Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 200: Ed Wood at 100

Ed Wood recently reached an important milestone.

October 10, 2024 was just another average Thursday to most people in the world, but to Ed Wood fans, it was something like a holy day of obligation. For that was the day that the notorious director of Glen or Glenda (1953), Bride of the Monster (1955), and Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957) turned 100. Or would have turned 100 if he hadn't died of alcohol-related heart failure in December 1978 at the age of 54. 

We used to call such special occasions "birthdays," even when the honoree was deceased. In more recent years, though, we've collectively decided that dead people don't have birthdays anymore. Now, they have "birth anniversaries" or "birthdates." I guess we were afraid of offending dead people. So let's say that October 10 was Ed Wood's 100th birth anniversary.

Whatever you call it, the day was marked by screenings of Ed Wood films at theaters across the country, especially in his home state of New York and his adopted state of California. It warms my heart to think that this man, largely ignored during his own life, should inspire such tributes nearly half a century after his death. I knew that I would probably have to attend at least one such event. But which one? Would there be a screening within reasonable driving distance of my apartment?

An Upstate Films screening in Ed's home state.

Fortunately, a few weeks ago, I was contacted by a nonprofit organization called Upstate Films, whose stated goal is to bring "transformative cinema experiences" to the Hudson Valley region of New York State. The group's screenings take place at a few venues, including the Starr Cinema in Rhinebeck and the Orpheum Theatre in Saugerties. Rhinebeck is in Dutchess County, just half an hour north of Ed's hometown of Poughkeepsie. It was their plan to honor their (almost) hometown boy with a screening of Tim Burton's Ed Wood (1994) on October 10, and they wanted a Wood expert on hand to offer some remarks.

I'm not sure how Upstate Films found me, but somehow they did. Even more unusually, they called me on the phone and left a voicemail. This is hardly the normal way to get in touch with me, but I'll admit that it got my attention. Eventually. See, I don't check my voicemail very often. But when I heard their message a few days after they left it, I gave Upstate Films a call back. A gentleman eventually put me in touch with the woman who was spearheading the event: a filmmaker in her own right named Katie Cokinos. We had a delightful chat that lasted about 40 minutes, and I exchanged emails with Katie and a few other folks from Upstate Films in the leadup to the show.

Katie is a big fan of the Burton biopic but admitted she wasn't all that conversant with Ed Wood's movies, not even the "famous" ones he made in the 1950s. That was where I came in. I've been studying and writing about these movies for years now and can talk about them for hours. But there are some potential pitfalls here. For many people, Ed Wood is simply a wide-eyed dreamer who made a handful of quirky low-budget movies in the 1950s. Such viewers are typically not comfortable delving into the darker, sadder, sleazier aspects of Ed's story, namely his descent into poverty and pornography, fueled by his out-of-control alcohol addiction.

On the very rare occasions when I am asked to be a podcast guest or interview subject, I try to gauge whether the host is okay with talking about the more sordid aspects of Ed Wood's life and career. If not, I know to stick to the relatively benign 1950s stuff: angora sweaters, UFOs on strings, plywood cemeteries, etc. From my discussions with Katie, I knew this was going to be one of those "keep it light and fun" kind of interviews. I explained that it would not be possible for me to travel to Rhinebeck to attend the screening in person, but I would be happy to make my presentation via Zoom. This was amenable to Upstate Films, and arrangements were soon made. Before it vanishes forever from the internet, here is a listing for the event, including my self-penned introduction.

It's wonderful to be here. It's certainly a thrill.

In addition to making some remarks and answering questions after the film, I was asked to prepare a highlight reel from Ed's 1950s movies. I wanted to focus on what I considered the "greatest hits" from this era, especially the moments that were relevant to the Tim Burton film. Below is the video presentation that I created for that night, containing my favorite moments from Glenda and Bride. (For Plan 9, I merely suggested they show the film's iconic trailer.)

