Here, this ought to creep you out nicely

In Soviet Russia, The Great Gatsby reads you in high school! 

Not sure exactly why I did this. Just felt it needed to be done, I guess.

Ed Wood Extra! The arrival of Lots #3028 and #3043

Here I am with my new Ed Wood poster, bathed in the greenish fluorescent glow of my small kitchen.

This poster caused me so much grief.

Chalk up one more thing Ed Wood and I have in common. Eddie suffered for his art. And I, too, have suffered for Ed Wood's art, though not for the reasons you might be imagining.

While making my way through, let's say, the '70s softcore romps Eddie wrote for Steve Apostolof involved a certain amount of tedium, I cannot say that Wood's work has inspired in me the same kind of theatrical agony it seems to have caused other observers. No, my suffering has been of a different stripe.

Since Ed Wood Wednesdays began back in July 2013, I have essentially been an indentured servant to a man who died nearly 40 years ago. In my quest to catalog the life and career of Edward Davis Wood, Jr., I have frequently forsaken such niceties as fresh air, exercise, and sleep. The sun may shine and the birds may chirp, after all, but this DVD of The Undergraduate isn't going to review itself! Like Mark Borchardt said in American Movie: "I have to adhere to this keyboard."

Conservatively, I'd estimate I've put on 15 to 20 pounds in the time I've been writing Ed Wood Wednesdays. I chalk it up to all those hours I've spent hunched over my laptop computer, keeping my energy up with a steady intake of frozen dinners and prepackaged snacks. Hey, Eddie got a little doughy near the end, too. That's yet another thing we have in common, except his weight gain came from booze while mine came from gummi worms and microwaved pizza.

And sometimes, this project has inconvenienced me in such silly ways that all I can do is laugh. Take today, for instance. You'll remember, a few weeks ago, that there was a massive auction of Ed Wood memorabilia. I chickened out on the big ticket items, including a suitcase and two trunks owned by Eddie himself, but I wanted to get something out of the auction so I bid on a few of the smaller items. I wound up winning two of these: a vintage one-sheet poster for Glen or Glenda? under the alternate title I Led 2 Lives (Lot #3028) and a set of eight Mexican lobby cards for Plan 9 from Outer Space (Lot #3043).

Today, they are in my possession at last, and getting them into my apartment was a Sisyphean ordeal. It should have been easy. FedEx was scheduled to deliver them yesterday, but I knew I'd be at work when they arrived so I arranged to have Patricia, the lovely lady who manages the office of the apartment complex where I live, sign for them in my absence. My apartment, I should say, is literally next door to this office. We share a wall.

But you know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men. My landlady happened to be dropping by the office when the FedEx guy arrived, and she prevented Patricia from signing for the package, reasoning that if they performed this simple kindness for me, a loyal rent-payer for 12 years, they'd have to do the same for everyone. My landlady, I can say from experience, is not someone with whom you can bargain... or reason.

One of my nifty new lobby cards.

Meanwhile, of course, my package could not be delivered as instructed. So back to the FedEx pickup center it went. Luckily, this is less than a quarter-mile from my home, since I live in a busy commercial district dominated by strip malls, chain stores, and gas stations. The clerk there was only too happy to turn over my Ed Wood poster and lobby cards to me.

But here is where the story turns into a Buster Keaton comedy. RR Auction sent these items in one large, flat cardboard box, and there was no way of fitting this into my cramped 2002 Chevy Cavalier. I tried every configuration I could imagine. Seats all the way forward. Seats all the way back. Passenger seat tilted as flat as it would go. Windows open. Trunk open. Nothing, and I mean nothing, worked.

Here I was, stranded in the FedEx parking lot just a few minutes away from my apartment. I thought of temporarily ditching the car and just walking the damned thing back home. But, again, this is a busy commercial district, and my story was happening during rush hour traffic. How was I ever going to get across those busy, dangerous streets with this ridiculous cardboard box? If I held it in front of me, I couldn't even see the traffic coming.

