Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 213: 'The Muddled Years of Edward D. Wood, Jr., 1946-1948' (2025)

In his new book, James Pontolillo covers a misunderstood era of Ed Wood's life.

The biopic Ed Wood (1994) only covers a brief span in the life of its title character. The story starts with Ed (Johnny Depp) directing a production of his play The Casual Company circa 1952 and ends with the (improbably grand) premiere of Ed's feature film Plan 9 from Outer Space in 1957. That's five years out of a 54-year life, about 30 of which were spent in Hollywood. In their introduction to the published screenplay of Ed Wood, writers Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski explain their reasoning for limiting the film's scope:

First, we decided that most film biographies were boring. They seem compelled to follow the subject from cradle to grave. We felt this was too much to cover. Why is somebody's death important? The result often ends up quickly skimming the surface and being uninvolving. So we determined that we would only cover five years—the period that Ed was actually "famous" for.

I heartily agree with this streamlined approach. A good biopic should take the life of its subject and mold it into a satisfying three-act story, and that's exactly what Ed Wood does. Besides, most people who watch that movie will be content with seeing Ed during his prime years, making his most iconic films and working with his idol, Bela Lugosi (as portrayed by Martin Landau).

But then, there are the diehards. The completists. The collectors and catalogers. The makers of lists and writers of essays. They can't be satisfied with a mere capsulized history of their hero. They want the entire, sordid Ed Wood saga, stem to stern. Well, they're in luck this week, because James Pontolillo is back with his second highly specific book about Eddie's early years. 

James' first book, The Unknown War of Edward D. Wood, Jr. 1942-1946 (2017), laid bare Eddie's much-mythologized service record as a Marine during World War II. The sequel, The Muddled Years of Edward D. Wood, Jr. 1946-1948 (2025), basically picks up where the previous volume left off. It covers Ed's life from the time he was honorably discharged through the making of his abortive Western, Crossroads of Laredo (1948).

This was a pivotal time in Ed Wood's life, as it would be in any young person's life. From his birth in 1924 to his induction into the military in 1942, Ed's fate was obviously guided by his parents, his employers, and his teachers. After that, Uncle Sam was definitely calling the shots, even telling him when to get up and when to go to bed. But, as of 1946, Eddie was officially an adult in charge of his own destiny. So what did he do with his newfound freedom?

We've heard various accounts of this transitional period in Ed Wood's life, most of them coming from Eddie himself. But the director of Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957) had a tentative relationship with the truth, to put it mildly, so it's difficult to know what's accurate and what isn't. Did he really perform in drag in New York nightclubs? Did he tour with a traveling carnival as a half-man, half-woman? Did he study with famed choreographer Martha Graham? Did he spy on the Ice Capades for the U.S. government? James Pontolillo is here to investigate each and every one of these claims, plus several more.

Look, I can't "review" this book in any objective way, since I wrote the foreword to it and am quoted in the text several times. But I can honestly report that this book not only gave me a lot of new information, it also caused me to look at Ed Wood's career in a new way, particularly in regards to the various plays Ed studied that may have influenced his later writing. 

James has told me he didn't intend for his book to be any kind of definitive, final statement about this time in Ed's life. And he admits that there are still gaps in the chronology that have stubbornly resisted even his formidable research abilities. But The Muddled Years of Edward D. Wood, Jr. certainly supplies ample food for thought. I can pay it no higher compliment than that. Like The Unknown War, this is a quick, fulfilling read that sheds light on some of the darker corners of Ed Wood's colorful life. It's worth your time.

The Muddled Years of Edward D. Wood, Jr. is available right here.

Podcast Tuesday: "Wisconsin Fonzarelli and the Chest of Wonders"

Fonzie (Henry Winkler) is menaced by snakes on The Fonz and the Happy Days Gang.

Timbuktu. It's one of those faraway places I've been hearing about since childhood, but I never really knew where it was or what happened there. Well, now, thanks to The Fonz and the Happy Days Gang, I at least have some idea. Timbuktu is a city in the West African nation of Mali, and it became a center of both trade and learning in the 1100s. The city lost its influence over time, due to various wars and invasions, plus the shifting of trade routes. But Timbuktu still exists today, and its rich history is currently being cataloged and preserved. 

