UNTAMED MISTRESS. Howco/Joseph Brenner Associates, 1956. Allan Nixon, Jacqueline Fontaine, John Martin and Cliff Taylor. Written, produced and directed by Ron Ormond.

   This is planned as the first in a series of reviews that will include Untamed Women and Love Slaves of the Amazon, but we shall see ….

   Meanwhile, if you’ve never heard of Ron Ormond, the auteur of Untamed Mistress, there are some very entertaining articles about him on the web. Suffice it to say here that he was a vaudeville magician turned huckster, who turned filmmaker when he hooked up with Lash LaRue after PRC folded, propagating the Lash mystique in eleven ultra-cheap westerns between 1948 and 1952. Ormond branched out into Sci-Fi with Mesa of Lost Women in 1953, then hit the Southern Drive-In Big-Time with the jungle-fantasy/soft-porn Untamed Mistress.

   There’s an interesting defense of this film on IMDb (written by Ormond’s son, I think) citing the fact that Mistress packed drive-ins throughout the South. As I got into the movie, it was easy to see why, but more on that later; the origins of Untamed Mistress constitute a story all their own.

   It seems Ormond got into some sort of partnership with Howco, and emerged with rights to a movie called The Black Panther, starring Sabu — most of the rights, anyway; he just couldn’t use any of the scenes with Sabu actually in them.

   So with about 20 minutes of jungle movie to make a feature from, Ormond next acquired some non-professional footage of someone’s trip to Africa. It didn’t really match the other film, and there was no thematic relationship between the two, but hey: one was a jungle movie and the other was shot in Africa, wasn’t it?

   It was enough for a filmmaker of Ormond’s unique talents. He got a few actors together (including Allan Nixon, whose real life was every bit as chaotic as this film, and a good deal more interesting) and cobbled together a story about two brothers (Nixon and John Martin) who mount a smallish expedition to solve the mystery of Velda (Jacqueline Fontaine) Martin’s intended bride, who may have a Gorilla for an ex-husband.

   And here we see one of the reasons for Untamed’s success: Ormond’s advertising all but promised savage sex, and for its time this was a pretty daring item, mainly because the filmed-in-Africa footage was mostly of topless women dancing about in tribal rituals. And yes, in the 1950s, in the South, you could get away with this if the women were black. In fact, for a scene depicting home life in the “Gorilla Colony” Ormond simply hired three African-American strippers and had them dance around in front of a few men in bad gorilla suits.

   Okay, so in terms of Plot, we’ve got about 20 minutes of story about a maharajah on safari who can’t find any game because all the local fauna are under the protection of a mysterious Jungle Lord called Sabu, who never actually comes into the movie at all. The scene shifts (uncomfortably) the Maharajah is attacked by a gorilla and rescued by Velda, the mysterious jungle girl who looks a lot like Jane Russell in The Outlaw. The scene shifts again, the maharajah, now old and dying, issues a warning about Velda being irresistibly drawn to the Apes, and passes on a cursed jewel and a shrunken head that flies — no kidding.

   Next we get another 20 minutes of the mini-expedition walking around and around the same trees in the woods behind somebody’s back yard, occasionally stopping to react to mismatched stock footage, the whole thing narrated voice-over by Nixon in a valiant but futile attempt to tie it all together. Eventually the stock footage segues into about 20 minutes of breast-bouncing before we get back to the story and find Velda has got herself carried off by gorillas while we were ogling the local talent. Our heroes charge off to the rescue and find a whole tribe of gorillas and their wiling brides.

   I have to say the ending of this surprised me. It isn’t particularly good, and it was probably the result of simply running out of film, but it did startle me out of a state of slack-jawed disbelief. For the rest, Untamed Mistress is a joy for lovers of Old-Fashioned Bad Movies, and fans of this dubious genre shouldn’t miss it.

   This is one for the books. This is Steve. Two days after my son Jonathan wrote up a review of this movie, I received an email from Dan Stumpf containing his comments on the same film. So here you are. Two reviews of Tarzan’s Greatest Adventure, totally independently of each other, two for the price of one. I’ll let Dan go first.

