Saturday, October 1, 2016

The Dual Roles Blogathon :: Beach Dickerson and the Fine Art of Getting Yourself Killed, Multiple Times, in Roger Corman's Teenage Caveman (1958)


If you ask Roger Corman, he’ll tell you, quite adamantly, that he never made a movie called Teenage Caveman (1958). However, he will freely admit to making a film called Prehistoric World back in '58, where a small group of stone-age cave dwellers live in a blighted pocket of land between a forbidden river and the deserts of the Burning Plain. Here, they eke out a barely sustainable existence because according to tribal law to even think of wandering beyond those boundaries would break one of several ingrained taboos. And though no one can really remember why these boundaries or rules were drawn up in the first place, to even question them, let alone break them, is punishable by tribal ostracizing on the first offense, and then with two strikes you're posthumously thrown out.


Enter our prehistoric teenage rebel (Vaughn), who is currently on a cliff overlooking the Great River, which gives a nice panoramic view of the valley beyond it that is teeming with life (-- pilfered from 1940s' 1,000,000 B.C. and 1951s' Mysterious Island). With all that food eagerly waiting just a stone’s throw away, the Boy doesn’t understand why his people are forced to settle for the bare pickings of the rock quarry they call home. He’s even threatened to cross the river on several occasions in open defiance of tribal law, whose catch-22 logic only infuriates him even more. The law must be obeyed, says his father (Bradley), right or wrong -- no matter how asinine, because it simply is the Law. And besides, there are worse things lurking beyond the river than the great beasts and sinking earth. When asked how he would know such things, Pops admits that when he was younger, he, too, crossed the Great River, but didn't tarry long for fear of running into the legendary Beast that Gives Death with its Touch.



Our junior malcontent then turns his attention on a trio of tribal elders who serve as Keepers of the Three Great Gifts of Man: the first tends a small fire, the second spins a stone wheel, while the third constantly stacks up a pile of rocks only to knock them over to illustrate man's ability to create and destroy, as I'm sure their fathers and grandfathers did before them. All of this, of course, seems rather pointless to the Boy, but when he begins to question all of this he draws the unwanted attention of a certain surly caveman, let's call him Crank (DeKova), who on one hand cajoles the Boy into breaking the Law by crossing the river, and on the other, gives everybody else an earful for these blasphemes, saying our hero’s lack of faith in the Law will certainly bring sickness and death to all the clan.


All of this comes to a head after the next hunt, where Pops falls victim to an unfortunate looking bear attack (-- and more on this Ursus Minor in a bit). Critically mauled, the other hunters bring Pops back to the caves where, as wife (Jocelyn) and son watch, the tribal elder does his best to stitch him back together. Alas, with Pops laid up and unable to rein him in, Crank seizes this golden opportunity to goad the Boy into exploring across the river. The Boy, in turn, entices several other youths to accompany him, thanks to some stone-age fueled peer pressure. But once they cross the river, enter the surrounding jungle, and run right into a familiar looking monitor lizard and dorsal-finned crocodile, locked once more in their eternal cinematic combat, these wayward explorers are probably thinking at this point perhaps those old foolish taboos aren't so foolish after all.




Now, if you’d like to find out what happens next as our errant party beats a hasty retreat back toward friendlier environs, I encourage you all to check out my exhaustive review of Teenage Caveman over at 3B Theater. Because here, we’re going to narrow our focus a bit, specifically on the guy bringing up the rear of this failed expedition, who veers off course and falls victim to the dastardly sinking earth.




And while the character’s name is never known, the actor’s name who played him was Beach Dickerson; and he’d already died in the film once -- sort of, now twice -- sort of, and his director still wasn’t finished killing him yet!


Born in Glenville, Georgia, Charles Beach Dickerson fell in love with the movies when he was a kid, staying after matinees to sweep out the theater for a free pass to see the next feature. At the age of 18 he moved out to Hollywood to try and break into pictures, signing up for drama classes and joining the Player’s Ring Theater, where he met Beverly Garland. Dickerson's first official onscreen appearance was an uncredited bit part as a bellboy, playing a brief scene with Jerry Lewis in Frank Tashlin’s screwball Martin and Lewis musical, Hollywood or Bust (1956).


Dickerson then landed a part in the theater production of Calder Willingham’s End of Man, which was headlined by Robert Vaughn. In the audience was Garland, who happened to be dating Roger Corman at the time, who took a liking to Dickerson and hired him for another small role as one of the ill-fated sailors in Attack of the Crab Monsters (1957). 