Isn't that interesting? There's only one thing that could make the city even more interesting, and that's if the cast of Happy Days somehow managed to materialize there in a flying time machine, accompanied by a "future chick" and a talking dog. And wouldn't you know it? That's exactly what happens in the November 1981 episode "All This and Timbuktu."

This week on These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast, we talk about that episode and the effect it's had on our lives. We sincerely hope you'll join us for what should be a frank and eye-opening discussion.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 212: Comparing two prints of 'Hellborn' (1956)

Two views of Conrad Brooks as a juvenile delinquent in Hellborn.

When Woody Allen was dissatisfied with September (1987), a somber, Chekhov-inspired drama he'd written and directed, he did something truly remarkable. Even though the movie was already in the editing stages, he scrapped everything he had completed, revised the script, recast all but two of the major roles, and reshot the entire film from scratch. The resulting motion picture garnered lukewarm reviews and earned back only 5% of its $10 million budget. It remains one of the biggest money-losers in the Allen filmography.

I think this story establishes Woody Allen as the cinematic opposite of Ed Wood, despite the passing similarity of their names. Eddie rarely had the luxury of throwing away footage that he'd shot and developed. His most famous feature, Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957), was literally built around using some precious silent film he'd shot of actor Bela Lugosi shortly before Bela's death. And when Ed's juvenile delinquent epic Hellborn (1956) ran out of money and couldn't be completed, Ed took some of the footage he'd shot for it and recycled it in Night of the Ghouls (1959) and The Sinister Urge (1960), regardless of whether it actually fit.

Generally, when we talk about Ed Wood's career, we can divide his film projects into two major categories: ones that got made and ones that didn't. Hellborn is in that rare middle territory, along with Range Revenge (1947), Crossroads of Laredo (1948), and The Night the Banshee Cried (1957): ones that sort of got made. Which is to say, enough footage was shot to give us a vague idea of what this project was supposed to have been. The remains of Hellborn were included in a 1993 documentary produced in conjunction with Cult Movies magazine that I reviewed some time ago on this blog.

Recently, however, reader Brandon Sibley informed me that the 2017 Blu-ray of The Violent Years (1956) from Vinegar Syndrome contained the Hellborn footage as well. This was certainly news to me, and I was eager to compare the 1993 and 2017 editions to see if there were any notable differences between them. Fortunately, since I don't own the Blu-ray (yet), Brandon was kind enough to rip a copy of the Hellborn footage for my perusal.

At first, I was shocked to see that the Vinegar Syndrome version ran over nine and a half minutes, while the Cult Movies version lasted only about seven minutes and 50 seconds. Had Vinegar Syndrome found nearly two minutes of precious extra Hellborn footage? Nah. A side-by-side comparison revealed that both versions of Hellborn contain the exact same shots in the exact same order, but the 1993 version runs about 25% faster than the 2017 version, hence the shorter running time. When I slowed down the 1993 edition just a little, it synced up with the 2017 edition perfectly. This begs the question, which running time is more accurate? I have no idea. My copy of the 1993 Hellborn documentary was made from a VHS tape, but Vinegar Syndrome says its copy of the footage was sourced from VHS as well. You'd think they'd run at the same speed. Nope.

Content-wise, as I indicated earlier, the two Hellborns are the same. I've never seen a script or even a plot outline for this film, but it seems to center around two violent street gangs—one all male, the other all female. We see both groups committing crimes, including mugging a man in an alley, terrorizing an ice cream salesman, and robbing a gas station. At the end, the two gangs rendezvous in the park. Conrad Brooks has a central role as a gleefully violent thug. Ed Wood plays two parts: a switchblade-wielding crime boss and a female robber. Mona McKinnon also turns up as a gun moll (or knife moll, if you will). Conrad's brother, Henry Bederski, has a memorable cameo as the aforementioned ice cream salesman.

There is a striking visual difference between these two transfers of the Hellborn footage. Neither one, it must be said, is in great shape. The source footage, much like that of Range Revenge, is alternately underlit and overexposed. Perhaps Ed's camerawork was faulty or the footage was poorly preserved. The 1993 transfer is rather dark and murky, but there's a reassuring, homogeneous smoothness to the images. In contrast, the 2017 version is considerably brighter but also quite a bit grainier, giving it a scratchy, speckled appearance.

As seen in Hellborn (sort of): Atlas Batteries and RPM Lubrication.

