Review #650: 'Iron Man 3' (2013)

After five movies and one giant superhero mash-up, the Marvel superhero formula is getting as stale as old bread. With the only Marvel stand-alone superhero film to have a sequel (so far - Thor: The Dark World and Captain American: The Winter Soldier are imminent) being Iron Man, did the world really need a third entry into this franchise? More importantly, did we want it? Well, with over $1 billion in the bank and the label of fifth highest grossing film of all time, the answer is an overwhelming yes. The franchise certainly needed a fresh injection of life - Jon Favreau's massively disappointing follow up to his impressive Iron Man (2008) perhaps showed his inexperience as director, though he has stayed on to reprise his role as bodyguard Happy Hogan (looking worryingly bloated). Changes have been made, and although the critics seemed to lap up Iron Man 3, audiences opinions seem strangely polar opposite.

Following the events of The Avengers (2012), Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) is suffering from anxiety attacks, and in his restlessness, spends his nights in his basement building a small army of Iron Man suits. America is under attack from a string of bombings by a terrorist known as the Mandarin (Ben Kingsley), and after his bodyguard Happy is seriously injured in an attack, Tony makes a personal come-and-get-me message to the shady terrorist. After his home is obliterated by Mandarin's helicopters, Tony finds himself in Tennessee to investigate some potentially linked attacks. All paths seem to lead to AIM, a treatment facility run by Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce), a formerly crippled scientist that Tony shunned back in 1999.

Interesting choices for director have always been Marvel's thing, to allow a respected or rookie director a chance to inject their own sensibilities into the familiar superhero film. Sometimes it pays off - Kenneth Branagh's Shakesperian background gave Thor (2011) a certain gravitas when it could have been plain silly. But sometimes it doesn't, such as the choice of Joe Johnston - whose career is a very mixed bag anyway - for Captain America: The First Avenger (2011), which I found rather dull. So for Iron Man 3, in steps Shane Black, 80's buddy-comedy extraordinaire, whose filmography was somewhat re-discovered in fits of nostalgia of late, especially after the excellent Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005). And deservedly so, as Black's obvious talent for writing led to movies such as Lethal Weapon (1987) setting the benchmark for countless buddy movies to follow (and ultimately damage the sub-genre). So Iron Man 3 would bring Tony Stark back down to Earth, allowing a more intimate side to be seen and a chance for the supporting characters to finally make their mark.

It's certainly more down to Earth, with less of Tony Stark's quick-humour and arrogant prancing (which is what we love him for, especially with Downey Jr.). His new foe would finally be a match for him - not just a man in a different sort of Iron Man suit, but a true criminal mastermind that would meet him physically and mentally, in the same way that Bane smashed Batman in The Dark Knight Rises (2012). And after the opening third, Tony Stark is simply Tony Stark. His suits have been all but destroyed, his friends are far away, and the prototype escape suit he is left with is damaged almost beyond repair, so even the trusty JARVIS (voiced by Paul Bettany) isn't there to help. He must now use his wits, but without his suit, he is physically and mentally vulnerable, not helped by the pursuing super soldier Savin (James Badge Dale).

This is where I find that superhero movies get interesting, when the central character is stripped of all his powers and we see the true man (or woman!) underneath. Yet Stark's task is a rather tedious one, trying to put the pieces together of a relatively simplistic yet clumsily executed central plot with the help of a precocious child (played by Ty Simpkins), who just so happens to have an obsession with engineering. Didn't child sidekicks die out in the early 1990's when film-makers realised that no-one likes them? If it is in fact Shane Black's way to give a nod-and-wink to the audience, then there's not really any call for it. This is not a throwback to buddy movies so in-jokes of the like have no place here.

