Sunday, April 17, 2016

Junk Cinema Remembers Patty Duke

Patty Duke in the role that made her shameless: Neely O'Hara in the ne plus ultra of trashy flicks "Valley of the Dolls".

Greetings, movie lovers.

As you may already know, Oscar-winning actress and mental health advocate Patty Duke has passed away.

Duke first rose to fame as the young Helen Keller in the 1962 film "The Miracle Worker". Both she and Anne Bancroft (who played her teacher Annie Sullivan) won Oscars for their performances. Years later, Duke would play Sullivan in an acclaimed TV-movie version of "The Miracle Worker" opposite Melissa Gilbert as Helen.

Her Oscar win earned Patty her own sitcom. "The Patty Duke Show" which ran from 1963 to 1966 and focused on the high school high-jinks of "identical cousins" Patty and Cathy, both played by Duke. As the show's famous theme song explained, Cathy favored "the minuet, The Ballet Russe and crepe Suzette", while Patty "loved to rock and roll" and "a hot dog (made) her lose control".

Although Duke would assemble a resume of impressive credits in film and TV (winning several Emmy awards in the process), Junk Cinema fans will always remember her for her over-the-top, out of this world, supremely nutty turn as the tortured starlet Neely O'Hara in the ne plus ultra of trashy flicks "Valley of the Dolls" (1967).

"Booze! It's what for dinner! And lunch! And breakfast!": Neely O'Hara pours herself some instant breakfast while Paul Burke looks on.

Based on the runaway best-seller by Jacqueline Suzanne--who supposedly felt her book was a serious work of literature!--"Valley of the Dolls" told the sad, sordid saga of three friends (Duke, Sharon Tate and Barbra Parkins) who dreamed of careers in show business but instead found themselves undone by vicious co-workers, faithless men, nasty in-laws, evil producers and big hair. To cope with all these injustices, our heroines swallow a truck load of "dolls" and wash them down by gulping oceans of alcohol.

Of the three gals, poor Duke had it by far the worst. Neely O'Hara (partially based on Judy Garland) starts out as a sweet Broadway baby who is rehearsing a featured role in a new musical. The star of the show is the roaring, hard-as-nails Helen Lawson (Susan Hayward), who believes O'Hara will steal her thunder and the show. "The only hit to come out of a Helen Lawson show is Helen Lawson!" Hayward bellows and thus poor Neely is kicked to the curb.

She rebounds by singing on a star-studded TV telethon and staging a night club act. Before long, Hollywood beckons. To keep up with the demands of her film career ("Everybody says 'Sparkle, Neely, sparkle!'") Duke starts popping the dolls and hitting the bottle. Her growing addiction makes Neely uppity and bad tempered and she turns on her long-suffering, nice guy husband Martin Milner (of "Adam-12" fame). 

"I'm not the door man!" Marty complains when faced with his wife's continuous demands.

"You're not the breadwinner either!" wifey spits back.

Another source of friction between the two is Neely's growing dependence on AC/DC hairstylist Ted Casblancas. When hubby fumes, "You're spending more time than necessary with that fag!" Neely screams back, "Ted Casablancas is not a fag! (pause) And I'm just the dame who can prove it!"

Anne Wells (Barbra Parkins) is worried friend Neely is popping more pills than she is.

Then one night a burned-out Neely comes home to find Ted splashing in her pool with a giggling bimbo. Horrified, Neely pours bleach in her pool and staggers off. This leads to her epic nervous break down, where Duke wails, "I can't sleep without a doll!" She's later sent to a nervous hospital to recover. It's there Neely comes upon the terminally ill Tony, the husband of pal and "art film" star Jennifer North (Sharon Tate). Experiencing the last stages of an unspecified neurological disorder, the two old friends sing a duet (!) and then the poor Tony keels over and dies.

Finally cured, Neely has a chance to make a come-back in a new musical. Before that happens, however, Duke has a final showdown with the terrifying Helen Lawson--who knows all about O'Hara's personal and career problems.

"They drummed you out of Hollywood, so you came crawling back to Broadway!" Helen sneers. "But Broadway doesn't go for booze and dope! Now, get out of my way," Hayward informs Duke, "I've got a man waiting for me!"

Before Helen can flounce off, Neely grabs the legend's wig off her head and flushes it down the john.

Of course, when Neely tries to make her comeback, her nerves get the better of her and she starts using again. Opening night arrives, but Duke is too stoned to go on. Her scheming little understudy, of course, is ready to go and becomes an instant sensation. Poor Neely is out on her ear again. When last seen, the once great star is staggering through a back alley, bumping into garbage cans and screaming the names of everybody who has wronged her--ending, of course, with her own.

"Hair we go again!": Epic enemies Neely O'Hara and Helen Lawson (Susan Hayward) battle it out in one of Junk Cinema's most iconic cat-fights.

"Valley of the Dolls" is such a corker of a bad movie that it holds an honored place in The Bad Movie Hall Of Shame. However, without the wonderfully terrible performances of the cast, especially Patty Duke's, the flick would have been just another Show Business Sucks cautionary tale. As the troubled, temperamental Neely, Duke rose to operatic heights to convey her character's torment: screaming, wailing, crying, crawling on the floor, smoking cigarette after cigarette--everything but acting. Only Stephen Boyd as the louse-of-all-louses Frankie Fane in "The Oscar" matches Duke's hysterical histrionics. Without Duke, "Valley of the Dolls" just wouldn't have been as bad.

So, we say a fond farewell to Patty Duke, an actress and activist who gave so many memorable performances over her impressive career. However, as good a Duke could be, she was even better when she was bad. Patty Duke, Junk Cinema salutes you!

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

William Castle Invites You To "The House On Haunted Hill"

"And that's how I got into commemorative spoon collecting..." Walter Prichard (Elisha Cook, Jr.) introduces himself to the other guests staying at "The House on Haunted Hill."

Happy Spring, movie lovers.

Say, does this scenario sound kind of familiar to you?

A group of diverse people gather at a house where they will be locked in.

The said people will experience a variety of situations that will (supposedly) test their mettle.

There will be a host to observe and comment on the proceedings.

"And this is your room..." Ingenue Nora (Carolyn Craig) doesn't seem happy with her accommodations. 

If the participants can hang on until the end, they will receive a nice chunk o'change.

If you are thinking to yourself, "Hey! That sounds just like that rancid reality show 'Big Brother'..." you are half right.

