Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 241: Ed Wood's thoughts on science and technology

Isn't pretty much everything "God's domain" when you think about it?

You'd assume that the makers of science-fiction movies would generally be in favor of actual science. I mean, it's right there in the name of the genre. But, after a lifetime of watching these films, it's clear to me that Hollywood views science with extreme skepticism if not outright contempt. From exploring space to trying to eradicate disease or extend life, science almost always leads to disaster in the movies. Perhaps sci-fi helps us deal with our fears about so-called "progress," from the feeling that technology will ultimately rule and/or destroy the human race to the sneaking suspicion that, by learning too much about the world, we are in constant danger of upsetting God. 

As Ned Flanders (Harry Shearer) once remarked on The Simpsons: "Science is like a blabbermouth who ruins a movie by telling you how it ends!"

But do the movies of Edward D. Wood, Jr. reflect the general anti-science bias of popular culture? Well, it depends on the movie. 

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 222: Ed Wood and Admit One Video Presentations (Part 2)

Ed Wood (top row, center) stars in Glen or Glenda, as released by Admit One Video Presentations.

Last week, we got to know Admit One Video Presentations, the offbeat Toronto-based company that distributed Ed Wood's movies in Canada in the 1980s. Like numerous other companies from that era, Admit One acquired vintage low-budget sci-fi and horror films and released them profitably for home viewing, much to the delight of the emerging "bad movie" cult. You might think of them as Canada's answer to Rhino Home Video or Something Weird Video. To my knowledge, Admit One put out their own versions of all six of Ed Wood's directorial efforts from Glen or Glenda (1953) to The Sinister Urge (1960). If eBay listings are to be believed, these releases are now pricey collector's items.

I was unaware of Admit One until recently, when reader Brandon Sibley brought the company and its products to my attention. To me, the most intriguing of the company's tapes is their release of Glen or Glenda because it gives us yet another slightly different cut of the film. In the past, I've explained how Glenda was released under numerous titles and was edited to various lengths, often to appease the censors. To summarize, the main edits I'm familiar with are:

• The Rhino cut. The longest, least-censored edit I've seen, if not necessarily the best looking or sounding. It was released on VHS tape by Rhino Home Video and was included on the two-disc set Ed Wood: A Salute to Incompetence (2007) from Passport International Entertainment. The film's title card is obviously, clumsily doctored. Whatever real title appeared onscreen has been blurred out, and the title "GLEN OR GLENDA" has been pasted over it. I believe this change was made by distributor Wade Williams, who did something similar to Night of the Ghouls (1959) aka Revenge of the Dead.

• The Image Entertainment cut. The most common version I've seen on the market. This is a sharper, cleaner transfer of the film with less static on the audio track, but it's plagued by numerous omissions, including a scene in which a homosexual man (Bruce Spencer) hits on an unfriendly straight man (Conrad Brooks). The dialogue also deletes certain references to God and sex. Some shots, including part of Glen's nightmare, have been trimmed for pacing reasons. Image's cut is the one used for the colorized version of Glen or Glenda and was also the one Rob Craig consulted for Ed Wood, Mad Genius (2009). It, too, has the doctored title card.

• The AGFA cut. The most recent edition of the film and the one that has provoked the most angry reactions from Ed Wood fans. This transfer from the American Genre Film Archive features dramatically brighter, crisper images than we've ever seen before, but it is also easily the shortest, most censored cut of the movie on the market. It's missing many sequences, some of which are iconic and crucial (e.g. the buffalo stampede) and also reorders certain scenes, especially during Glen's nightmare. The film features a unique credit sequence, including a title card that incorrectly identifies the movie as Twisted Lives. 

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 221: Ed Wood and Admit One Video Presentations (Part 1)

This quirky company brought Ed Wood's movies to the Great White North.

The home video gold rush of the 1980s and '90s was a boon to director Ed Wood, even though he was already dead by then. By pure serendipity, the book The Golden Turkey Awards (1980) made Eddie and his films famous at the same time people were starting to buy VCRs for their homes. Naturally, those folks needed plenty of prerecorded videotapes to play on those expensive new machines of theirs, and numerous distribution companies popped up to supply those tapes. Ed Wood's movies certainly were not left out in the cold. His best known works, including Glen or Glenda (1953), Bride of the Monster (1955), and Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957), were released on tape numerous times by numerous labels.

In the 1980s, a Canadian company called Admit One Video Presentations produced its own line of Ed Wood tapes, perhaps hoping to capitalize on the Golden Turkey publicity. Very little evidence of Admit One survives today, apart from some Ebay listings for their products, but they released editions of numerous sci-fi and horror films: Robot Monster (1953), Reefer Madness (1936), Spider Baby (1967), The Horror of Party Beach (1964), Chained for Life (1952), Satan's Satellites (1958), She Demons (1958), Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla (1952), Monster from Green Hell (1957), The Robot vs. The Aztec Mummy (1958), White Zombie (1952), Lost Planet Airmen (1951), and Bowery at Midnight (1942), which came paired with Dick Tracy vs. Cueball (1946). 

What concerns us, however, are Admit One's releases of Ed Wood's movies. It was reader Brendon Sibley who brought the company to my attention. As far as I can tell, Admit One put out its own editions of Plan 9 from Outer Space, Bride of the Monster, and Glen or Glenda plus Jail Bait (1954), Night of the Ghouls aka Revenge of the Dead (1959), and The Sinister Urge (1960). In case you're counting, that's all six of the feature films Ed directed during his classic period. You must admit that's a very decent Ed Wood catalog, especially considering the Tim Burton biopic was a decade away and Nightmare of Ecstasy (1992) hadn't even been published. 