If there's one thing to be said about Black after seeing this, is that he must have balls made of diamonds. Alec Baldwin's character in Glengarry Glen Ross (1992) certainly would have employed him in real estate. The decision he made regarding the main villain of the story is one that had the comic-book nerds shaking the foundations of their parents' basements, and one that had me appalled. I cannot say much without revealing the twist, but it's a baffling decision, one that would have been rather clever under different circumstances. It leads to Stark's nemesis being just as dull as previous instalments, which have been the main problem with the franchise. Finally we could have had a bad guy up to Christopher Nolan's standards, but it is side-stepped in favour of something all the more familiar.

Iron Man 3 is a mixed bag. Action-wise, this is the best so far, with excellent CGI work leading to a thrilling climax which includes an army of iron men suits. But the humour - Black's forte and something that has been spot-on in the first two movies - seems forced and, at times, awkward. James Rhodes (Don Cheadle), Tony's best friend and frequenter of War Machine, has a larger role, but the chemistry and banter between the two lifelong friends is just not there. They are certainly no Riggs and Murtaugh. It also outstays its welcome, stretching credibility as far as it will go to the point of the ridiculous (since when has Tony Stark been Jason Bourne?), but it is a definite improvement of Iron Man 2 (2010), employing a more interesting internal struggle for Stark than mere daddy issues, and a more satisfying climax. As a whole, Iron Man 3 was undoubtedly a let-down for me, quite shocking given the talent involved, but my eagerness to see the film and my unquenched thirst for superhero movies proves that Marvel's formula still works even if some of their output just isn't up to scratch.


Directed by: Shane Black
Starring: Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, Don Cheadle, Guy Pearce, Rebecca Hall, Ben Kingsley, James Badge Dale, Jon Favreau
Country: USA/China

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #649: 'Panic in Year Zero!' (1962)

Shortly after leaving Los Angeles on a trip, the family Baldwin - Harry (Ray Milland), Ann (Jean Hagen), Rick (Frankie Avalon) and Karen (Mary Mitchel) - witness a large mushroom cloud over their home city. Radio reports conclude the start of a thermonuclear war, and Harry's survival instincts click immediately into gear. After abandoning the rescue of Ann's mother due to the fleeing Los Angeles residents, Harry takes the family off-road and into a small town to gather supplies. The news has yet to spread to this small town, so they are instantly met with suspicion. They leave to settle some place safe and away from civilization, but are met with more hostility in the form of three young punks.

This cheap end-of-the-world quickie effort from American International Pictures is now seemingly all but forgotten, but this is a surprisingly effective little movie that benefits from a strong central performance and direction by Hollywood Golden Era legend Ray Milland. This is obviously low budget, with the camera never focusing on anything but the immediate action, allowing the audience to use their imagination to experience the wider picture. But more than anything, this is a character study of an all-American family trying to hold any remnants of civilisation together in the midst of social decay and lawlessness. 

Like Val Guest's excellent The Day The Earth Caught Fire just a year before, the outlook here is very gloomy. But Panic in Year Zero! is the reserve side of The Day The Earth Caught Fire's coin, offering a right-wing alternative, embodied in Harry's instant tooling up and viewing every outside the family as an enemy. It is here that the films fails, where some more character building and intimate moments (especially between Harry and Ann) could have provided more insight into Harry's narrow view. But this is a cold look at humanity in crisis, where robbery and rape are just around the corner and every man is out for themselves. Ultimately, an exciting and often shocking little film that does wonders with what little it was given.

Directed by: Ray Milland

Starring: Ray Milland, Jean Hagen, Frankie Avalon, Mary Mitchel

Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #648: 'The Iceman' (2012)

Having developed a morbid fascination with serial killers over the past few years, I was delighted to hear that Richard Kuklinski, one of the most prolific and emotionless mass murderers in history, was to be given the cinematic treatment. Not only was his story ripe for a juicy adaptation, but Michael Shannon, the most consistently mesmerising actor working in film today, was cast as the titular Iceman. Sadly, inexperienced director Ariel Vromen, who up to this point had only made two films I've never heard of, has delivered a by-the-numbers biopic; one that follows familiar genre conventions and whitewashes Kuklinski's story completely in favour of a formula that a mainstream audience can comfortably follow.