Here, Dickerson would learn firsthand that Corman’s frugal reputation was well-warranted as he soon found himself pressed into double-duty as one of the operators of the title creature along with fellow actor, Ed Nelson.



“No one knew how the crab was supposed to work,” said Dickerson. “We got some piano wire to help move the claws. [And] someone’s got to get inside the @#%*ing thing and lift it up. Ed and I figured out that if we got inside, bumped asses, and locked arms at the elbows, I could pull him north, he could pull me south, I could pull him east, he could pull me west."


Corman followed that up with Rock All Night (1957) for American International Pictures, where a couple of criminals on the lam hole-up in a bar, holding the patrons hostage as the police dragnet closes in. Here, Dickerson played the role of ‘The Kid’, a promising young boxer according to his manager, and whose girl just wants him to get out of the dirty business before any permanent damage is done, who winds up getting slapped around by the Professor from Gilligan's Island. This would prove to be Dickerson’s largest film role for Corman or any other production, which was followed up by a few more uncredited parts in Sorority Girl (1957) and War of the Satellites (1958), making him officially part of Corman’s stock company, where he would also serve as an actor, production assistant, sound-man, gaffer, set construction, special-effects, stunts, monster maker, and production designer before graduating to an assistant director and producer on future product.



Still, I think Dickerson’s biggest claim to fame is his unheralded performance in Teenage Caveman. Well, make that performances as he literally steals the movie once you notice him. Now, we first spot Beach hanging around the caves, cheering when the hunters successfully return with meat for the fire. But when that runs out, they must go out for more -- only this time the hunting party runs right into a bear! And three guesses as to who that is stuck inside that bear costume? Odds are you’re only gonna need one.


This scene was filmed at the Iverson Ranch, and while everyone waited for the bear wrangler to show up, someone stepped up to Dickerson with a bear suit, which he was soon bundled up in, sweating like a hog, and left on top of a hill. “I asked Beach to double as a bear that stalks the tribe,” said Corman in his autobiography, How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood and Never Lost a Dime. “I had him come down a steep path, stop, look over the valley below, then continue down. That's all I told him. How much direction or rehearsal can you give a bear?”


"Rahr! I'm a bear. Fear me!"

On the first take, Dickerson, unable to see, came down the hill backwards. They quickly rigged up a rope for him to follow on the second take, and we’ll let Corman take it from there: “So Beach came padding down to his spot, stopped, lifted his paw to his forehead, and shielded his eyes with it as he scanned the valley. I yelled 'Cut! Beach, a bear doesn't pick up his front paw and hold it over his eyes against the sun!"





And here’s Dickerson’s account of what happened next: "So after a couple of these takes where I come down the hill with my head hanging between my legs, it's 150 degrees inside this @#%*ing bear suit, and I'm dying. I get down the hill, he yells, 'BEAR. STAND UP!' I stand up. 'BEAR, GROWL!' So I growl. He goes, "MEAN, BEAR, MEAN!" I growl louder, scratch the air violently with my deadly paws. 'MEANER, BEAR, I WANT YOU MEANER!' he yells. I'm dying inside this suit, growling and flailing, and then he yells to the rest of the extras, 'Okay, tribesman, KILL THAT @#%*ING BEAR!' and thirty guys jump on me, take me down, and beat the shit out of me."



So that’s the first time Dickerson officially died in Teenage Caveman, but not the last. (Truth told, at full speed, the fake bear attack is actually quite effective. Startlingly so.) Next, we find him as part of a trio of fellow cave-teens, including another Corman regular, Jonathan Haze, whom star Robert Vaughn talks into crossing the Great River with him. Again, this ends in disaster. This not so great river was actually a duck pond in The Arboretum in downtown Hollywood, which served as a jungle locale for many a movie, including several Tarzan movies for MGM. The water at the location was also notorious for being stagnant and crusted over with a thick layer of duck feces. Told to fall off a log into the brackish water and pretend to drown, Dickerson held his breath, dived in, and started flailing and kicking. Corman was unconvinced, refused to cut, and ordered his actor to make him believe he was actually drowning. Swallowing several gulps of putrid water already, which were about to come back up, Dickerson went berserk and then sank beneath the waves before popping back up as a corpse. Here, Corman’s cheapness worked in his favor as there was no time or money for a second take.




Later, when the shoot moved to Bronson Canyon, Corman found Dickerson hanging around the wardrobe truck and ordered him to get into costume for the next crowd scene. When told he couldn’t because his character was dead, the director told him not to worry because no one would ever notice. Well, actually, it’s kinda hard not to:




And then came one of the most pivotal scenes in the movie, when the rider from the Burning Plain appears, where the Law says nothing can live. Again, Dickerson was a last minute casting decision, here. 