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.)

Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes: "The Green Dragon (Inspired by 'Glen or Glenda')"

I've heard he sits on your doorstep.

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

The story: "The Green Dragon (Inspired by Glen or Glenda)" by Kurt McCoy

Bela Lugosi in Glen or Glenda.

Synopsis: A large, scaly, green dragon rises up from the sea and approaches a high-rise building in an unnamed city. The monster slithers up to the top and enters the penthouse laboratory of a strange scientist named Dr. Vorkhoff. The dragon declares, as usual, that it is hungry. Vorkhoff and the dragon gaze at a magical obsidian mirror, which allows them to view all the people in the city below them. They single out an avid pulp fiction reader named Denis Davis. Denis looks at his own reflection in a window and sees a woman named Denise staring back at him.

Soon, Denis becomes obsessed with Denise to the point that his feminine alter ego is all he can think about. Eventually, when he can stand it no longer, he ventures into a department store and pretends to buy a new wardrobe for his "twin sister." An understanding sales clerk helps him pick out some outfits, plus lingerie and makeup. It takes Denis a while to get used to these things, especially the torturous high heels.

When he ventures out in public in women's clothing for the first time, Denis is initially thrilled to see the world through fresh eyes. Soon, though, he is harassed by some police officers who taunt him and beat him nearly to death. The badly-injured Denis finds himself in the office of Dr. Vorkhoff, who says the young man is lucky to be alive. But Denis is more worried about Denise. The doctor says that, in order for Denise to survive, Denis must make a great sacrifice. The man agrees.

Vorkhoff performs a sex change on Denis, who now is permanently Denise. As payment, Vorkhoff has taken Denis' penis and placed it in a decorative coffin. But Denise has to rush out of the building to keep away from the hungry dragon. Once outside, Denise sees the reflection of Denis as he withers and dies, a tragic but necessary sacrifice. Where Denis merely sat on the sidelines and watched the world go by, Denise will live her life to the fullest. Back in the penthouse, Vorkhoff and the dragon gaze into the mirror to select their next subject.

Excerpt:

For a moment he found himself face to face with a beautiful woman, his blue eyes and hers locked in mutual surprise. Denis started to say something before he could think of anything to say. She opened her mouth then abruptly closed it at the same time. They both laughed at their shared awkwardness.

Reflections: When I first saw Glen or Glenda (1953) in 1992 and conned a few friends into seeing it with me, the character we all imitated afterward was Bela Lugosi's mysterious Scientist. (That's how he's identified in the credits, so that's what I'm calling him.) We'd never seen anyone like him in any movie. Even in the wild and wooly pantheon of Ed Wood, the Scientist is one strange man: a solitary, nameless alchemist who dwells in an eerie yet elegant laboratory/den filled with ghoulish bric-a-brac. From this lonely place, which seemingly exists outside the normal time-space continuum, he observes and guides the mortals who dwell beneath him. He has the powers of a god and can change men into women with a wave of his aged hand.

In Ed Wood (1994), even Eddie (Johnny Depp) has some trouble when he tries to explain the Scientist character to Bela (Martin Landau). Their conversation goes like so:

ED: Your part's a little different. You're like the god that looks over all the characters and oversees everything. 

BELA: I don't understand.

ED: You control everyone's fate. You're like the puppet master.

BELA: Ah, so I pull the strings!

ED: Yes, you pull the strings. "Pull the strings." I like that!

The Man in the Planet (Jack Fisk)

The only character in movie history who might be able to relate to the Scientist is the Man in the Planet (Jack Fisk) from David Lynch's Eraserhead (1977). They have similar jobs, controlling the lives of others from a purgatorial wasteland. The near-constant drone of background noise in Eraserhead is oddly reminiscent of Glen or Glenda as well, since Lugosi's appearances as the Scientist are often underscored by the sounds of thunder and howling wind. But the shirtless, badly-burned Man in the Planet is more like a janitor or an elevator operator than a true god. Plus, he doesn't say a solitary word in his movie. The Scientist in Glen or Glenda, on the other hand, is quite verbose, given to emotional outbursts, baffling non-sequiturs, and rambling philosophical speeches. 

In one of the Scientist's best-remembered soliloquys, he warns us of "the big green dragon who sits on your doorstep." Author Kurt McCoy has used this classic line as the basis for an entire story, turning the dragon into a full-fledged, speaking character. McCoy has also given the Scientist an actual name (Dr. Vorkhoff) and has placed his lab in a physical location (the weirdly ancient top floor of an otherwise-modern skyscraper). But the Scientist retains his inscrutability. Who is this man? Why does he do what he does? And how? What are the limits of his power? "The Green Dragon" doesn't exactly answer those questions, but it does expand intriguingly upon what we see in Glen or Glenda.

Who knows? Maybe Vorkhoff and his dragon pal are still at it somewhere, gazing through their enchanted mirror in search of another wayward soul. Bonus points to McCoy, by the way, for zeroing in on the fact that mirrors and reflections were of major importance to Ed Wood, both in his work and in his life. Don't forget that Ed once wrote a whole story called "Never a Stupid Reflection" (1973). I somehow get the impression that Eddie spent many hours contemplating his own reflection, especially when he was all dressed up in his finest angora.

Ed Wood's Warm Angora Wishes: "The Night the Devil Met Igor"

Captain DeZita (center) runs into a young Charles Bronson in "The Night the Devil Met Igor."

