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Archive for the ‘Technical’ Category

The 3-D Film Archive has posted a terrific new article, “An In-Depth Look At Creature From The Black Lagoon.” This is a site that just keeps getting better and better — be sure to check out their history of the early-50s widescreen race.

Going beyond Creature, the article covers Universal’s contributions to 3-D technology and widescreen exhibition, which I found fascinating. I also didn’t realize that by the time of Creature‘s release, the 3-D fad was already dying out, and many of its bookings were flat. (It’s amazing they even bothered with 3-D for Revenge Of The Creature.)

They also review the new 3-D Blu-ray edition of Creature From The Black Lagoon, appearing in the eight-disc set Universal Classic Monsters: The Essential Collection. I’ve heard many positive things about the film’s new transfer, but was alarmed to learn here of its re-convergence — director Jack Arnold’s unique, deeper effects set it apart from other 3-D pictures.

Since Julie Adams stars in Creature, I opted for a couple stills from one of her other Universal 3-D films, Wings Of The Hawk (1953). It co-stars Van Heflin and was directed by Budd Boetticher. Sadly, it’s very hard to see these days.

Speaking of Miss Adams, have you read her book?

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A Wayne-Fellows Production
Directed by John Farrow
Produced by Robert Fellows
Screenplay by James Edward Grant
Based on a story (“The Gift Of Cochise”) by Louis L’Amour
Photography: Robert Burks, ASC and Archie Stout, ASC
Editor: Ralph Dawson, ACE
Music: Emil Newman and Hugo Friedhofer
Technical Advisor: Major Philip Kieffer

CAST: John Wayne (Hondo Lane), Geraldine Page (Angie Lowe), Ward Bond (Buffalo Baker), Michael Pate (Vittorio), James Arness (Lennie), Rodolfo Acosta (Silva), Leo Gordon (Ed Lowe), Tom Irish (Lt. McKay), Lee Aaker (Johnny Lowe), Paul Fix (Major Sherry), Rayford Barnes.

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Over the years, a number of things have kept Hondo from being recognized as the fine Western it is. First, there’s a tendency to discount all 50s 3-D films as slaves to a gimmick. Next, there’s the fact that it was released the same year as, and has a few similarities to, George Stevens’ Shane (1953) — which has taken its place as one of the genre’s giants. Then consider that Hondo sits among pictures like Rio Grande (1950), The Searchers (1956) and Rio Bravo (1959) in John Wayne’s filmography — it’s easy to be overlooked in a crowd like that. Then, and probably the toughest of these hurdles to overcome, is the decade or so the picture was virtually impossible to see.

This absence was brought about by Wayne’s estate and included all the films produced by Wayne-Fellows and Batjac. (When Robert Fellows was bought out, the company was renamed Batjac, after the shipping line in 1949’s Wake Of The Red Witch.) The Batjac pictures resurfaced on DVD in 2005, with a very nice edition of Hondo being one of the highpoints.

Hondo began as a Louis L’Amour story, “The Gift Of Cochise,” which James Edward Grant, Wayne’s scriptwriter of choice, adapted for Wayne-Fellows. (It appeared in the July 5, 1952 issue of Collier’s.) John Farrow was signed to direct, and Glenn Ford was offered the lead. Ford didn’t want to work with Farrow after his experience on a previous Wayne-Fellows picture, Plunder Of The Sun (1953). Unwilling to fire the director, Wayne took another look at the script and decided to do it himself.

Wayne is Hondo Lane, a Cavalry dispatch rider who turns up at the small ranch of Angie Lowe (Geraldine Page), located in the middle of Apache territory. He’s on foot, with his dog, having lost his horse fighting the Apaches. She says her husband is away and will be back shortly. Seeing through her lie — her husband doesn’t seem to be coming back — he urges her and her son (Lee Aaker) to seek safety from the Apaches. She’s never had trouble with the Apache chief Vittorio (Michael Pate) before, and decides to stay. From there things get a bit more complicated, as Wayne ends up killing Page’s ne’er-do-well husband (Leo Gordon) and being captured and tortured by Vittorio. There’s an exciting wrap-up as Wayne helps the Cavalry lead a number of settlers out of Apache territory.

