Dewey1960
Joined Feb 2000
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One night outside a seedy LA bar, a sexy blonde Hollywood starlet is strangled to death by an unseen, shadowy figure. Naturally the cops are baffled, and one cop in particular is having the queasy sensation that he himself might be the killer. That cop has good reason to suspect himself because he's played by Lawrence Tierney--and Detective Tierney spent that very evening in that very bar drinking himself into Blackout Land (an uncanny nod to the particular problem that sent the actor tumbling down to poverty row). After being summarily dressed down for his repeated drunkenness, Tierney is then inexplicably asked to lend his questionable expertise to solving the murder.
What then begins is a bizarrely claustrophobic nightmare chase to the end of the line, offering up a host of potential other suspects. Could it have been the sinister Hollywood gossip columnist (John Carradine) who helped make the starlet's career and was then casually dumped by her? How about the oddball caricature artist (Burt Kaiser) who had recently drawn the starlet's likeness and was one of the last people to see her alive? And what about the caricaturist's wife who just happens to work at the bar? Let's not forget about Tierney's drunken cop who staggers his way through this nocturnal labyrinth with all the conviction of a man staring down at the bottom of an empty bottle. And how does Candy, the gorgeously voluptuous call girl (Jayne Mansfield in her screen debut) who's been sexually involved with both the artist and the cop figure into all of this? Perhaps it's best to not to be overly concerned with the storyline, which is deliriously beneath pulp trash, and relish the demented visual poetry of cinematographer Elwood "Woody" Bredell, himself no stranger to the dark confines of the noir universe, with 1940s classics like PHANTOM LADY, THE KILLERS, SMOOTH AS SILK, and THE UNSUSPECTED lurking on his resume. (Bredell was 70 when he shot FEMALE JUNGLE, which would be his final feature film. He died in 1976 at age 91.) And this is precisely why FEMALE JUNGLE is such an important film, for it relentlessly discards any use for logic in favor of the inhabitation of its own deranged nightmare world. Bredell invests the film with such strikingly abstract imagery that it's impossible to attribute its surreal look and feel to the accidental good fortune of its nearly non-existent budget--as many of the film's detractors have done. Rather, it is a pure distillation of the totality of the noir ethos and much more resonant with the thrill of death and doom than any other 1950s film outside the realm of Nicholas Ray.
FEMALE JUNGLE was the first film directed by Bruno Ve Sota. And despite having directed only two others (THE BRAIN EATERS (58) and INVASION OF THE STAR CREATURES (62)) his career was fairly deep as an actor, appearing in such disreputable (and legendary) films as DEMENTIA (55, aka DAUGHTER OF HORROR, which he also co-produced and allegedly co-directed), a bunch of classic 50s Roger Corman films, namely THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS, ROCK ALL NIGHT, WAR OF THE SATELLITES, BUCKET OF BLOOD, THE WASP WOMAN and ATTACK OF THE GIANT LEECHES as well as the Arch Hall, Jr. teen trasher THE CHOPPERS (61; Leigh Jason), and the tres obscure beatnik noir THE CAT BURGLAR (61; William Witney).
Shot in 1955, FEMALE JUNGLE was picked up for distribution by Sam Arkoff and James Nicholson's fledgling American International Pictures (then briefly known as ARC) and released in early 1956 as the second half of a double bill, beneath a Roger Corman western THE OKLAHOMA WOMAN. Ve Sota, oddly enough, has a small role in that film, too.
But it is FEMALE JUNGLE, an imaginatively ambitious and unapologetically naked excursion to the darkest regions of film noir, that we will remember Bruno Ve Sota for—and deservedly so.
This highly recommended film is not available on a US DVD (a UK one does exist, though). It came out on a VHS tape from RCA / Columbia in the early 90s and turns up on eBay every now and then. Jump on it when it does.
What then begins is a bizarrely claustrophobic nightmare chase to the end of the line, offering up a host of potential other suspects. Could it have been the sinister Hollywood gossip columnist (John Carradine) who helped make the starlet's career and was then casually dumped by her? How about the oddball caricature artist (Burt Kaiser) who had recently drawn the starlet's likeness and was one of the last people to see her alive? And what about the caricaturist's wife who just happens to work at the bar? Let's not forget about Tierney's drunken cop who staggers his way through this nocturnal labyrinth with all the conviction of a man staring down at the bottom of an empty bottle. And how does Candy, the gorgeously voluptuous call girl (Jayne Mansfield in her screen debut) who's been sexually involved with both the artist and the cop figure into all of this? Perhaps it's best to not to be overly concerned with the storyline, which is deliriously beneath pulp trash, and relish the demented visual poetry of cinematographer Elwood "Woody" Bredell, himself no stranger to the dark confines of the noir universe, with 1940s classics like PHANTOM LADY, THE KILLERS, SMOOTH AS SILK, and THE UNSUSPECTED lurking on his resume. (Bredell was 70 when he shot FEMALE JUNGLE, which would be his final feature film. He died in 1976 at age 91.) And this is precisely why FEMALE JUNGLE is such an important film, for it relentlessly discards any use for logic in favor of the inhabitation of its own deranged nightmare world. Bredell invests the film with such strikingly abstract imagery that it's impossible to attribute its surreal look and feel to the accidental good fortune of its nearly non-existent budget--as many of the film's detractors have done. Rather, it is a pure distillation of the totality of the noir ethos and much more resonant with the thrill of death and doom than any other 1950s film outside the realm of Nicholas Ray.