In desperation, I dragged the package back into the FedEx place and asked if I could just open it there and take the contents out. The lady behind the desk said this was fine, so I borrowed her scissors and cut into the package. And what tumbled out? More styrofoam packing peanuts than I have ever seen in my life. Dozens and dozens of the goddamned things accumulated at my feet. Mortified, I spent a good (read: bad) 10 to 15 minutes crawling around the floor of the FedEx pickup center in a frantic effort to retrieve every last one of those peanuts. The place looked nicer than my apartment, after all, and I didn't want to muck it up.

Eventually, though, I did manage to extract my purchases and get them into my battered, grungy old car. The Glen or Glenda? poster was swaddled in about eight miles of bubble wrap, so it was still quite a large item even outside of its cardboard cocoon. But at least it was now flexible enough to be (barely) wedged into the nearly-nonexistent back seat of my vehicle. I couldn't see a damned thing out the rear window, but then again, I didn't have far to drive. It wasn't 100% safe, but it was safe enough.

Once I got back home, I had a devil of a time chasing after all the additional styrofoam peanuts that were falling everywhere. I'm kind of a zealot about littering, especially in my own neighborhood, so I didn't want to just leave a trail of those tell-tale peanuts outside the apartment complex where I live. It was a windy day, though, so this was tricky to say the least. I'm sure I lost a few soldiers today.

And now? Well, now the poster and the lobby cards are safely ensconced in my apartment. And you know what else? They're really lovely. I have no idea what I'm going to do with them, but they're lovely nonetheless.

The Glenda poster is larger than I was imagining, the size of a small (admittedly very wide and flat) child, and still a satisfying shade of fire-engine red. Right now, still wrapped in plastic, it's leaning against the wall of my kitchen. I'll probably have it framed soon, but I think the kitchen is a good place for it. Much of Glen or Glenda? takes place in kitchens. Even Lugosi's lab where he creates life is a kind of kitchen. Every morning when I have my bowl of cereal, I can look up at Eddie smooching with Dolores Fuller, forever preserved in their 1953 glory. That's a nice thought.

The lobby cards came in a thick, heavy binder of their own. I might just leave them that way. To be honest, I haven't given much thought to the items themselves. I've barely even looked at 'em. For now, I'm just happy they're home.

POSTSCRIPT: In my Clouseau-esque struggles to get the uncooperative poster and lobby cards into my vehicle on Wednesday, I somehow managed to injure my left leg rather badly. By Thursday, that leg was noticeably bruised and achy, making it difficult to walk. For the last two days, then, I have been limping to and from work. Now that I am at last in repose, attempting to recuperate over the weekend, the medicinal smell of a cheap, over-the-counter topical ointment is stinging my nostrils. So when I say I have suffered for Ed Wood's art, I mean it quite literally.

Stan Freberg has died, darn the luck.

Stan "The Man" Freberg: Floats the jokes right down the drain! (And "pay radio" did come to pass!)

Somehow, I wasn't ready for the death today of Stan Freberg, even though the man was 88 and had been in failing health for years. All I know is that yesterday, there was a Stan Freberg, and today there isn't one. So today loses in a landslide. A comedian, satirist, radio star, voice actor, singer, songwriter, puppeteer, TV pioneer, and game-changing ad man, Stan was a wizard with words. But words are failing me now, as I try to describe what Mr. Freberg's work meant to me and why it was so important to the history of comedy.

I don't want to fall back on that label of "influential." Yes, it's very nice that he was influential on several generations of fans, some of whom grew up to create music and books and movies of their own. "Weird Al" Yankovic is probably Stan's most famous acolyte, and the two got to work together in the 1990s on CBS' short-lived Saturday morning offering, The "Weird Al" Show. Many more Stan fans probably went into advertising themselves and enjoyed the creative freedom he helped make possible with his innovative "soft sell" campaigns. His ads still work! In particular, a decades-old spot for the Milky Way candy bar created in me an irresistible craving for Milky Ways, even though it's not a product I normally purchase. Stan should've gotten a commission on that sale.

But, still, I say phooey to that "influential" jazz. That word makes it seem like Stan Freberg's whole purpose on this earth was to provide an example for others to follow later, like he was a means to an end. Stan was not a means to an end. He was the end!. His work provides plenty of pleasure on its own, well beyond its historical importance. I should know. I have several hours of his material on my iPod, and it is rare that a week goes by that I don't listen to some of it.