For while it is true that the rancid reality show "Big Brother" features a clutch of folks ensconced in a house where they humiliate and/or debase themselves and/or each other for a cash prize, CBS did not cook up this scenario themselves. No way! That honor belongs to director, producer, idea man and all around huckster William Castle and his 1958 cheaper creeper "The House on Haunted Hill."

Velvet voiced eccentric millionaire Frederick Loren (Vincent Price with Salvador Dali's 'stache) has invited five people to spend the night in a supposedly "haunted house". If they can last until morning, each guest will get a check for ten grand--quite a bit of money in 1958, even after taxes (in case you're interested, $10,000 in 1958 is $83,283.45 in 2016 values).

The takers are test pilot Lance (Richard Long from "The Big Valley" and "Nanny and the Professor" fame); Dr. Trent (Alan Marshall), a psychiatrist who studies hysteria; ingenue typist Nora (Carolyn Craig); newspaper columnist Ruth (Julie Mitchum); and the very nervous heavy drinker Watson Pritchard (legendary character actor Elisha Cook, Jr.).

"Allow me to introduce myself": Host and Big Brother Frederick Loren (Vincent Price).

Of course, each of these folks have an underlying reason for taking Mr. Loren up on his rather kooky offer. Lance, for example, is just doing it for kicks. Nora needs the money to help her injured parents. Newspaper columnist Ruth has gambling debts she'd like to pay off. However, Pritchard's motivation is rather vague. See, he actually owns the house Loren is renting for his spooky sleep-over. Moreover, Walter's own brother AND sister-in-law were hacked to death in the said house--by the wife's sister, no less. Finally, in the flick's prologue, Walt states that he had previously attempted to spend the night in the haunted house and nearly DIED in the process. So why tag along? To face his fears? To make peace with the past? Considering what a marathon drinker Walter is, I vote for the free hooch.

Anyway, things get off to a suitably scary start when a huge crystal chandelier  nearly crashes down on Nora--who is saved by Lance, naturally. For the rest of the movie, Lance will hit on Nora with varying rates of success. As the guests get acquainted downstairs, viewers are given a peek into Frederick Loren's domestic situation, which is rather spooky itself.

Loren is married to Annabelle (Carol Ohmart), an ice cold blond who wants hubby's money so much she'd kill for it. In fact, Frederick insists Annabelle has already tried to do him in before--with arsenic--although she insists it was merely "something he ate." Later on, Fred offers the Mrs. "one million tax free" if she'd divorce him, but Annabelle sweetly refuses, stating, "I want it all."

Of course, Fred isn't exactly an ideal husband. His first wife ran off and his second and third wives each died of heart attacks, "even though they were in their twenties." Annabelle contends that Fred's jealousy and possessiveness drove away her friends and that Loren is a psychotic, too. When she refuses to participate in hubby's "haunted house party", he yanks her by the hair until she relents. As a parting shot, Frederick tells Annabelle not to fret so much "because it causes wrinkles."

After Frederick welcomes his guests and lays down the ground rules, he suggests Walter give them a tour of the house. Turns out seven people have been offed there in some very icky ways. For instance, a disgruntled husband kicked his wife into a vat of acid for not being enthusiastic enough about his wine making hobby. Skoal!

See, tanning does CAUSE wrinkles!

When the group moves on, Lance and Nora hang back. They banter a bit and decide to check out some of the basement rooms on their own. Suddenly Lance falls into a supposedly locked room and poor Nora is confronted by a horrifying specter. Well, actually, the sight of a shriveled up old granny in a fright wig. Being pulled on a skateboard. Wearing a long black nightie. Not exactly a horrifying specter as horrifying specters go, but a reasonable simulation of one. Or not. You make the call.

Never the less, Nora screams bloody murder and runs off to find the other guests. They are gathered in the formal living room knocking a few back--Walter having knocked back more than a few himself. The hysterical typist pleads with the others to follow her into the basement to locate Lance. They find the jet jockey unconscious with a bump on his head, but the ghostly specter of granny is nowhere to be found. Lance can't remember how he got locked in the room or who conked him on the noggin, but, after all, this is a haunted house and those things do tend to happen.

As the evening (and movie) wears on, it's poor, pitiful Nora who keeps getting freaked out. She finds a disembodied head in her over-night bag, for instance. She's the one who discovers the body of Annabelle dangling from a noose. Later on, the body of Annabelle will float outside the gal's bedroom window. Then Nora runs off to the basement, convinced Frederick is trying to kill her. Naturally, by the time Fred catches up with Nora she's as unglued as a virgin at a prison rodeo--and promptly shoots Loren dead.

After Frederick collapses in a heap, Nora runs off (again), shrieking like a dental drill. Moments later, Dr. Trent appears out of the shadows. Turns out that--gasp!--he and Annabelle are having an affair and-gasp!--conspiring to kill Frederick by--gasp!--driving Nora to the edge so she would--gasp!--shoot Frederick and thus allow them to --gasp!--live happily ever after on the stiff's money.

What a cunning plan! I mean, it's fool-proof! The only way Dr. Trent and Annabelle's plan could possibly fail would be if the gun Nora fires would be filled with blanks...and Fred only pretends to be dead...and Dr. Trent and Frederick duke it out by the acid vat...and the lights go out...and Dr. Trent falls into the acid...and the not dead Fred scares Annabelle into falling into the acid vat..with the help of a skeleton dummy. But unless any of those things happen, it's all systems go for Dr. Trent and Annabelle!

"May I borrow this? I'm kinda cold..." Annabelle is not happy with Dr. Trent's new look.

Unfortunately, everything described above does happen, which is kind of a bummer, especially for Annabelle and Dr. Trent.

In the final moments of "The House on Haunted House", Frederick Loren faces his stunned guests and explains that when he discovered Annabelle and Dr. Trent were conspiring to murder him at his "haunted house party", he decided to "play along", when in fact he was actually conspiring to kill them. He then declares that he's content to let "justice" decide if killing someone who plans on killing you is OK.

A fascinating moral argument, I grant you, but I'm sure all of Loren's guests just wanted to know that they were still getting paid--I know I would.

The interesting thing about "The House on Haunted Hill" is how this low budget, B&W "popcorn eater's movie" later attained the status of a "cult classic." That certainly wasn't the outcome William Castle had in mind when he shot the flick. In fact, Castle saw "The House on Haunted Hill" primarily as a showcase for his latest gimmick, "Emergo".

See, at certain points in the film, large inflatable skeletons were to "emerge" from strategic points in the theater and fly over the heads of unsuspecting patrons, thus adding to the chill factor of the flick.