On October 10, I was asked to do a soundcheck a couple of hours in advance of the screening. This was how I realized that not everyone at the Starr Cinema was as interested in Eddie and his movies as I was. Katie had been very keen to hear what I had to say, naturally, as had the Upstate Films people I'd been dealing with up to that point. For some of the other employees, however, this was just another screening, and I was just some random dude they had to deal with that day. I also learned that it was quite unusual for a guest speaker to appear via Zoom rather than in person, so I was presenting them with some unique technical challenges. The fact that I was speaking after the movie also meant that they had to stay a little longer at the end of their workday. Sorry, folks. What can I say?

I want to emphasize that no one was rude or hostile, just curt and businesslike. A tech guy asked me to start talking so he could hear how my voice sounded over the speakers. I responded by reading a passage from Ed Wood's short story "The Night the Banshee Cried." For some reason, I started hamming it up a bit for this employee, who was busy adjusting various things around the theater. I thought he'd get a kick out of it. After a few minutes, though, I noticed he had not said anything or responded in any way.

"W-was that good? I asked, tentatively.

"Mm hmm," he responded flatly. "You're coming through very clear. Maybe a half-second delay."

He sounded like a bored drive-through employee telling me to pull up to the next window. Or a traffic cop letting me off with a warning this time. I have to admit, I was a little deflated. 

My post-movie presentation, however, went swimmingly. Katie Cokinos acted as moderator and was as enthused as ever. Fielding questions from both the audience and from Katie, I talked about how I came to be an Ed Wood fan and how accurate or inaccurate the 1994 biopic is. Other topics included: the long-planned yet seemingly never-to-be statue of Ed Wood in Poughkeepsie; the fate of Ed's mortal remains; Ed's somewhat embellished war record; and whether or not Lillian Wood dressed her son in women's clothing when he was a child. Katie was kind enough to ask me about Ed's "monster nudies," which gave me an opportunity to plug Dad Made Dirty Movies (2020). The whole thing lasted about 45 minutes.

The way the Zoom call was set up, by the way, I could see the Starr Cinema auditorium from my end. As I suspected, the audience was incredibly miniscule, and a few sleepy folks shuffled out as my portion of the show began. I think, by the end, I was talking to no more than a dozen people. But that didn't bother me. It's about comparable with the stats on many of my articles, videos, and podcasts. What mattered was that I was able to spend this day doing something Woodian. I'd have felt guilty somehow if I hadn't marked the occasion.

Ed, wherever you are, I hope you appreciated the gesture.

The interior of the Starr Cinema. (And this is pretty much how it looked when I spoke.)

Podcast Tuesday: "Journey to the Center of the Fonz"

This week, Fonzie (Henry Winkler) goes underground on The Fonz and the Happy Days Gang.

We've all been trained by science fiction to think that outer space is mankind's ultimate goal. There's a whole universe out there, just waiting for us, and we should explore it. That make sense. When our own planet (inevitably) blows up or becomes uninhabitable, we may even have to move to outer space so that humanity can continue. The problem is that getting to outer space is currently quite expensive and difficult, and space is really not hospitable to human life anyway. That doesn't stop us from dreaming, though. 

Every once in a while, a sci-fi author will give us an alternative to exploring outer space. There's so much of our home planet that we haven't explored yet, namely the oceans. A lot could be happening down there, like talking fish people or sunken cities or whatever. That's why we have shows like Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, SeaQuest DSV, Sealab 2020, Sealab 2021, The Man from Atlantis, and even Snorks. The sea is not quite as enticing to us as outer space, but it's (potentially) pretty darned interesting anyway. 

Another alternative to outer space is the strange, vast world that exists beneath the surface of the earth, right below our feet. I don't think there are too many stories about this topic, but some famous ones do exist. The movie The Mole People (1956) comes to mind as an example, as does Below the Earth's Surface (2008). Let's not forget The Phantom Empire (1935) and Unknown World (1951). The granddaddy of them all is Jules Verne's novel Voyage to the Center of the Earth (1864), which has been adapted to film numerous times, most notably in 1959 with James Mason.

This week on These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast, we are reviewing the episode "It's All Downhill from Here," which is the Happy Days version of a "hollow earth" story. Was it worth the trip? You can find out below.

Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes: "Appendix: The Correspondence of Ed Wood and Bela Lugosi"

Ed Wood was a man of letters. Many of them.