TARZAN’S GREATEST ADVENTURE. Paramount, 1959. Gordon Scott, Anthony Quayle, Sara Shane, Niall MacGinnis, Sean Connery, Al Mulock and Scilla Gabel. Written by Berne Giler and John Guillermin. Directed by John Guillermin.

   Well maybe it is.

   I recall vividly and pleasantly seeing this as a kid when it first came out, and realizing even then that it had almost everything anyone could want in a Tarzan picture: quicksand, alligators (or were they crocodiles?) spiders, fights, vine-swinging and the Tarzan yell, as stirring in its own way as the Lone Ranger theme music. The only serious omission was a guy in a gorilla suit, but producer Sy Weintraub was going for a more Adult approach (if you can call any Tarzan movie “adult”) and, perhaps wisely, decided to dispense with the gorilla-fighting.

   The result is a tougher fantasy, less pre-adolescent and more … well, more adolescent if you will. Greatest even includes obvious lust from the bad guys for their boss’s sexy mistress and a discreet fade-out when Tarzan and the heroine embrace in the jungle. The action is considerably grittier here, with some memorably grisly death scenes, but the main distinction of Greatest is the time it takes with the bad guys.

   Said nasties are played by a cast worth taking the time for. Anthony Quayle and Niall MacGinnis were both in Olivier’s Hamlet ten years earlier; Al Mulock is less well known perhaps, but I remember him fondly as the bad guy who gets the first close-up in The Good the Bad & the Ugly; and Sean Connery….

   â€¦ well that makes for another interesting footnote: At one point in this movie Connery is cheerfully hunting down Tarzan in the jungle, and our hero is almost undone when a tarantula starts crawling up his leg. A few years later, Connery was promoted to Tarantula-Turf in Dr. No. Such are the vagaries of movie heroism.

    Director John Guillermin (who did my favorite PI flick of the 1960s, PJ) handles all this with speed and economy, pausing just long enough for the moments of character development without slackening the pace, and gracing the action scenes with fast tracking shots and evocative angles. Best of all, he seems to have a real feel for the Tarzan ethos: a man of few words and much courage; a man basically civilized but given to savage cries of challenge and triumph. In short, the Lord of the Jungle, perfectly evoked in a colorful package.

   If any action movie is deserving of critical reappraisal and a reintroduction to movie fans, it’s Tarzan’s Greatest Adventure, a truly gripping feature from start to finish. Directed by John Guillermin, this grim and violent Tarzan film isn’t kids’ stuff. Filmed in glorious Eastman Color and on location in Africa, Tarzan’s Greatest Adventure has far more in common with the gritty, taut Westerns of auteurs Budd Boetticher and Anthony Mann, than it does with the earlier black and white, filmed on set, Tarzan programmers.

   Now I’ll be the first one to admit that muscleman Gordon Scott wasn’t the finest of actors and that his portrayal of a noticeably more loquacious Ape Man is certainly adequate and gets the job done, but is hardly ranked among the greatest acting moments in cinema.

   But it works, for Scott’s Tarzan is effective as a brooding, strong silent type. With a bit more vocabulary and a hat and a gun belt, could have easily blended in quite nicely in a dusty Old West frontier town. He’s the type of man you could imagine getting caught up in a range war. There’s a lot less “man of the jungle” in this celluloid rendition of Tarzan than in those clunky, if not charming and innocent, RKO movies starring Lex Barker as the eponymous title character.

   The plot is elegant in its simplicity. Our protagonist, sans Jane (who isn’t featured in the movie at all, let alone mentioned), takes to his canoe and sets out after a gang of criminals responsible for murder and the theft of explosives. The outlaw gang is living on a houseboat and heading upriver to an abandoned mine in the hopes of finding diamonds and striking it rich.

   Helming this outfit of misfits and lowlifes is a dangerous sociopath named Slade (an exceptionally well cast Anthony Quayle). Among his henchmen are Dino, a former convict (Al Mulock); O’Bannion, a jovial trigger-happy scoundrel (a pre-James Bond Sean Connery); and Kruger, a serpentine Dutch diamond expert of dubious loyalty (Niall MacGinnis). Along for the ride – literally – is Toni, a sunbathing beauty (Italian actress Scilla Gabel).