Dressed in a bearskin rug, a fright wig, and a big bushy paste-on beard, Dickerson was thrown on a horse and then started looking for a soft spot to land. There wasn’t any. See, the scene called for him to ride in and be stoned to death by the frightened tribesmen. “I’m not a stuntman,” he told Corman. “You’re just as capable of falling off a horse as anyone,” encouraged his director. “And save you fifty bucks,” replied the actor.



Now, if you take a closer look during this sequence as we cut back and forth between rider and the knot of frightened and belligerent cavemen, you can also spot Dickerson lingering in the crowd. And most hilariously of all, guess who threw the fatal spear that causes the rider to fall off the horse? 



That’s right, now Dickerson has officially killed himself onscreen. And this time there had to be a second take of the horse stunt because on the first attempt cameraman Floyd Crosby caught a glimpse of Dickerson’s tightie-whities as he went ass over tea-kettle that ruined the shot.




Dickerson is next spotted whacking a tom-tom at the memorial service for the fallen rider as the winds of change start wafting over the tribe. And to make these changes permanent, Vaughn heads back across the river, determined to bring back the head of the notorious Beast that Gives Death with its Touch, a prop that would serve double-duty in Corman’s Night of the Blood Beast (1958), which, as far as I know, was not played by Dickerson. 


And that’s because he’s part of a trailing party of zealots, led by Crank, who is determined to kill the Boy and maintain the status quo. Yeah, don’t let that crappy wig fool you. That’s our boy, Beach, alright. And it seems only fitting that when the dust settles, with Crank dead, the most adorable pack of feral dogs ever beaten back, and The Beast vanquished and unmasked, Dickerson and his wig are still standing at the end to help defuse that final plot twist.




1958 was a big year for Corman. After ram-rodding almost ten features that ranged from Hawaiian intrigue in Naked Paradise (1957) to Scandinavian hi-jinx with the marquee busting The Saga of the Viking Women and their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Sea Serpent (1957) the year before, Corman’s next feature was a slight change of pace; a bio-pic on the notorious gangster, George Kelly, better known as Machine Gun Kelly (1958). And with the help of a strong script and stand out performances by Charles Bronson as the cowardly Kelly and Susan Cabot as his deadly muse, the production earned some favorable reviews, especially the European critics, who praised the low-budget auteur for his themes and overall aesthetic. And while Machine Gun Kelly was finding its legs, Corman's next feature, The Wasp Woman (1958), was the first film financed and distributed independently through his new company, The Filmgroup. And all of this set the stage for his next feature; a strange mash-up of Kelly's psychological themes and subtext mixed with the gonzoidal schlock of The Wasp Woman, where Corman apparently believed in his new press-clippings a bit too much, I think, as he pretentiously went all Bergman on a caveman movie and pounded the resulting film within an inch of its life with the giant clown-hammer of significance!


Now, one would like to give Teenage Caveman some credit for beating the post-apocalyptic revelation of Planet of the Apes (1968) to the punch by almost a decade, but this was kinda stolen wholesale from Stephen Vincent Benét’s short story, By the Waters of Babylon, which was kind of raided and plundered mercilessly by Corman and screenwriter, R. Wright Campbell, who left nothing in the pantry, then wrapped it up in loincloths and furs and stock-footage lizards and hoped nobody would notice. Their resulting film barely breaks over an hour, and so, with its heavy allegorical themes it might have been better suited as an episode of The Outer Limits, where I think it would fit right in somewhere between The Zanti Misfits and The Controlled Experiment. Don't get me wrong, I like the movie quite a bit and have always admired Corman's chutzpah of wheedling and weaving his progressive and anti-establishment views into his films; here, expressing his thoughts on the horrors of teen angst, the generation gap, and sticking it to the man and his archaic dogma.


It was the brass at American International who renamed the film, hoping to cash in on Herman Cohen's wildly successful I Was a Teenage Werewolf (1957) -- it was even packaged with Cohen's third Teenage monster-fueled sequel, How to Make a Monster (1958). Regardless of whichever title you see it under, Corman's prehistoric/post-apocalyptic tale is by no means a bad film, a bit pretentious maybe -- hell, definitely, but I still dig it. But from what I've read, like with a lot of Corman’s films, what winds up on screen doesn't prove nearly half as entertaining as the story behind the actual making of it. Just ask Beach Dickerson.