I hardly know where to begin in recommending his work to you. Maybe Three Little Bops, a jazzy little cartoon he voiced for Warner Bros in 1957? Something from Stan Freberg Presents the United States of America, perhaps? (There, I'm partial to "A Man Can't Be Too Careful What He Signs These Days" with Stan as a curmudgeonly Ben Franklin with serious qualms about affixing his name to the Declaration of Independence.) I could point you in the direction of his brief-but-brilliant CBS radio series, The Stan Freberg Show or one of those masterful sides he cut for Capitol Records, like "St. George and the Dragonet" or "The Banana Boat Song (Day-O)" or even "Widescreen Mama." (Sample lyrics: "Widescreen mama, don't you Cinerama me!")

All of these things are Stan, and yet none of them "are" Stan. He was a complicated guy: multi-faceted, multi-talented, and multi-media, though he loved radio best of all. Maybe I'll just play you the record that turned me from a Stan Freberg fan to a Stan Freberg fanatic. It's called "The World Is Waiting for the Sunrise," and it's a parody of a then-current hit by Les Paul and Mary Ford. He leaves the lyrics of the original song intact, more or less, and instead chooses to spoof the fussed-over, studio-perfected sound of the record. Here, just listen:



"Look out!!! The equipment is smoking!!!!! Run for your life!!!!'

How could I help but love something like that? For more on Stan Freberg, please see my review (a love letter from start to finish) of A Child's Garden of Freberg.

Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 58: 'Cult Movies,' No. 11 (1994) [part 1 of 2]

Some of the back issues of Cult Movies, including one about Ed Wood.

"Google is my best friend and my worst enemy. It's fabulous for research, but then it becomes addictive. I'll have a character eating an orange, and next thing I'm Googling types of oranges, I'm visiting chat rooms about oranges, I'm learning the history of the orange."

-Liane Moriarty

There was, believe it or not, a time when the answers to most of life's pressing questions were not a click away. That's an especially sobering thought for me, because I could not possibly write a research-heavy series of articles like Ed Wood Wednesdays without the invaluable aid of the internet.

This blog only exists online; there is no paper equivalent of Dead 2 Rights, apart from the yellow legal pads I've filled up with my notes. (And these get recycled as soon as they're no longer needed.) In fact, this blog started as a spin-off of a podcast, another distinctly 21st-century form of entertainment. 

In short, the internet has allowed me to connect with other Ed Wood fans and pop culture experts and has given me access to all kinds of reviews and news articles I never could have found on my own. And when it comes to acquiring books and DVDs to review for this blog, the vast majority of these have come to me through online vendors, both legit and gray market. 

This is what research used to look like.

But what about the movie fans of previous generations, the ones who had to had to do their research in the days before Google? Well, I've been there, too.

I can recall the Dark Ages -- you may remember them as the 1980s -- when even the most obvious Ed Wood movies, such as Plan 9 from Outer Space and Glen or Glenda?, were not available at a second's notice the way they are now. You had to hope a TV station, revival house, or campus cinema would show one of them. Or maybe the local video store would have an actual, physical copy of them on hand.

If the movies themselves were hard to come by, then information about them and the people who made them was even more scarce. You had to rely on the books your local library carried. There were newspaper and magazine articles, too, but these required mastery of such arcane technologies as microfilm and microfiche, not to mention a certain amount of familiarity with the Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature. That's why video guides like the one put out by Leonard Maltin were such a godsend, even if you didn't agree with the reviews. There, in one convenient place, you could at least find titles, cast lists, names of directors, and other basic release data. It was the nearest thing I had to the Internet Movie Database back when I was in junior high and high school.

Famous Monsters

One aspect of pre-internet movie fandom I've largely been ignoring up to now is the importance of fan magazines. The cult of Ed Wood actually began in the pages of such publications, which served as a precursor to the online message boards of today. Such evergreen titles as Famous Monsters of Filmland, Cinefantastique, Fangoria, and many others have played a vital role in the lives of countless horror, sci-fi, and fantasy film buffs. Along with these major titles, which were widely available at drug stores and bookshops, there were many smaller, more-niche publications, as well as a whole array of homemade, xeroxed 'zines. It just depended on how specialized the publication wanted to be and who its perceived audience was.