When I was performing the side-by-side comparison described above, my eyes initially preferred the dark-but-smooth 1993 version. But ultimately, the Vinegar Syndrome version won the day because it was sharper and revealed more background details. For instance, when the girl gang robs the ice cream joint, there's an oval-shaped neon sign in the window that reads "OPEN ICE CREAM." In the 1993 edition, this is just an indistinct ovular blob, but it's clear as day in the 2017 edition. Similarly, during the famous sequence in which Ed Wood (in full drag) robs a service station, there are signs advertising "ATLAS BATTERIES" and "RPM LUBRICATION" in the background. They're visible in both versions, but they're only legible in the 2017 version.

Another point in favor of the 2017 version is its soundtrack. The surviving footage for Hellborn is totally silent. One wonders what Ed Wood's plan would have been for completing the film. Stock music? Narration? Post-dubbed dialogue? It's a moot point, since the project was abandoned. The Cult Movies version from 1993 adds some tinny, lackluster synthesizer music to Ed's flickering, soundless footage. The score has a very distinct '80s/'90s sound and doesn't really match the footage at all. Meanwhile, Vinegar Syndrome chose to underscore Hellborn with some rambunctious 1950s rock music driven by saxophone, drums, and guitar. There's a snarling version of "Malagueña" that I especially enjoyed. If Hellborn's juvenile delinquent characters had been real, these are the records they might well have listened to!

I remain skeptical that Hellborn is a "lost masterpiece" or that it's of particular interest to anyone other than Wood completists. But, if you want it, it's out there to be found. In multiple places, no less!

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 211: The incredible artwork of Shenandoah See (and my total failure as an Ed Wood fan)

I think this piece captures something essential about Tor Johnson.

In August 2021, I did what I had hoped never to do again: I returned to full-time office work. It seemed like my only option, since my freelance writing career was truly dead by then. I couldn't sell very many articles to editors, at least not enough to cover my monthly expenses, and Dad Made Dirty Movies: The Erotic World of Stephen C. Apostolof (2020), the book I'd authored with Jordan Todorov, wasn't exactly opening a lot of doors. Meanwhile, I needed medical insurance and a reliable source of rent money. It was time to go back to the only life I'd ever known.

Turns out, cubicle jobs like the ones I'd had in the '90s and '00s weren't as common in the 2020s—especially after the pandemic—but I found a reliable (if low-paying) position at a mortgage company and have stayed there for over three years. Since then, free time has become my most precious commodity, maybe the only thing I really treasure anymore. Every second away from that office is golden, even if I'm spending it in traffic or waiting in a checkout line.

Since time is my most/only valuable asset, I have to decide how to spend it wisely. Maintaining this blog is one of my main hobbies, but it's not the only one. Believe it or not, I have a life beyond Ed Wood. Since 2018, for instance, I have cohosted a podcast called These Days Are Ours that requires many hours of research and editing. I'm also a member of the Glenview Concert Band, an ensemble that rehearses and performs regularly. So I have at least three sirens calling out to me. But there is a fourth that outranks the others: the urge to do nothing at all. Often, when I drag myself home from work, all I want to do is stare blankly at the TV for a couple of hours and then crawl into bed without accomplishing a single thing.

I feel guilty about all this, because earnest, well-meaning people continue to email me with questions, comments, and suggestions—pretty much all of it related to Ed Wood. To be honest, I've barely skimmed most of this material. In many cases, these fine folks are working on books and documentaries of their own, and they want my input or participation. If I respond at all, it's usually something like, "Sounds interesting!" or "Keep me posted!" Some help I am, huh? 

One of the people emailing me lately is a talented writer and artist named Shenandoah See. Even though I have been shamefully lax in responding to his emails, he graciously said I could share some of his work however I see fit. This is how I see fit. Here is a little gallery of Shenandoah's work. I genuinely hope you enjoy it.

Podcast Tuesday: "Fonzie Circumnavigates His Own Cool"

Ralph (Don Most) screams at God from inside a loving cup.

Due to a lack of time and money, I travel very rarely these days. The last time I even left the state of Illinois was in 2023, when I visited relatives in Indiana for Christmas. And that's just one state over! But it's probably for the best that I stay put. I am, to be frank, not good at traveling. Everything about it discombobulates me. I also dislike being confined to any mode of transportation, like a train or a car, for an extended period of time. I start to feel confined and claustrophobic. I don't know how people deal with those monstrously long flights to Australia or New Zealand. I'd lose my mind.