After being impressed by his towering frame and generally intimidating nature, mob boss Roy DeMeo (Ray Liotta), who is in the employ of the Gambino crime family, takes the young Richard Kuklinski under his wing. To get a feel for him, DeMeo tells Kuklinski to kill at tramp in broad daylight, to which Kuklinski coldly obeys . Soon enough, Kuklinski is carrying out mob hits for DeMeo, while telling his clueless wife Deborah (Winona Ryder) that he is in finance. He meets fellow contract killer Robert 'Mr. Freezy' Prongay (Chris Evans), who teaches Kuklinski the benefits of using cyanide to carry out the murders, and then freezing the bodies to rule out a time of death. But with DeMeo coming under pressure from his boss Leonard Marks (Robert Davi) for a drug deal gone wrong, Kuklinki finds himself and his family under threat.

What might have been a fascinating insight into the inner workings of a sociopath, The Iceman is nothing more than your standard straight-to-DVD mobster movie. Completely ignoring Kuklinski's natural instinct for murder (he was a serial killer long before the mob approached him) and his reputation as a merciless and cruel man, beating and killing men for the slightest of reasons, Vromen even adds a family angle that is completely untrue. To give the lead character a bit of recognisable humanity, here he is portrayed as a loving family man, dedicated to his wife and kids as the mob close around him. In fact, in real life Kuklinski was an aggressive wife-beater; a tyrannical king of the household who regularly committed acts of physical and mental abuse on his family.

Artistic license is a right that every film-maker has when conducting a biopic, but when there's a complex and fascinating story to tell, however dubious some of Kuklinski's claims are (he claims to be responsible for the murder of Jimmy Hoffa), then why make such drastic changes if all you're doing is making your subject the same character seen a thousand times before? Shannon deserves better than that, and his unnerving performance is one of the few saving graces here, but his character is reduced to nothing more than a standard mobster, seduced by the lifestyle and cutting himself off from regular life. He was a cruel, savage monster, who disposed of some of his victims by having them eaten alive by rats (or so he claims), or in one incident, he allowed his victim time to pray to God to see if he would answer his prayers, before killing him (this scene is played out in the film with James Franco as the victim).

Plot strands veer off path and are offered no resolution, making them completely redundant. Some are intriguing, such as Stephen Dorff's appearance as Kuklinski's imprisoned paedophile brother, who hints at Kuklinski's dark childhood and abuse. Others are not, such as DeMeo's right-hand man Josh Rosenthal (David Schwimmer) who is given more screentime than necessary, only for the story to fizzle out into absolutely nothing, as does DeMeo himself. Given a longer running time, a more experienced director, and ultimately more commitment to the source material (various books and recordings exist of Kukinski, the most popular being Philip Carlo's book The Iceman: Confessions of a Mafia Contratc Killer and the TV movie The Iceman Tapes), this could have been highly engrossing cinema, instead it's a crushing disappointment, saved only by Shannon's imposing performance.


Directed by: Ariel Vromen
Starring: Michael Shannon, Winona Ryder, Chris Evans, Ray Liotta, David Schwimmer, Robert Davi
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #647: 'Sweet Sugar' (1972)

Following in the genre-setting footsteps of Jack Hill's The Big Doll House (1971), Sweet Sugar is a formulaic Women in Prison movie from Werewolves on Wheels (1971) director Michel Levesque. Busty prostitute Sugar (Phyllis Davis) is set up for marijuana possession by a corrupt politician, and is thrown into a Costa Rican prison. She is given the opportunity to be moved to the sugar plantation in exchange for a confession, where she meets the various feisty inmates, including Simone (Ella Edwards). Amongst the male guards, there is hustler Max (Albert Cole) who is trying to get his young friend Ric (James Houghton) laid, and the tyrannical and sadistic Burgos (Cliff Osmond), all overlooked by the creepy Dr. John (Angus Duncan). The girls' hopes are raised upon the arrival of voodoo priest Mojo (Timothy Brown), who uses his powers in black magic to help set them free.

