Monthly Archives: October 2024

Jekyll and Hyde do comedy!

ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE (1953) was Boris Karloff’s only turn as Jekyll (Hyde was played by his stuntman). It was one of seven movies Abbott and Costello released in 1953, four of them rereleases, due to the smash success of their TV show. Unfortunately, much as I love their comedy, this is one of their weaker ones.

Tubby and Slim (Lou Costello, Bud Abbott) are American cops training at Scotland Yard. “The Monster” is a serial killer striking apparently at random, looking a lot like Hyde from the 1932 Fredric March version (though a bit more werewolf-ish). As the inept Yanks aren’t impressing anyone, they figure capturing the Monster will turn things around. No way that could go wrong, right?

The Monster, of course, is Dr. Jekyll. He tells the police at one point that he’s working on a drug to nullify humanity’s propensity for violence. He’s also using the drug to turn into the Monster; the murder we see at the start of the movie was a fellow scientist who scoffed at Jekyll’s theories. We never really learn how this happened — unlike most movies, he’s already transformed when the series starts. Is he lying to the cops? Did he test on himself and become addicted to killing his enemies? We never really learn. We do see that he has some regular mad-science weirdness going on: he has a rabbit in his lab he’s endowed with the bark and aggression of an angry dog.

Further complicating things, Jekyll’s in love with his ward Vicky (Helen Westcott) and she’s fallen in love with reporter Bruce Adams (Craig Stevens). Vicky’s a suffragette which the movie mines for a lot of dated comedy; she’s also a can-can dancer in a music hall which makes the Good Girl the equivalent of the Bad Girl in earlier adaptations. The end result is forgettable — though I’ll note that this and Horrors of the Black Museum are the first adaptations to use injections rather than a drinkable drug. “Is it true you’ve been experimenting with weird drugs that change humans into animals?”

Hammer Studios isn’t associated with comedy but they did several mostly adapted from TV Britcoms. One of them, 1957’s I Only Arsked — based on the military sitcom The Army Game — showcased Bernard Bresslaw as a gormless private, did very well and inspired Hammer to do a follow-up comedy film for him. By some alchemy that became the Jekyll and Hyde version THE UGLY DUCKLING (1959).

As clueless dork Edward Jeckle (their spelling), Bresslaw is a complete embarrassment to his siblings, who have hopes of someday rising in society; bad enough they’re stuck with those awful stories about their ancestor but Edward’s a complete joke to everyone. Then he discovers a copy of Dr. Jekyll’s formula, guaranteed to turn a timid man into a confident tiger. Taking it creates “Teddy” Hyde (a reference to the Teddy Boys, flashily dressed punks of the era), a coolly confident but completely amoral character. So amoral that when he discovers the manager of the local Palais (dance halls, really a big deal back in that era — though in the 1960s, night clubs and discos would squeeze them out) is plotting a jewelry heist he deals himself in.

When his brother (Jon Pertwee) and potential girlfriend (Jean Muir) discover this, they’re horrified and Edward winds up having to undo the robbery by restoring the gems (in a nice twist, the girlfriend points out that whatever he can do as Teddy, he can do as himself). The end result relies heavily on Bresslaw’s appeal as a leading man and he doesn’t have much. Nor does the film really explore how it feels to go from zero to antihero or do much at all with Teddy beyond what the plot retires. I’ll be interested to compare this to The Nutty Professor which has similar elements. “You couldn’t just go out and strangle a blonde like our great-great-grandfather, could you?”

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It’s Tuesday. We know what that means

I post covers! First by Barye Phillips.

A woman in trouble on an uncredited cover.

This one’s by Lawrence Stern Stevens

Rudy Nappi provides this one. From what I know of the novel (not much) it’s not as outrageously sexy as the cover makes it look.

And another uncredited cover to wrap up.

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Random misogynists

“The same sort of guys who fear they will be “replaced” by migrants also fear that smart, capable and, yes, sometimes childless women will end the sweet deal they have long had as so-called alpha males.”

Megachurch pastor John McArthur shamed and excommunicated a parishioner for keeping her child-and-spouse abusing husband away from her kids. But even in a secular case in Colorado a mother trying to shield her kids from an abusive spouse faced jail time for not trying to reunite the family.