Grant’s script expanded the L’Amour short story considerably, and L’Amour then novelized the screenplay. Published to tie in the film’s opening, it was a bestseller — and is still in print today.

Wayne-Fellows was in a distribution deal with Warner Bros., who’d seen runaway success with House Of Wax (1953) in 3-D, so it soon came to pass that Hondo was to be shot in 3-D. It would be the first time Warner Bros. would use its new All-Media camera rig — and the first of Wayne-Fellow’s productions in color (WarnerColor).

All the Batjac pictures benefited from Duke’s working relationships with some of the best actors and technical people around. Behind the camera were cameraman Archie Stout and John Ford, who visited the location and ended up shooting a bit of second unit stuff. The cast included third-billed Ward Bond, Paul Fix in a character part, and James Arness — under contract to Wayne’s company and still a few years from being recommending by Duke for Gunsmoke.

One clear break from what, and who, we expect from a John Wayne Movie turned out to be his leading lady — Geraldine Page.

Paul Fix: “Duke’s agent, Charles Feldman, also represented Geraldine Page who was a successful actress on the New York stage. Robert Fellows offered her the part without testing her… Duke was dismayed when he first saw her. She had bad teeth, so the first thing Fellows did was send her to a dentist who worked on her for three days.”

Cast and crew arrived in Camargo, Mexico, with shooting to start June 11, 1953. Thanks to the technical difficulties of shooting 3-D on location, things got off to a rather slow start. Setups were few and far between.

Leo Gordon: “They had that great big camera that was the size of a small truck.”

Geraldine Page: “It was a very temperamental machine. So we had lots of time to sit under the broiling Mexican summer sun.”

Wayne and mogul Jack Warner had been communicating via telegram from the beginning, often with Wayne complaining about the delays and expense of working in 3-D. Jack Warner saw some dailies and wired on June 18 about more close-ups: “Director is not moving you and Geraldine close enough to camera. Everything seems to be too far away.”

Wayne replied two days later: “Farrow has done everything but play music to get camera in for close shots… cameraman is over cautious for fear front office will scream eyestrain. Will show cameraman your wire.”

The “cameraman” Wayne refers to is Archie Stout, a Batjac veteran who shared duties on Hondo with Robert Burks, who’d worked on House Of Wax and would go on to shoot some of Hitchcock’s finest films. But the 3-D cameras and frustrated DPs weren’t the only things troubling Wayne. He was in the middle of a divorce from his wife Chata. Their relationship was volatile, to say the least. Then there were his scenes with Page.

James Arness: “Acting with Geraldine Page was difficult for Duke, since their styles were completely different. Here was dynamic Wayne, who wanted to move things right along regardless of meaningless details, and a very intense costar who wanted to know the meaning of every scene she was in… as they got used to each other, things worked out fine.”

What’s more, the Mexican temperatures sometimes topped 120 degrees.

James Arness: “It was mid-summer, and blazing hot down there. We worked 14 hours a day in the sun… After each day’s shooting, we’d all race back to our run-down Mexican motel and hit the bar to quench our thirst. We ordered anything, just so the glass was full of ice. After a few day’s, everyone came down with Montezuma’s revenge… The problem was solved when we realized the water for the ice in our drinks was coming from a polluted river near the hotel.”

Lee Aaker: “We were in Mexico for three months doing it… most of all, I remember John Wayne as being very nice to me.”

After wrapping in early August, the picture was quickly edited and scored for a Thanksgiving premiere in Houston. Its wide release in January of 1954 was very successful. There’s been a lot of debate over the years about the picture’s 3-D engagements. Some claim it played mostly flat, but that’s not the case. Almost all of its first run was in 3-D.

Whether flat or in 3-D, Hondo is an excellent film — not a great one. Its smaller size turns out to be a large part of its appeal, and it seems to hint at the look and tone of The Searchers (1956).