Unfortunately, the very existence of actual printed magazines is threatened these days. Sales are down. Printing costs are up. Shelf space is disappearing as book retailers go out of business. And nobody in the "free download" era wants to actually pay for reviews and articles about their favorite movies. That's a shame, because now writers have less incentive to actually produce this kind of material. 

As I've been doing research on the life and career of Edward D. Wood, Jr., I've come across many references to fan magazines. In particular, there were many mentions of one specific issue of one specific magazine. So I did what anyone in 2015 would do: I found it on Amazon. In the interest of science, I wanted to see if there were things about Ed Wood I could find in print that even the internet could not offer.

Which leads me to...

Cult Movies magazine, No. 11 (1994):

A thorough examination

Eddie makes the cover!

Front Cover

The cover, though not glossy, is at least printed on a slightly sturdier type of paper than the magazine's contents. Against a hot pink background, a sepia-tinted portrait of Edward Davis Wood, Jr. is surrounded by stylish black-and-white headshots of (clockwise from upper left) Vampira, Tor Johnson, Bela Lugosi, and Ed Wood in drag. The main headline reads: "So, Just Who the Heck is ED WOOD, Anyway??" Other headlines read: "Vampira Speaks!" "Criswell Predicts!" and "50 Lost Films Found!!" 

The first two are accurate. The issue indeed contains articles about Vampira and Criswell. I'm not sure where the "50 Lost Films" claim originates. It has no counterpart within the body of the magazine. Additionally, a small picture of actor Rondo Hatton, apparently an Alfred E. Neuman-esque mascot figure of sorts to Cult Movies magazine, can be glimpsed in the upper left hand corner.

Inside Front Cover

Two stills from Tim Burton's Ed Wood, similar to the ones in the official script book. The first shows Ed attending the rowdy Bride of the Monster premiere with Bela, Criswell, Vampira, Kathy and Tor in tow. The second shows Ed directing Plan 9, flanked by cast and crew, including Paul Marco and Conrad Brooks in their police uniforms. I've been able to find pretty close approximations of both pictures online.

"Deep Inside Cult Movies" (pg. 4)

Michael Copner

Now we have made our way into the magazine itself. True to fan-mag tradition, Cult Movies is printed on the same kind of cheap, pulpy-feeling paper you'd find in the phone book or old issues of Mad. The typeface tends to be very small, as if the editors are trying to cram in as many words as possible onto each page. The entire magazine is lavishly illustrated with photographs, ads, and posters, but these are all in very grainy black-and-white. In short, the magazine is an eyesore and made me grateful for my Kindle.

But what Cult Movies lacks in style, it more than makes up for in substance. In this friendly little article, for instance, editor-in-chief Michael Copner welcomes readers to the eleventh issue of the magazine and describes what we're about to read and what's been going on in the world of Cult Movies. "I hate to brag," he brags, "but I truly feel blessed that we have the greatest family of writers, artists, and film critics in fandom." 

As examples, he declares Fred Olen Ray's article about Edward D. Wood, Jr. to be "sensational" and also remarks with considerable pride that cult filmmaker Frank Henenlotter has generously penned two articles for Cult Movies, No. 11, including an interview with Ed Wood biographer Rudolph Grey. (The other is about exploitation filmmaker Barry Mahon and has no direct connection to Wood.) "To my knowledge," writes Copner, "Frank Henenlotter simply does not write material for film magazines." Guess Frank broke his own rule twice in one month. The editor further mentions that "Conrad Brooks returns to our pages" with an article about Criswell.

"A Ghoul Out West: What If Lugosi Were Teamed Up With Today's Imbeciles?" (pg. 22)

A very bizarre little article by Jan Alan Henderson, who says that Cult Movies "originated with the idea that Bela Lugosi lives eternal." Henderson starts out by reviewing two then-recent laserdisc (remember those?) releases of '40s Lugosi films: The Devil Bat (1940) and Scared to Death (1947). Henderson discusses Lugosi's work with such comedy teams as the Ritz Brothers and the East Side Kids and then imagines a scenario teaming up the Hungarian horror legend with '90s cartoon hooligans, Beavis and Butt-head. Hey, I'd be down for that. For Ed Wood fans, the real point of interest is the final paragraph:

PS: New Ed Wood Sighting: After all these exhausting profundities on behalf of Bela, I ran into an old friend of mine from Budget Films and Video, Larry Fine (not of the Three Stooges), who used to deliver films to the late great legend Ed Wood. Larry recently recalled his few encounters with Wood, most of which were with Ed over the phone, when Ed was visiting the twilight vodka zone. Larry also described to me a party, to which he delivered some rental 16mm films to Chez Wood, where Ed was in full drag and asked him to hang out for the show. Larry gracefully declined. Will the Ed Wood wonders never cease? Not likely.