“There is a chasm between the idyllic family portrait that Vance says he would like to see play out in America — one where abortions are unnecessary and grandmas are child care — and the messy realities he has described encountering in his own life. There is a disconnect between the derivative cruelty he seems to now spout (see: “childless cat ladies”) and in the human experiences that apparently led him to these beliefs. It’s incoherent.” — Monica Hesse

I knew the FBI hadn’t investigated most of the complaints raised against Brett Kavanaugh at the time of his confirmation hearing. Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse says the investigation was nonexistent, just a way for the rapist president to justify putting the alleged rapist on the Supreme Court.

One of Fox News’ women pundits says Taylor Swift needs to have babies. Related: “JD Vance has said it is “deranged” and “very crazy” for women not to have children due to concerns about the climate crisis in his latest comments wading in on the choices of childfree Americans.”

Trump lies that he’s the father of IVF. Republicans still want to ban it.

Amanda Marcotte says when Trump attended an all-female town hall recently, he was still talking to his male base.

When Republicans talk about a minimum national standard for abortion law they mean a minimum national ban.

Fox News host Jeanine Pirro insists if women were better educated on abortion they’d vote Republican.

A Southern Baptist official may get jail time for covering up abuse. He’s not unique.

Fox News’ Greg Gutfeld says men who vote for Harris are not real men. I might feel bad about voting Harris after that, but I’ve never considered Gutfeld a thought leader.

Republicans are still trying to outlaw mifepristone.

Trump keeps lying that Democrats want to kill babies after birth.

Even in New York, law enforcement may investigate a woman’s miscarriage.

Even after Trump, Republicans “will be relentlessly focused on remaking America, politically and culturally, and on punishing anyone deemed to be an enemy of that project: Immigrants, women, liberals.”

“At Clarion, there’s the Gaiman Rule for instructors, named after Neil [Gaiman]: ‘Don’t sleep with the students.'”

“What Trump “really thinks” about abortion is entirely irrelevant. If re-elected he will sign any abortion ban Congress puts on his desk and appoint anti-abortion fanatics to the judicial and executive branches. That’s all that has ever mattered.”

“They’re just making men more and more effeminate, encouraging effeminate behavior.” — flat-earther Candace Owens

And here’s a linkpost to multiple misogynist asshats to round up with.

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From a spellshop to the valley of the kings: books

As I enjoyed Sarah Beth Durst’s The Bone Maker, I tried her fantasy cozy, THE SPELLSHOP, but ended up putting down unfinished.

The protagonist, Kiera, flees the imperial library when revolutionaries burn the capital. Accompanied by her pet spider-plant, she takes some of the surviving spellbooks back to the isolated island village her parents came from. She needs a found family, though she doesn’t know it yet; the dying village needs a shot in the arm. Hmm, this might work out well.

Durst said she wanted this book to be comforting, like a mug of hot chocolate, and she succeeded. However like a lot of stories about returning to your family’s small town it’s got the same worldview as the 1939 Wizard of Oz, that there’s no point in looking for happiness beyond your own backyard, and that really isn’t a perspective I can identify with. So it’s a no-go.

(Yep, another post where I’m throwing in random pet photos for eye candy)

In 1936, Lester Dent took a break from writing Doc Savage and among other writing sold two novellas, HADES AND HOCUS POCUS to the top magazine Argosy. In Hades, a med student whose education has ended early winds up helping out a movie producer who believes he’s uncovered a gateway to Hell — and something from Hell has followed him back. In Hocus Pocus, an unemployed stage magician takes a job investigating an evangelical fellowship’s alleged mind-reading powers and discovers the church has more sinister goings on than he anticipated.

The first has a fun cast, including the protagonist’s sidekick Haw (he laughs at his own, very bad jokes) and a professional strongwoman. However the plot feels too much like countless Doc Savage stories about elaborate supernatural fakes — I imagine Dent would have recycled this for the last novel in the series, Up from Earth’s Center, if his editor hadn’t insisted on a real supernatural threat. Hocus Pocus has less memorable characters but it’s a much stronger story.

EIGHT FANTASMS AND MAGICS is a mixed bag of shorts by Jack Vance. Three of them I’ve read before (two of the rereads are from The Dying Earth and Eyes of the Overworld), some are meh but the two best are very very good — the solution in “Telek” to the mutants vs. humans problem is really good. Overall, though, only fair for Vance.