Movie patrons enjoying the delights of William Castle's latest gimmick "Emergo".

Unfortunately, this novel idea never really panned out the way Castle wanted it to. According to The Golden Turkey Awards (which nominated "Emergo" for "The Most Inane and Unwelcome Technical Advance in Hollywood History" alongside "Percepto" and "Glorious-Smell-O-Vision"), when Will previewed "Emergo" for Allied Artist executives, the skeleton (which weighed 15 pounds) fell off its trolley and smacked chief of studio operation Eugene Arnstein on the head. Later, when "The House on Haunted Hill" was playing in theaters, the skeletons were light weight figures that proved to be irresistible targets for kids with sling-shots. As The Saturday Evening Post  remarked, "Breakage was high."

Mangled plastic skeletons aside, one person watching "The House on Haunted Hill" with great interest was Alfred Hitchcock. After seeing Castle's film get positive reviews and rake in the cash at the box office, "The Master of Suspense" decided to do his own low-budget B&W horror movie, using the crew from his TV show "Alfred Hitchcock Presents". That film was named "Psycho" and the rest is movie history. William Castle, an Alfred Hitchcock fan, was delighted that the director of "Rebecca", "Rear Window", "To Catch a Thief" and "Vertigo" (among other classics) was inspired by his little cheaper creeper to make his own cheaper creeper. It must have made the failure of "Emergo" so much easier to handle.

Therefore movie lovers, remember that inspiration can strike anywhere, and help me SAVE THE MOVIES.

Sunday, March 13, 2016

Let's All Visit The "Carnival Of Souls"!

Actress Candice Hilligoss cringes in horror after watching her feature film debut as Mary in "Carnival of Souls." 

How-dee, movie lovers.

Question: What cost $33,000 bucks to make, was shot in a a couple of weeks, was screened on a double bill with "The Devil's Messenger" AND may be the most influential film EVER lensed (partially) in Lawrence, Kansas?

Give up?

It's the crack-pot creeper "Carnival Of Souls"(1962), the ONLY film to date EVER directed by a guy named Herk.

However, before we delve into the murky depths of the movie, please be aware that "Carnival of Souls" has reached the status of a "cult classic". When it was re-released in 1989, it was met with general critical acclaim. Furthermore, directors David Lynch and George A. Romero have both cited our featured flick as a major influence on their particular oeuvre.

"Anybody got a towel?" The stunned Mary staggers out of the drink.

Which is perfectly fine. Many low budget movies--like "Cat Woman" and "DOA"--have, with the passage of time, proven themselves to be cinematic works of imagination and innovation.

Yet, in my esteemed opinion (and because this is my blog, I can call my opinion "esteemed" if I want to!) "Carnival Of Souls" remains--irregardless of critical re-appraisal-- a goofy, often static, fitfully acted tale about a chick with a bouffant hair-do who staggers around as if she was accidentally injected with a mega dose of elephant tranquilizer.

Set to organ music, I might add.

Things begin thusly: Mary (Candice Hilligoss) and her gal pals foolishly accept a drag racing challenge from some dudes in straw hats. As they trundle across a rickety bridge, the cars bump and the vehicle carrying the girls plunges into to the muddy, sandy river below--don't you hate it when that happens? While the police and assorted old coots in bib over-alls dredge the river to find the downed car, up pops Mary. She's dazed and confused and covered in muck, but she's alive. How did she survive the crash? Don't ask Mary--she's just as perplexed as everyone else.

Three days later, Mary is heading off to her new job as a church organist in the party state of Utah. While driving into town, she she passes by an abandoned carnival site that exerts a strange and strong attraction for her. In a way, that's understandable, because the broken down pavilion is more life-like (and a better performer) than most of the human cast.

"May I help you?" Director Herk Harvey as "The Man".

Mary settles into a rooming house run by an Aunt Bea-ish type spinster (Frances Feist), who seems unusually proud that all her rooms all come with baths. The only other boarder is an oily, creepy rake named John (Sidney Berger), who relentlessly hits on Mary. Oh, and there is this pasty-faced guy in a suite (director Herk Harvey himself) who has a weird habit of sneaking up on Mary and scaring the hell out of her. Wonder what he wants.

As "Carnival of Souls" progresses, poor Mary becomes increasingly unhinged by a series of strange interludes. For example, while shopping for a new dress, it appears people can neither see nor hear her. Next, she loses her accompanist job for freaking out on the organ and playing "profane" music. Prowling around the deserted carnival, Mary finds a bunch of pasty-faced ghouls dancing up a storm. Desperate to get out of town, she hops on a Greyhound bus and finds it crammed with grinning, white-faced ghouls. Speaking to a sympathetic doctor, Mary wonders if these encounters mean "she's not suppose to be here" and if she's trapped between the realm of the living and the dead--a common occurrence to visitors to Utah, I am told.

Finally, our beleaguered heroine goes back to the carnival, where the ghouls are still cutting a rug. Once the music stops, they chase Mary en masse onto a deserted strip of beach and pig pile on top of her. Not good, if you ask me.

"Carnival of Souls" quickly wraps up (it's only 82 minutes long) with rescue workers still trying to locate that downed car. This time, however, they hit pay dirt. As they drag the vehicle out of the water, rescue workers find the bodies of all three passengers, including--gasp!--Mary.

As organ music carries us up and out of "Carnival of Souls", we, the viewers, are left to ponder these questions:

"The Gangs All Here!" Mary encounters some other worldly passengers when she hops a bus out of town.

A) Was Mary trapped between the living and the dead? My guess is yes.

B) Was that pasty-faced guy in the suit meant to guide Mary to the great beyond or was he just scaring her for kicks?

C) Is Mary's fellow boarder John a stalker, a pervert, a criminal or a Ted Cruz supporter?

I can acknowledge that "Carnival of Souls" does boast flourishes of innovative film making. The black and white photography, for example, is excellent. The scenes where the ghouls dance at the abandoned carnival is surreally creepy. Director Herk creates a tone of unease lurking below the surface of ho-hum small town life.

Perhaps most importantly, one can see the influence "Carnival of Souls" had on George A. Romero. The freaky ghouls closing in on the hysterical Mary recalls the ravenous zombies converging on the survivors trapped inside the house in "Night of the Living Dead", which was released in 1969. Also, I wonder if "The Man" character inspired "The Tall Man" character (played by Angus Scrim) in those "Phantasm" movies of the late 1970's.