FEMALE JUNGLE was the first film directed by Bruno Ve Sota. And despite having directed only two others (THE BRAIN EATERS (58) and INVASION OF THE STAR CREATURES (62)) his career was fairly deep as an actor, appearing in such disreputable (and legendary) films as DEMENTIA (55, aka DAUGHTER OF HORROR, which he also co-produced and allegedly co-directed), a bunch of classic 50s Roger Corman films, namely THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS, ROCK ALL NIGHT, WAR OF THE SATELLITES, BUCKET OF BLOOD, THE WASP WOMAN and ATTACK OF THE GIANT LEECHES as well as the Arch Hall, Jr. teen trasher THE CHOPPERS (61; Leigh Jason), and the tres obscure beatnik noir THE CAT BURGLAR (61; William Witney).
Shot in 1955, FEMALE JUNGLE was picked up for distribution by Sam Arkoff and James Nicholson's fledgling American International Pictures (then briefly known as ARC) and released in early 1956 as the second half of a double bill, beneath a Roger Corman western THE OKLAHOMA WOMAN. Ve Sota, oddly enough, has a small role in that film, too.
But it is FEMALE JUNGLE, an imaginatively ambitious and unapologetically naked excursion to the darkest regions of film noir, that we will remember Bruno Ve Sota for—and deservedly so.
This highly recommended film is not available on a US DVD (a UK one does exist, though). It came out on a VHS tape from RCA / Columbia in the early 90s and turns up on eBay every now and then. Jump on it when it does.
This extraordinary noir reunion between Ann Savage and Tom Neal arrived on the small screen seven long and very hard years after their 1945 co-mingling in Ulmer's fatalistic masterpiece DETOUR. "The Red Dress" was produced for the short-lived but memorable syndicated television crime series GANG BUSTERS (1952/53), itself a spin-off from the original radio series from the 30s and later movie serial from the early 40s. Some of the filmed half-hour GANG BUSTER TV episodes focused on notorious icons like Dillinger, Alvin Karpis and Ma Barker. Others, like this incredible oddity, recounted the exploits of totally forgotten (though real) criminal nobodies whose only destiny was to wind up behind the eight ball. The series was pretty primitive, often displaying the type of accidental visual style and grungy pulp energy normally associated with the best of the poverty row noir features from the late 40s.
In "The Red Dress" Ann Savage plays Juanita, one-time girl friend of career crook William Harlan Crain (Tom Neal, appearing more grizzled and haunted than his recently former self), who is only hours away from serving out a five-year sentence in San Quentin for armed robbery. Juanita meets him at the gate with hopes of reviving their relationship but Crain is reluctant—time in the can has made him edgy, suspicious. She drives him back to her place where she drags out Crain's former pals Shaky and Bunch (Stan Malotte and Ben Wenlend). Before anyone knows it, the old gang is back in business, only this time Juanita calls the shots and she's not shy about letting these guys know it. She's got weapons galore stashed at her cozy little hideout and a short-wave police radio hook-up to boot. After a lot of huffing and puffing by the boys, they reluctantly give themselves over to her control. She aggressively maps out jobs for them and, amazingly, they pull off a series of successful stick-ups. With each job Juanita's relentless determination to make bigger and better scores along with her unsuccessful attempts at igniting romantic yearnings in Crain soon begins to ratchet up the tension within this tenuous group.
By now Crain is clearly fed up with toeing the line yet fails to do anything about it. Shaky and Bunch are no better. Juanita is now exclusively focused on devouring Crain, lusting for him in the face of his utter revulsion. Depressed and coming undone, she goes to a doctor who gives her drugs for the anxiety.