If you're a fan of WiP movies, then Sweet Sugar, if anything, ticks all the boxes. We have shower scenes, boobs (naturally), topless flogging, ketchup-red blood, rapey guards, a filming location where filming is cheap, torture, a sassy black chick, and explosions. Where it stands out is in the sheer insanity of certain scenes, namely Angus Duncan's ridiculously over-the-top Dr. John, who performs orgasm torture experiments on his subjects, and some drugged angry cats. Duncan camps it up so ludicrously that the mundanity of the rest of the film becomes redundant enough to get some enjoyment out of it. Davis has the chesty charm of a Russ Meyer lead (and also starred in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970)), but she's no Pam Grier, and the film's quirkiness soon wears thin, as it plods from one familiar scene to the next. It's not quite as dull as most WiP movies, but it's still a pretty bad film that offers nothing new to the genre.


Directed by: Michel Levesque
Starring: Phyllis Davis, Ella Edwards, Timothy Brown, Angus Duncan
Country: USA

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #646: 'Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A. Leuchter, Jr.' (1999)

Never a director to focus on anything but the utterly fascinating, Errol Morris' documentaries over the past few years lay a foundation for a consistently excellent body of work. His love of the eccentric and the condemned prove fascinating viewing, but what makes his films so utterly gripping is his objectivity. Don't get me wrong, it's more often than not very clear as to where Morris' opinions lie, but he allows his subject a fair crack, a chance to give their side of the story, no matter how outrageous it happens to be. Here, with Mr. Death, about the highs and lows of Fred Leuchter, expert manufacturer of execution devices and Holocaust denier, Morris lets his subject seal his own fate with his own words.

With his father a prison warden, Fred Leuchter spent a lot of his youth around criminals, many of whom were facing imminent execution. Having heard about the flaws in the execution facilities - many of which were built by non-professionals with only a photograph to work from - Leuchter took it upon himself to design an electric chair that was not only more reliable, but more 'humane', both for the prisoner and the wardens. Soon enough, without any engineering qualifications, Leuchter was being employed by other states to design gallows and machines to administer lethal injection. Meanwhile in Canada, renowned neo-Nazi Ernst Zundel published a paper that denied the existence of the Holocaust. Leuchter was brought in as an 'expert' to investigate the gas chambers of Auschwitz, only to discover no trace of cyanide. This led to Leuchter's paper The Leuchter Report, and the downfall of the man's life and reputation.

Similar to Morris' The Fog of War (2003), which allowed former Secretary of Defence Robert S. McNamara to be viewed as a human being and not the monster it was so easy to label him as, Leuchter does not come across as an anti-Semite, or even someone that believes half the things he says. This mouse of a man - short, ugly, addicted to coffee and cigarettes - is entirely non-threatening. But as we witness him getting swept up in the neo-Nazi rallies he's invited to speak at, he comes across as a man that simply has a need to feel a purpose and place in the world. What he did is unspeakable - illegally gathering samples by chipping off stone from the walls of a place many hold sacred, to use his self-labelled expertise to deny the most shocking genocide in history - but it is nevertheless hard not to feel some sort of pity for him.

Being a former detective, Morris doesn't need to try very hard to disprove Leuchter's findings, and rubbishes with them with a few swift strokes. But those of us with working brains in our heads don't need to be told the Holocaust was real, so Morris doesn't spend too much time on it. This is very much about the man behind the uproar, using archive footage of his time at Auschwitz to portray a man that doesn't seem to grasp the true gravity of the situation. Why did he do it? Can he comprehend the possible repercussions of the words that come out of his mouth? Whatever the answers, this is a fantastic documentary - gripping, shocking, informative and objective, everything you would expect from Errol Morris.