Fortunately, there are plenty of domestic and international travelers who post about their adventures online, and I can live vicariously through them without having to go through customs. There are also numerous movies and TV shows about this topic, including the episode of The Fonz and the Happy Days Gang that we're reviewing this week on our podcast. In "Around the World in 80 Ways," which originally aired in November 1981, Fonzie (Henry Winkler) and his companions have to win a race around the globe so that they can claim a solid gold loving cup that happens to contain their time machine, which has been shrunk down to the size of a toy. How did the time machine get in there? Does it really matter? What matters is that Fonzie and friends visit New York, Paris, Shanghai, and more.

But does that equal a good half hour of television? Only one way to find out: listen to the latest installment of These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 210: Flame of Islam (1953)

Ed Wood's Flame of Islam has apparently been located under the name Cleopatra Follies.

For a raging alcoholic with an unpredictable-at-best career, Ed Wood did an admirable job of keeping track of his numerous film and writing credits. From at least the early 1950s to the late 1970s, the optimistic Eddie kept updating his résumé in the hopes of scoring future work. Happily, some of his résumés have survived and have made it into the hands of fans and scholars. Bob Blackburn, for instance, has used these documents to track down various short stories and magazine articles Eddie wrote in the 1960s and '70s.

An article mentioning Flame of Islam.

One title that has long intrigued me is a film called Flame of Islam (1953) that Eddie claimed to have written, but not directed, when he was still fairly new to the motion picture industry. What could such a film be about? Would it have anything to do with the Islamic faith? Would it be controversial by today's standards? I despaired of ever finding this incredibly obscure movie until January 2015, when reader Douglas North informed me that Islam was likely an early '50s burlesque short featuring dancer Shirley "The Pussycat Girl" Hayes. According to a Billboard article from 1953, Islam was just one of two "three-dimension pix" that Shirley had made, along with something called Murder in Paris.

It's now January 2025, a full decade later, and I can now report that I have finally seen Flame of Islam under the admittedly-less-intriguing title Cleopatra Follies. The film is indeed a three-dimensional burlesque short featuring Shirley Hayes, along with Zabuda and Paula French, and it has been preserved shockingly well over the course of 70-plus years. My opportunity to see this strange film came through a Kickstarter-backed Blu-ray of Arch Oboler's Domo Arigato (1973), a movie I'd never even heard of. Cleopatra is included as a bonus feature on the disc.

So what do we get here? Well, as presented on this Blu-ray, the film starts with a lengthy, somber onscreen caption describing its provenance and current condition:

FLAME OF ISLAM was the first of five burlesque shorts presented in anaglyphic 3-D by Oakland and San Francisco burlesque theater magnate, Harry A. Farros. Photographed in Los Angeles circa May 1953, the title was changed to CLEOPATRA FOLLIES shortly before release on August 8, 1953. While working with George Weiss at Screen Classics in the spring of 1953, Edward D. Wood, Jr. wrote the script for this 3-D film under the title FLAME OF ISLAM. Wood lists it in a resume that he circulated around that time and we are grateful to Brendon Sibley for providing this information. 

3-D Film archive founder Bob Furmanek discovered the original left/right 35mm elements for CLEOPATRA FOLLIES at the shuttered Movielab Film Laboratories in Hollywood circa 1985. Despite our best efforts, we were not able to secure the material and it's likely they were junked with other orphaned film elements. Fortunately, we recently acquired a very faded 35mm anaglyphic print. Thanks to advanced digital techniques developed by 3DFA Technical Director Greg Kintz, we have been able to extract the original left/right data. Due to this severe fade, some baked-in ghosting on the left eye element remains.

Despite all this hand-wringing and disclaiming, the film actually looks quite good, probably sharper and clearer than it did in 1953. 

What stands out here, literally and figuratively, are the three-dimensional effects. After the opening disclaimer ends, Cleopatra Follies runs about ten minutes and showcases three separate dancers, each performing in what looks like the spacious courtyard of a large California home. There are vases in the foreground and archways in the background, and these objects really lend a sense of depth to the image. The dancers themselves occasionally add to the effect by extending their arms toward the audience. And when they walk around, it's almost as if they're walking off the screen into your lap. Imagine Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) watching that fateful hologram of Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher) in Star Wars (1977).