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

The story: "The Night the Devil Met Igor" by Brad A. Braddock

Synopsis: It is 1953, and Ed Wood has just finished principal photography on Glen or Glenda. He's on his way to the wrap party, but his leading lady and girlfriend, Dolores Fuller, wants to check on her girlfriend, Pattie. She promises to meet Eddie at the party later in the evening. Also on the Glen or Glenda set that day is the mysterious Captain DeZita, who plays the Devil in the film. DeZita is a conman and pimp with a terrible reputation, so producer George Weiss is wary of him.

Still wearing his costume from the movie, the lecherous DeZita follows Dolores down a dark alley. She is terrified of the strange man and begins running away from him. He pursues her and makes suggestive remarks. He even tears a piece of her angora sweater! Luckily, Dolores makes it to a nearby building. It turns out to be the Paramount Theatre, which is hosting the premiere of the 3D horror movie House of Wax. Among the celebrities on hand are Ronald Reagan and Bela Lugosi. DeZita, mad with lust, continues to pursue Dolores through the crowded theater.

Just as DeZita corners Dolores, he is put in a headlock by actor Charles Buchinsky, who plays the mute Igor in House of Wax. Buchinsky is well aware of DeZita's reputation and forces the creepy old man to apologize. DeZita then scurries away like a rat. Ed Wood finally shows up, having been summoned to the Paramount by the police. Charles gives Ed and Dolores two tickets to House of Wax, and they happily stay to watch the premiere. Charles steps outside and meets Bela Lugosi. The actors exchange notes, and Bela wishes Charles good luck in his career.

In an epilogue, Criswell makes predictions for Ed Wood, Captain DeZita, and the others, These predictions, however, are much more accurate than usual, including the fact that Charles Buchinsky will change his name to Charles Bronson and become a major movie star in the 1970s.

Excerpt:

DeZita was sweating and nervous as he replied, "Charles... Charles Buchinsky. Congratulations on your big break tonight."

Charles slapped DeZita again, this time harder, drawing blood lines across his face. Charles replied, "I play a goddamn mute. You call that a big break? I'm of Eastern European descent, in a day where the government thinks anyone with that background is a communist."

DeZita answered, "You could always change your name from Buchinsky to something like... say, Bronson."

A "major fib" in Ed Wood.

Reflections: In writing the screenplay for Ed Wood (1994), Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski largely tried to stick to the truth, at least as much of it as they could glean from Rudolph Grey's oral history Nightmare of Ecstasy (1992). But even that book, with its wealth of quotes from Ed Wood's friends, relatives, and professional associates, was vague about how people met or how certain events in Eddie's career came about. So Scott and Larry cheerfully concocted a few "meet cutes" for the major characters and filled in various missing details in the timeline with their imaginations. 

"Then," as the writers admit in the published version of their script, "to tie everything together, we invented one major fib." 

They're referring to the totally fictional meeting in the film's third act between Ed (Johnny Depp) and his hero Orson Welles (Vincent D'Onofrio) at Musso & Frank's. Orson gives the dejected, down-on-his-luck Ed a pep talk about staying true to his artistic vision, and Ed is inspired to finish Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957). To be clear, this incident never happened, and no one ever claimed that it did.

"The Night the Devil Met Igor" does something similar. It takes some real people—Ed Wood, Dolores Fuller, Captain DeZita, Bela Lugosi, and Charles Bronson—and puts them in an almost entirely fictional scenario. A mysterious man who called himself Captain DeZita was in Glen or Glenda (1953), and he was a known conman and pimp, just as this story suggests. But the part about DeZita chasing Dolores Fuller into the premiere of House of Wax and getting beaten up by Charles Bronson is purely fantasy on the part of the author.

Incidentally, although House of Wax actually premiered in New York, it was given a gala showing in Los Angeles at the Paramount, again just as this story attests. Bela Lugosi and Ronald Reagan were among the attendees that night, as were Shelley Winters and Danny Thomas. As luck would have it, there is even some vintage newsreel footage of the premiere. Watch this and imagine that the events of "The Night the Devil Met Igor" are happening somewhere in the background.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 197: Comparing multiple prints of 'Glen or Glenda' (1953)

Here we see a side-by-side comparison of two prints of Glen or Glenda.

If movies are made in the editing room, then Ed Wood's debut feature, Glen or Glenda (1953), was made, unmade, and remade several times over. I can't keep track of how many different versions of this film there are, and each one is as unique as a fingerprint. (Notice how fingerprints look pretty much the same from a distance but reveal their differences under scrutiny.) Over the decades, this movie has been released under innumerable titles, including I Led 2 Lives, Transvestite, and He or She. In the Ed Wood canon, perhaps only Orgy of the Dead (1965) has more aliases.  The content of the film has also changed noticeably from one edition to another, with certain lines or even whole scenes being added or omitted. 

Still my favorite edition of Glenda.

This phenomenon is as old as the film itself. Producer George Weiss infamously added saucy burlesque footage to an extended dream sequence late in the film, apparently without consulting Ed Wood. He did this for a number of reasons: to pad the run time, to add some sex appeal, and to reuse footage that he already owned. As a result, I don't think that there is any such thing as a "definitive" or "complete" cut of Glen or Glenda. As much as I'd like to see Criterion release a director's cut of this significant (and still shockingly relevant) motion picture, I don't think such a thing is possible.

The first version of the film that I ever saw was the one released by Rhino Video in 1996 as part of its Ed Wood Collection series of VHS tapes. This was the edition that I meticulously transcribed decades ago, and as far as I know, it's the lengthiest cut of Glen or Glenda that you can buy. Even here, though, are what some may consider impurities. Rhino's edition contains the Weiss-added burlesque footage, for instance, which irks certain Ed Wood fans. And the title card was obviously doctored—and crudely at that—by distributor Wade Williams. (My guess is that Williams' print carried one of the film's lesser-known alternate titles.) Nevertheless, Rhino's Glen or Glenda remains my preferred edition of the film. 