Wayne’s performance is excellent. Despite his trouble working with Geraldine Page, their scenes together are very good, some of his best work. It’s easy to wish Wayne had called up Maureen O’Hara for Mrs. Lowe, but Page brings lot to the film. She was perfectly cast, and received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress.

Ward Bond is terrific, making a big impression with relatively little screen time as Buffalo Baker, a grizzled old friend of Hondo’s. Leo Gordon is perfectly slimy as Ed Lowe — boy, am I glad when he gets shot. But acting honors have to go to Michael Pate as the Apache chief. He somehow manages to make Vittorio scary and sympathetic at the same time. Hondo is held up as an early example of Hollywood treating Native Americans and their culture with respect. It does it without preaching or sacrificing the action audiences came for. This is a cowboy movie that doesn’t need 3-D glasses to give you plenty of depth.

__________

Paramount’s Blu-ray of Hondo is, in some ways, simply a high-definition version of their 2-D DVD from 2005. Both contain the same bonus material — an excellent collection of commentaries, documentaries, trailers, photos and more. (A couple of the documentaries didn’t make it over from DVD.) But the Blu-ray’s 1.75 ratio makes all the difference. This is clearly how this film was meant to be seen. It’s one of the nicest WarnerColor transfers I’ve seen, with its harsher contrast helping you feel the heat Wayne and company suffered through. Of course, there’s the typical jump in sharpness and detail that comes with Blu-ray.

Audio is clean with a nice range, and I much preferred the original mono to the 5.1 mix. (I have to say it’s been the audio, as much the video, that has really impressed me with the shift to Blu-ray.)

Hondo is an essential 50s Western, if for no reason other than Wayne made so few cowboy pictures during the decade. And for those wondering if Hondo’s worth the upgrade to Blu-ray, put on your old DVD. Look at all the dead space at the top and bottom. Yep, it’s worth it.

SOURCES: James Arness: An Autobiography; Duke, We’re Glad We Knew You; Duke: The Life And Image Of John Wayne; this fabulous article by Bob Furmanek and Jack Theakston; and more.

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One of our knowledgeable friends out in Bloggywood maintains an amazing Flickr photostream — and it’s high time you were all introduced to it.

His name’s David Raynor from Stoke-On-Trent, Staffordshire, England, UK. He’s been uploading his collection of film stills, posters, handbills, scans and personal photographs — as TheBrinkswayBoy — providing us all with an incredible resource and hours of obsessive fun. David was a projectionist, so he’s not only got a ton of film paper, but he knows how these pictures were exhibited. (For instance, he solved the mystery of how Davy Crockett, King Of The Wild Frontier played theaters: 1.66. He knows because he ran it.)

A couple examples, chosen almost at random. Above, Rory Calhoun in George Sherman’s The Treasure Of Poncho Villa (1955), is a scanned frame from a Technicolor SuperScope print. (Be sure to read his comments for a lesson in anamorphic processes.)

Below is Rhonda Fleming in Bullwhip (1958). In his notes on this one, David even tells you when and where he saw it. By the way, Bullwhip was scored by the great character actor James Griffith.

There’s plenty more where these came from.

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Last week, I posted about the Fight For 35mm petition, which if you haven’t, I urge you to consider signing. Since then, a very good article about the current state and icky future of theatrical projection has appeared on the AV Club website.

I grew up in a house full of film, usually 16mm. To me, the texture of film, a few specks of dust, changeover cues and the purr of a projector are as much a part of movie-watching as color, sound and popcorn. (One of my problems with DVD and Blu-ray is that they look too good.)

The cinema experience of today is nothing like the one some of us remember — the way these 50s Westerns were seen, incidentally. We’ve gone from movie palace to multiplex, which I don’t see as progress. So if the times they are a-changin’ again, I don’t see me heading out to the cinema too much. After all, we can watch a digital picture at home — on a screen not that much smaller than found in most theaters.

I will now step down off my soapbox and get back to cowboy movies.