NOTE: This article concludes my coverage of Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes and Rubber Octopus Dreams (Arcane Shadows Press, 2024).

The story: "Appendix" by Frank Dello Stritto and Edward D. Wood, Jr.

Synopsis: Circa April 1973, author Frank Dello Stritto visited the Ackermansion, the Los Angeles home of Famous Monsters of Filmland editor Forrest J. Ackerman. While there, he found some old letters that had been written by Ed Wood in March 1954, most of them addressed to actor Bela Lugosi. Dello Stritto meticulously dictated them into a tape recorder, then transcribed the recordings when he got home to New Jersey. What follows are nine of those letters.

Edwin Schallert.

March 1, 1954: Ed is trying to secure work for Bela, who is headlining a revue at the Silver Slipper in Las Vegas. During a recent work trip to Vegas, Ed managed to run up a bill of $300, which amounts to over $3,000 in today's money. Bela is now obligated to pay most of this, with Ed contributing $48 of his own money. Ed disputes the bill and says it is very important to him that people know he is not trying to take advantage of Bela in any way, financially or otherwise. Eddie Fox, the publicity director for the Silver Slipper, is in Los Angeles to meet with a talent agent named Lou Sherrill. Ed says he will meet with Eddie Fox to discuss the matter personally, and he chastises Bela for mentioning the money dispute to Lou Sherrill. ("You could have come to me first.")

Meanwhile, Ed is convinced that the upcoming film The Bowery Boys Meet the Monsters (1954) will be "a hell of a lift" for Lugosi's career. He imagines the news stories it will generate, bringing attention to both Lugosi and the Silver Slipper. Furthermore, Ed says that Lou Sherrill has an idea for a new nightclub act starring Bela. Ed tells Bela that the actor's comeback is in full swing and that more triumphs lie ahead. As an example, Ed says he is talking to Los Angeles Times writer Edwin Schallert, who is planning a big article about Bela Lugosi. Schallert is headed to Vegas to review actor Howard Keel's show, and he will be swinging by the Silver Slipper to check out Bela's revue.

Ed warns Bela not to get taken by all the "sharpies" in Las Vegas. Ed says that, when he was there on business, he kept track of every expense he incurred. Bela should not pay for anything that Ed did not account for personally. He worries that he now looks bad in the eyes of Lou Sherrill. Ed stresses that Bela needs to tell Lou this was all a misunderstanding and that Ed is not a conman or a parasite.

Ed then returns to the subject of the Bowery Boys movie. Ed tells Bela not to worry about learning all the dialogue in the script. "We'll get it this time," he says. Ed claims to have a three-picture deal with Howco and declares that at least one of these films will be a star vehicle for Bela. According to Ed, horror films are enjoying newfound popularity at the moment; he points to some 3D films from Universal and Warner Bros. as examples. Bela's new film should fit right in. Eddie closes the letter by rehashing the matter of the $300 bill and emphasizing that he is being honest and scrupulous in his dealings with Bela.

March 5, 1954: Several days later, Ed responds to a "seven-point note" from Lugosi. Ed says that Schallert's story has not been printed yet. When it is, Ed will buy ten copies and send five to Lou Sherrill. Ed also thanks Bela for explaining the previous awkward situation to Lou via telegram. ("His attitude changed for the better almost immediately.")

Ed says that "the troubles on my picture [presumably 1954's Jail Bait] have ended," meaning that he will now be able to pay his previous debt to Bela. On the other hand, producer George Weiss says that Ed and Bela's previous film, Glen or Glenda (1953), has not turned a profit yet.  Ed is dubious of this, because Weiss has managed to pay off $1,000 in debts since it opened and Ed is owed 50% of the take. Ed further claims he has two more films in the works and thinks he can get Bela $5,000 for ten days of work. Ed will be producing Bela's movie for Monogram and will decide who gets paid what.

Bela has sent some press clippings to Ed, which Ed then forwarded on to Alex Gordon for preservation. Ed also congratulates Bela on extending his Vegas show another two weeks and says that it will not be difficult to line up some film work for the veteran actor now. He boasts that, between himself and Lou Sherrill, Bela now has "two good men on [his] side." Ed closes the letter by promising to write again soon. He also asks about some "collars" and some publicity photos.

Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes: "Afterword"

The day Ed Wood stood still.

NOTE: This article continues my coverage of Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes and Rubber Octopus Dreams (Arcane Shadows Press, 2024).

The story: "Afterword" by Fred Adams, Jr.

Synopsis: In this appreciative essay, the author talks about how Ed Wood's ineptitude is ironically what brought him everlasting fame. People love to poke fun at how cheap and shoddy Ed's 1950s films were, but we shouldn't overlook the director's resourcefulness and ingenuity in making them with such limited resources. He didn't have big budgets, and he had to use his friends and acquaintances to play many of the roles in his movies. Would prestigious directors like Cecil B. DeMille and Robert Wise have fared as well under such circumstances?

Recognizable stars like Tor Johnson, Vampira, and Lyle Talbot may have been slumming when they appeared in Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957), but at least they were working. Ed Wood is often called out for his reliance on stock footage and library music, but even big-budget films have used these shortcuts. Besides, Ed didn't have the money to hire composers or film expensive action sequences. He wasn't working in the studio system; he was piecing these films together from whatever scraps of material he had. Plan 9 can be seen, then, as Ed Wood's ultimate labor of love.

Excerpt:

Plan 9 was finished for $60,000. Imagine Robert Wise filming The Day the Earth Stood Still on that budget. Gort would have had stovepipes for legs and a welding mask for his face. Forbidden Planet cost just under $2 million, $125,000 of it spent to build Robby the Robot. With that kind of budget, Ed Wood might have enlisted the likes of Ray Harryhausen to animate his flying saucers instead of using Cadillac hubcaps dangling from fishing line.

An inverted ice cream cone.

Reflections: This fun little essay by author Fred Adams, Jr. (presumably this gentleman) gave me flashbacks to a track called "Cheepnis" by Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention from the double live album Roxy & Elsewhere (1974). The song is a tribute to low-budget monster movies of the 1950s, and the strangely-spelled title refers to a special quality that these films have. Frank begins the song with a spoken-word monologue in which he explains the concept in more detail:

I love monster movies. I simply adore monster movies. And the cheaper they are, the better they are. And cheepnis in the case of a monster movie has nothing to do with the budget of the film, although it helps. But true cheepnis is exemplified by visible nylon strings attached to the jaw of a giant spider. 

I'll tell you a good one that I saw one time. I think the name of the film was It Conquered the World. Did you ever see that one? The monster looks sort of like an inverted ice-cream cone with teeth around the bottom. It looks like a teepee or a rounded-off pup tent affair. And it's got fangs on the base of it. I don't know why, but it's a very threatening sight. And then he's got a frown and an ugly mouth and everything .

There's this one scene where the monster is coming out of a cave. See? There's always a scene where they come out of a cave, at least once. And the rest of the cast... It must have been made around the 1950s. The lapels are about like that wide. The ties are about that wide, and they're about this short, and they always have a little revolver that they're gonna shoot the monster with. And there's always a girl who falls down and twists her ankle. Of course there is. You know how they are, the weaker sex and everything! Twisting their ankle on behalf of the little ice cream cone.  

Well, in this particular scene, folks, they didn't want to retake it because it must have been so good they wanted to keep it. But when the monster came out of the cave, just over on the left hand side of the screen, you see about this much two-by-four attached to the bottom of the thing as the guy is pushing it out, and then obviously off-camera somebody's going, "No! Get it back!" And they drag it just a little bit as the guy is going, "Kkkkhhhh! Kkkkhhhh!"  Now that's cheepnis!

While Roger Corman's It Conquered the World (1956) has no direct connection to Ed Wood, it came out around the same time as Wood's own Bride of the Monster (1955) and the aforementioned Plan 9 and is cut from the same cloth as them. Zappa's comment about Beverly Garland, the heroine of It Conquered the World, twisting her ankle reminded me of the scene in Plan 9 in which Mona McKinnon falls in the graveyard while running from the Ghoul Man (Bela Lugosi and Tom Mason). I can vouch for the part about monsters emerging from caves, too. While Eddie never actually filmed at Bronson Caves, many of his contemporaries did, most notably Phil Tucker of Robot Monster (1953) infamy.