I was rather dismayed that, starting in the 2000s, the most commonly-available Glen or Glenda DVD on the market (included in popular sets like The Worst of Ed Wood and The Ed Wood Box) was from Image Entertainment and mastered from a censored, shortened print of the movie that lacked several key moments! When Legend Entertainment released its colorized version of Glen or Glenda in 2012, they used this censored cut of the movie. Even Rob Craig's exhaustive book Ed Wood, Mad Genius (2009) used the bowdlerized Image Entertainment version of Glen or Glenda for reference.

How do you know if the version of Glenda you're watching is the censored version? There's an easy test. Fast forward to the first conversation between Inspector Warren (Lyle Talbot) and Dr. Alton (Timothy Farrell) until you get to this bit of dialogue:

DR. ALTON: Most of us have our idiosyncrasies.

INSPECTOR: This fellow's was quite pronounced.

DR. ALTON: Yes, but I wonder if it rated the death warrant it received. I don't think so.

INSPECTOR: Well, that's why I'm here today, Doctor. What do we do about it?

If Dr. Alton's "I don't think so" is missing, you have the censored Glen or Glenda. Again, I humbly refer you to my transcript of the entire movie. I've highlighted all the missing and excised material in red.

You may also remember that, back in 2020, there was some hubbub about a restored 35mm print of Glen or Glenda that received some theatrical showings and was briefly available as a digital download from the American Genre Film Archive (AGFA). Any fans hoping for a "definitive" or "complete" edition of Glenda quickly had their hopes dashed when they saw the results. As Greg Dziawer pointed out in his article, this was the shortest edition yet of the film, even shorter than the Image DVD! 

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 194: 'Jim's Introduction to Gender Identity' (2017)

An animated short film from 2017 deals with some of the same issues as Glen or Glenda.

As I was rewatching Glen or Glenda (1953) recently, I took note of just how many earnest heart-to-heart conversations this one film contains. Let's see here. Inspector Warren (Lyle Talbot) talks to Dr. Alton (Timothy Farrell). Glen (Ed Wood) talks to his fiancée, Barbara (Dolores Fuller). Glen's sister Sheila (Evelyn Wood) talks to her unnamed female coworker. Glen talks to Barbara some more. Two unseen foundry workers, Jack and Joe, talk to each other. Glen talks to his friend Johnny (Charles Crafts). Glen talks to Barbara a third (!) and fourth (!!) time. Finally, Dr. Alton talks to Glen and Barbara. That's a lot of conversation for a film that's barely feature-length.

Some Glenda-esque poster art.

Glen or Glenda deals with some sensitive and highly controversial topics, including cross-dressing and gender reassignment, and writer-director Edward D. Wood, Jr. obviously felt the best strategy was to have his characters sit down and exchange their thoughts and feelings about these things. In Cult Movies 3 (1988), critic Danny Peary even compares Glenda to old-fashioned soap operas in which women talk through their problems with friends over the kitchen table. It's a nice thought, isn't it? Maybe more of the world's problems could be solved if we'd just stop shouting at each other and started a calm, reasonable dialogue instead.

That's the theory, anyway. Your results may vary.

I thought about all of this as I watched Jim's Introduction to Gender Identity aka My Friend is Transgender (2017), a short film by New York-based animator K. Kypers. A video like this might have flown under my radar, despite garnering over 800K views, but Kypers recently began posting to an Ed Wood group on Facebook that I also frequent. In one thread, Kypers mentioned that the poster art for the short film was directly inspired by the iconic, instantly familiar Glen or Glenda poster. As I watched the film itself, I noticed that it contained numerous references to the Ed Wood canon, making it a prime candidate for coverage in this series.

Ed Wood Wednesdays: Ed Wood and the Hollywood Business of "Fake News(papers)" (Guest Author: James Pontolillo)

Did you ever wonder about those fake newspapers in Ed Wood's movies? James did!

Ed Wood's films are celebrated by fans and lambasted by critics alike for their makeshift props and low budget set dressing. But when it came to the use of reproduction newspapers for film inserts, Ed relied on the same industry-standard production house as the big Hollywood studios. Prop newspapers have been used in place of real ones from the earliest days of commercial film since they avoid copyright or legal restrictions while providing a budget-conscious resource for productions that cannot afford to license real products. And the supplier in Hollywood that most everyone has turned to for over a hundred years is the Earl Hays Press, the oldest prop house in existence.

Earl Spindler Hays was born (1892) in Pennsylvania [1]. In 1910 he made the great trek westward and immediately went to work as an apprentice printer in Los Angeles. The accepted history is that in 1915 Earl established a Hollywood print shop specializing in reproductions for the film industry. However, this is not supported by evidence to be gleaned from contemporaneous Los Angeles City Directories.

Instead, from 1910-1921, Earl worked for at least two different companies including J.F. Rowins in 1913 (430 South Broadway, building still exists) and the Western Printing Company in 1917 (631 South Spring Street, redeveloped). The First World War interrupted his career as Earl went off to serve in the U.S. Army Air Service (1917-18). He returned to Los Angeles after the war and resumed employment with the Hugo C. Jacobsmeyer Company (renamed Western Printing), which explicitly produced motion picture supplies. Earl worked as a printer and later as a salesman.