Photo by Edward M. Pio Roda, from the TCM Classic Film Festival (and lifted from their website). Thanks to Laura for bringing this article to my attention.

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“The major film studios have decided that they eventually want to stop renting all archival 35mm film prints entirely because there are so few revival houses left, and because digital is cheap and the cost of storing and shipping prints is high.”

The above quote comes from the overview of the Fight For 35mm petition. And I’m urging you all to read up on it and sign it.

And if that doesn’t work, then I guess it’s Occupy Film Vault.

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Came across these photos of the Midway Drive-In, somewhere in Ohio. (My apologies to the photographer — not sure where I found these.)

It’s obvious how the owners handled to transition to CinemaScope — they simply added “wings” to either side of the screen tower. My guess is the extension would’ve happened in early ’54.

Imagine The Man From Laramie (1955) on such a screen on a nice night.

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The Command (1954)

Warner Bros.’ first CinemaScope release. The first CinemaScope Western. The first film shot in both CinemaScope and 3-D. That’s a lot of history, or trivia, for a single medium-budget cowboy picture to carry. But that’s what fate, and Jack Warner, did to The Command (1954) — and to director David Butler and cinematographer Wilfred M. Cline.

Production got under way as Rear Guard, based on the novel White Invader by James Warner Bellah, part of his series of Fort Stark stories. John Ford’s Fort Apache (1947), She Wore A Yellow Ribbon (1949) and Rio Grande (1950) had already been adapted from these stories. Here, Guy Madison had the lead, with Joan Weldon, James Whitmore and Harvey Lembeck (Eric Von Zipper himself) rounding out the cast.

Director David Butler covered The Command in his DGA oral history —

“We made it very, very cheaply, but it looked great… We made it out at the Warner Bros. Ranch. Guy Madison was one of the nicest guys that I’ve ever met. He was a manly man. He’d never done much, and this picture put him over very big. Harvey Lembeck had a comedy part. Also, it was David Weisbart’s first picture as a producer. He had been a cutter, and he was a hell of a nice fellow. All of us were just delighted that this picture turned out the way it did. A swell little picture.”

“For 3-D, we had to line the people straight back because the dimension went that way, and in CinemScope we had to stretch them out. Every scene had to be staged differently. We would wind up with two pictures.”

The Command is available from Warner Archive, with its CinemaScope, WarnerColor and stereophonic sound nicely represented. The 3-D version seems to have never been released. Same with The Bounty Hunter (1954).

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Not long after I started working on 50 Westerns From The ’50s, the book, I became really interested in the Regalscope pictures Robert Lippert made for 20th Century-Fox. The process was the subject of one of my earliest posts.

These short (normally around 70 – 75 minutes) Westerns are usually pretty talky — talk’s a lot cheaper than action — and they seem to have spent $12 and five minutes to prop out the sets, but they feature some great casts: John Agar, Forrest Tucker, Brian Donlevy, Charles Bronson, Jim Davis, Beverly Garland, Mara Corday, Kathleen Crowley, Mari Blanchard, Hank Worden, James Griffith, Lee Van Cleef, Robert Strauss, Barton MacLane and Morris Ankrum.

Lately, I’ve contracted the Regalscope bug all over again — partly due to seeing a letterboxed copy of Frontier Gun (1958). Not a bad little movie. Kit Parker has dedicated a lot of his recent blog posts to organizing a Lippert filmography, including the Regal Films productions. He’s also chatted with Robert L. Lippert, Jr. and Maury Dexter, who actually worked on these things, and a few film historians — there’s a real mystery to sort out with these things. Kit’s posts are fascinating, though they ultimately add to the frustration of these films being so hard to see.

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Being an Advertising writer, I don’t normally write anything longer than a brochure, and a project rarely lasts longer than six or eight weeks. So this whole book thing — hundreds of pages, years of research and writing — is a trail I’ve never ridden before. Gets kinda scary at times.

My process, if you can call it that — jumping from film to film as sources turns up, and writing when enough stuff accumulates on a particular film — is probably unfocused and inefficient. But from time to time, things come together and I make some real progress.