   Like all criminals, and particularly like those stuck together in cramped quarters, this group is prone to not only mischief, but also toward turning on one another. Some of the movies most memorable scenes involve the fall out of one or more of the criminal group betraying another member in ways both big and small.

   As time goes on, Tarzan’s pursuit of the gang becomes less about these particular criminals and more about his need to enforce his own personal code of honor. He realizes that the outlaws need to be eradicated from his jungle home, for if they were to stay, they’d taint it with their presence.

   In many ways, the movie is less an adventure yarn and more about Tarzan’s psychological quest to rid his home of these unwelcome intruders. Romance and levity play little part in Tarzan’s Greatest Adventure, a visually bright but emotionally dark film that seems to affirm Burke’s notion, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Suffice it to say, Tarzan chooses to not do nothing. And then some.

THE YELLOW ONE. CCC Filmkunst, Germany, 1964. Originally released in West Germany as Der Schut; also released in the US as The Shoot and Yellow Devil. Lex Barker, Maria Versini, Rolf Wolter, Rik Battlaglia, Marianne Hold, Friedrich von Ledebur, Pierre Fromont, Dusan Janicijevic, Dieter Borsche, Chris Howland. Screenplay Georg Marischka and (uncredited) Robert Siodmak, based on the novel by Karl May. Directed by Robert Siodmak.

   If you ever wondered what a Lone Ranger movie set in the Balkans would be like this Old Eastern is your movie. Lex Barker, who played beloved German author Karl May’s hero, Old Surehand, in a series of Westerns about Apache chief Winnetou with Pierre Brice, sails for the old world and the Balkans here as Old Surehand’s Middle Eastern incarnation (it’s the same character) Kara Ben Nemsi (variously Karl the German or Karl Blackbeard) author May’s stand in.

   Based on the last of a five novel sequence that began with In The Desert and known as the Oriental Odyssey (yes, I know it isn’t what we mean by the Orient and the term Oriental is considered derogatory today), Der Schut or The Shoot and sometimes The Yellow One, brings to a close Kara Ben Nemsi’s sojourn through the Ottoman Empire with an action-packed fight to the death with a master criminal known as der Shut who he has seen traces of throughout his Mid East adventures.

   Nirwan (Rik Battaglia) a wealthy merchant approaches Sir David Lindsey (Dieter Borsche) and his man Archie (Chris Howland) on Sir David’s yacht when he makes port in Albania to ask his help to rescue journalist Henri Galingre (Pierre Fromont) held captive by der Schut and help the interior region of the Skipetars, Albanian Muslims, escape the oppressive reign of terror of the mysterious kidnaper der Schut, and naturally Sir David turns to his friend Kara Ben Nemsi and hadji Halef (Lex Barker and Rolf Wolter), his servant, to join the quest.

   The comical Sir David and his servant are recurring characters in the novels who at various times either complicate the action or inadvertently help things along depending on their level of incompetence.

   Karl May was a beloved German storyteller who survived tragedy and a criminal past to write uplifting books that became beloved young adult literature. His Winnetou and Old Surehand books inspired Indian Clubs like the Boy Scouts that popped up all over Europe, and his admirers include as diverse a readership as Albert Einstein, Albert Schweitzer, Herman Hesse, Henrik Siekiewicz (the great Polish national novelist, author of Quo Vadis and his own attempt at a Karl May book Into The Desert) and Adolph Hitler.

   May’s philosophy can be found in his autobiography and in his allegorical novel Ardijistan and Djistan but shines through in his avatar, the moral and stalwart Kara Ben Nemsi/Old Surehand who can best be described as a cross between Superman, James Bond, Indiana Jones, the Lone Ranger, Davy Crockett, and Jesus Christ.

   Kara Ben Nemsi first appeared in German cinema in the silent era then again in the late thirties and the nineteen fifties, and again in the sixties with two outings starring Lex Barker and Rolf Wolter, this and Durch Wilde der Kurdistan. There was also a serialized German television series adapting the Kara Ben Nemsi novels, some episodes of which can be seen in German on YouTube. May’s books certainly contributed to the popularity of Eastern themes in German popular literature and cinema that includes the original Kismet, Joe May’s serial The Indian Tomb, and Fritz Lang’s dyptich remaking the serial in 1958.