Directed by: Errol Morris
Starring: Fred A. Leuchter Jr.
Country: UK/USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #645: 'Star Trek' (2009)

After Captain Picard and his crew crash-landed at the box office with Star Trek: Nemesis (2002) and the TV series Star Trek: Enterprise was canned, the Star Trek franchise was at a dead-end and in desperate need of fresh eyes. After TV success with the likes of Alias and Lost, and a decent franchise entry in Mission: Impossible III (2006) - which brought the series back on course after John Woo's horrible first sequel - in stepped J.J. Abrams, along with writers Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman. This would be a complete re-boot, going back to the very beginning of the careers of the characters from the original series - Kirk, Spock, Scotty et al, who are now some of the most recognisable faces in popular culture.

Born amidst the heroic death of his father, James T. Kirk (Chris Pine) is a rash, headstrong, yet intelligent adrenaline junkie, who, after a bar fight with some Starfleet cadets, is convinced by Captain Pike (Bruce Greenwood) to enlist in Starfleet academy. On Vulcan, Spock (Zachary Quinto) faces the decision whether to give himself over completely to the logic-based Vulcan way of life of his father, or embrace the emotions brought on by his human mother. After being invited to join the Vulcan Science Acacemy, but taking offence at a suggestion that his humanity is a 'disadvantage', Spock declines and enlists in Starfleet. Three years later, the cadets find themselves on the Enterprise commanded by Pike, where they answer a distress signal from Vulcan, who are facing destruction from Romulan Nero (Eric Bana).

While admittedly not a fan himself, Abrams clearly doesn't want to upset the huge fanbase that this franchise attracts, going as far as using a clever plot device that allows the rookie characters to pursue their own path, and therefore not eradicating everything that happened back when William Shatner was hamming it up. Occasionally, you'll see Shatner in Chris Pine, but Pine makes Kirk very much his own. Kirk is the humanity of the story - cocky and arrogant to the point of dangerous, but capable and confident like every leader needs to be, and here we see him discover where to draw the line. He is the polar opposite to Quinto's Spock, who, at this point of the story, is a cold, angry presence, but inwardly fighting his natural instinct to balance logic with emotion, seeing weakness in his humanity.

It is the interactions between these two characters that form the emotional core of the film, with the characters naturally learning from each other and starting on the path that would lead to their great friendship. This being an origin story, the focus should naturally be on character development, so Bana's Nero, although nailing the short time he has on screen, doesn't get much of a look in, becoming not much more than a plot device that allows the crew of the Enterprise to pull together. However, Nero's ruthlessness does allow for some fine action scenes, and one genuinely shocking moment. There's less 'set phasers to stun' and more hand-to-hand combat in the vein of the Bourne trilogy, with Spock displaying some chopsocky skills and Sulu (John Cho) revealing some unknown kung-fu abilities (he is Asian, after all!).

It won't please all the fans, certainly not the hardcore Trekkies. Original creator Gene Roddenberry fused philosophy and science and gave the world a series that, on the surface, could be misconstrued as just another cheesy sci-fi series from the 1960's, but was rooted in something far deeper and more intelligent. Abrams take on Star Trek all but throws away these ideas, and focuses more on action and comedy, aspects of the traditional blockbuster. Myself, I've seen very little of the TV series, so this didn't bother me in the slightest. Although I think the original Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979) has an unfair bad rep, I generally find the original movie series quite tedious and very hit-and-miss (something the fans will admit), so I welcome the new take. It's Star Trek for the modern age, but shows enough respect for what came before that a fine balance is created, and, some lazy plot devices aside, is one of the most shamelessly entertaining films of the past few years.