By 1922 Earl had struck out on his own with a small print shop at 5515 Santa Monica Blvd (redeveloped). He specialized in making props for the film industry and, as his business grew in leaps and bounds, repeatedly relocated his shop to larger quarters. In 1926, he moved down the block to 5533 Santa Monica Blvd (still exists). In 1932 he moved the company to 6510 Santa Monica Blvd, a one-story brick building in the heart of Hollywood that would be its home for the next decade [2]. (Current-day location of Dragonfly Hollywood – a hip-hop club which preserved the building's original brickwork and features bottle service reasonably priced at $500 - $1,400 before fees, tips and taxes [3]). 

In 1942 the Earl Hays Press relocated again – this time a few blocks down Santa Monica Blvd and around the corner to 1121 North Las Palmas (redeveloped). By 1944 Earl was employing a press writer and four printers solely dedicated to manufacturing newspapers, magazines and other printed materials for movie studios.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 167: John "Bunny" Breckinridge and the sex change that wasn't

Was Bunny Breckinridge really going to change his sex?

"Goodbye, penis!"

Bill Murray (left) says his famous line.

That's a line of dialogue viewers of Tim Burton's Ed Wood (1994) will likely remember. It's uttered loudly and publicly by Bill Murray as John Cabell "Bunny" Breckinridge (1903-1996), the foppish millionaire who was an unlikely member of Ed Wood's coterie and even played a prominent role in Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957). Why Murray chose to say those words in the exact cadence of Bea Arthur, I do not know. (But I'm glad he did.)

Some context may be needed for those who haven't seen the Burton film in a while. After the commercial failure of his directorial debut, Glen or Glenda (1953), Ed (Johnny Depp) is feeling down and decides to attend a wrestling match with his girlfriend Dolores Fuller (Sarah Jessica Parker) and Bunny.  Although Ed is initially unwilling to engage in conversation, Bunny excitedly tells Ed that Glenda has inspired him to get a sex change in Mexico. "It's something I've wanted to do for a long time. But it wasn't until I saw your movie that I realized I have to take action!" Ed is intrigued; Dolores is mortified.

Later in the film, however, Tor Johnson (George "The Animal" Steele) approaches Bunny during the wrap party for Bride of the Monster (1955) and asks him about the sex change. But a depressed Bunny tells him the sad story of what happened on the trip: "Mexico was a nightmare. We got into a car accident; he was killed. Our luggage was stolen. The surgeon turned out to be a quack." At the end of the film, a caption informs us: "Bunny Breckinridge, despite much talk, never actually had his sex change. He is currently living in New Jersey." Which he was, although at 91 he was too ill to do any publicity for Ed Wood.

The indomitable Chuck Harter recently sent me a cache of vintage news articles about this very subject, all from early May 1954, i.e. after Glenda but before Plan 9. You might remember Chuck as the reader who sent me the articles about Bunny's legal troubles a few weeks ago. And, once again, we'll go through these items one by one.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 162: Who was Patricia?

Patrick/Patricia is a crucial figure in Glen or Glenda (1953).

For reasons known only to himself, Ed Wood formatted Glen or Glenda (1953)— his surprisingly bold exploration of transgender issues—as a Dragnet-style police procedural. The film's inciting incident occurs when a young crossdresser named Patrick aka Patricia commits suicide in his small apartment after being arrested repeatedly for dressing as a woman. On the soundtrack, we hear Patrick's suicide note, presumably read in the man's own voice:

The records will tell the story. I was put in jail recently. Why? Because I, a man, was caught on the street wearing women's clothing. This was my fourth arrest for the same act. In life, I must continue wearing them. Therefore, it would only be a matter of time until my next arrest. This is the only way. Let my body rest in death forever in the things I cannot wear in life.

The policeman investigating the case is the humorless but sensitive Inspector Warren (Lyle Talbot). So concerned is he about the situation that he visits the office of psychologist Dr. Alton (Timothy Farrell). It is Alton who relates the two stories that comprise the bulk of the film, the first revolving around Glen/Glenda (Ed Wood), the second revolving around Alan/Ann (Tommy Haynes).

While Glenda moves on from Patrick/Patricia after about the first ten minutes, I could not help ruminating about this key supporting character and the actor who portrayed him. Glenda's own credits offer no help in identifying him, so we must turn to Rudolph Grey's Nightmare of Ecstasy (1992), where the filmography section tells us that this role was played by "Mr. Walter." Furthermore, the book's fourth chapter, entitled "Glen or Glenda & Jailbait" contains a Glenda cast photo provided by Conrad Brooks. There, the actor is identified as Walter Hajdwiecyz. Though he is at the center of the action and obviously among friends, he is unsmiling.

Back row: Makeup man Harry Thomas, Tommy Haynes, Ed Wood, unknown extra.
Center row: Conrad Brooks, Walter Hajdwiecyz. Front row: Henry Bederski.

Unfortunately, I cannot find any records of anyone with the surname Hajdwiecyz in the world. But a handle like Walter Hajdwiecyz can only be Polish in origin, and the similar moniker Hajkowicz is a real Polish surname. As for the "Mr." part, it was once common practice for hairdressers to go by "Mr. _____," omitting their last names. The most famous example was Mr. Kenneth (1927-2013). I'm not saying Mr. Walter was definitely a hairdresser, but he sounds like a midcentury hairdresser. In John Waters' Multiple Maniacs (1970), actor/hair stylist David Lochary is referred to as Mr. David.

Then, we must consider the voice we hear on the soundtrack, reading Patrick/Patricia's suicide note. We can take it on faith that this was Walter Hajdwiecyz himself, though it may not be. I've suggested in the past that this bit of voiceover narration was an inspiration for Johnny Depp's performance in Ed Wood (1994). I know Johnny watched Glenda repeatedly while prepping for the title role, and I feel that the Patrick/Patricia scene may have influenced his vocal cadence. Oddly, though, I don't think Ed Wood himself provided this bit of audio.