Forrest J. Ackerman

"Uncle Forry: First and Last Fan" (pgs. 26-28)

This is an interview with Famous Monsters of Filmland editor and sci-fi memorabilia collector Forrest J. "Uncle Forry" Ackerman. The article is wide-ranging and career-spanning, but it does briefly touch upon Ackerman's relationship with both Ed Wood and Bela Lugosi. If Rudolph Grey is to be believed, the Wood cult truly began in the pages of Famous Monsters, where Ackerman routinely ran stills from Wood's 1950s films (Bride of the Monster, Plan 9) with mocking captions such as: "One of the unbest movies ever made."

For a period in the 1960s, Ackerman considered himself to be Ed Wood's literary agent. He even penned the introduction to Greenleaf Classic's Orgy of the Dead paperback in 1966. But as this article shows, Ackerman held Wood in contempt and found it beneath his dignity to work with him. This issue of Cult Movies was released in anticipation of Tim Burton's Ed Wood, and Ackerman makes a few whiny comments about the film's script, specifically its portrayal of a foul-mouthed Bela Lugosi and other purported inaccuracies:

Forry: I don't know as I ever... one thing I object to about the movie made about [Bela] is that I don't think I even heard him use "hell" or "damn." 

CM: Do you plan to see the Burton film? 

Forry: Oh, I'll have to see it, yes, but if it's anything like the original script, I know I'm going to be very disappointed, because they've taken all kinds of liberties. For instance, I was at the premiere showing of Plan 9 from Outer Space, out at 48th and Vermont at a little theater that doesn't exist anymore. But I think they have it taking place at the Pantages or the Orpheum or some far more grandiose opening than ever happened. And I was surprised that I was not contacted in the earliest stages of it, because after all I was Ed Wood's literary -- or perhaps we should say illiterary -- agent. 

CM: How did you first meet Wood? 

Forry: How did I first meet Ed Wood, you know, I think you'd have to give me hypnotic regression. I really pull a blank on that. 

With statements like those quoted above, Mr. Ackerman inadvertently revealed precisely why he was not asked to be a consultant on Ed Wood. His total lack of affection for Ed is plain to see. Left undiscussed here is Ackerman's problematic relationship with Maila "Vampira" Nurmi. According to W. Scott Poole's recent biography Vampira: Dark Goddess of Horror, Ackerman first promoted then distanced himself from Nurmi. He later based the character of Vampirella on her without giving her a cut of the profits. Frankly, Forrest J. Ackerman has never been a figure who has greatly interested me, despite the role he played in the Ed Wood saga.

"Edward D. Wood, Jr. Interview by Fred Olen Ray 1978" (pgs. 30-32)

Fred Olen Ray

This is one of the most exciting finds in the entire issue, even though its author seems slightly unenthusiastic or even apologetic about the material he's presenting. Back in 1978, low-budget independent filmmaker Fred Olen Ray, then a mere 23-year-old novice, gave Ed Wood a much-needed $500 payment to write the screenplay for a proposed feature horror-comedy film called Beach Blanket Bloodbath. Unfortunately, Wood died in December of that year before completing the script.

During the course of their brief, thwarted professional relationship, Fred Olen Ray had the presence of mind to interview the ailing director, whom he remembers as "easygoing and gregarious." Ray states that "nothing new is presented here" and that "some of his answers appear to be fanciful to say the least." I disagree with the former, at least. Anyway, here are some of Eddie's most interesting quotes from the interview:

• "I sold my first story called The Sunset Murders when I was twelve years old to Street & Smith... It went on from there... I've had 131 novels published and more than 1000 short stories and articles published in the last 15 years."