Directed by: J.J. Abrams
Starring: Chris Pine, Zachary Quinto, Eric Bana, Zoe Saldana, Bruce Greenwood, Leonard Nimoy, Karl Urban, Simon Pegg, John Cho, Anton Yelchin
Country: USA/Germany

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #644: 'This Gun for Hire' (1942)

While the 'film noir' genre was still in its earlier stages (back then they were generally referred to simply as melodramas), This Gun For Hire, an exciting, violent thriller from Frank Tuttle, probably shares more thematically with the Pre-Code gangster thrillers. There is no femme fatale to manipulate the film's anti-hero, nor is the lead a hard-bitten private dick or a dead-beat trying to make some cash. In fact, there isn't really a lead at all. It's arguably three inter-linking stories that intertwine and finally come to a head at the climax. Such is the curiosity of This Gun For Hire, one of the finest examples of the B-movie noirs.

Stoic hitman Philip Raven (Alan Ladd) guns down chemist Albert Baker (Frank Ferguson) and his innocent secretary, and takes what he came for - a chemical formula. His employer, the effeminate and cowardly Willard Gates (Laird Cregar), pays Raven in marked bills and then reports the bills stolen from his company. Nightclub entertainer Ellen Graham (Veronica Lake) is in town to audition for a nightclub spot owned by Gates, but is pulled aside by a senator hoping to gain information on Gates, who is under investigation for treason. Graham's boyfriend, LAPD detective Michael Crane (Robert Preston) is assigned to the case of Raven and the stolen money, but Raven has plans for revenge.

Although only fourth-billed, this made a star of Alan Ladd. His dead-eyed, cold-blooded gun for hire is what you take away from the film. Like Richard Widmark as Tommy Udo in Kiss of Death (1947), his character displays such a shocking lack of ethics, quite alarming for its day. His brief moment of humanity comes when he chooses to spare an child who sees his face after a murder. Yet Ladd makes him undeniably compelling, even when he's smacking his girlfriend around for messing with his cat. Veronica Lake, an actress who has yet to completely win me over, does a decent job with a rather unexciting character, performing a couple of nice musical numbers (even though she is lip-synching) while performing magic.

Made during WWII, the overseas menace plays a definite part in the film. While by no means a political thriller, the chemical formula that Raven unwittingly steals is for poison gas, intended to be sold overseas to the highest bidder by Gates' mysterious, wheelchair-bound boss Alvin Brewster (Tully Marshall). America's need for corny patriotism damages the film in the end, used as a tool to allow its mean anti-hero some one-dimensional sympathy. It's my only real problem with the film, which without the ending, could have been up there with the greats of film noir. It's still a damn fine film, as hard-edged as you would want your noirs to be, with a truly enigmatic character (and actor) at its centre.


Directed by: Frank Tuttle
Starring: Alan Ladd, Veronica Lake, Robert Preston, Laird Cregar
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #643: 'Foxy Brown' (1974)

After the huge success of Coffy (1973), American International Pictures wanted more blaxploitation, namely in the form of Pam Grier's sexy, female empowered ass-kicker. Coffy made Grier an overnight star, but not wanting to make a sequel after seeing a few sequels of other franchises fail at the box-office, they hastily re-wrote the script for Burn, Coffy, Burn!, and created Foxy Brown. They kept writer and director Jack Hill, and made a film about basically the same character. Yet Coffy and Foxy Brown are arguably as popular and as iconic as each other - Foxy maybe even more so - and this is mainly due to Foxy Brown being a pretty decent film, despite familiar plotting and genre tropes.