"Shall We Dance?" The ghouls in the after-life trip the light fantastic.

Which, as I noted earlier, is all find and dandy. Film makers find their inspiration in all sorts of places. But let's not get ahead of our selves. The elements I discussed only hint at what "Carnival of Souls" could have been if director Herk had had more time, money and experience. In final analysis, "Carnival of Souls" is a more ambitious and creative bad movie than, say, "Voodoo Man" (reviewed below), but it's still a bad movie--and that's all right with me.

So, until next time movie lovers, leave the drag racing to the professionals, and SAVE THE MOVIES!

Sunday, March 6, 2016

A "Flashdance" In The Pan

"Who's That Girl?": Jennifer Beals (as Alex) flips through Vogue magazine. After what "Flashdance" did for her career (hint: nothing) she'd be better off checking the help-wanted ads.

Hi keebah, movie lovers.

When the movie "Flashdance" was released in 1983, it was a box office and pop-culture sensation. The story of a Philly welder who dreams of attending a famous, snooty dance academy, "Flashdance" was hailed as one of the first films directly influenced by MTV. Indeed, it's success spawned a clutch of musicals (like "Footloose" and "Shout") that employed the quick cuts, montages, smoke and mirrors so beloved by the music videos of the day. That quick editing, fog and strobe lighting also hid the fact that dancing doubles were often employed to cover-up for stars cursed with two left feet.

That was certainly the case for Jennifer Beals, the Ivy League student/part-time model who was cast as the lead, Alex. Most of her dancing was done by the uncredited Marine Jahan, although the flick's original publicity had hinted otherwise.

"Flashdance" also inspired a fashion craze for "designer sweat pants" and torn and/or off-the-shoulder tops for women. Even more incredible, the flick's theme song ("What A Feeling", written and sung by Irene Cara of "Fame" fame) went on to win the Oscar for Best Original Song. Yeech!

The unexpected success of "Flashdance" blinded a lot of movie goers to the fact the flick was horribly, laughably bad. In fact, certain scenes, played with poker-faced seriousness by the on- screen participants, are so nutty that you could shoot whole popcorn kernels through your nose from laughing.

Scruffy Alex yearns to leave flashdancing behind and become a ballerina.

Therefore, to celebrate "Flashdance"s 33rd anniversary (or birthday, if you prefer), let's take a long, loving look at what made this musical monstrosity the crack-pot classic it is today.

Home Alone--Star/heroine Jennifer Beals is Alex Owens. She lives is a spacious loft apartment and appears to have no family. Her dancing skills appear to be divinely inspired, because she never mentions ever attending a dance class in her life. Even Fred Astaire went to dancing school, for Pete's sake.

Workin' For A Livin'--Our featured film expects us to believe that Alex is a welder in the Philly steel mills. Welding is a very demanding job that requires a specific kind of training and education. Alex, who is suppose to be in her late teens or early 20's, is clearly too young to have acquired this knowledge--unless she was the prize student at Pine City Vo-Tech or something. Furthermore, welding is a union job and should provide Alex with a nice paycheck. So why is she moonlighting as a dancer at Mawbry's, the supposedly "blue collar" bar where she performs?

Gotta Dance!--As noted above, Alex welds by day and dances by night. How is this so? Alex must at least put in an 8-hour shift welding. Therefore, where does she find the time to conceive, choreograph and rehearse her dance numbers? And work out the lighting cues, music and costume requirements? Come to think of it, "Flashdance" never tells us how many days a week Alex dances at Mawby's. Is it just on weekends? Is she required to come up with a new dance every week or every month? Do the bosses at Mawbry's preview her dances before she's allowed to perform before the patrons? And since Alex has apparently never set foot in a dance class, where does she get her ideas and how does she know how to execute them properly?

Gotta Dance! Part 2--The dances that Alex and the gals regularly perform are laughably too complex for the supposedly blue collar crowd they entertain. They are more like Las Vegas set pieces. In her number "He's A Dream", for instance, Alex employs stark lighting, several props, a costume change and a shower of water as part of her routine. How many working class watering holes provide their dancers with such amenities? The hoofers at Mawbry's must totally be dedicated to their art, considering that the beer drinking lugs in the audience would fine if they just shimmied to Def Leopard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" and left the artsy stuff to those "Solid Gold" dancers on TV.

Shakin' what her mother gave her: Alex on stage at Mawbry's

"I'm Not A Stripper. I Just Wear Pasties And A G-String."--"Flashdance" wants us to know that Alex may dance at a bar and she may rip off her costume to reveal skimpy attire, but she's not a stripper! She's a dancer! A real dancer!  Never once do we see a gentleman slip a dollar bill into her g-string because, well, Alex is just not that  kind of a girl! Down the street from Mawbry's is another, sleazier bar called Zanzibar where the females bumping and grinding for the male customers are strippers. In fact, when Alex learns that her best gal pal Jeanie (Sunny Johnson) is now "performing" there after her audition for The Ice Capades ends in disaster, she's horrified. How horrified? So horrified that Alex rushes over to the sin pit in question, pulls Jeanie off stage, throws a rain coat over her shoulders and screams, "Do you think that's dancing!?"

However, is there really much difference? If some of the other dancers' costumes at Mawbry's had more material, they's qualify as bikinis. And part of Alex's "allure" (especially for her boss, which we'll get to later) is that she's scruffy at work, but sexy on stage. If Alex spent her weekends dancing "Swan Lake" at the local opera house instead of bumping and grinding at Mawbry's, this "dichotomy" about her public and private selves might have more heft. Instead, "Flashdance" just wants to have it both ways, allowing their film to be both critical and exploitative at the same time.

May I Have This Flashdance?--One night while Alex is dancing away, her hunky boss Nick Hurley (Michael Nouri) is in the audience. He's been brought there by another employee to show what one of his scruffy welders gets up to in the evenings. Nick is suitably impressed and asks Alex out for a date. She demures because he is, after all, her boss. However, Nick is not easily put off: "Okay, you're fired," he replies. "Pick you up at eight."

This leads to another uproarious scene, where Alex, dressed in a tuxedo, gobbles a fancy dinner while caressing Nick's crotch with her foot and asking him if he's ever had sex in a phone booth. (Fun Fact: the director of this film, Adrian Lyne, would later give the world "Fatal Attraction". That's the flick where the crazy Glenn Close asks Michael Douglas, "Ever done it in an elevator?" Merely a coincidence or is Mr. Lyne inadvertently revealing a bit of personal info about himself? You decide.) Who should then canter up but Nick's snippy ex-wife, who declares, "You two look cozy", before turning to Alex and asking, "You're not really a welder, are you?" Alex, of course, is not easily put off by bitchy society gals. In fact, she proudly reveals to Nouri's ex that she "f@%!ed (Nick's) brains out" on their first date.