The film's opening credits are simplicity itself: "Harry A. Farros presents Cleopatra Follies. Copyright MCMIII. Broadway Roadshow Productions." No surprises there. Ed Wood's involvement in this project was limited to the film's script. Apparently, he was given some already-completed footage of the three dancers and asked to write some narration for it. In retrospect, this assignment was not unlike his later work for Bernie and Noel Bloom, writing photo captions for adult magazines and subtitles for porno loops. Only here, the women keep their clothes on.

Burlesque dancer Zabuda.

The first dancer to appear in the film is the raven-haired Zabuda (aka Gloria Robles), clad in the kind of scanty, diaphanous costume that we might imagine a harem girl wearing in an old movie set in the desert. Here's what the narration says about her: "May we present Zabuda in an Oriental specialty entitled Slave to the Sultan!" That's it. These exotic dance routines were Zabuda's specialty in the 1950s, and she took particular pride in her graceful arm movements. It is her routine, vaguely evocative of the Middle East, that gives this film its now-startling title. It's my guess that the name Flame of Islam was meant to suggest the mystery and intrigue of a faraway land, not to refer to any religion. I know that seems weird to us now, but keep in mind that this movie was made over 70 years ago. Anyway, Zabuda's routine, like those of the other two dancers, is underscored with generic jazz.

Next up is a slim brunette named Paula French. I suppose she was a West Coast burlesque star of the era, too, but almost everything I can find about her online is related to this specific film. When I searched through an archive of vintage newspapers, I found a few ads for Paula's nightclub appearances in North Hollywood and Van Nuys, dating from about 1954 to 1957. Someone named Paula French turns up in Sacramento in 1967, selling "home furnishings," but I don't know if it's our gal. Here's what our narrator tells us about her in Cleopatra Follies: "The Gold Coast of California is the natural habitat of pretty girls, and one of the tops is Paula French in her interpretation of Exotic Mood." (It might be "Exotic Moon" or "Exotic Moods," but the audio cuts off. The narrator also pronounces "habitat" as "habi-tot.") Paula has shorter hair than Zabuda, and her dance is filmed in a different part of the same courtyard.

The third and final performer in Cleopatra Follies is the aforementioned Shirley Hayes, the red-headed dancer that Douglas North mentioned to me ten years ago. If Zabuda's gimmick was evoking the Middle East, Shirley's gimmick was imitating a cat by wearing a whiskered mask and prowling the stage in a feline sort of way. "And now for your pleasure," says our deep-voiced narrator (not Ed, by the way), "we bring you the firebrand from New Orleans, Shirley Hayes, in an unusual creation, The Pussycat Girl." Shirley then does her signature routine for a few minutes, still accompanied by anonymous jazz. She does remove her mask before the short ends, allowing us to see her entire face. The "Pussycat Girl" sequence has the same backdrop as the "Slave to the Sultan" sequence, including the same vases.

With its lengthy wordless passages and its bevy of sexy dancing girls writhing for our enjoyment, Cleopatra Follies reminded me a great deal of Orgy of the Dead (1965) and the burlesque sequences in Glen or Glenda (1953). The Wood content amounts to a mere 61 words of narration. Is this film essential to our understanding of Edward D. Wood, Jr.? Hardly. But it's a neat curio and a valuable souvenir of a long-gone era of "adult" entertainment.

Some images related to the film have been posted here.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 209: Ed and Bela ring in the new year

This kid knows how to have a good time, obviously.

Is New Year's Eve a big deal for you? It isn't for me. Neither is New Year's Day, though I'm happy to get some time off work for it. I've just never been big on celebrating the start of another year or lamenting the end of the previous one. Neither one means a thing to me.

Maybe it's because I don't drink. But you know who did? Edward D. Wood, Jr. I'm sure Eddie had a few eventful December 31sts along the way. Somehow, though, the holiday doesn't play a major role in his films or his writing as far as I can tell. The one major exception that comes to mind is an anecdote Ed included in his posthumously-published manifesto Hollywood Rat Race (1998). Today, I thought I'd share that anecdote in its entirety.

A little context: It's December 1953, and Eddie is trying to revive the career of his friend, actor Bela Lugosi. Putting the frail, 71-year-old actor in a play would be too demanding, Ed decides, so the best strategy will be for Bela to make personal appearances and meet his fans. But where? Well, I think I'll let Eddie take over the story from here.

Happy New Year, everybody!