• "Alex Gordon and I had an apartment together. He knew Lugosi. I didn't. Lugosi turned me down at first [for Glen or Glenda?], but Lillian, his wife at the time, turned him on to it. I paid him $1000 a day... He needed the money."

• "You've seen [Bride of the Monster]... Lugosi was right for it! Yes, he was one of my dearest friends. I practically lived with him! I paid him more for Bride of the Monster than he got for Dracula. Sure, he needed the money, but don't we all?"

• "Bride cost $89,000, Plan 9 was $82,000, Revenge of the Dead [aka Night of the Ghouls]... $52,000. Other than that I can't seem to remember."

• "Lugosi was ill and needed some cash. I gave him $1000 and we shot in a cemetery that was being evacuated. I wrote [Plan 9] around the scene. Too bad my camera man used bad film... which he did!"

• [when asked whether any of Lugosi's footage in Plan 9 is repeated] "I have never duplicated a scene!"

• "The Ghoul Goes West I wrote and still own. It's a great one."

Wake of the Red Witch

Much of the interview does rehash stories that have been told over and over again in other books and articles. Eddie talks about using the octopus from John Wayne's Wake of the Red Witch and having to manually work the creature's legs. He never says, though, that he stole this prop. He also retells the anecdote about being baptized, along with Tor Johnson and Vampira, to get the money to make Plan 9, and he mentions using chiropractor Thomas R. Mason as Lugosi's stand-in in that film. These are the "greatest hits" of the Wood legend, so that's probably why Fred Olen Ray felt the interview had nothing new to say.

The article concludes with what Ray calls "a bibliographic listing of Edward Wood's feature film credits," including both titles and distributors. Eddie apparently presented this list to Fred when he hired on to write Beach Blanket Bloodbath for Firebird International. Ray makes sure to point out that the titles on the list were "compiled in this order by EDW himself." He also says, "You'll notice RKO listed as the releasing company for Bride of the Monster and Plan 9! If this is true, it's certainly news to me." Without further ado, here's the list as it appears in Cult Movies:

Orgy of the Dead (S.C.A. Distributors)

Shotgun Wedding (Allied Artists)

Escape from Time (Martha C. Brown)

Gun Runners (Don Davis)

Bride and the Beast (Allied Artists)

Portraits in Terror (MacLachlen Bros. Inc.)

The Violent Years (Headliner Prods.)

The Lawless Rider (United Artists)

Flame of Islam (Screen Classics)

White Flash (J.C. Prods.)

The Atomic Monster (Real-Art)

Glen or Glenda (Screen Classics)

Hell Born (Screen Classics)

Jail Bait (Howco Int.)

Bride of the Monster (RKO)

Plan 9 from Outer Space (RKO)

The Sinister Urge (Headline Prods.)

Revenge of the Dead (Atomic Prods.)

The Photographer (Joe Robertson Prods.)

Misty (Joe Robertson Prods.)

Operation Redlight (Joe Robertson Prods.)

One Million AC/DC (Ed DePriest Prods.)

Talk Sexy Y'All (Petroff Prods.)

Bed Time Talk (Pete Perry Prods.)

Love Feast (Capricorn Industries)

Take It Out in Trade (Ashdown-Gonzales, Inc.)

Necromania (Cinema Classics)

The Only House (Cinema Classics)

The Snow Bunnies (SCA Prods.)

Class Reunion (SCA Prods.)

The Hostesses (SCA Prods.)

Dropout Wife (SCA Prods.)

Fugitive Girls (SCA Prods.)

The Beach Bunnies (SCA Prods.)

Hot Ice (SCA Prods.)

The Wicked West (Capricorn Industries)

The Venus Fly Trap (Japan)

The Lure (Japan)

Las Vegas Cheat (ghost writer) (Betty Woods)

The Frank Leahy Legend (Scotty Williams Ent.)

The Naked Bowl (ghost writer) (Jeff MacRay Prods.)

Okay, okay. Setting the production and distribution companies aside for a moment, let's break this list of titles down into some basic categories. The first, I'm glad to say, is by far the largest.

Films I've reviewed under the titles listed here: Orgy of the Dead; Shotgun Wedding; Bride and the Beast; The Violent Years; Glen or Glenda?; Jail Bait; Bride of the Monster; Plan 9 from Outer Space; The Sinister Urge; One Million AC/DC; Love Feast; Take It Out in Trade; Necromania; The Snow Bunnies; Class Reunion; Drop Out Wife; Fugitive Girls; The Beach Bunnies; Hot Ice*; and The Venus Flytrap.

