked about Wrath of Kahn, we talked about Search For Spock, we talked about Next Gen, we talked about Final Frontier, but nobody was talking about The Motion Picture.

I finally did see “Trek 1” in college, and then probably only about two-thirds of it. It still stands out to me as a strange and disorienting experience. It was especially odd hearing what I knew and grew up with as the Star Trek: The Next Generation theme accompanying a big-budget movie with the original-series cast. I recall the music and effects kept the movie tolerable and even interesting for quite a while. What starts to feel uncanny is how many other movies it anticipates, especially once we see the world-ship up close: The alien city of The Abyss, the mothership interior of Independence Day, even the Death Star chase in Return of the Jedi, which was still a few years ahead. What I find myself hard-pressed to convey is that it just keeps going, and that has remained my exact reaction every time I have watched this movie since then. Of course there are good scenes, but it is a case of the whole fundamentally changing the parts. It’s good fun watching the crew get back together, for the first hour, but this movie goes on for 132 minutes. It doesn’t help that the ending still feels completely tacked on, lending credence to the darkest rumors that the studio simply sent out prints of the film “as is”.

What stands out all the more, and represents a major reason for this review, is that the film feels like it was made for the 1960s rather than the ‘80s, and that can be laid squarely at the feet of the crew involved. Trumbull (who is still alive!) stands out as the big target, especially based on Silent Running. His literally ponderous effects shots are certainly a big part of the problem here, but there is a certain chicken/ egg problem in blaming him; his most problematic tendencies were all ones that a tighter script and better direction should have kept in line. That brings us to Wise, a veteran director who was arguably struggling with the pacing of modern sci-fi action/ adventure even back in The Andromeda Strain. But the one who stands out to me is Gene Rodenberry himself. There were simply too many areas where he had carte blanche, at least for a while, including the first known drafts of the script. Looking at things from this angle cements a further feeling I have already had, that the story feels like an original-series episode drawn out to feature length. A final irony is that I have gotten the same sense from Final Frontier/ Trek 5, the one “odd” franchise movie to get somewhat more favorable appraisals over time.

Now it’s already time for the “one scene”, and there is indeed just one that has stuck in my memory all along, possibly the franchise’s first transporter accident. It all starts partway through the first act, when the Enterprise is beaming crew aboard, and suddenly we’re reminded that this is after all equivalent to going from LA to New York by fax machine. An alarm suddenly sounds, and Mr. Scott immediately warns not to send anyone else, but we learn that two more crew are already on the way. Scott and Kirk rush to the transporter room in time to see two figures begin to materialize. At first, it looks like Scotty might save the day, until the outlines start to change. For a moment, we see human flesh, clearly distorted, and then there’s a scream. Abruptly, both figures disappear, and Kirk calls to figure out what has happened. Someone answers succinctly, “What we got back didn’t live long… fortunately.” It’s a remarkably dark scene that doesn’t really fit with any other part of the movie. More’s the pity, because this is exactly the kind of subversive tweaking that could have brought Trek into the era of Alien.

What I still find myself at a loss to do is rate this movie. I seriously debated leaving this one unrated (see House), but that was too much like a punt. I felt strong enough in my criticisms that I would have been happy to give it the lowest rating, but that too felt like a copout. The rating I have given is the one that felt appropriate all along, though I still don’t count it quite as bad as sequels like Futureworld and Superman 3. One may still argue whether it is “worse” than Final Frontier or even Search For Spock, but to me, it certainly remains the most disappointing entry in the franchise. With that, I move on.

Image credit taintthemeat.com.