   Wolter also appeared with Barker in two non Winnetou Westerns based on May’s works (and reviewed here) all directed by Robert Siodmak (Phantom Lady, The Spiral Staircase) brother of writer Curt Siodmak (Donovan’s Brain and the screenplay for The Wolfman) who, like Fritz Lang, returned to his homeland late in his career. Wolter was a popular character actor perhaps best known here for his role in Cabaret as Lisa Minneli and Michael York’s clueless fellow boarder who represented the German’s people failure to comprehend what was happening in their country.

   Kara Ben Nemsi and Halef are joined by Omar (Dusan Janicijevc) whose wife Tschita (Maria Versini) has been kidnaped by der Schut and by the wife of kidnaped Henri Galigre, Annette (Marianne Hold) in their quest, hampered by the fact der Schut knows they are coming and has laid traps for them along the way.

   Kara and Halef free a village from the heavy hand of der Schut’s man the Mubarek (Friedrich von Neidbhur, Queequeg in John Huston’s Moby Dick, a nobleman who liked to dabble in acting), and in typical Karl May plotting style, just about all of the heroes are captured and escape multiple times learning a bit here and there as they go and trimming down the numbers of the opposition. Whatever aspirations the books may have the plotting is pure pulp adventure revealing their origins as serialized novels.

   Like the Winnetou films these are handsome productions shot on location in gorgeous widescreen color with large casts and numerous well done set pieces that here vary from being ambushed from above on a barge, an attack by an escaped bear, being dragged behind a fleeing wagon, trapped in a burning house surrounded by the enemy, hand to hand combat, daring escapes, speeding horses, the cavalry coming to the rescue, well at least the Turkish cavalry, and Kara Ben Nemsi and Halef’s deadly marksmanship, though you might question why the film needs quite so much comic relief (Halef, Sir David, and the servant Archie) and notice almost exactly the same actors are in all the Barker films (Battaglia must have tired of being killed by Barker after four outings) and Old Albania looks a lot like the Old West.

   Barker, not the most expressive of actors, even gets a dramatic scene where he weeps when his beloved horse is killed before he walks off into the sunset, I suppose to return to the Old West and Winnetou (though the latter is killed in the books). At least some of the books carry Kara/Old Surehand around the world in adventures though those were never filmed. Anyway it is one of the few times you will see Barker exhibit any emotion in a film other than stalwart heroics are mild bemusement save for his outing as Q Patrick’s Peter Duluth in The Female Fiends.

   This one does exist in a dubbed English version though the German version available on YouTube is free and a fine handsome print. Once you know the plot you won’t miss a lot since the story is pretty straight forward right down to der Schut’s jealous wife who helps Tschita escape. My German is atrocious and it has been years since I read the book, but I had no problem following the plot or what was being said.

   This is old-fashioned movie making, a Western with burnooses instead of war feathers and turbans and fez rather than buckskins and ten gallon hats. The cast is competent, the action well choreographed, cinematography and direction both well above the average, and the Saturday matinee style plot well executed. It’s actually quite a bit of fun, though I still haven’t quite figured out what the Lone Ranger and Tonto were in Albania for in the first place.

HERO AND THE TERROR. Golan-Globus Productions/Cannon Films, 1988. Chuck Norris, Brynn Thayer, Steve James, Jack O’Halloran, Jeffrey Kramer, Ron O’Neal. Based on the novel by Michael Blodgett. Director: William Tannen.

   Chuck Norris shows his sensitive side in this somewhat effective, although hardly outstanding, Cannon Films thriller. Indeed, there’s enough suspense in Hero and The Terror to keep the viewer engaged with what turns out to be a rather formulaic story about a cop determined to stop a deranged serial killer.