You go, girl?

"Let's face the music and flashdance": Alex and boss Nick (Michael Nouri) get closer.

Of course, despite their differences in age and social status, Alex and Nick FALL MADLY IN LOVE because, well, what else are they going to do? I doubt they get married, but I'm sure they have some fun for a while.

Think Of What It Means To Be A Swan...Alex dreams of studying at the elite Pittsburgh Conservatory of Dance and Repertory and she's encouraged by Hanna Long (Lilia Skala), an elderly Russian ballerina. How did these two meet? How long have they known each other? The movie never tells us. I doubt the elegant Hanna has seen Alex do her thing at Mawbry's and, if she did, the frail European lady would probably have a stroke. Like so many things in this flick, the relationship of Alex and her mentor is never fully explored to a satisfying or realistic degree. No doubt Hanna is just a by-the-numbers plot point inserted to inspire Alex when the chips are down.

If the name Lilia Skala sounds familiar, it should: she earned a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination for the 1963 film "Lilies of the Field". She's the only real talent (and touch of class) in the film. And she's Austrian, not Russian.

What A Feeling!--After poor Hanna dies, Alex finally gets up the nerve to audition at the snooty dance academy. But Alex being Alex, she refuses to bend to the common notions of what a ballerina should look or dance like. Thus, our heroine shows up at her all important audition in a short, black get-up and boogies to "What A Feeling". Alex also tosses in some break dancing moves, which appear to be handled by a very skinny boy body double. The auditioners are duly impressed and Alex is in. Hunky Nick meets her outside the academy with a bunch of roses. The rest is box office history.

"Flashdance" made both buckets of cash and Jennifer Beals a star--for a while. Her next film was "The Bride", a quasi-remake of "The Bride of Frankenstein" co-starring Sting. That movie was a flop, but it wasn't Jennifer's fault; Sting was so self-important and hammy, the movie sank under the weight of his ego. From then on, Beals would appear infrequently on TV and in independent movies and has always, to her credit, refused to appear in a "Flashdance" sequel or remake.

Is it Jennifer Beals? Marine Jahan? Or the male body double? You decide.

What is the moral of this story? Only the public can truly make a star.

So, until next time movie lovers, please remember that only Marlon Brando ever looked good in a torn T-shirt, and SAVE THE MOVIES!

Sunday, February 21, 2016

It's The Walking Dead! It's A Zombie Nightmare! It's "Voodoo Man"!

"The Voodoo That You Do So Well": George Zucco as voodoo priest/practitioner Nicholas in "Voodoo Man".

Hi ho, movie lovers.

Say, do you want to bring a loved one back from the dead?

Sure, we all do!

But are you finding it difficult to accomplish this goal?

After striking a deal with the gods on Mt. Olympus or reanimating the corpse with electricity fails to do the trick, have you considered voodoo?

"And John Carradine sits in on drums...": John Carradine as lab assistant Toby (supposedly his least favorite role ever.)

See, Dr. Richard Marlowe wants to bring his wife Evelyn back from the dead and he swears by voodoo! In fact, with the help of his friend Nicholas and a mystical ceremony that combines pounding drums and rope tricks, Mr. Marlowe has brought his wife back to the land of the living...for about five minutes. Of course, the good doctor's tries have also left three unwilling female motorists in a perpetual zombie stupor...but, hey, you can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs, right?

"Voodoo Man" is a 1944 Monogram Pictures release that has everything EVERYTHING! a hack horror fan could possibly want: a mad scientist; kooky assistants; a creepy old house; a wither up prune for a housekeeper; an inept, cranky sheriff; a dumb-as-dirt deputy; gals in white nighties stumbling around in the dark and Bela Lugosi.

Furthermore, as an added bonus, "Voodoo Man" is directed by the legendary William "One Shot" Beaudine, a man famed for rarely shooting a second take of anything.

Good times ahead!

"Voodoo Man" actually begins in Hollywood, at the famed "Banner Productions" compound. That's where up and coming screen writer Ralph Dawson (Tod Andrews) is asked by studio head S.K. if a local item about missing female motorists might have the makings for a good horror picture. Ralph, who is preparing to marry Betty (Wanda McKay) shortly, begs off the assignment. Instead, S.K. considers giving it to that kid Billy Wilder or maybe that Mankowitz fellow.

Honk if you love voodoo! Evil Nicholas (George Zucco) steers maid of honor Stella (Louise Currie) in the direction of Bela Lugosi.

While driving to his fiance' Betty's home, Ralph stops at a gas station for a fill-up. The goofy attendant, however, is so set on checking the air in Ralph's tires and trying to sell him car polish that a miffed Ralph leaves before the fuel is pumped into his gas tank. Naturally, his car conks out. Luckily, another motorist appears on the horizon and offers to give Ralph a lift. This turns out to be Stella (Louise Currie), who is both Betty's cousin and her maid-of-honor. The soon-to-be relatives are driving pleasantly down the road when Stella's car suddenly conks out. How could that be? Possibly because Bela used some futuristic electronic juicer to mess with Louise's car engine, as that Nicholas fellow alerted Bela that Stella might be a good voodoo subject.  With the auto stalled, Ralph hikes up to a nearby house to use their phone while poor Stella is snatched by Bela's goons, Toby and Grego.

Stella is imprisoned at Bela's dark, creepy house, where he introduces her to his wife Evelyn. Bela explains that the Mrs. is "dead", but only in the conventional sense of the term. See, thanks to voodoo, the "life essence" one gal can be transferred into Evelyn and thus bring her back to life. Dr. Marlowe has been on a constant search for the perfect subject to supply this "life essence", which explains A) the kidnappings (nobody would just up and volunteer their "life essence", after all) and B) why there are three gals in a perpetual zombie stupor hanging around Bela's place.

While Nicholas dons a feathered head dress and paints white marks on his face, Toby lights candles and then brings in the zombie girls into Bela's basement. Evelyn and Stella are settled into two arm chairs facing each other. Bela, who wears a robe festooned with numbers, stars and hand prints, begins mumbling some mumbo-jumbo while Toby and Grego pound on some drums. Meanwhile, Nicholas is performing rope tricks you may want to keep an eye on in case you have to entertain your bratty nephew for a couple of hours and you run out of things to do.

Slowly but surely Evelyn comes back to life, but only for about five minutes and then she returns to her zombie state. D'oh! Poor Stella, on the other hand, having had her "life essence" sucked out of her, is now a zombie, too. Oh, well, back to the drawing board!

Eventually Ralph makes it to Betty's house, but he's fit to be tied. He believes Stella ditched him in some sort of pre-wedding prank and he's out for revenge. However, when fiance' Betty informs him that her cousin/maid-of-honor has yet to arrive, Ralph becomes uneasy. Hours pass and there is still no sign of Stella. On the urging of Betty's mom, the cuddlemates visit the sheriff's office to make a missing person's report. Unfortunately, the local sheriff (Henry Hull) is a cranky old coot who spends more time complaining about people and their petty criminal matters than he does solving these petty criminal matters. His dumb-as-dirt deputy Elmer (Don White) is little help: he spends most of his time napping and worrying that his "old lady" will end their marriage if he doesn't come home on time.

Lights, camera, voodoo! Dr. Marlowe (Bela Lugosi, center) tries to revive wife Evelyn (on the right) with the "life essence" of Stella (on the left). It doesn't work.

Because they have nothing better to do, the sheriff and Elmer do go over to Dr. Marlowe's house to poke around a bit. While the doctor and the sheriff are enjoying a glass of sherry and discussing inconsequentials, Stella manages to escape from her zombie prison and wander around the country side. Their discussion having achieved nothing, the good doctor bids the sheriff goodbye. While Elmer and the sheriff are driving home, who should they discover but Stella, dressed in a flowing white nightie, stumbling around in a dead-eyed trance. "Gosh all fish hooks!" the sheriff cries (in one of my favorite catch-phrases of all time). The men stuff Stella in their squad car and cart her back to Betty's house. There the poor gal lays in bed, stiff as a board. confounding her family as to what exactly is wrong with her.

Unfortunately, Stella doesn't stay there for very long. See, that crafty Dr. Marlowe (with the aid of Toby) finds out where Stella has wandered off to. He then bamboozles his way into Betty's house as the doctor sent to check in on the patient. Later that evening, Bela and his voodoo posse pound drums and chant mumbo-jumbo that force Stella to sneak out of her cousin's house and back to Bela's place. What's more, Dr. Marlowe has decided that bride-to-be Betty is the perfect subject to revive wife Evelyn. Thus, he puts Betty under some voodoo trance that forces her to drive over the Bela's creepy house. Once there, Betty will take her place in the arm chair facing Evelyn and have her "life essence" sucked out.

With the tension screws tightening every second, "Voodoo Man" comes to its stirring conclusion. Just when it looks as if poor Betty will never be a bride (and poor Stella will always be a bridesmaid), Ralph and the sheriff burst into Bela's basement and halt the ceremony. Shots are fired and punches are thrown and poor Bela is soon gushing blood. Having disrupted the voodoo proceeding before all of Betty's "life essence" has been transferred to her, Evelyn drops dead, this time for good. Bela soon joins her, crying, "At least now we can be together at last!" Meanwhile, all the gals kidnapped by Bela have finally been freed from their zombie states. With no time to lose, the sheriff arrests all of Dr. Marlowe's evil helpers and Ralph ushers Betty and Stella to the safety of home.

When we next see Ralph and Betty, they are married and preparing to take their honeymoon. However, before they go, hubby Ralph presents studio head S.K. with a treatment for a movie titled "Voodoo Man". When his boss asks who should play the lead, Ralph suggests that Bela Lugosi would be an ideal choice. It's a switcheroo, get it?!

Coming in at just 62 minutes, "Voodoo Man" was Bela Lugosi's last film for Monogram Pictures. He completed nine films for the famous low-budget studio, appearing in stuff like "Return Of The Ape Man." As the refined but evil Mr. Marlowe, Bela actually is in his element and performs much better than in his Ed Wood movies, where the ravages of old age, drug abuse and heart ache had made him a very fragile man indeed.

Evil Dr. Marlowe pinches the cheeks of zombie girl Stella.

Shot over the course of seven days, "Voodoo Man" is a harmless little picture that provides a treasure trove of Junk Cinema goodies. Besides the casting of Lugosi, "Voodoo Man" is an excellent introduction to the directing skills of William "One Shot" Beaudine. A nominee for The Worst Director Of All Time by The Golden Turkey Awards (he lost out to Ed Wood), William was notorious for rarely shooting a second take of  anything. That was evident in our feature presentation, where John Carradine is seen burning his finger with a match during Stella's "life essence" transferring scene. During this pivotal plot point,  you suddenly see Carradine waiving his hand and stomping his foot, like he was having a mild seizure. Any other director would have called "Cut!", but not Beaudine, who kept the camera rolling as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Beaudine began his career in silent films and he never bothered adapt his style to the demands of sound. Therefore, his actors often roll their eyes and flay about like stock characters in some improbable melodrama. Eventually racking up 150 movie credits to his name, Beaudine gave us "The Blonde Comet" (1943), "What A Man!" (1944), "Black Market Babies" (1945) and "Billy The Kid Versus Dracula" (1966), among other titles. Perhaps his most famous picture is "Mom and Dad", the notorious 1944 flick which dared to show a live birth on screen as well as presenting "fearless hygiene commentators" who sold safe-sex manuals during intermission.

Another interesting fact about "Voodoo Man" is the casting of Wanda McKay as bride-to-be-Betty. Born Dorothy Quackenbush in Portland, Oregon, Wanda became a top model and later began appearing in B-movies in the 1940's. While watching the flick, I knew I had seen her before, but I couldn't figure out where. Then it hit me: I had seen a clip of the film "Because Of  Eve" showcased in the under-appreciated documentary "It Came From Hollywood". In the featured snippet, Wanda and her husband visit a kindly doctor who cheerfully informs them they "are as sound as a new dollar bill." He then reveals (unknown to her movie husband) that Wanda has had a baby and the husband (unknown to his movie wife Wanda) has had VD. McKay is so horrified that her screen hubby had VD that she calls off their marriage and announces, "And now I'm going out into the clean, fresh air!" Her jilted husband turns to the doctor and goes, "Well, there goes my happy marriage", to which the kindly doctor says he's sorry.