WOMEN IN THE VALLEY OF KINGS: The Untold Story of Women Egyptologists in the Gilded Age by Kathleen Sheppard is a mixed bag. It’s a good look at 19th and early 20th century Egyptology with a particular emphasis on the women who were involved and largely eclipsed — excavators, authors, teachers, women who underwrote expeditions, artists who captured temples and tombs on paper (the best non-invasive way to record discoveries as photography would have captured things in black and white). And yes, Sheppard is fully aware of the colonialist/cultural appropriation side of what European archeologists did and doesn’t hide from it. Unfortunately a lot of the book bogs down in inside-baseball stuff — lists of famous names (often nobody I’ve heard of), schools and books. Still worth a read though.

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An exorcism, a bikini shop and an unsuspecting wife: movies

If memory serves, I originally caught THE EXORCIST (1973) in the early 1980s which was the foerst possible time. I’d seen it parodied, talked about and knocked off over the previous decade so even though I’d never seen it before, I was quite familiar with it (much the way even people who’ve never read Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde know the basics of the story). It felt old hat.

TYG, however, is a huge fan, so when the Carolina Theatre showed it last weekend, I took her to it for our date. I’m glad I did because know I can appreciate it much better.

I imagine you already know the story: Chris McNeil (Ellen Burstyn) is a single mom whose daughter, Regan (Linda Blair) starts acting irrationally — peeing on the carpet in public, cussing (raw even by modern standards) and somehow making her bed vibrate and jump up and down when she sits on it. When medical research finds nothing wrong, Chris slowly embraces the supernatural solution. Her daughter’s possessed — can she find an exorcist to help?

What’s striking about the movie (and may have hurt it when I first watch it) is how leisurely it is. The first 40 minutes or so have Chris coping with everyday life; Father Damien (Jason Miller), a burned-out priest coping with his loss of faith and his mother’s deteriorating health; and shots of Father Lankester (Max von Sydow) at a dig in the Middle East where something strange is happening. No attempt to explain how it all ties together. Focusing on Damien’s and Chris’s personal arcs. It’s good but I think it’s very much a product of it’s time — I’m not sure anyone would make a horror movie that way today. And the Father Lankaster scenes, while eerie, don’t fit in with the rest of the movie; I had to turn to TYG, who’s read the book, to explain them.

It’s also of it’s time in that exorcism is treated as something exotic, strange and rare. In future horror movies it would become as common as stakes in a vampire film — that’s what happens when a film tries something new and succeeds. The film deserves it’s rep; however I recommend this article pointing out how the Catholic Church of horror cinema diverges from the abuses the church committed in real life (which might make The Devil’s Doorway a good double-feature with The Exorcist). “I’m the Devil. Now kindly undo these straps.”

MALIBU BIKINI SHOP (1986) was another TYG date pick, having been a VHS favorite of her and her brother in their teen years. It’s the kind of sex comedy familiar to anyone watching movies on cable or movies in that era: lots of T&A, some male misbehavior (the changing rooms at the eponymous store have two-way mirrors) and some romance — finding true love is better than hedonism though hedonism is better than being a stodgy straight arrow like Alan (Michael David Wright).

Alan’s a business major engaged to Jane (Debra Blee), an unattractive, over-eating whiner; Alan wants to make it on his own, Jane sees no reason not to get him a job with her rich father’s company, have daddy give them a house and so on.

Then Alan and his free-spirited, party animal brother Todd (Bruce Greenwood) learn their aunt has just died in a drunken jet-ski accident and they’ve inherited her swimwear shop in Malibu. Alan wants to sell the shop and get back to his life; Todd sees a new life. Can they come to agreement? Will meeting sexie salesclerk Ronnie (Barbara Horan) help Alan decide?

It’s a sexist film (you can probably tell) and doesn’t balance its handling of Alan and Todd; Alan learns to loosen up but it seems like Todd needs to grow up, and he never does. All that said, it’s a pleasant enough comedy, though a lot of the pleasure is the amount of eye candy on screen. “And here I thought you were a brain surgeon!”

CHARADE (1963) completely captivated me the first time I saw it but has never worked as well since — director Stanley Donen never quite gets the rom-com/thriller balance right the way Hitchcock did with North by Northwest. However it does work—the script is good, the cast is amazing.