   Norris portrays Danny O’Brien, a Los Angeles cop nicknamed “Hero.” O’Brien, who is as much a brooder as a fighter, is haunted by nightmares stemming from the time in which he successfully apprehended a notorious serial killer named Sam Moon (Jack O’Halloran). Moon, who doesn’t speak a word in the entire movie, is known as “The Terror.” And it’s not difficult to understand why. He’s less of a serial killer in the cop drama sense than some sort of hulking, supernatural evil. What are his motivations? We never learn.

   Time has passed and O’Brien is now in a relationship with his therapist, Kay (Brynn Thayer) and trying to move on with his life. But reality intrudes and intrudes hard. Turns out that The Terror might have successfully escaped from a mental institution and resumed his nefarious activities. So it’s up to O’Brien to once and for all exercise his demons and to stop The Terror. There aren’t too many surprises in this story, but it’s kind of mindless fun to see Norris shed his ultra tough guy persona for a little while.

TARZAN THE MAGNIFICENT. Paramount, US/UK, 1960. Gordon Scott, Jock Mahoney, Betta St. John, John Carradine, Lionel Jeffries. Written by Berne Giler and Robert Day, based on the character created by Edgar Rice Burroughs Director: Robert Day.

   Basically a Western transposed to Africa, with Gordon Scott instead of Randolph, but fun in its way.

   The Tarzan of Magnificent isn’t the solipsistic jungle man of the early Tarzan films, but more like a Lone Ranger of the bush, going about rescuing folks and catching evildoers, and the plot gets moving when Tarzan (Gordon Scott) captures killer Coy Banton (Jock Mahoney) of the notorious Banton Gang, and tries to bring him to justice, as they say. The Lord of the Apes gets his prisoner to a smallish village, but it seems everyone there has seen High Noon and refuses to help him for fear of reprisal from the Banton Gang, which is headed by patriarch John Carradine, in the manner of Lee J. Cobb in Man of the West.

   Nothing daunted, Tarzan decides to escort his prisoner across the prairie –er— I mean through the jungle, knowing the gang will be dogging his heels and accompanied by a disparate group of hangers-on: shades of Ride Lonesome, or maybe The Naked Spur. There’s some interesting cross-cutting between the good guys and the baddies as the characters try to work out their personal issues along the way, sundry encounters with the local fauna, and a would-be dramatic bit where one of Tarzan’s party turns out to be an ex-doctor who rallies himself to save a life — Stagecoach, anyone?

   All this of course is just filler leading up to the final confrontation between Tarzan and Coy Banton, and when that moment finally arrives, it doesn’t disappoint; we get a lengthy, brutal and highly entertaining hand-to-hand battle between the protagonists across jungle, rocks, waterfalls and what-have-you, and while the outcome is never in doubt, the players and their stuntmen make it well worth your time.

   By and large however, Tarzan the Magnificent isn’t in the same league as any classic western; it’s a nice try and something a bit different, but the writing and directing just ain’t there. And as for the acting…. Well one doesn’t go to Tarzan movies for the acting, but Lionel Jeffries does well in an unrewarding role, Jock Mahoney projects a virile menace, and John Carradine is his reliable self. I just couldn’t help wishing Gordon Scott had a little less dialogue.

TREASURE ISLAND. National General Pictures, US, 1972. Filmed in Spain with a Spanish crew. Orson Welles, Kim Burfield, Lionel Stander, Walter Slezak, Ángel del Pozo, Rik Battaglia. Directors: Andrea Bianchi (as Andrew White), John Hough (English language version), Antonio Margheriti.

   I had somewhat high hopes for Treasure Island, but I probably should have known better. It’s probably one of Orson Welles’ least known films and it’s most certainty that way for a reason. Produced by Harry Alan Towers, this somewhat genial, but ultimately unsatisfying adventure yarn based on Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic novel features the legendary Welles as Long John Silver.

   Welles, whose pirate voice may or may not have been dubbed by another actor, grunts and slurs his way through this plodding affair. Even Walter Slezak, who ordinarily is a standout actor, falls somewhat flat – pun intended, if you’ve seen the movie – as Squire Trelawney.

   Young actor Kim Burfield, who portrays Jim Hawkins, is somewhat more of a presence, portraying the narrator/protagonist with wide- eyed charm and glee. Jim’s sense of wonder and excitement is, at the end of the day, what propels this somewhat tired affair. But to no avail. Overall, the movie leaves the viewer with the distinct impression that at another time, with another director, Welles really could have thrived and shined as the legendary fictional pirate cook.

THE EIGER SANCTION. Universal Pictures, 1975. Clint Eastwood, George Kennedy, Vonetta McKee, Thayer David, Jack Cassidy, Heidi Brul. Screenplay by Hal Dresher, Warren B. Murphy, and Rod Whitkaker based on the latter’s novel as Trevanian. Directed by Clint Eastwood.

   On paper this sounds like a dream project; in reality it is a total mishmash, devoid of suspense or much in the way of humanity, and famously hated by its own writer, University of Texas professor Rod Whitaker writing as Trevanian who actually worked on the screenplay, to the point he wrote a footnote complaining about it in his bestselling novel Shibumi. To add insult to injury, it was a critical and box office failure that pleased no one watching it or involved in making it, and cost a man his life.

   Ironically the film is almost slavishly faithful to the plot of the novel it is based on, about art professor Jonathan Hemlock (Clint Eastwood), a freelance government assassin who kills to pay for additions to his art collection under the aegis of a loathsome albino government functionary called Dragon (Thayer David). In Sanction he is given the commission to kill a traitor who will be one of the members on an attempt to climb the notorious north face of the Eiger in Switzerland, a job Hemlock as a world class Alpinist is ideally suited for, having been the only survivor of an earlier unsuccessful attempt to reach the summit.

   Although it comes late in the 60s and 70s spy craze, it was based on a huge bestseller, had a popular star and gifted director, and the screenwriters included the author as well as Destroyer co-creator and suspense novelist Warren B. Murphy (who died only recently). There is even a score by John Williams.

   None of that mattered.

   The film falls flat on Clint Eastwood’s deadpan face.

   First there is the matter of casting, and it is a major problem. Whatever his gifts, George Kennedy was not subtle on screen and even though his role as Hemlock’s friend and trainer would seem ideal for him, he plays it so heavy-handedly that he kills every word of dialogue he speaks. Then add Jack Cassidy as a murderous homosexual played just to the right of outright camp, and Vonetta McKee and Heidi Brul as the least attractive and appealing female leads you can imagine — in a film where their roles could have been written out entirely without harming the plot — and you have a huge chunk of the problem.

   Then there is Clint Eastwood himself.

   Eastwood is a man of rare talent and taste, but the role of Jonathan Hemlock was created with Paul Newman in mind, and at this point in his career Eastwood’s skills as a director and an actor simply were not up to the role of an existentialist Nietzschean with a nihilist streak who kills so he can possess art he feels is too good to be viewed by an unappreciative public. The role desperately needs an actor whose face could give humanity to the cold and unappealing character, not Eastwood whose youthful face made Rushmore look expressive. No one was willing to accept him in that role, and he himself seems deeply uncomfortable playing it.

   He may have seen Hemlock as another of his cool headed killers like the man with no name and Harry Callahan, but that isn’t who the character was, and Eastwood’s wrongheaded casting of himself is made worse by his own direction, which lacks any real suspense, with the mountain climbing sequences the only moments the film even vaguely breathes.

   There is also a bit of irony, that which was chillingly bitter in the novel just seems callous and psychotic on the screen.

   My sympathy is with Professor Whitaker on this one and that footnote I mentioned earlier in Shibumi on this one. It is a flat film that never engages the viewer, marred by not one but five major bits of miscasting and weak direction, and a diffuse script that never becomes cohesive on film. It may well be the worst film of Eastwood’s distinguished career. It is somehow galling if not intolerable that someone actually died to get this film made. I suppose it would not really be more meaningful if it had been a better movie or a good movie, but that the film is this bad and cost a man’s life is somehow even worse.

TARZAN AND THE SLAVE GIRL. RKO Radio Pictures, 1950. Lex Barker, Vanessa Brown, Robert Alda, Hurd Hatfield, Arthur Shields, Tony Caruso, Denise Darcel. Based on the charcaters created by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Director: Lee Sholem.