My dark horse candidate is another mysterious figure in the Woodiverse: Clancy Malone (aka Scott McCloud), the gawky male ingenue of Jail Bait (1954). I know it sounds screwy to you longtime fans, but these two characters have a very particular way of speaking—low and sort of whispery, their confidence wavering at the ends of sentences. Here, I've presented a little side-by-side comparison. Listen for yourself and make up your own mind. Either way, if you can provide me with more information about Mr. Walter, I'd appreciate it. You know how to reach me.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 143: Cult Movies 3 (1988)

Danny Peary returns to the subject of Ed Wood in Cult Movies 3 (1988).

Over the course of his three highly influential Cult Movies books, originally published between 1981 and 1988, critic Danny Peary covers a wide variety of offbeat films with devoted fan followings. This makes sense, since "cult" is more of a mindset than a narrowly-defined category. Fittingly, the films Peary discusses hail from different eras, ranging from the 1910s to the 1980s, and represent a number of cinematic genres: comedy, drama, science fiction, horror, action, Western, musical, fantasy, and even pornography. Along the way, Peary also covers a wide variety of filmmakers, everyone from John Ford to John Waters.

An interesting photo collage poster.

Still in all, there are a scant few cult directors whose films merit multiple essays in Peary’s Cult Movies books, including Alfred Hitchcock, David Lynch, Martin Scorsese,  Michael Curtiz, John Carpenter, George Romero, Stanley Kubrick (to my knowledge, the only director to inspire three essays), Russ Meyer, and our very own Edward D. Wood, Jr. That's right! Eddie's a two-time Cult Movies inductee. That ties him with his idol, Orson Welles. 

Seven years after reviewing Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957) in the original Cult Movies, Danny Peary reviewed Glen or Glenda (1953) in Cult Movies 3 (1988). I'm not sure how I learned of this third volume in the Cult Movies series, but when I did, I special ordered it immediately from the same Flint bookstore where I'd previously purchased the other two Cult Movies books. As I remember, it arrived at the same time as the elaborate, oversized script book for Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979). Getting those two books simultaneously must've been one of the most exciting days of my adolescence. 

Keep in mind that I read Danny Peary's books before I ever saw one of Ed Wood's movies, so Peary's essays about Plan 9 and Glenda helped shape my perception of those films. I'm sure Peary has deeply affected the way I write about Ed Wood, even today. So does Cult Movies 3 still have anything to teach me in 2023? Let's find out.

Like all the films included in the Cult Movies series, Glen or Glenda merits a few pages of coverage. We get a cast and crew list, some publicity photos (all B&W), a plot synopsis, and an explanatory essay. The cast and crew list comes directly from Glenda's own credits. No complaints there. The seven-paragraph plot synopsis is surprisingly accurate and lucid, considering the disjointed and often surreal nature of Glen or Glenda. Good job, Danny! Bonus points for working in a reference to "Morpheus, god of sleep."

As for pictures, we get a "slightly out-of-focus shot" (the book's term) of Bela Lugosi mixing chemicals in the lab set. ("It's always enjoyable to see Bela Lugosi," says the caption, "but it's impossible to figure out what his role is in this film.") Peary also gives us a photo-collage poster for the film, supposedly from its original release in 1953. (Tagline: "Strange Case: ONE BODY--TWO SEXES.") Remarkably, Cult Movies 3 includes a publicity still from Glenda's extended nightmare sequence. I was so taken by this picture—showing a woman bound-and-gagged on a couch and being menaced by a second woman—that I included it in the very first article in this series back in 2013.

This Bear is no golden turkey, says Peary.

Peary's essay starts with a broader discussion of the "bad movie" phenomenon, of which Ed Wood is only one part. Harry and Michael Medved's book The Golden Turkey Awards (1980) was fresher in people's memories back then, and it was still the driving force behind the Wood cult in those pre-Tim Burton days. Peary seems to have soured on the Medveds somewhat in the years since reviewing Plan 9, saying that he finds "worst film festivals" to be "particularly annoying" and "the equivalent of self-pleasing sports fans who do 'the Wave.'" (Peary has also written several books about baseball, so his irritation is earned.)

Overall, Peary concludes that Plan 9 and Glenda aren't really among the worst films ever made, "just the worst watchable movies." In this respect, he puts Ed Wood's movies into the same category as Phil Tucker's Robot Monster (1953) and Arch Hall, Sr.'s Eegah! (1962), among others. But Peary has some strict criteria for what constitutes a true "golden turkey." Films like Attack of the Killer Tomatoes! (1978) don't count, he says, because they're self-aware and trying to be campy. ("The hilarity must be unintentional," Peary insists.) Meanwhile, films like I Spit on Your Grave (1978) and Bloodsucking Freaks (1976) are too offensive to be enjoyable. He also rules out movies that are too boring to be fun and cites Michael Chapman's The Clan of the Cave Bear (1986) as his prime example.

Frankly, all this "so bad it's good" stuff doesn't really interest me anymore—even though it's what initially got me into Ed Wood's movies when I was a teenager—so I was relieved when Peary started discussing the specifics of Glen or Glenda. Peary takes a measured approach here, admiring Wood's film for its sincerity and daring while pointing out the film's numerous technical and aesthetic shortcomings. On the one hand, it took genuine courage for Ed Wood to make a movie about cross-dressing and transgenderism in 1953. If you've been following the news at all lately, you know that these issues are still controversial seven decades later in 2023! Eddie not only wrote and directed Glenda, he played the title role himself! Peary gives Wood all due credit for this, even complimenting him for tackling a sensitive "taboo" subject in "a non-exploitive, non-sensationalistic way."

