Gog (1954) - 2.5/4

Oh my Gog! What we've got here is a balls-out McCarthyist sci-fi epic about a kuh-razy robot intelligence. Handsome Richard Egan is summoned to investigate some inexplicable murders at a top secret government lab in the middle of the desert. With an old flame/blonde bimbo as his guide, Egan questions the five eccentric head scientists of the lab. The inevitable conclusion, of course, is that it's not the scientists, but the mighty NOVAC, that fantastic computerized brain running the high-tech lab, and his incredible army of two robots, Gog and Magog, behind these murders. Or is it?

There are four main things one goes into a 1950s sci-fi scare movie expecting: 1. Sexist attitudes. 2. Commie terror. 3. Quaint ideas about science and the future. 4. The robots and sets, either for the awe they inspire or the laughs they elicit. This movie has all four in abundance, including a meaningful exchange about how, "In space, there is no weaker sex." But until then, ladies, keep the sandwiches coming.

Of course, what we're really looking for is a little more. Sexism and commie terror have their pleasures, but how about intellectual stimulation, deep characters, moving plot developments, and fascinating props and sets? Yeah, how about them.

Gog could have had more, but it clumsily falls short. The first act of the film introduces us to the top secret science being studied in the lab, like trying to perfect cryogenic stasis and building giant space mirrors that can burn entire (Commie) cities in one blast; that can boil whole (Commie) oceans in minutes. Those Commie fish deserve it.

Then we get the murder investigation. This section is the most enjoyable and should have been even better. Egan's role is to descend the five levels of the facility and, at each level, interview the oddball scientist in charge. This Perecian structure is strangely pleasing to the intellect; executed well, it could make great cinema. The problem is the scientists aren't really odd enough. They're not developed as people or even as bundles of quirks. The best quirk the writer could come up with is to make one scientist obsessed with watching girls in zero gravity experiments. A specific enough perversion, but one many warm-blooded males would share.

I get the feeling we were supposed to suspect a few of these scientists. However, we don't. Their possible motives just aren't developed at all. The only suspect scientist is the inventor of NOVAC himself, Zeitman. He bristles at having company and being questioned. He's a genius, dammit, leave him alone! Anyway, he does enjoy showing off his, yes, robots! Gog and Magog, named after some apocalyptic forces from the books of Ezekiel and Revelations. This is the fun part. We got close-ups of their clumsy little hands pawing at things.

Eventually the robots go haywire and, lest their unsteady, fragile, little arms choke everyone on Earth!, Egan has to fight them with flame-throwers. Meanwhile, a few more murders occur, all of which are fairly creative, making imaginative use of the environment of a top secret science lab. Will Egan and his bimbo be able to triumph over the deranged NOVAC? Who is really to blame? (The Commies, of course.)

Facetiousness aside, who is to blame? When the thousand years are over, Satan will be released from his prison and will go out to deceive the nations in the four corners of the Earth—Gog and Magog—and to gather them for battle. In number they are like the sand on the seashore. Not only are the robots named Gog and Magog, but it is the secret and violent technology in the facility that leaves the victims open to Commie attack. The Commies of the film are never seen, a vague influence from outside that seem to function more like a force of nature than a real enemy: open a window and the storm comes in. The window, in this case, is the horrifyingly violent technology being studied in the lab, namely the space mirror that can boil entire oceans. The sheer inhumanity and irresponsibility of this goal almost makes one side with the Commies. So the Commies are almost karmic, punishing the American scientists for their violent intent and for their arrogance.

Unusual for a science fiction film, where technology is usually inert and positive, in Gog the technology is active and susceptible to malign influence. Yet the responsibility is not on the shoulders of the malign influence, but on the scientists for using their skills and talents in the service of War--Gog and Magog are, after all, of 'our' own creation, not of Commie creation--and on the whole socio-political system that sanctions this use of science.

Despite a bland visual design and a boring tour through such advanced science as what the sun is and what nuclear power does, there are still some good ideas that, although they never realize their potential, shine through. Gog is a curious and, for the patient, enjoyable '50s scifi picture. Also, the robots are kinda cool.

Prisoners of the Casbah (1953)

There are countless Technicolor gems amongst the forgotten Hollywood studio pictures of the '50s. Prisoners of the Casbah is one of them, produced by Sam Katzman during his time with Columbia. Prisoners is one of those gorgeous Arabic epics, full of vibrant colours, sword fights, and pretty harem girls. There's always a scheming vizier (Cesar Romero), of course. One wonders why Sultans and Emirs bothered appointing viziers, since they always turn out to be evil. There's a twist with Prisoners: the lovely Princess Nadja (Gloria Grahame) is a spoiled brat and she's totally infatuated with the vizier Firouz rather than our brazen hero, Ahmed, the Captain of the Guards (Tuhran Bey, a favourite of mine). While the Emir would like Ahmed to marry his daughter and take the throne, the Captain despises the loathsome woman as much as she despises the playboy Captain. These twists on the format are refreshing and open the representation of genders and the various other format stereotypes to scrutiny.

The visuals, whether by the intuition of the director or a conscious creative decision I can't say, affirm Nadja's potency and her initial presumption that she is master of her own destiny. While the Emir and Ahmed try to discuss to whom she will be wed, they remain still in the shot like part of the furniture. Nadja, on the other hand, darts around the frame, slinking around her father, then over to give a barbed aside to the Captain, then back to her father. Her control over the frame is such that once she manages to bring Ahmed into her father's disfavour by rejecting her, the shot closes in on Nadja and her father, leaving Ahmed offscreen, literally 'out of the picture.'