Recently, CinemaScope has come up quite a bit. An interview with Nicholas Ray (thanks, John). Watching Ride Lonesome (1959) for maybe the 20th time. Reading the John Sturges biography (Escape Artist by Glenn Lovell). Researching the process itself. I’ve developed a new appreciation for it, and a better understanding of why some directors hated it. Here are some 50s Westerns directors giving their thoughts on Scope pictures.

Above: the Hilux-VAL variable anamorphic lens (rescued from a now-demolished Virginia drive-in) that adorns my office.

Nicholas Ray: “I think my appreciation for the horizontal line came through my association with Frank Lloyd Wright, and I like to compose within a horizontal frame. The artistic principal of Mr. Wright’s which has become very much a part of my thinking architecturally has been ‘Try to learn your limitations first of all, and you have to work with them and then learn how to take advantage of those limitations.’ Looked at objectively, the horizontal wide screen has certain limitations. I just try to work within those limitations and I find myself very comfortable within that frame.” Image: The True Story Of Jesse James (1957)

Budd Boetticher: “I loved it. CinemaScope was invented to get rid of television because nobody was going to the movies. And people had a different idea than I had. They thought that CinemaScope, your leading lady should be over here and your leading man should be over there and then you fill the middle with trees. I put them both together over here and it was a choice for the audience: Do you want to look at the trees or the two people in it? But I liked it a lot. And I think that the CinemaScope pictures that I made with Scott are very good.” Image: Ride Lonesome (1959)

Howard Hawks: “I don’t think that CinemaScope is a good medium. It’s good only for showing great masses of movement. For other things, it’s distracting, it’s hard to focus attention, and it’s very difficult to cut. Some people just cut it and let people’s eyes jump around and find what they want to find. It’s very hard for an audience to focus — they have too much to look at — they can’t see the whole thing.”

John Sturges: “Back in the early days of CinemaScope, the wide, wide wide screen was considered desirable only for enormous spectacles using thousands of people and mile-high sets. I thought it ought to be the other way around. Here I was with one man stuck in the desert. (Bad Day At Black Rock, 1955) It occurred to me that the way to show the isolation of this one man in the desert was to use all this space, to surround him with space. The more space you have around him, the more you isolate him. And the more you isolate him, the more suspenseful your story becomes.” Image: Bad Day At Black Rock (1955, not really a Western)

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John McElwee at Greenbriar Picture Shows has posted a terrific piece — two parts with more on the way — on Paramount’s VistaVision process and its debut feature, White Christmas (1954, one of Laura‘s favorites).

Of all the various wide and otherwise-shaped screen formats, VistaVision is my favorite. John does a marvelous job of not only explaining the process, but how it was unveiled back in ’54. (The ad above was swiped from one of those posts.)

Like CinemaScope’s wide image, the deep focus and increased clarity of VistaVision are ideal for Westerns. Just look at the Monument Valley vistas in The Searchers (1956) and you’ll see what I mean. So with the process in mind this morning, here’s a more or less complete list of the Westerns released in “motion picture high fidelity.”

Run For Cover (1955)

The Searchers (1956)

Three Violent People (1956)

Gunfight At The O.K. Corral (1957)

The Lonely Man (1957)

The Tin Star (1957)

Last Train From Gun Hill (1959)

One-Eyed Jacks (1961)

We’re pretty fortunate that most of these VistaVision Westerns are available on DVD. One-Eyed Jacks is a real mess, infecting stores with rancid PD releases. (Here‘s a bit on that.) The Lonely Man is incredible with its black and white cinematography by the severely underrated Lionel Lindon. The Searchers has even received the Blu-ray treatment, and it’s marvelous. Sadly, Run For Cover is nowhere to be seen.

From its resolution to its aspect ratio, today’s TVs and Blu-ray discs are what the process has been begging for since the last frame of film ran (sideways) through the VistaVision camera. Now if we could just get more true double-frame screenings.

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