On the other hand, even Glenda's most fervent admirers must admit that this film is cheaply made, haphazardly assembled, and patently ridiculous in many ways, from its stiff acting and its stilted dialogue to its stream-of-consciousness editing style. Peary discusses all of these topics and more in his review of Glen or Glenda. He writes:

Like other Wood films, Glen or Glenda? is distinguished by embarrassingly bad acting, dialogue, direction, cinematography, editing, music, cheap sets, and, significantly, ugly costuming. As usual there are zany moments that are guaranteed to make you both laugh and cringe. [...] The scenes with Lugosi contribute to the film's structural problems and incoherence. Even without his mindless banter, there is enough confusion caused by flashbacks within flashbacks, the use of several narrators, stylistic changes throughout, nonsensical dialogue, and the inclusion of meaningless images (lightning, stampeding buffalo, cars on the highway) only because Wood had free use of these stock shots.

I must say that, when I finally saw Glen or Glenda a few years after reading Cult Movies 3, the film actually exceeded my expectations. Peary's review, descriptive as it is, could not have prepared me for the real movie.

Don't get the impression that this review is all mockery, though. Along the way, Peary makes some cogent points about Glen or Glenda and its approach to transgender issues. I think my favorite observation is: "This is a rare film where men sit at a table (like old-style soap opera women) and converse about their personal problems!" I also appreciated a passage that compares Ed Wood's film to the educational "civics films" that we used to show to middle school and high school students. Peary deftly points out that the "Alan/Ann" sequence near the end of the film, in which a man becomes a woman through surgery and hormone injections, is similar to the process of an immigrant becoming an American citizen.

By the way, if you have any interest whatsoever in those vintage educational films, I highly recommend Ken Smith's book, Mental Hygiene: Better Living Through Classroom Films 1945-1970 (Blast Books, 1999). And from there, spend some time browsing the Prelinger Archives. I think you'll find that Danny Peary's comparisons are quite apt.

P.S.  One interesting aspect of Danny Peary's review of Glen or Glenda is that it includes numerous quotes from the film's producer, George Weiss. Peary says he took these from "an interview with Rudolph Grey for a book on Wood." Peary does not name the book, but Cult Movies 3 came out in 1988, four years before Grey's Nightmare of Ecstasy saw the light of day. Reader Willie Murrah informs me that these quotes came from a 1987 issue of Filmfax magazine with a twelve-and-a-half-page article about Ed Wood. Thanks, William! 

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 142: Graphing Ed Wood

Ed Wood stares at the peaks and valleys of his debut film, Glen or Glenda.

This whole thing goes back to Michael Bey. (Don't worry. It eventually leads to Ed Wood.) Back in 2007, Michael's hit film Transformers, based on the 1980s Hasbro toy line, had cinephiles everywhere in an uproar. Was this loud, ugly, CGI-laden toy commercial the future of movies? And, if so, what kind of future was that? 

Was this the downfall of movies?

Film fanatics were especially appalled by Transformers' average shot length or ASL. That's the average amount of time that elapses between edits—cuts, fades, dissolves, etc. Michael Bey is known for his frantic, fast-paced style, so his Transformers movies have a very low ASL, somewhere around 3 to 4 seconds. Some of Bey's action sequences have an ASL of just 2.7 seconds. Bey wasn't the only director doing this—not even close—but he was the most prominent, so he became the poster child for directors with short attention spans.

This ASL controversy garnered a bit of attention at the time from Chicago film critic Roger Ebert, who wrote about it in his Sun-Times column. He, too, fretted about those ever-declining shot lengths and longed for the more leisurely-paced films of the past. I was a regular reader of Ebert's reviews and columns, so that's how the phenomenon came to my attention. I'm not sure I would have known about it otherwise, since I didn't attend a lot of big budget action blockbusters back then. (I still don't.)

Nevertheless, I was curious about this whole ASL phenomenon because it gave me a different perspective on movies and TV shows. In one of his articles, Roger Ebert mentioned a site called Cinemetrics, which housed a database of user-submitted ASL graphs for various movies. I was interested enough in this topic to submit a few graphs of my own using Cinemetrics' own handy measurement software. The software really does most of the work for you. All you do is watch the movie normally, while clicking every time there's an edit. The software completes the graphing and calculating when you're done.

Between August and September 2007, not long after the release of Transformers, I submitted nine different ASL graphs to Cinemetrics: two episodes of The Simpsons (I wanted to compare different eras of the show), a notorious Sid Davis "educational" short, and six feature films, one of which was Ed Wood's Glen or Glenda (1953). I recently revisited Cinemetrics for the first time in years and found to my delight that those graphs are all still there! You can find them by going to the database page and searching for my last name, Blevins.

As for the Glen or Glenda graph I made over 15 years ago, what information does it yield? Hell if I know. I'm neither a filmmaker nor a statistician, so a lot of this is beyond my ken. I suppose I just wanted to see how Ed's movies were put together. Here's what I had to say about the editing of Glen or Glenda back in 2007:

A truly schizophrenic movie, editing-wise. Ed Wood alternates long takes with rapid-fire montages. There is a definite chasm between the scenes filmed with sound (lengthy static shots) and the scenes filmed silently (quick montages, often consisting of stock footage with post-dubbed narration). I must note here that this analysis is based on the Image DVD, which itself was made from a censored print of the film. Various small cuts, normally a phrase here or there, occur throughout the film. The censor clearly wanted to get rid of the word "sex" whenever possible. Whether this actually affects the number of shot changes, I do not know.