(Side note: Fred Adams, Jr. speculates that, if Ed Wood had a bigger budget, he could have hired Elmer Bernstein. Well, Phil Tucker had no budget, and he did hire Elmer Bernstein!)

This was a very particular era in sci-fi and horror when the films were aimed largely at teenage audiences and employed wildly improbable stories, dubious acting, and extremely wonky special effects. For the most part, sci-fi and horror basically melded into one big genre during this time. The titles of such films were meant to grab you by the neck and force you to pay attention. I notice that some of the same words turn up in a lot of them: invasion, creature, attack, space, monster, robot, etc. The golden age seems to have started in the early 1950s and lasted until the mid-1960s or so.

Sure, there were classier films like Forbidden Planet (1956) and The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) being made by the big studios, but many or most of these flicks were down at the Roger Corman level, especially the independently-produced ones. I don't know if anyone has given a name to this particular chapter of film history—apart from Frank Zappa, who called it "Cheepnis"—but this era is absolutely crucial to an entire nerdy subculture built around the ironic appreciation of so-called "bad movies." The cult TV series Mystery Science Theater 3000, whose very title evokes the era, could not have existed without such movies. I think the key to the popularity of these films is that they're preposterous and easily risible, but they're also generally fast-paced, action-packed, and fun.

Much of the Ed Wood phenomenon is rooted in this "Cheepnis" era of film history. The Wood cult centers around the handful of films he made during this period. Tim Burton's Ed Wood (1994) is largely about this. The stories in Warm Angora Wishes focus on this era almost exclusively. It's certainly where I started my journey into Woodology in the 1990s. Now, after more than three decades of studying the life and work of Edward D. Wood, Jr., I have come to think of "Cheepnis" as being just one aspect of the man's career. In fact, Ed's peak of productivity (roughly 1968-1973) occurred after this era was over. But I realize that some fans are just here for the 1950s stuff, so I try to give them some of that while acknowledging that there are other avenues to explore.

You might think that, since I'm reviewing a piece called "Afterword," I am done with Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes and Rubber Octopus Dreams. No. No, indeed. There is one more piece to go, and it might just be one of the most interesting things in this entire anthology. Stay tuned.

Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes: "The Atomic Dream and the Wilderness of Tibet"

When Vornoff met Lobo. (Or Bela met Tor.)

NOTE: This article continues my coverage of Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes and Rubber Octopus Dreams (Arcane Shadows Press, 2024).

The story: "The Atomic Dream and the Wilderness of Tibet" by Christopher R. Gauthier

Synopsis: Dr. Eric Vornoff, once a respected scientist in his homeland of Russia, has become a hunted fugitive. The government took a dim view of his experiments to create a race of atomic supermen and cruelly separated him from his wife and son. Vornoff sadly figures that the members of his family are either dead or rotting in a gulag somewhere. Now, with secret agents still on his trail, he travels through Tibet.

Lured by the sound of gongs, Vornoff hacks his way through the wilderness until he finds a strange carnival encampment that serves as a combination freak show and brothel. He witnesses numerous perverse acts there, including the torture of caged white women. Among the patrons are some Chinese soldiers. Presiding over the camp is a transgender "dragon lady" named Madam Wu. Her servant is a hulking, mute giant known only as Lobo.

Madam Wu has Lobo show Vornoff to his tent. Once inside, the two men become fast friends despite Lobo's inability to speak. Vornoff wins Lobo's affections by giving him an angora beret that had once belonged to Vornoff's wife. The angora causes Lobo to flash back to his early childhood, before he was enslaved by Madam Wu. Together, Vornoff and Lobo destroy the camp and kill its wicked mistress. Then, they board a plane for America to continue their work.

Excerpt:

The Dragon Lady’s henchman, the towering mutant mountain of a man was hairless. A long scar, obviously a result from some course of violence, scowled across his face. He was dressed in torn rags, and they did not fit him all that well, barely in fact. Clasped around his wrists were golden bands, shackles of the Dragon Lady, Vornoff thought. Or perhaps they were from origins of another kind. The beast of Tibet gave beckon and shone the lantern into the darkness, illuminating a bivouac where Vornoff was to find shelter, privacy, and peace.