I love movies like "Voodoo Man" because they are made by earnest but marginally-talented professionals. The acting is bad, the writing is even worse and the sets feature doors that stick and windows that slam shut on their own. Yet everybody on screen is giving it the old college try, doing the best they can. You can question these people's talent, even their sanity, but not their professionalism.

So, until next time, always make sure your gas tank is full, and SAVE THE MOVIES!

Sunday, January 31, 2016

An Older Woman, A Younger Man And "All That Heaven Allows"

Cary Scott (Jane Wyman) admires the length of Ron Kirby's (Rock Hudson) wood in "All That Heaven Allows".

Greetings, movie lovers.

It either is or soon will be Valentine's Day (depending on when I finish and post this piece). And you know what that means: love, love, love! Hearts! Flowers! Candy! Date night! So, in honor of Valentine's Day, your humble film historian has unearthed a big, glossy, sloppy, mushy romantic drama for your viewing (dis) pleasure.

Directed in 1955 by Douglas Sirk (the patron saint of big, glossy, sloppy, mushy romantic dramas), I give you "All That Heaven Allows" starring fun couple Jane Wyman and Rock Hudson.

Say what?

Yes, it's true! Rock Hudson, one of the hunkiest yet stiffest actors in movie history, and Jane Wyman (the Oscar-winning ex-wife of Ronald Reagan) are the May-December smitten kittens who's coupling causes an entire town to go berserk--and causes bad movie lovers to laugh uproariously from the opening credits to the final fade-out.

"Was it something I said?": Ron and Cary have their first date.

Our story begins in an upscale, neat-and-tidy, pearly white township in upstate New York. Wealthy widow Cary Scott (Wyman) dresses to the nines, mingles with her country club cronies and would vacuum in her pearls if she didn't have a maid to do it for her. Her smart-aleck son Ned (William Reynolds) is at Princeton and her annoying daughter Kay (Gloria Talbott) is studying social work. However, they only pester mom on the occasional weekend visit home. Despite being the picture of 1950's contentment, Cary is lonely and a little sad, even if she has difficulty admitting it.

Hoping to spread her wings a bit, Wyman attends a country club dance with dry-as-dust old friend Harvey (Conrad Nagel). He's lost his spouse too, and wants he and Cary to marry to ease their mutual loneliness. Far pushier is the married Howard, whom Cary makes the mistake of cha-cha-ing with at the dance. He maneuvers her outside and pants, "Why don't we meet in New York? I know a place."

After these downer encounters, is it any wonder Cary returns to her hermit ways?

After her best gal-pal Sarah (Agnes Moorehead) begs off a previously scheduled lunch, Cary asks landscaper Ron Kirby (Hudson) to join her. Because Ron is always so eager to trim her trees, he says yes.

It's at this innocent little nosh that the seeds of love--and scandal--begin to take root.

Married man Howard makes Cary an offer she sternly refuses.

As it turns out, Ron has always been sweet on widow Cary, but was too shy to say or do anything about it. Cary's invitation to lunch was just the opening Roy had been hoping for. As the weeks pass, their friendship deepens and Ron tells Cary about his plans to shutter his landscaping business and focus just on growing trees. Later on, he invites her to view the Silver Tipped Spruces he's been nurturing along. Ron drives Cary to his home, an old mill he's restoring. Wyman thinks it's a swell place and will make an ideal home for "the nice girl" he'll surely marry some day. To which Ron declares, "I've met plenty of girls, nice and otherwise"--and then plants a big, fat kiss on her!

Her loins finally stirred, Cary plunges head-first into love and Ron's free-spirited, bohemian lifestyle. After all, who wouldn't prefer Ron's set, a colorful clan who throw impromptu clam bakes and dance to folk music? Characters like Grandpa, a bee keeper and primitive painter, and Edna, head of the Audubon Society ( "and an outstanding bird watcher"), are tons more fun than those country club snoots like mean Mona (Jacquline deWitt), who live to spread gossip and act snarky.

Eventually Ron asks Cary to marry him and she says yes. When Wyman tells her kids she's engaged, they stupidly think it's to dull, dim Harvey. Imagine how their jaws drop and their eyes pop when ma explains it's to Ron.

Imploring her youngsters to give Ron a chance, Wyman asks Ned to whip up a batch of his "special martinis." To which Ned screams back, "This is no time for martinis!"

"There's no point in approaching this emotionally," the insufferable Kay declares. "Let's try to be rational." Turning to her mother and squinting her eyes, Kay asks, "Why did you keep this affair a secret? Were you subconsciously afraid (Ron) wouldn't fit in?"

Kids Ned (and especially) Kay are shocked that their mom plans to marry young Ron instead of old Harvey.

Ron, in a tux, arrives to meet Cary's fam--a meeting that goes over about as well as a dead rat in a punch bowl. Ned and Kay are appalled to discover the lovebirds plan on selling the family manse and living in Ron's restored mill. The annoying Kay tells Ron that a marriage to their mother would never work because "she's more conventional than you think", pointing out that (Cary) "has the innate desire for group approval, which most women have." However, the %@?! really hits the fan when Ned realizes that his late father's sporting trophy is no longer on the living room mantel.

"Was the trophy part of the clutter you were putting away?!" Ned spits before stomping off  "to study."

Suitably stunned, Ron and Cary move from one firing squad to another. BFF Sarah is hosting a party and Cary and Ron are the guests of honor. Mean Mona has her claws sharpened and is ready to pounce. Gushing about how great Hudson is at yard work, Mona meows, "Of course, I'm sure he's handy indoors, too." Remember married man Howard, the country club cad who propositioned Cary? He's at this shin-dig as well-- and fit to be tied that Wyman wouldn't give him a tumble, yet will let this gardener hoe her row (if you get my drift). Fueled by a bucket of martinis, Howard makes a drunken lunge at Cary. Ron decks the soused louse, while the society matrons present gasp. To Sarah's horror, her party comes to a crashing halt.

Could things get any worse? Of course they can! When Cary arrives home, son Ned has packed his bags. He tells his mother that if she marries Ron, he will never speak to her again and stalks off into the night. Several days later, Kay comes home in hysterics. While studying at the library, she got into a shouting match with some locals who--GASP!--claimed Cary was doing it with Ron before the death of her husband! What's more, Kay was asked to leave the library! 

Seeing the turmoil her relationship with Ron is creating causes Cary to call the whole thing off. After all, what else could she do? It was simply too much to expect her children, friends, neighbors, fellow country club members and community to accept her love for a man so different (and so much younger) than her late husband.