What's great about the Cinemetrics site is that you can customize the graph in a number of ways. For fun, try messing with the various settings, including "step," "degree of trendline," and "moving average range." Maybe, if you know filmmaking or statistics, these terms might even mean something to you. They don't mean much to me, I must confess. Anyway, here's how the Glenda graph looks at the sixth degree of the trendline.

A Cinemetrics ASL graph for Glen or Glenda.

I did find out that Glen or Glenda has a leisurely average shot length of 10.6 seconds. Ed's movies tend to be pretty sluggish, so this didn't surprise me. But I noticed there were three separate passages during which Glenda's ASL plunges precipitously. The first occurs about 11 minutes into the movie when Ed gives us a montage of stock shots and narration. ("If the creator wanted us to fly...") The second starts at about the 35-minute mark when Glen has a lengthy nightmare that ultimately evolves (or devolves) into a burlesque show. The third and final such passage occurs nearly an hour into the movie when Alan is transitioning into Ann. This, too, is presented as a rapid-fire montage.

Amazingly, I was not the only Cinemetrics user to graph an Ed Wood film! Back in 2008, a user named Hilary Mogul submitted a graph for Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957). Hilary found that the movie had an ASL of 7.8, nearly three seconds shorter than Glenda, so maybe Ed's movies were getting a little livelier as he went along. Here's how the Plan 9 graph looks:

A Cinemetrics ASL graph for Plan 9 from Outer Space.

I think you'll agree that the editing is much less, uh, idiosyncratic this time around. In terms of pacing, Plan 9 lacks the big ups and downs of Glenda. The only major dip in ASL occurs about 15 minutes into the movie. That's when we get the montage of flying saucer sightings, accompanied by Criswell's narration. You may notice that the pace picks up right near the end of the movie, too. That's when Jeff, Lt. Harper, and Col. Edwards confront Eros and Tanna in the spaceship. By Ed Wood's standards, this is a fast-paced action scene. Compare the Glenda graph to the Plan 9 graph, and you'll see that Glenda actually slackens the pace in its last few minutes!

In all, I was really heartened to know that the ASL graphs I had made back in 2007 were still available in 2023. Talk about a blast from the past! Back then, I didn't even have a blog, but it's clear that Ed Wood and his movies were on my mind already. What I really hope is that this article leads people to Cinemetrics, and they use the resources there to study Ed's movies (and other directors' movies) in a new way.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 141: The strange journey of the 'Glen or Glenda' theme

Bill Lava beams with pride upon learning his music is used in an Ed Wood movie.

Ed Wood rarely had the luxury of working with a composer on his films. From one end of his directing career to the other, with the exception of Bride of the Monster (1955), he had to rely on so-called stock or library music, occasionally to great effect. Who can forget Trevor Duncan's bombastic "Grip of the Law," which plays during the opening credits of Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957)? Or Hoyt Curtin's queasy, discordant music heard throughout Jail Bait (1954)? Today, though, I'd like to turn your attention to a bit of stock music that Ed used not once but twice: "Presenting the Doctor" aka "Secret of the Silent Hills" by William Lava (1911-1971).

The end of the line for Looney Tunes.

If you know William Lava's name at all, you're probably a fan of classic cartoons. Bill is best known as the composer for Warner Bros.' Looney Tunes series from 1962 to 1969. Unfortunately, these were the dying days for that franchise, so William Lava's name is on a lot of uninspired, cheaply-made cartoons. If you've ever suffered through a lackluster Cool Cat or Bunny & Claude short, you were listening to Bill's music. 

Cartoon historians tend to take a dim view of William Lava, comparing him unfavorably to his predecessors, Carl Stalling and Milt Franklyn, and dismissing his music as "mechanical." It's important to remember, though, that Bill was working under relatively spartan conditions during his Looney Tunes tenure. Theatrical cartoons were less in demand in the 1960s, largely thanks to television, and their budgets shrank accordingly. Sometimes, these cartoons would even be scored with stock cues that Bill had composed previously. The original Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies series finally petered out with the abysmal Injun Trouble (1969), and Bill himself passed on two years later at the age of only 59.

It was an ignoble end to a surprisingly varied and interesting career that merits further attention. What can you say about a man who co-wrote the theme for F-Troop (1965-67) and composed the score for Al Adamson's notorious Dracula vs. Frankenstein (1971)? He was no slacker, that's for sure. A Minnesota native, Bill Lava arrived in Hollywood in 1936 and soon embarked upon a career writing music for radio, film, and (eventually) television that would keep him busy for the rest of his life. Until he became associated with animation, laboring on both Looney Tunes and Pink Panther, Bill was never confined to one genre. In his early days, he scored comedies, dramas, Westerns, and more. 

In 1940, Bill wrote the music for RKO's The Courageous Dr. Christian, the first entry in a five-film series starring Jean Hersholt (yes, the namesake of the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award) as a crusading doctor. Over the opening credits of this medical melodrama, we hear a lush, orchestral theme known as "Presenting the Doctor." 

In 1951, Ed Wood brazenly purloined "Presenting the Doctor" and used it as the theme song for his soapy made-for-TV short, The Sun Was Setting. The film credits no composer, certainly not Bill Lava, but Eddie gave himself a credit for "Music Arrangement," suggesting perhaps that he personally selected this bit of stock music. He must have been especially pleased with this choice, because he re-recycled "Presenting the Doctor" as the theme to his debut feature, Glen or Glenda (1953). Decades later, Howard Shore cleverly quoted "Presenting the Doctor" in his score for the biopic Ed Wood (1994). If you own the soundtrack album (and you should), you can hear the Glenda theme in the tracks "Ed and Kathy" and "Ed Takes Control."