Hammer Horror?

With a remake currently in theatres, it is the perfect time to revisit 1974's Death Wish. A film that was mostly panned by critics upon its release (a rare supporter was Roger Ebert), its raw form of vigilante justice captured the imagination of the American public – after all, it was an era when crime ran rampant in many urban metropolises. A pure example of a gritty, violent, anti-establishment exploitation piece, director Michael Winner (The Mechanic) introduces us to an architect named Paul Kersey (Charles Bronson – his star raised by this game-changing role), a happy man who is currently on vacation (in Hawaii) with his wife Joanna (Hope Lange).

To provide a reference point, 1953's It Came From Outer Space comes off like a mix between an episode of The Twilight Zone and Star Trek, a science fiction horror tale with a message at its heart. A prime example of the way in which horror movies transformed in the Atomic Age (the fear of nuclear annihilation on the collective consciousness throughout North America and around the world), yet with a unique twist, director Jack Arnold brings Ray Bradbury’s story (adapted into a screenplay by Harry Essex) to vivid life. After the title explodes onto the screen, we meet amateur astronomer John Putnam (Richard Carlson – Hold That Ghost; Creature From the Black Lagoon) and his teacher girlfriend, Ellen Fields (Barbara Rush – she won Most Promising Newcomer - Female, for this film at The Golden Globes), who spot a giant meteor that hits the desert close to his home.

An influential and innovative director that is sadly unknown to multiple generations of movie enthusiasts is Russian filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein, who would have turned one hundred and twenty a couple of weeks ago on January 10th. Best known for Battleship Potemkin (a laudable feature that will be reviewed here in due course), those in the know also point to his first full length motion picture, Strike, as being a vital piece of film history (it is often cited along with Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane as being one of the most audacious and impressive efforts by a first time filmmaker). Released in 1925 (the same year as Potempkin), though set in 1903, the aptly named picture, told in six parts, looks at a factory workers’ strike in pre-Revolutionary Russia. A fascinating study of early socialism versus capitalism from the Soviet perspective, the workers are close to their tipping point. . . looking for better hours, higher pay, less work for the child labourers and other such things. With the elite sensing their waning drive, they warn their spies on the inside to keep both eyes open for civil unrest – each of these men have an animalistic nickname, their personas connected to the beast they have been named for.

Going all the way back to Chris Columbus’s first directorial effort, 1987's Adventures in Babysitting is the way PG family films should be made, entertaining for both adults and kids, with just the right amount of edginess. Though incredulous, the entertaining narrative follows teenager Chris (Elisabeth Shue), who, after boyfriend Mike (Bradley Whitford) cancels on their anniversary dinner, grudgingly takes a job babysitting an adventurous eight year old, Sara (Maia Brewton), instead. Her older brother, 15 year old mild-mannered Brad (Keith Coogan), is supposed to be staying at his quirky buddy Daryl’s (Anthony Rapp), but after hearing that Chris is babysitting, sticks around.

With a stellar cast, those behind 1954's Riot in Cell Block 11 did not take the approach of procuring the biggest names available, instead, they brought together a group of character actors that lived their parts – and all surrounded by real prisoners and guards, who played extras during production. Directed by Don Siegel (Invasion of the Body Snatchers; Dirty Harry), and produced by Walter Wanger (inspired to make the film after serving a four month prison sentence and being wholly unnerved – he was jailed for shooting his wife’s [Joan Bennett] agent, Jennings Lang, whom she was having an affair with – one bullet penetrated his hip, the other, his groin – clearly we know what he was aiming at), the team cast Neville Brand as a convicted murderer who heads up the riot (the former World War 2 combat soldier was the fourth most decorated American from the period), while his ‘Crazy’ second in command was developed by Leo Gordon (another convict who was shot in the gut during an armed robbery).

1930's Hollywood films are rather intriguing. Though hit hard by the Great Depression (much like everywhere else), the escapism of movies still brought 60-75 million people into theatres each and every week (and, these numbers are for the worst times of the decade). The 30s also harkened in the era of the talkie – quickly putting an end to the silent film industry. The decade can also be split into two distinct periods: the five years before the Motion Picture Production Code (sometimes called the Hays Code) officially came into being (often referred to as the Pre-Code), and the five years after it was put into place – meaning that there was now a strict set of rules and regulations that were being strongly enforced. Both a curse and a blessing (many of the most talented directors found creative and visually clever ways to circumvent the Code – DeMille and Hitchcock are two that immediately come to mind), it did limit creative freedom in a major way, as sex, violence and language were severely censored – movies could no longer depict lacking morals (that is, unless the behaviour would be punished in the end).