When her boyfriend is gunned down by a bunch of gangsters, Foxy Brown goes undercover to infiltrate a prostitute ring posing as a modelling agency. Her dead-beat brother Link (the amazing Antonio Fargas) tells Foxy that the group - led by strange and kinky couple Steve (Peter Brown) and Miss Katherine (Kathryn Loder) - are the people responsible. Violence, drugs and explosions soon follow as Foxy pursues her thirst for vengeance, and helps fellow black woman Claudia (Juanita Brown) to escape a life on the game,

It's a revenge premise seen a thousand times before, but Foxy Brown is often a blast. Grindhouse trailers often dazzle and confuse us with endless action scenes and violence promising a wonderful experience, only to submit us to 90 torturous minutes of amatuerish crap. Yet Foxy Brown certainly delivers on its promises. It's noticeably more violent than other blaxploitation films, with Jack Hill's wit surprisingly shining through moments of forced heroin addiction and pickled cock. But it's Pam Grier that steals the movie, pulling guns out of her 'afro and simply being 'a whooooole lotta woman!' (as recognised by her own brother) throughout, displaying the charisma that would make her a 70's icon. It doesn't break any boundaries, even by action standards, and there are certain plot holes you have to try and ignore (what does Foxy Brown actually do?), but it's 95 minutes of solid exploitation fare.


Directed by: Jack Hill
Starring: Pam Grier, Antonio Fargas, Peter Brown, Kathryn Loder, Sid Haig
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #642: 'The Fall of the House of Usher' (1960)

Up until 1960, Roger Corman's American International Pictures (AIP) were making low-grade movies, mainly in the science-fiction and horror genre, but also branched out into JD and teen rebellion movies. They were making profit but little of it, mainly due to the rise in household televisions, and when people went to the movies they wanted to see a big budget and big stars, not square-jawed block heads and men in rubber suits. So, trusting Corman's abilities as a director, AIP coughed up the dough, brought in real film stars, and created what is widely believed to be their finest film, The Fall of the House of Usher, loosely based on the short story by Edgar Allen Poe, and what was the beginning of the Corman-Poe cycle of movies.

Philip Winthrop (Mark Damon) arrives at the House of Usher, a grand mansion that has fallen into decay, surrounded by murky swamps and a ghostly graveyard. He seeks his fiancée Madeline Usher (Myrna Fahey), but is instead met by her strange brother Roderick (Vincent Price). Roderick has a crippling disease that heightens his senses, meaning that a loud noise or any physical contact causes him extreme pain. Madeline, he says, has fallen deathly ill and is waiting to die, as is he. They will die along with the house, which is close to collapse. Philip is not convinced, and vows to stay until Madeline leaves with him, but Roderick is adamant that she will stay, and put an end to a cursed bloodline that has bred for centuries.

This has little similarity to the atmosphere of Poe's short story, and screenwriter Richard Matheson naturally takes creative liberties with the text. Poe's story is surrounded by mystery and metaphors on the human psyche, whereas Corman gives us less to imagine or ponder, and creates something that feels more like a traditional haunted house story. But this is not a criticism, as Corman had few pages of text to work with and so naturally expanded the story to fit the movie screen, and the film is absolutely beautiful. Bringing in cinematographer Floyd Crosby, who won an Oscar for his work on F.W. Murnau's Tabu (1931) and did extraordinary work on High Noon (1952), the camerawork creates a sense of claustrophobia. There is also a standout scene that uses colour saturation to create what feels like another level of reality, as the Usher spirits gather in the basement.

And, of course, it has Vincent Price, here without his moustache and almost peroxide blonde hair that evokes an albino, giving a performance of effortless creepiness. The man was simply born to do horror - his voice, appearance and undeniable presence is perfectly suited to the genre. His character is interesting - he is undoubtedly mad, crippled by a strange disease and a sense of guilt for his family's blood-stained legacy, but has arguably good intentions. It's the subtlety of his performance that makes it so effective, as is the subtlety of the movie as a whole. It doesn't need a monster or a vengeful ghost, or even a 'bad guy' at all, as it's the house that looms over them all. This is a fine film, efficiently polished and tightly directed by Roger Corman, who you would swear had been directing A-grade features for years before this.


Directed by: Roger Corman
Starring: Vincent Price, Mark Damon, Myrna Fahey, Harry Ellerbe
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie