GATTACA. Columbia, 1997. Ethan Hawke, Uma Thurman, Gore Vidal, Jude Law, Xander Berkeley, Jayne Brook, Alan Arkin. Screenwriter/director: Andrew Niccol.

   In the not too distant future, societal advancement won’t be determined by one’s resume or skill set, as much as by one’s blood. That’s the underlying premise of Gattaca, an intelligent science fiction thriller that showcases a fictional world officially devoted to the ideology of eugenics. If one happens to have had a natural birth or, worse still, a genetic defect, one’s opportunities in life are severely limited.

   Enter Vincent Freeman (Ethan Hawke), a janitor born of natural birth with a heart problem. His only dream is to be an astronaut and see the stars. These things are simply impossible in the society he was born into. With the help of a shadowy underworld figure named German (Tony Shalhoub), Freeman takes on the identity of the genetically superior Jerome Eugene Morrow (Jude Law) and starts work at Gattaca, an aerospace corporation helmed by Director Josef (Gore Vidal), in his quest to beat society’s rules.

   When a top ranking executive at Gattaca is murdered, Vincent fears his cover will be blown. Especially with the intrepid Detective Hugo (Alan Arkin) on the case. Complicating matters further is Morrow’s growing affection for co-worker Irene (Uma Thurman).

   There’s something rather operatic about Gattaca, a movie that relies heavily on intricate set design, exotic interiors, and orchestral music to tell the story of one man’s quest to escape his predetermined fate.

   It’s intelligent sci-fi that also has the capacity to entertain. True, it takes the suspension of disbelief to really get into the story. But once you do, you’ll find a compelling lead in Ethan Hawke’s character. Don’t expect a lot of action, however. This is a far more cerebral exercise than a physical one.

   Final assessment: with a great cast that takes the downbeat subject material seriously, Gattaca might not be something you’d watch again and again, but it’s solid, mature science fiction that is increasingly difficult to come by. Occasionally slow, but never boring.

STEVE FRAZEE – The Sky Block. Rinehart & Co., hardcover, 1953. Lion, paperback, 1954. Pyramid, paperback, 1958.

   While fishing his old vacation stream high in the Colorado Rockies, Platt Vencel is pressed into urgent service by both the U.S. Army (in the person of Colonel Julius Catron) and the FBI (agent Clement Raven).

   Something has gone wrong with the weather throughout the country: an unprecedented state of drought that has gone on for some months. The authorities are convinced that the cause is a hidden meteorological “doomsday device” built by an unspecified foreign power. Vencel, because of his intimate knowledge of the wilderness area, soon finds himself at the forefront of a desperate and deadly hunt for the location of the “Weather-Wrecker” and the identity of the men behind it.

   Despite the novel’s fantastic premise and its overtones of the anti-Communist extremism of the McCarthy era, Frazee’s handling of the theme minimizes the melodramatic aspects and makes this an exciting and suspenseful chase/adventure story in the mode of Geoffrey Household and John Buchan.

   Its strong points are several: deft characterization, nicely choreographed action scenes, and superb evocation of the rugged mountain terrain. Frazee’s prose style is also a plus; always terse and smoothly crafted, it takes on at times a kind of dark, rough-edged lyricism that gives the story a sense of stark reality.

   Frazee was primarily a writer of first-rate western fiction. His only other criminous novels are Running Target, expanded from the distinguished short story “My Brother Down There,” which won first prize in Ellery Queen’s annual contest for 1953, and Flight 409 (1969), a tale of survival and adventure about the search for the survivors of a plane crash in which three members of the president’s cabinet were killed.

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

CALLAN “Where Else Could I Go?” Thames TV, UK, 6 April 1970. Edward Woodward (Callan), William Squire, Patrick Mower, Russell Hunter. Creator/teleplay: James Mitchell. Director: Jim Goddard. Streaming on Amazon Prime; also available on YouTube (see below).

   I’m not as familiar with this series as I probably should be, so starting from the first episode of season three (the earliest to be found on Amazon), means that’s a lot of back story I need to fill in on my own. But it’s clear from the start of this episode that Callan was shot and seriously wounded as the end of season two.

   He’s an assassin for one of those British semi-secret government organizations, or at least he was. While he’s healing physically, his superiors are worried that he’s no longer up to doing the job he used to be number one at. Callan takes to worrying about that, the same as you or I would, am I right?

   Complicating matters is that his former comrade in arms, a lonely and rather meek gent w know only as “Lonely” is now in jail. It is up to Callan to get him out, supposing of course that he can. Resolving the situation is all that this episode is comprised of. Note the title of the episode. This is all I am going to tell you, but the title may tell you more.

   If I had the opportunity to know what had happened before (and YouTube may have episodes available from the first two seasons), I probably would have found myself a lot less at unease while watching this one, but both the cast and the writing are top notch. Callan is a complicated character, and a very young Edward Woodward plays him well.

   With hardly a single additional reservation to add, I’ll just go ahead and recommend this one highly.

ROBERT SHECKLEY – The Status Civilization. Dell 8249; paperback; 1st printing thus, October 1968; cover art by Podwil. Published earlier as a two-part serial in Amazing SF. Aug-Sept 1960 as “Omega!.” First book publication: Signet S1840, paperback, September 1960.

   A standard plot: The static society of Earth is redeemed by the fresh enthusiasm of criminals escaping from the prison planet Omega. Will Barrent is a convicted murderer, sentenced to Omega, who survives the rigors of life there to be contacted by an inner group dedicated to return to Earth. But before the welcome return can take place, the subconscious hypnotic teaching of Earth’s classic school must be overcome.

   By itself, society on Omega is  self-destructive: laws are designed to keep population down, with murder the most prevalent method; the ideal citizen is the one who breaks laws successfully. This is what Earth, stifled by conformity, needs to continue man’s expansion to the stars.

   Memory is removed before sending a criminal to Omega, but evil still seems inherent in the criminal class as previously mentioned. It would seem that the question of evil by heredity or by environment could be investigated under such conditions, but Sheckley’s emphasis is on the law as it exists, independent of those who administer it or live under it, Yet laws of man would have to be less important than the basic laws of nature.

   The writing is mediocre, again especially in comparison to an author such as [John D.] MacDonald. The dialogue is occasionally  stiff and old-fashioned, while the action is rapid, taking place in flashing scenes, without really pausing to reflect on its consequences.

   Thus in many ways, Sheckley’s writing here is like that of an author from the thirties trying to pass for modern. The theme is up-to-date, however, which probably explains why this story hes been resurrected from oblivion.

Rating: **

MAN FROM GOD’S COUNTRY. Allied Artists, 1958. George Montgomery, Randy Stuart, Gregg Barton, Kim Charney, Susan Cummings, James Griffith, House Peters Jr., Frank Wilcox. Director: Paul Landres.

   George Montgomery takes the helm in Man From God’s Country, a 1950s western that doesn’t break any new ground, but is enjoyable enough for a casual watch. Montgomery portrays lawman-turned-cowboy Dan Beattie who, after being exonerated for a crime he didn’t commit, heads out for the town of Sundown. There, he hopes to have his own spread with former Civil War buddy Curt Warren (House Peters Jr.)

   Alas, things don’t turn out exactly as he had planned. Turns out his buddy Curt is knee deep into a criminal enterprise run by local boss Beau Santee (Frank Wilcox) and his henchman, Mark Faber (veteran character actor James Griffith).

   More than anything else, Santee wants to make sure that the railroad doesn’t come to Sundown, lest it destroy his own business interests. When a rumor spreads that Beattie (Montgomery) is a railroad agent, Santee shows he is more than willing to kill to stop the railroad industry’s plans for the west. Rounding out the cast is Randy Stewart who portrays a showgirl caught between Santee’s affections and power and Beattie’s rugged nobility.

   Filmed in Cinemascope with a script by The Wolf Man (1941) director, george waGGNER (that’s how he spelled it folks!), Man From God’s Country has all the elements needed to make a solid western. Gunfights, fistfights, cattle drives, and a morality play. What stood out to me the most, though, was the color design and the lighting scheme. Seems like a lot of effort was made into making the interiors in this B-western look exceptional.

   Overall assessment, thoroughly enjoyable with a solid coterie of actors including the aforementioned James Griffith who you probably have seen many times before, but nothing you absolutely must rush to see. Final note: for a movie nominally about railroads, there were no trains. Now that was disappointing.
   

ANTONIA FRASER – Quiet As a Nun. Jemima Shore #1. Weidenfeld ^ Nicolson, UK, hardcover, 1977. Viking, US, hardcover, 1977. Ace, paperback, 1978. Bantam, paperback, 1991. Norton, paperback, 1986. TV : A six-part version of the book appeared on ITV’s anthology series Armchair Thriller in the UK, 1978. Maria Aitken played Jemima Shore.

   The heroine of this first novel by noted historian Antonia Fraser is Jemima Shore, Investigator — not a detective in the proper sense, but an investigative television reporter in London. Her show carries great influence, and it is on the strength of this that Jemima is summoned back to Blessed Eleanor’s Convent in Sussex, where she attended school.

   Jemima was a Protestant, thrust into the convent world because of the “vagaries of her father’s career,” but her best friend, Rosabelle Powerstock, was a Catholic and later became a nun at the same convent.

   Now Sister Miriam, as Rosabelle was called, is dead under strange circumstances, having starved to death in the black tower built by the founder of the order-a structure commonly referred to by the schoolgirls as “Nelly’s Nest.” People give the nuns strange looks on the streets of town; a cloud hangs over the convent; the air is full of suspicion and distrust; and the Reverend Mother Ancilla turns to Jemima to find out what is amiss.

   Jemima is loath to revisit the scene of her childhood, but an aborted trip to Yugoslavia with her member of Parliament — and very married — lover makes her welcome a change of scene. She settles in at Blessed Eleanor’s in considerably more comfort than she enjoyed as a schoolgirl, but its charms fade when she hears strange footsteps at night, has a terrifying midnight encounter in the chapel, and discovers that politics, while very worldly, are not alien to these hallowed walls.

   Jemima is an interesting character — a complex combination of a hard-driving career woman and a person who repeatedly binds herself into no-win situations with married men; she also has more than her fair share of skepticism about nuns and Catholicism.

   The nuns, in their diversity, are also absorbing, and it is upon their hidden motives, passions, and beliefs that the plot turns. The unusual combination of the trendy contemporary world and the Gothic old convent gives a nice look at how such a place functions in the modern world.

   Subsequent Jemima Shore novels are The Wild Island (1978), A Splash of Red (1981), and Cool Repentance (1982).

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.
   

   The complete Jemima Shore series —

1. Quiet As a Nun (1977)
2. The Wild Island (1978)
3. A Splash of Red (1981)
4. Cool Repentance (1982)
5. Oxford Blood (1985)
Jemima Shore’s First Case (1986)
6. Your Royal Hostage (1987)
7. The Cavalier Case (1990)
Jemima Shore At the Sunny Grave (1991)
8. Political Death (1994)

A MESSAGE TO GARCIA. 20th Century Fix, 1936. Wallace Beery, Barbara Stanwyck, John Boles, Alan Hale. Director: George Marshall.

   During the Spanish-American War, an American courier is sent with a vital message to the leader of the Cuban rebels, aided by an ex-American soldier, now a small-time thief and adventurer, and an aristocratic Cuban woman.

   As the courier, John Boles makes very little impression, and while Barbara Stanwyck is immaculately beautiful, the show is really all Wallace Beery’s, as a loutish but devoted oaf, and like the movie itself, twice as large as life itself.

BANACEK. “Let’s Hear It for a Living Legend.” NBC, September 13, 1972 (Season 1, Episode 1.) George Peppard, Stefanie Powers, Madlyn Rhue, Robert Webber, John Brodie. Director: Jack Smight. Currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video.

   This was not the first time that Banacek, the well known Boston-based insurance investigator, appeared on the country’s TV screens. There was a pilot made-for-TV movie entitled “Banacek: Detour to Nowhere” that was shown on March 20, 1972. It did well enough for NBC to pick the show up as part of their rotating Wednesday Mystery Movie series, sharing the time slot with other shows.

   If anyone of a certain age remembers the show, it is almost guaranteed they will remember the gimmick in this one. At one point during a televised football game, a runner for one team is stopped and buried in a pile of players for the other team. As those players peel off the pile, the audience both at the stadium and viewing at home is stunned to discover that the runner at the bottom of the pile has … disappeared. Vanished into thin air.

   Impossible crimes such as this one were Banacek’s forte, and as a result, the series was on for sixteen episodes over two seasons. Banacek himself appears to be modestly well-to-do, but that may be due to his continued success in his crime solving abilities.

   The premise in this one is fascinating, but the show is at least partially let down by the writers trying to fill a 90 minute time slot with lots and lots of not especially interesting questioning. And even though the pace is slow, I don’t think that anyone watching could very easily take what they see going on and put a solution together.

   Which is both clever and, alas, not very likely to have come off as perfectly as it does here. George Peppard does his best to make his brashly bold but not quite arrogant  character interesting, but the allure here is the “impossible crime,” and unfortunately it takes only five minutes to explain.

   The show seems to have done well, though. so you might want to take my comments with a grain of salt. It’s fine. It really is.  I liked this one.
   

THE CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF. Hammer Films, UK, 1961. Universal Pictures, US, 1961. Clifford Evans, Oliver Reed, Yvonne Romain, Catherine Feller, Anthony Dawson. Based on the novel The Werewolf of Paris, by Guy Endore. Director: Terence Fisher.

   The Curse of the Werewolf was apparently the first werewolf movie filmed in color. Good thing, then, it was a Hammer production, given the studios use of lush color schemes in its set and costume design. The bright colors, along with the overarching Gothic atmosphere, work well in telling the story of Leon Corledo (Oliver Reed), an eighteenth-century Spaniard tragically born as the product of a violent rape. Both the circumstances of his conception and his birth have not worked in his favor. Far from it. He’s been cursed with lycanthropy. In other words, the poor bastard’s a werewolf.

   Although it takes a while for the story to get going, The Curse of the Werewolf eventually delivers the goods any good horror connoisseur looks for in a film, including a great special effects man-to-beast transformation. There’s some genuine pathos here too. Reed’s character desperately doesn’t want to be a monster, although he realizes that there is a scant chance in reversing his cursed fate. It’s up to Corledo’s adopted father to eventually put the werewolf down once and for all.

   The cast benefits from a solid group of talented actors, some of whom you’ve probably seen in other Hammer films. This includes Clifford Evans (Kiss of the Vampire) and Yvonne Romain (Night Creatures). As far as the score, it’s an unusually captivating one by British composer Benjamin Frankel. Listen here:

   Overall, a solidly constructed, very British werewolf film. I give it a hairy thumbs up.

JOHN D. MacDONALD – A Flash of Green. Simon & Schuster, hardcover, 1962. Crest, paperback, date? Reprinted many times. Film: International Spectrafilm, 1984, with Ed Harris, Blair Brown, Richard Jordan.

   What might easily only be a story about the expanding universe of Elmo Bliss very quickly becomes a study of reporter Jimmy Wing, who is offered an inside position in Elmo’s organization, geared to eventually be put him in the governor’s chair. Jimmy accepts, with his usual rationalized reservations. His job, to uncover the facts necessary for blackmail; the rationalizations being someone else would do it, somebody not quite so kind. And being on the inside has its own attractions. But once he rationalizes, the decision has been made.

   Blackmail is considered necessary to defeat the birdwatchers opposed to filling in Grassy Bay for commercial purposes. The beginning grabs, the warnings are there, you know it’s going to be a nasty fight. Elmo has his own simplified views of man’s place in nature, of the abstraction of art and beauty, of man-devised tourist attractions as opposed to nature’s own. But in today’s pragmatic world, his views are those which are applied to the Florida of the green dollar. Which is not to pick on Florida, of course.

   And the bay is filled in, with the aid of the pure in heart: the businessman with an eye to the community good, the anti-Communists who pave the way for the efficient action of free enterprise, and the zealous religionists who tie and beat those who do not confirm.

   It is nasty, but not until the beating of Jackie Halliday will Jimmy have enough. His exposure of Elmo’s plans stop future ambitions for the governorship, but this does not seem enough to pay for only the physical damage done, and it is difficult to believe that life in Palm City can go on as before. But on the surface it seems to …

   Lots of characters, fully realized, in depth, but almost too many to keep track of. Wives of businessmen tend to blur into identical sameness, as do the less important of their husbands. But MacDonald manages well, brings life to minor characters as few authors can, and has a point will worth making. Down with ugliness!

Rating: *****