Reflections: We're approaching the end of Warm Angora Wishes, and this story feels like a summary of everything the anthology has to offer its readers. For instance, this is at least the third story about how Dr. Vornoff (Bela Lugosi) and Lobo (Tor Johnson) from Ed Wood's Bride of the Monster (1955) originally met. I'd never really given it much thought, but other Wood fans obviously did. (Interestingly, Warm Angora Wishes gives us three very different answers to that question.) We get some angora action in this story as well, plus a male-to-female transgender character. No aliens or graveyards this time, but as comedian Steven Wright once said, "You can't have everything. Where would you put it?"

A scene from Multiple Maniacs.

I think the key to writing a story for this anthology is to borrow some plot points and characters from Ed Wood's films and then add some wild card ingredient to them. In this case, the wild card is Madam Wu and her strange, evil carnival. I could not help but think of Lady Divine and her notorious Cavalcade of Perversions from John Waters' Multiple Maniacs (1970). For the uninitiated, the extremely sketchy circus in Waters' film features such dubious acts as the Puke Eater and the Bicycle Seat Sniffer. Ultimately, however, the Cavalcade is revealed as a flimsy front for a criminal organization. Lady Divine's true intention is to rob and kill her paying customers. I wonder if Madam Wu has similar intentions for her patrons.

It's hard to believe, but Eli Roth's Hostel (2005) turns 20 next year. You remember that one, right? The story follows two dumb, horny American tourists, Paxton (Jay Hernandez) and Josh (Derek Richardson), as they travel through Europe. Eventually, they wind up in Slovakia, where they find themselves at the mercy of the Elite Hunting Club, a mysterious organization that tortures, disfigures, and murders tourists for sport. Paxton and Josh are ideal victims, epitomizing the "ugly American" stereotype, so we in the audience don't hold out much hope for them.

Roth's film was part of the so-called "torture porn" craze of the early 2000s, but the moment that really haunts me from Hostel is not violent at all. It occurs when Paxton arrives outside the abandoned factory that the Elite Hunting Club has turned into a torture chamber and human slaughterhouse. Paxton doesn't know exactly what goes on in this ominous place, and he's hesitant to enter. He decides to strike up a conversation with a Japanese man (played by extreme horror director Takashi Miike) who staggers out of the building, looking like he's just spent a night in a casino.

"Excuse me," says Paxton. "How is it in there?"

"Be careful," replies the Japanese man.

"Why is that?"

"You could spend all your money in there."

The Japanese man then walks away calmly. Somehow, I think this character could have himself quite a time at Madam Wu's camp.

Podcast Tuesday: "Fonzie Needs Boats! Fonzie Needs Boats!"

Fonzie and Dr. Solo don't seem to get along terribly well on The Fonz and the Happy Days Gang.

Ostensibly, The Fonz and the Happy Days Gang (1980-81) is a show about time travel. Fonzie (Henry Winkler), Richie (Ron Howard), and Ralph (Don Most) travel haphazardly from one era to another in a constantly-malfunctioning flying saucer, accompanied by "future chick" Cupcake (Didi Conn) and a mischievous dog named Mr. Cool (Frank Welker). Their ultimate goal is to return to 1957 Milwaukee. I say the show is "ostensibly" about time travel because it's really more about hopping from one literary form to another (Westerns, horror stories, swashbucklers, etc.) and seeing how the characters fit in. I call it genre travel.

But in its second season, the show did an episode that is neither time travel nor genre travel: "Time Schlep." Here, the gang find themselves in the Bermuda Triangle on a remote island that lies outside of the time-space continuum. Time has stopped here; it's not any particular year on this island. They encounter a mad scientist (voiced by Rene Auberjonois), a damsel in distress, a giant gorilla, and an evil robot, but the story does not fit into any convenient category. We are figuratively and literally in uncharted territory this week.

Does that make for a better or worse episode? Both? Neither? Find out by listening to the latest installment of These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast. You know how to do that, right?