The film opens with a train approaching, then a man falls off dead (on the commentary track, Donen discusses the shooting on location and waiting for the train to capture on film). His wife Regina (Audrey Hepburn) is upset, but not terribly as their marriage was on the rocks. She’s a lot more upset when three psychos (Ned Glass, George Kennedy, James Coburn) show up demanding something he stole which they’re convinced she has. A CIA official (Walter Matthau) explains the quartet hijacked a load of gold the Allies sent to the French resistance in WW II; Regina’s husband escaped with it while the other three were captured by Nazis and spent time in a POW camp. They’re very determined to get their share and think she has it. As Reggie tries to figure it out, can handsome Peter Joshua (Cary Grant) help? Or does he have his own agenda? Light and charming, this is definitely worth the time (the commentary with Donen and scriptwriter Peter Stone is good too). “That is not exactly the term I would have chosen but it does sort of capture the spirit of the thing.”

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Slowly things inch towards completion

Which is to say I made progress this week. Journey of a thousand miles, slow and steady wins the race, blah, blah, blah. I still want things finished. I know I’m getting there, but even so.

Little stuff got finished, natch. An article for The Local Reporter on the outcome of this week’s council meeting. At Atomic Junkshop I blogged about Supergirl taking over Adventure Comics while the Legion of Superheroes took her backup in Action Comics. Trust me, a bigger shakeup at the time than it looks today.

I also blogged about the second battle between the X-men and the Sentinels and why, even though it’s a good story, I think it’s lost some of its punch over time. Also, a look at Silver Age cover art.

And I accomplished various tasks: booking rooms for next year’s cons, ordering dog and cat meds, minor but necessary stuff.

On the big stuff, I got some movie viewing in for Jekyll and Hyde, plus writing up my impressions of everything I watched — I’ve learned to do that ASAP or everything blurs in my memory. I read part of the chapter on silent film versions to the writing group and got a solid thumbs up. That’s encouraging.

On Southern Discomfort, the end is in sight. If all goes well I’ll be done by the end of the month, then it’s just a matter of waiting until my cover artist delivers. As I mentioned, my friend and fellow author Maggie gave it a final beta read and she’s been invaluable spotting a few logic gaps, character inconsistencies and such.

And outside the weather has started to turn chilly at last. Feels good, and Plushie’s so much more enthused about his walkies. That’s good to see. Below, a shot taken during early morning walkies — now, of course, it’s completely dark most times we go out.

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Wisp selects a book

You can see it right here.

I knew my girl was smart!

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Remember when Trump told us to stop thinking about abortion?

Because women don’t need to think about it, now that he’s going to be their protector. I’m astonishingly unconvinced. Indeed, I highly recommend thinking about abortion a lot as a reason to keep Trump and Vance out of office next month.

“10 year-olds mandated to give birth. Miscarriage patients being arrested. Women forced to carry doomed pregnancies to term, turned into ‘walking coffins’. Why do they hate us so fucking much?” Jessica Valenti asks. ” They expect doctors to watch patients deteriorate into sepsis, and pregnant cancer patients to forgo radiation. They’re passing laws that have women losing fallopian tubes and uteruses, while directing OBGYNs to give patients with life-threatening pregnancies c-sections rather than a ten minute abortion. There’s no talking point that can explain away that cruelty, no political stance to make sense of the horror. They want us to suffer, and they don’t care if we die.” So get mad. Stay mad.

Do not buy their argument that drafting men for war is no different than denying women abortion. I’m not a fan of the draft and if we ever had one again it should apply regardless of gender—but as of today, it’s been 50 years since anyone’s been drafted (though forcing soldiers to stay in the military via “stop loss” in the Iraq war was also bad). Women are dying and suffering physical injury right now. And “men get drafted so women shouldn’t get abortions” is not a good argument. See also this old post of mine.

Nor is there any grounds for Ron DeStalinist in Florida demanding TV stations not run ads supporting an abortion rights amendment. He’s doing it anyway because stories of what women are suffering are effective and he wants them to stop. Why care about free speech when Ron has a political career to boost?

When JD Vance or anyone talks about a “minimum national standard” for abortion laws, don’t be fooled. What he means is a national ban—maybe not a total 100 percent ban but a universal 12-week or 6-week minimum with states free to go more draconian if they choose. They were always lying about leaving it up to states to decide. Vance also has no qualms about the federal government stopping women traveling for abortions. Just as Trump not only had no qualms putting anti-abortion justice Brett Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court, he worked to cover up Kavanaugh’s alleged history of assault: “It would have been grisly enough if Trump had merely continued to support Kavanaugh in spite of the allegations. But that is not what he did. He actively helped to suppress the truth about him.”