Sob Sister: Grieving widow Cary has a blue Christmas without Ron.

Naturally, everybody is thrilled that Cary and Ron are kaput. Ned starts speaking to his mother again. Kay and her boyfriend get engaged. The country club matrons click their tongues and prattle about how good it is that Cary has come to her senses and dodged this bullet. The world is back the way it should be--except for Cary. She's holding her head up high, of course, and hiding her tears, but she's suffering. She misses Ron and his colorful friends. She misses having having someone to love. The poor dear begins having chronic head aches and shows all the signs of depression. So Cary hustles over to her doctor, hoping he can give her something for the pain.

Instead, Dr. Hennessay (Hayden Rorke, best remembered for "I Dream of Jeanne") gives Cary some advice: marry Ron! Why let her future happiness be dictated by a bunch of spiteful country club snoots? Her children are nearly adults and have their own lives to live. Who are they to deny their mother's happiness?

"Let's face it," the good doctor tells Cary, "you were ready for a love affair, but not love."

Finally freed from convention, Cary rushes over to Ron's place. He's been out hunting and sees Cary has driven over. They smile and wave to each other; they run with their arms outstretched for a loving embrace...except Ron trips running down a snowy hill, falls, conks his noggin and promptly passes out cold. D'oh!

While her cuddlemate lies on the couch in his blue jammies, Cary looks out the picture window of Ron's converted mill. A deer nibbles at food left outside. Snow blankets the ground. Then the sun breaks through the clouds in a heavenly shaft of golden light. The violins swell on the soundtrack and Ron opens his peepers at last. Cary kneels by his side; he smiles at her. No words are necessary. Never again will Ron and Cary allow themselves to be parted. Love has truly triumphed over all.

Lying comatose on the couch provides Rock Hudson's best acting in "All That Heaven Allows".


OK, I realize that the message of "All That Heaven Allows"--that you should follow your heart and ignore stifling convention--was pretty radical for 1955. The rest of the flick, however, is pure, unadulterated corn pone.

Take the casting of Rock Hudson as the free-spirited Ron; simply put, Hudson is terribly miss-cast. He's about as free-spirited and easy going as William F. Buckley. Sure, he wears flannel shirts, drives a Woody and lives in a converted mill, but these touches don't fool anyone. Nor, for that matter, does the infamous party scene at pals Mick and Alida's house, where Rock "plays" the piano and sings a ditty called "Flirty Eyes". Then he grabs Wyman and they do a frantic jitterbug, in the course of which Rock throws his head back several times and yells "Ho!"

If you think that scene seems nutty, it's topped moments later when Ron and Cary are driving home. The cuddlemats are discussing Mick (Charles Drake), a Madison Avenue drop out who served in Korea with Ron. Cary asks Ron if "fearlessness" was something he taught Mick. Ron says no; you see, "Mick had to (learn) make his own decisions" and that "he had to be a man." This causes Cary to inquire, "And you want me to be a man?"

"Only in one way." Hudson says.

"Why so serious?" Cary and Ron contemplate their relationship...or they each have tummy trouble. You decide.

After Rock, it's Gloria Talbott, as the psycho-babble spouting Kay, who gives the flick's second worst performance. Her character is so grating, you wonder if Kay was meant to be an in-joke by director Douglas Sirk. After all, she lectures people about "sex attraction", dismisses brother Ned's "typical Oedipal reaction" to their mom's red cocktail dress and announces that "after a certain point, sex becomes incongruous." Talbott's prissy, know-it-all act wears real thin real fast, to the point where you want to scream "Shut up!"every time she flaps her yap.

Then there is Jane Wyman as the love lorn Cary. Although she had earned an Oscar for "Johnny Belinda" and had appeared in such flicks as "The Lost Weekend" and "The Yearling", all Jane is required to do in "Heaven" is change her tastefully tailored outfits and look strained. However, I'm convinced Cary's pained expressions are not the result of emotional upheaval, but because her pumps are too tight or her earrings are pinching her lobes. Why? Because Wyman and Hudson have all the romantic chemistry of a couple of Ted Cruz supporters. You just don't buy them as a couple, even though "All That Heaven Allows" was their second flick together. (Their first paring was in "Magnificent Obsession", where playboy Rock kills Jane's hubby and blinds her in a car crash. He later falls in love with Jane and becomes a super-duper eye doctor in order to fix her peeper.)

Even though we are meant to identify with Jane and Rock, the only fun person in "All That Heaven Allows" is Jacqueline deWitt as the meanie Mona. This gal, who has a tongue like an ice pick, relishes stirring up trouble and stabbing her friends in the back. Whenever Mona's on screen, you wonder who this society shrew will harpoon next.

In final analysis, "All That Heaven Allows" is an improbable tale acted with GREAT SERIOUSNESS by the principals, who are at least to be congratulated for keeping a straight face through the whole, manufactured ordeal.

I, on the other hand, laughed till I snorted.

So, until next time, remember love can strike at any time, and SAVE THE MOVIES!

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

A Special Post: Ammon Bundy Will You Please Go Now!

Special Note: As a proud, life-long native Oregonian, whose family homestead in Oregon before Oregon was even a state, the standoff at the Malheur Wildlife Refuge is an outrage. With a tip of the hat to Dr. Seuss' Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now! (all rights reserved), and with a few minor changes, I present...

Ammon Bundy, Will You Please Go Now!

The time has come.

The time is now.

Just go.



I don't care how.

You can go by foot.

You can go by cow.

Ammon Bundy, will you please go now!

You can go on skates.

You can go on skis.

You can go in a hat.

But please go, please!

I don't care. You can go by bike.

You can go on a Zike-Bike if you like.

If you like you can go in an old blue shoe.

Just go, go GO!

Please do, do, DO!

Ammon Bundy, I don't care how.

Ammon Bundy, will you please GO NOW!

You can go on stilts.

You can go by fish.

You can go by Crunk-Car if you wish.

If you wish you may go by lion's tail.

Or stamp yourself and go by mail.

Ammon Bundy! Don't you know the time has come to go. GO, GO!

Get on your way!

You might like going in a Zumble-Zay.

You can go by balloon...or broomstick.

Or you can go by camel in a bureau drawer.

You can go by Bumble Boat...or jet.

I don't care how you go. Just GET!

Get yourself a Ga-Zoom: you can go with a BOOM!

Ammon, Ammon, Ammon! Will you leave this refuge?!

Ammon Bundy! I don't care HOW,

Ammon Bundy! Will you please GO NOW!