Prisoners could almost be said to be more about the breaking of a headstrong woman's will than about overthrowing a usurping vizier. While there is a climactic sword fight, the movie's real climax is when Ahmed, infuriated by Nadja's continued sympathy for Firouz, despite everything he's done, throws her over his knee and delivers unto her pretty rump a sound spanking. At this moment she falls in love with Ahmed and they begin to kiss. It is a truly startling moment. All along Nadja has had a very distinct view of masculinity: ambitious, bearded, serious, dominant, and, most importantly, potentialy violent. It's made clear early in the movie that Firouz is more just than merciful, a serious man who believes in totalitarian order. Nadja seems oddly drawn to men who will punish her and dominate her.

Whether her vibrant presence within the frame ceases post-spanking, whether Ahmed builds his kinetic force within the frame before he spanks her, and how other characters might relate to these visual motifs, is something I, alas, became too caught up in the enjoyable plotting to discover and I didn't manage to record the movie. It's a subject for future study. Nadja isn't the only 'strong woman' character in the film; indeed, the Queen of Thieves tends to dominate her husband with glances. Her character would also need to be observed. Perhaps the visual information I noted above is a mere fluke or perhaps the intuition of the director for mise-en-scene persisted throughout.

Prisoners is indeed heavily plotted for such a short film (the runtime is 78 minutes). Nadja is to be married to Ahmed, then Ahmed falls into disfavour for refusing and is dismissed. Just then Firouz sends some of his men to hold the princess hostage so he can rescue her and appear the hero, but the plan goes wrong leaving Firouz thinking her killed both the Emir and Nadja. But Nadja is of course alive and with Ahmed. Nadja doesn't want to be with Ahmed and resists him, while he tries to protect her and seeks shelter within the Casbah--a citadel in Algiers within which was a society of criminals that couldn't get out but would also let no-one in. That covers the first thirty minutes. It's rare to see so much narrative packed within a short feature and that movie still maintain an elegant visual style. Generally such a balance is reserved for Val Lewton's productions.

It's curious how in Arabian-themed pictures, thieves are often romanticized. In crime pictures, bank robbers and mobsters tend to be romanticized; in Westerns it's outlaws. Each genre tends to have its criminals to offer as underdogs with an interior code of honour more reliable than the conventional and externally-imposed code within the bounds of the law. In this film, it is only the den of thieves that offers protection from the dangerous government of Firouz. Perhaps it is in the spirit of Jean Genet: crime is liberating, makes one's spirit free. Laws of any kind enslave one to an authority. The thieves are here represented without a hint of cynicism. They're the sort of people you'd like to have a drink with. It's a sign of the sort of innocence in storytelling that seems lost these days, but is wholly present in Prisoners.

I'm a fan of such small but glamourous Technicolor epics as Prisoners of the Casbah. It's a shame so many of them remain undistributed. Were it not for heroic networks like Turner Classic Movies and, in this case, Drive-in-Classics, these movies wouldn't be seen at all. The Adventures of Hajji Baba is another obscure, Arabian epic that deserves viewing. It was made a year later and is similar in its charms.

House of Wax (1953)

I've heard it called a classic with the hearing of the ear, but now I've seen it and know that it's primarily the presence of Vincent Price that makes House of Wax of any interest at all.

Vincent Price plays Mr. Jarrod, an obsessive wax sculptor. He begins by treating his wax figures as people, having invested them with such personality in the creative process, having shared his lifeforce with them, as it were. He is a true creator.

Enter capitalism in the form of a fellow named Burke, who decides the lack of profits from the artsy wax museum warrants its destruction for insurance money. So the wax figures, and Jarrod's face, are melted in Burke's flames.

The creator god becomes a destroyer god: Jarrod, now hideously disfigured both within and without, decides that since pouring life into wax only got him hurt he should reverse the process and start encasing living people in wax. This results in very lifelike figures, but lifeless, dead inside, like Jarrod.

Jarrod himself becomes a sell-out, using his wax figures in lucrative displays of torture scenes in his new museum, including Joan of Ark burning at the stake.

The fiancee of a young sculptor who will be apprenticing with Jarrod discovers Joan of Ark looks too much like her recently murdered friend to be a coincidence, and she pursues this lead to its horrifying conclusion.

Punctuating this action are moments designed to exploit the stereoscopic technology (i.e. 3d!), such as bottles being thrown at the camera mid-fight and a man with a paddle-ball beating the ball virtuosically toward the camera. If capitalism vs. true creativity is the conflictual thrust of the film, we can see which side the creators of this film come down on with this gimmicky 3d.

Ultimately I found the plot of this film to be standard fare, its pacing somewhat mismanaged, the characters uninteresting, and the whole of the proceedings to be mostly unengaging.

There is some good, however. Vincent Price's performance is, as usual, fun in itself. An added bonus is a young Charles Bronson playing Igor, the distinctly hunchback-free mute servant of Jarrod. And the machine Jarrod and Igor use to turn living people into wax figures is itself one of those fantastic, wonky masterpieces of set design American horror films are great for.

The greatest moment of the film is an early chase scene between the disfigured Jarrod and our pretty heroine. This sequence in particular, as well as other parts of this film, is without a doubt a direct inspiration for Mario Bava's superior Baron Blood.

In sum, House of Wax is a mixed bag. Watch for some cheesy, breezy, forgettable entertainment, but don't expect the classic you may have been misled to think you'll be seeing. In double feature with Baron Blood, you may derive some extra enjoyment in noting the similarities.