Vance also says he supports defunding Planned Parenthood. Never mind that it provides women with lots of low-cost health and ob/gyn services, not just abortion: they hate the idea of birth control and planning parenthood just as much. And they’re happy to track women’s pregnancies and miscarriages to make sure they’re not getting away with something — not a new idea either.

All things considered, I salute New Jersey for proposing travel advisories for state residents alerting them to which states it’s not safe to be pregnant. But I want to make it safe in more places, for more women. Vote Republicans out in November or vote to keep them getting in. It’s literally life or death.

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Book covers from series I love

Ballantine’s editions were the ones that introduced me to John Carter. Robert Abbett does the cover here.

Frank Frazetta shows he can draw a cover that doesn’t have a woman showing off her bubble butt (he did quite a few of those).

Jack Gaughan gives Michael Moorcock’s Elric a face — though in the background, doesn’t it look like V’s Guy Fawkes’ mask?

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The marginalia of Jekyll and Hyde

Inevitably my movie book research runs into films that are just marginally relevant to the subject, the kind of thing that might fit in an appendix, or maybe skipped altogether.

HOUSE OF DRACULA (1945) marked the end of the Universal horror era that began with Frankenstein and Dracula. Kindly Dr. Edlemann (Onslow Stevens) finds himself treating Dracula (John Carradine) to restore his humanity, unaware the vampire’s real agenda is to seduce Edlemann’s nurse (Martha O’Driscoll). Edlemann’s main research is into using a fungus-derived treatment to make bones soft and malleable. This could cure his hunchbacked nurse Nina (Jane Adams) and Wolf Man Larry Talbot — it turns out the cause of lycanthropy is that Talbot’s skull is too tight around his brain (?). Oh, and Talbot and Edlemann discover the body of the Frankenstein monster which they bring to the lab but the doctor wisely refuses to reanimate … until Dracula gives the doctor a transfusion of his blood, which gives him an insane split personality. As I thought, there’s nothing terribly Jekyll/Hyde-like in this (though the nightmare Edlemann goes through may have been inspired by a similar sequence in the Spencer Tracy Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) but it’s the closest Universal came to adapting Stevenson during its peak monster years.

The results are a poor shadow of the company’s great horror films, particularly the Frankenstein creature: Glenn Strange spends the whole time lying on a laboratory table, then dies in some stock footage. Still, the cast does its best and Universal’s eerie mansions always look great. “I don’t like people who break their promises, Mr. Talbot.”

Mr. Roberts was a classic film in which Henry Fonda plays an officer on a dispirited WW II Naval vessel shipping supplies between Pacific bases while battling the tyrannical captain (James Cagney) and finding camaraderie with Ensign Pulver (Jack Lemmon) and ship’s doctor William Powell. The sequel, ENSIGN PULVER (1964), has no Mr. Roberts and replaces Lemmon and Cagney with Robert Walker (better known as Star Trek‘s Charlie X) and Burl Ives (Walter Matthau as the doctor is fine). The plot concerns Pulver struggling to fill Roberts’ shoes and mostly failing; what got my attention is that on movie night the captain always wants to watch the fictitious monster mashup, Young Dr. Jekyll Meets Frankenstein, created primarily by chopping up bits of Boris Karloff in The Walking Dead and adding a couple of shots of Morgan Paul as Young Jekyll. Not significant enough in any way to include in the book and not particularly good. “Alexander the Great conquered half the world just to show up to his father — but he still conquered it.”

HORRORS OF THE BLACK MUSEUM (1958) opens with a woman using a pair of gift binoculars only to discover they’re booby-trapped with needles that drive through her eyes into her brain. It’s one of several spectacular unsolved murders and arrogant true-crime writer Bancroft (Michael Gough) is ripping into Scotland Yard for not solving them — especially when the killing weapons are modeled on Scotland Yard’s own black museum of criminal memorabilia.

It turns out, however, that Bancroft is behind the killings, both to eliminate some inconvenient people and to give himself material for his writing. While his crippled leg seems to disqualify him, it turns out he’s been using his young aide Rick (Graham Cunrow), hypnotizing him and injecting him with Dr. Jekyll’s formula (unusual to have it an injection rather than something to drink) to turn him into an obedient assassin (“It is reality born out of legend, truth out of myth!”).

The murders shock but the film is more unpleasant than entertaining and not particularly intelligent; Jekyll’s formula feels completely unnecessary to the plot but it definitely qualifies the film for the appendix, if nothing else. “In every war, the historian receives more money than the foot soldier.”

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