   After the first twenty minutes or so, I was all but ready to give up on Tarzan and the Slave Girl. There was a lot of frenetic activity in the jungle, a few tribes running amok, and what not. But it didn’t seem to be leading anywhere in particular.

   But I’m glad I kept watching, because this entry into the Tarzan filmography turned into a rather enjoyable escapist adventure. Directed by Lee Sholem, Tarzan and the Slave Girl is notable for being Lex Barker’s second portrayal of our eponymous hero and actress Vanessa Brown’s sole portrayal of Jane.

   The plot follows Tarzan as he seeks to rescue slave women held captive by a jungle tribe that is suffering from a mysterious health ailment. Tarzan teams up with a somewhat alcoholic game hunter named Neil (Robert Alda) to both find the aforementioned tribe’s hidden city and to rescue Jane and Neil’s would-be girlfriend, Lola (Denise Darcel). It’s a lighthearted little adventure film that, while not particularly memorable, ends up being quite fun to watch.

ROMULUS AND THE SABINES. Finanziaria Cinematografica Italiana, Italy, 1961. Original title: Il ratto delle sabine. Roger Moore, Mylène Demongeot, Georgia Mool, Scilla Gabel, Marino Masé, Jean Marais, Rosanna Schiaffino. Director: Richard Pottier.

   I was curious. Roger Moore, in an early film role, portraying the founder of Rome in an Italian sword-and-sandal epic? Although I hardly expected a wondrous cinematic experience, I simply felt as if I had to see Romulus and the Sabines. After all, Moore was always my favorite Bond actor and this movie also starred French actress Mylène Demongeot as a Sabine vestal virgin princess.

   What’s not to like?

   Turns out, a lot. It’s not so much that Romulus and the Sabines doesn’t try its best to entertain audience, as it is that reaches for something beyond its grasp. Designed to be a lighthearted take on the mythological “Rape of the Sabine Women,” the film has some comedic moments and a playful historical take on the battle of the sexes, but falls victim to a flaccid, predictable script and unexceptional cinematography and direction.

   That said, Moore in his portrayal of Romulus has a singular, unforgettable screen presence. The facial expressions, from the furrowing of an eyebrow to the classic Moore smirk. It’s all there and it’s great. But it’s simply not enough to make Romulus and the Sabines anything other than an historical curiosity, in both senses of the word.

   Transforming one of the founding myths of Rome into a fanciful romantic comedy of manners is an ambitious undertaking. As much as I generally loathe remakes, I wouldn’t mind seeing an independent director taking a stab at rebooting this one. But would there even be an audience for it? That’s a tough call.

MOVING VIOLATION. 20th Century Fox, 1976. Stephen McHattie, Kay Lenz, Eddie Albert, Lonny Chapman, Will Geer, Dick Miller. Director: Charles S. Dubin.

   If you’re looking for the type of movie that they simply don’t make anymore, look no further than Moving Violation, a car chase exploitation filmed produced by Roger and Julie Corman. Directed by Charles S. Dubin, who is mainly known for his work in television, the alternatingly thrilling, humorous, and sad film doesn’t have the most complex of plots. But it makes up for it in (no spoilers here) some great car chase sequences.

   The story follows Detroit autoworker-turned-drifter Eddie Moore (Stephen McHattie) and small town girl Cam Johnson (Kay Lenz) as they attempt to flee a corrupt lawman, one Sheriff Leroy Rankin (Lonny Chapman), who’s hot on their trail. It’s the couple on the run trope that we’re all familiar with.

   That Moore is an autoworker is no minor plot point. Rather, it’s instrumental to the pro-labor, anti-authority theme that permeates the film. It’s even reflected in the movie’s theme song, a rather catchy track by Phil Everly which can be heard here:

   Moore, the guitar-playing outlaw is the film’s anti-hero. The cops and the local oil magnate are, to varying degrees, the movie’s antagonists. It’s as if the movie is one giant middle finger to authority. Not the most profound of messages and one that may not have all that much depth, but it’s one that certainly was deliberately constructed and designed to appeal to a working class white audience in the mid-1970s.