The ironic gist of the plot involves Juanita's escalating obsession with the pricey red dress at a downtown boutique that she's been drooling over ever since the episode began. Having this dress means more to her than anything (with the possible exception of having Crain) as she now starts to careen emotionally out of control. Finally she decides to have the boys knock over the dress shop—making sure to grab the devil dress as a well-earned bonus for her. Crain and the other two are baffled by the stupidity of such a heist but they fold pretty quickly and fall in line. They break into the shop that very night and in the process a witness is shot and killed. Now they've suddenly got a murder rap hanging over them and desperation sets in immediately. To make matters worse, the red dress is of no use to anyone, getting completely tattered during the frantic getaway—now leaving Juanita thwarted at every level of her ambition. With the cops closing in and any hope for freedom beyond reach, the gang continues to flee in a blind panic. Juanita's own descent quickens and finally ends with her fatal OD as a clutch of faceless cops march Crain, Shaky and Bunch silently off to their predictable doom.
The unholy re-teaming of Ann Savage and Tom Neal is obviously at the cold heart of this oddly compelling film noir experience. But it's also fair to say that the film itself, for all of its ruthless nothingness, earns its own dilapidated place at the darkest dead-end on poverty row.
"The Red Dress" was directed by W. Lee Wilder who made the excellent poverty row noirs THE GLASS ALIBI (46) and (especially) THE PRETENDER (47) as well as later oddball horror films like MANFISH (56) and BLUEBEARD'S TEN HONEYMOONS (60).
Public scandal dogged Tom Neal all through the 1950s and 60s. In 1951 he was virtually blackballed from appearing in Hollywood feature films after nearly decimating fellow actor Franchot Tone in a brawl over the affections of troubled actress Barbara Payton. In 1965 Neal was convicted on charges of involuntary manslaughter after fatally shooting his wife in the head. He was sentenced to ten years in prison but paroled after serving only six. He died the following year of a heart attack at age 58. In 1992, the actor's son, Tom Neal, Jr. starred in a low-budget, independently produced remake of DETOUR.
In "The Red Dress" Ann Savage plays Juanita, one-time girl friend of career crook William Harlan Crain (Tom Neal, appearing more grizzled and haunted than his recently former self), who is only hours away from serving out a five-year sentence in San Quentin for armed robbery. Juanita meets him at the gate with hopes of reviving their relationship but Crain is reluctant—time in the can has made him edgy, suspicious. She drives him back to her place where she drags out Crain's former pals Shaky and Bunch (Stan Malotte and Ben Wenlend). Before anyone knows it, the old gang is back in business, only this time Juanita calls the shots and she's not shy about letting these guys know it. She's got weapons galore stashed at her cozy little hideout and a short-wave police radio hook-up to boot. After a lot of huffing and puffing by the boys, they reluctantly give themselves over to her control. She aggressively maps out jobs for them and, amazingly, they pull off a series of successful stick-ups. With each job Juanita's relentless determination to make bigger and better scores along with her unsuccessful attempts at igniting romantic yearnings in Crain soon begins to ratchet up the tension within this tenuous group.
By now Crain is clearly fed up with toeing the line yet fails to do anything about it. Shaky and Bunch are no better. Juanita is now exclusively focused on devouring Crain, lusting for him in the face of his utter revulsion. Depressed and coming undone, she goes to a doctor who gives her drugs for the anxiety.
The ironic gist of the plot involves Juanita's escalating obsession with the pricey red dress at a downtown boutique that she's been drooling over ever since the episode began. Having this dress means more to her than anything (with the possible exception of having Crain) as she now starts to careen emotionally out of control. Finally she decides to have the boys knock over the dress shop—making sure to grab the devil dress as a well-earned bonus for her. Crain and the other two are baffled by the stupidity of such a heist but they fold pretty quickly and fall in line. They break into the shop that very night and in the process a witness is shot and killed. Now they've suddenly got a murder rap hanging over them and desperation sets in immediately. To make matters worse, the red dress is of no use to anyone, getting completely tattered during the frantic getaway—now leaving Juanita thwarted at every level of her ambition. With the cops closing in and any hope for freedom beyond reach, the gang continues to flee in a blind panic. Juanita's own descent quickens and finally ends with her fatal OD as a clutch of faceless cops march Crain, Shaky and Bunch silently off to their predictable doom.
The unholy re-teaming of Ann Savage and Tom Neal is obviously at the cold heart of this oddly compelling film noir experience. But it's also fair to say that the film itself, for all of its ruthless nothingness, earns its own dilapidated place at the darkest dead-end on poverty row.
"The Red Dress" was directed by W. Lee Wilder who made the excellent poverty row noirs THE GLASS ALIBI (46) and (especially) THE PRETENDER (47) as well as later oddball horror films like MANFISH (56) and BLUEBEARD'S TEN HONEYMOONS (60).