Sources: How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood and Never Lost a Dime, Roger Corman and Jim Jerome; Fast and Furious: The Story of American International Pictures, Mark Thomas McGee; Roger Corman: An Unauthorized Life, Beverly Grey; 

Other Points of Interest:






This post is only a small part of Christiana Wenher and Silver Screenings' three day extravaganza of multiple mash-ups of many familiar faces in The Dual Roles Blogathon! Thanks to our hosts for throwing out such a wide net for participants. Now follow the linkage and check out all the other entries, please and thank you!


Teenage Caveman (1958) Malibu Productions :: American International Pictures / EP: James H. Nicholson, Samuel Z. Arkoff / P: Roger Corman / D: Roger Corman / W: R. Wright Campbell / C: Floyd Crosby / E: Irene Morra / M: Albert Glasser / S: Robert Vaughn, Darah Marshall, Frank DeKova, Leslie Bradley, June Jocelyn, Jonathan Haze, Beach Dickerson

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Hello, I Must Be Going. I Cannot Stay, I Came to Say I Must Be Going. I'm Glad I Came But Just the Same I Must Be Going...


It's at-thay ime-tay of-way ear-yay, olks-fay. ime-Tay or-fay e-thay Annual-way eptember-Say abbatical-Say! ere-Whay I-way ake-tay a-way ole-whay onth-may off-way om-fray e-thay orld-way ide-way eird-way of-way eb-way! *eyegitty**eyegitty**eyegitty*


Uh, sorry about that. Been dreaming in Pig Latin lately. Anyhoo ... Fear not, as always, I shall return in October, typing knuckles scabbed over, brain recharged, and loins-girded only to jump back into the fray, big time, as I once more will take part in Hubrisween, meaning 26 spooky film reviews in 26 days. See ya then, Boils and Ghouls. And until then, stay cool! Now play us out, Buck!


Video courtesy of HBKmaDUB. 


Saturday, August 27, 2016

The Lost Art of Ballyhoo :: Amazing Lobby Displays, Publicity Stunts and Promotional Campaigns for Eugène Lourié's The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953)








Seminal is such a great word that's thrown around a lot when talking about film but I wonder if people realize that the root of the word comes from semen; ya know -- sperm, seed, source of life and all that. When relating it to film, we're talking about the originators of the species: films that spawned sequels, imitators and countless copycats. And The Beast from 20000 Fathoms (1953) definitely fits that bill, and in a lot more ways than you'd think both onscreen and off, triggering an avalanche of independent productions looking to cash-in of various sizes and budgets. Would you like to know more? Then follow the linkage below. (Images courtesy of the indispensable Zombo's Closet.)

Other Points of Interest:





The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953) Jack Dietz Productions :: Warner Bros. / P: Jack Dietz / AP: Hal E. Chester, Benard Burton / D: Eugène Lourié / W: Fred Freiberger, Robert Smith / C: Jack Russell / E: Bernard W. Burton / M: David Buttolph / S: Paul Hubschmid, Paula Raymond, Ken Tobey, Cecil Kellaway

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Recommendations :: Another Highly Digestible Two-Punch Combo from Arrow Video: Wayne Berwick's Microwave Massacre (1983) and John De Bello's Return of the Killer Tomatoes (1988)


Is it a horror film that thinks it’s a comedy? Or is it a comedy that thinks it’s a horror film? You be the judge as a hen-pecked husband’s already volatile home-life is suddenly made worse when his shrewish wife, May (Claire Ginsberg), purchases an industrial-size microwave oven for their suburban home; all in a terribly misguided effort to add a little gourmet-style class to their meals – now with only half the prep-time. And while Donald (Jackie Vernon) would be happy with just a bologna and beans, he is constantly presented with culinary nightmares that he stubbornly refuses to eat, which always results in a nasty argument, which ultimately results in Donald going over the edge and murdering his wife when one of these kerfuffles gets out of hand.



To hide the body, Donald chops it up into more manageable portions, wraps them in aluminum foil, and stores them in the freezer. From there, life seems to go a lot better for the liberated Donald, who unwittingly cooks up a chunk of his wife for a midnight snack but likes the taste of her so much, he quickly finishes her off (except for the head) and is soon on a comical killing spree to constantly replenish his stores and re-stock his fridge, which is compounded when all of Donald’s co-workers get addicted to sharing his sack-lunches and demand more of that scrumptious mystery meat.