Public scandal dogged Tom Neal all through the 1950s and 60s. In 1951 he was virtually blackballed from appearing in Hollywood feature films after nearly decimating fellow actor Franchot Tone in a brawl over the affections of troubled actress Barbara Payton. In 1965 Neal was convicted on charges of involuntary manslaughter after fatally shooting his wife in the head. He was sentenced to ten years in prison but paroled after serving only six. He died the following year of a heart attack at age 58. In 1992, the actor's son, Tom Neal, Jr. starred in a low-budget, independently produced remake of DETOUR.
EXPERIMENT ALCATRAZ (1950) is another in a very long line of ultra-cheap curios from the prodigiously prolific Edward L. Cahn, one of the undisputed "Kings of the Bs." Produced independently and picked up for theatrical distribution by RKO before eventually evaporating into the ethers of obscurity, this murky little gem ranks as one of Cahn's more interesting films.
Dr. Ross Williams (John Howard) and his crack team of army physicians are certain that by blasting "radioactive isotopes" into human guinea pigs, medical science will find a cure for a rare blood disease. A group of five Alcatraz lifers are given the opportunity to gain their freedom if they're willing to subject themselves to this hazardous and radical medical experiment. The hardened cons, led by the grizzled Barry Morgan (Robert Shayne, perennial good guy Inspector Henderson on TV's Superman) are quick to play ball without any illusions of altruism; their only interest is getting out of the can and this is clearly the only shot they're ever likely to get. But something goes horribly, weirdly wrong and Morgan winds up murdering one of the other cons in the aftermath of the experiment, throwing Dr. Williams' theory and, for that matter, entire medical career into jeopardy. The resulting mystery surrounding the peculiar events taking place at Alcatraz forms the basis for the remainder of this quirky drama.
While perhaps not as sharply drawn as other notable low budget noirs from the late 40s and early 50s, EXPERIMENT ALCATRAZ nevertheless earns its stripes through the sheer weirdness of its far-fetched story and the unexpected detours it takes along the way. At fifty-seven minutes, it can hardly be faulted for overstaying its welcome.
Edward L. Cahn had an incredible career in Hollywood, directing countless low budget features over a thirty-year period, including such classics as MAIN STREET AFTER DARK (1945), THE GAS HOUSE KIDS IN Hollywood (1947), DESTINATION MURDER (1950), CREATURE WITH THE ATOM BRAIN (1955), GIRLS IN PRISON (1956), SHAKE RATTLE & ROCK (1956), VOODOO WOMAN (1957), MOTORCYCLE GANG (1957), INVASION OF THE SAUCER MEN (1957), IT! THE TERROR FROM BEYOND SPACE (1958), RIOT IN JUVENILE PRISON (1959), GUNS, GIRLS & GANGSTERS (1959) and CAGE OF EVIL (1960).
Dr. Ross Williams (John Howard) and his crack team of army physicians are certain that by blasting "radioactive isotopes" into human guinea pigs, medical science will find a cure for a rare blood disease. A group of five Alcatraz lifers are given the opportunity to gain their freedom if they're willing to subject themselves to this hazardous and radical medical experiment. The hardened cons, led by the grizzled Barry Morgan (Robert Shayne, perennial good guy Inspector Henderson on TV's Superman) are quick to play ball without any illusions of altruism; their only interest is getting out of the can and this is clearly the only shot they're ever likely to get. But something goes horribly, weirdly wrong and Morgan winds up murdering one of the other cons in the aftermath of the experiment, throwing Dr. Williams' theory and, for that matter, entire medical career into jeopardy. The resulting mystery surrounding the peculiar events taking place at Alcatraz forms the basis for the remainder of this quirky drama.
While perhaps not as sharply drawn as other notable low budget noirs from the late 40s and early 50s, EXPERIMENT ALCATRAZ nevertheless earns its stripes through the sheer weirdness of its far-fetched story and the unexpected detours it takes along the way. At fifty-seven minutes, it can hardly be faulted for overstaying its welcome.
Edward L. Cahn had an incredible career in Hollywood, directing countless low budget features over a thirty-year period, including such classics as MAIN STREET AFTER DARK (1945), THE GAS HOUSE KIDS IN Hollywood (1947), DESTINATION MURDER (1950), CREATURE WITH THE ATOM BRAIN (1955), GIRLS IN PRISON (1956), SHAKE RATTLE & ROCK (1956), VOODOO WOMAN (1957), MOTORCYCLE GANG (1957), INVASION OF THE SAUCER MEN (1957), IT! THE TERROR FROM BEYOND SPACE (1958), RIOT IN JUVENILE PRISON (1959), GUNS, GIRLS & GANGSTERS (1959) and CAGE OF EVIL (1960).