Considering when it was made, people walking into Microwave Massacre (1983) expecting some kind of slasher movie will be way off the mark. And those out looking for a comedy, which this technically is, should be warned we aren’t exactly in the Zucker brothers territory either. No, this film is more akin to the blunt head-trauma comedy of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes (1978) in that it plays the genre conventions its aping straight but amps them up to ludicrous speed. Not all the gags work, but a surprising number do. My absolute favorite bit is how the bread used to gag Donald’s sister-in-law (Sarah Alt), who’s trussed up in the closet because he refuses to eat her, convinced she’d taste awful, keeps getting moldier and moldier each time we check back in on her. And it still makes me laugh that Frosty the Snowman (Vernon) later played a cannibalistic serial killer. Apparently, the producers wanted to get Rodney Dangerfield but he proved well out of their price range after Caddyshack (1980) hit big. It was no big loss as Vernon acquits himself quite admirably.


I remember trying to watch Microwave Massacre back in the 1980s during the halcyon days of VHS rentals, drawn to it in the horror aisle at the Video Kingdom by that magnificent Midnight Video box-art. Alas, the tape was so used and abused and filled with so many crinkles I feared for my VCRs life and gave up barley ten minutes in before the heads were totally fried. Our rental outlet had several other Midnight Videos but the only on that ever played worth a damn was The Wizard of Gore (1970). This was also around the same time my family got a microwave, a big old Amana Radar Range, which weighed a ton and hummed at sterilization levels whenever engaged; and I remember having to mark and remember the hot-spots to cook things properly or you'd wind up with something still frozen on one end and molten on the other, just patiently waiting for that depresurizing first bite.



Anyhoo, glad I finally caught up to it as there’s lots to enjoy if you take the film on its own demented terms and are properly prepared for a heaping helping of borscht and corn. It also helps that Arrow Video has once more put together one helluva package making it all go down smoother. The film is restored and looks great, perhaps too great, and maybe could’ve used a few nostalgic crinkles and vid-rolls. There’s a wonderful making-of feature, My Microwave Massacre, which gives an oral history on the making of the film by those involved, director Wayne Berwick, writer Craig Muckler, and actor Loren Schein, and topped off with a delightful commentary by Muckler moderated by Mike Trustino filled with all kinds of insights on the lengthy production and the several years journey to find a distributor. Recommended for those with stern constitutions, but not responsible for any indigestion the film may cause.


And speaking of those Killer Tomatoes, Arrow Video also has a pretty spiffy package for the sequel to that wonderfully gonzo goof of a film, Return of the Killer Tomatoes (1988). Set (and released) ten years after The Great Tomato War ended, the fruit that thinks it’s a vegetable has been outlawed in the United States ever since, which makes it hard for war hero, Wilbur Finletter (Steve Peace), to make a living running a pizza parlor. (He was that idiot with the deployed parachute.) Luckily, with the help of his nephew, Chad (Anthony Starke), and his bestest bud, Matt (George Clooney), they kit-bash together some non-tomato based pies to keep the business going. Meanwhile, a mad scientist named Dr. Gangreen (John Astin) is determined to start another tomato uprising. But unlike before, where music proved the revolution's downfall, Gangreen uses mood music to transform tomatoes into gun-toting human replicant commandos. (And they called him mad at the academy.*pfeh*)




Now, one of these more *ahem* curvy replicants gets tired of being bullied by her boss and defects to the other side, where she falls for Chad, who quickly gets to the truth behind Tara's (Karen Mistal) weird behavior and strange little pet – essentially a tomato Mogwai only it isn’t articulated at all, unless being tossed around is considered articulate. Anyways, Chad and Matt eventually uncover Gangreen’s scheme to break Jim Richardson (Rick Rockwell), the instigator of the first Tomato War, out of prison, and install him as president once he’s overthrown the country, which leaves it to Chad, Matt, Tara and Finletter, who gets the surviving members of his old crew back together, including master of disguise, Sam “Anybody Got Any Ketchup” Smith (Gary Smith), to once more oppose this dastardly onslaught of killer produce and splat them for good.



I freely admit I am a huge fan of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, a film I genuinely enjoy and find kind of ingenious on many levels. Return of the Killer Tomatoes is a ton of fun, with a great performance from Astin, and a lot of clever fourth-wall breaking, with some hilarious pot-shots at filmmaking and product placement, but it doesn’t quite reach the levels of absurdity as its predecessor, which is why it’s mostly and unjustly known as an early “embarrassing” role for Clooney, though he has nothing to be embarrassed about, here. Believe me he’s been in a lot worse than this. 


The Arrow disc includes a solid commentary with the man behind it all, John De Bello, and a lengthy interview with Anthony Starke, who recounts the production and how much fun the shoot was. There’s also a spiffily illustrated collector’s booklet by critic James Oliver. Again, a lot of fun to be had if your head is the right place. And if nothing else, it has got me itching to finally do a digital upgrade on the original and finally retire that old and worn out VHS tape.

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