* Interesting that Ed Wood includes Hot Ice on his resume. Stephen C. Apostolof claimed that Ed had nothing to do with the writing of this movie, even though he's listed as an assistant director.

Films I've reviewed under alternate titles: Portraits in Terror (as Final Curtain); The Atomic Monster* (as Bride of the Monster), Revenge of the Dead (as Night of the Ghouls); The Photographer (as Love Feast); Misty (as Nympho Cycler); Talk Sexy Y'All (as Shotgun Wedding); and The Hostesses (as The Cocktail Hostesses).

* Universal's Man-Made Monster (1941) was re-released in 1953 as The Atomic Monster by Realart Pictures, the distributor listed above. But Eddie had no involvement with this production whatsoever, as it was made six years before he came to Hollywood.

The Frank Leahy Legend

Films I might have reviewed under alternate titles: Since Pete Perry's name is attached to it, Bed Time Talk might be Revenge of the Virgins. And The Lure might well be Venus Flytrap under another name. Who can say?

Films I've identified but not yet reviewed: I'm in the process of securing prints for The Only House and The Lawless Rider. Both will (eventually) be reviewed here.

Films that were not completed or that have been lost: Hellborn was abandoned and its footage edited into The Sinister Urge. And in a previous article in this series, Douglas North schooled us all on The Flame of Islam. Sadly, though I've reviewed other films by Don Davis and Joe Robertson respectively, Gun Runners and Operation Redlight have yet to surface.

Films that remain total mysteries: (only five titles) Escape from Time; The Wicked West; Las Vegas Cheat; The Frank Leahy Legend; and The Naked Bowl. The only print references to Martha C. Brown's Escape from Time are in books about Ed Wood. Same goes for Capricorn's The Wicked West. Las Vegas Cheat and The Naked Bowl don't even make it that far. As for Frank Leahy (1908-1973), he was an American football player and Hall of Fame coach at Notre Dame. The year after he died, an unauthorized biography called The Frank Leahy Legend by Bernard J. Williams and Leslie O. Read appeared on the market. Ed might have turned this paperback into a feature film script.

Something Weird Video ad (pg. 33)

SWV's edition of Necromania

Something Weird Video seems to have been the principal sponsor of Cult Movies, and in the early 1990s, they were also one of the main distributors of Ed Wood's work on VHS. This is a full-page ad for SWV's Wood tapes, including Jailbait, The Violent Years, Bride of the Monster, Plan 9 from Outer Space, Night of the Ghouls, and  The Love Feast (aka The Photographer). "They continue to entertain and baffle anyone who actually takes the time to watch them!" says Something Weird's tuxedo-clad cartoon mascot. The main feature, however, is a "special edition" of Necromania, which had only recently been rediscovered in a semi-complete 16mm print. Frank Henenlotter himself offers his breathless description of the film:

Those who know Ed Wood from such eccentric epics as Plan 9 from Outer Space and Glen or Glenda are in for a shock 'cause Necromania isn't quite like any other Ed Wood film. Perhaps the rarest and most sought after of Wood's "lost" features, Necromania is a crazy mix of sex and spookiness as a dimwitted couple, in need of sexual therapy, enter Madam Heles' presumably haunted house and find cheap sets, wacky dialogue, and a naked gal in Criswell's coffin! 

Hosted by yours truly, who also discusses the film with Ed Wood biographer Rudolph Grey. Plus, as an added bonus, a special abbreviated version of Love Feast featuring one of Wood's rare starring roles, in which Ed plays a horny photographer trapped in a perpetual orgy who is also made to wear a dog collar and nightie while licking the boots of his female captor. 

Nobody made 'em like Ed Wood made 'em.

A complete print of Necromania would not emerge for ten more years, so SWV's piecemeal version was definitive for a whole decade.

"The Vampira Chronicles" (pgs. 34-36)

The Divine Miss N

In the mid-1990s, the reclusive and eccentric Maila Nurmi started to reemerge from several decades in the shadows, largely spurred by the production of Ed Wood, in which she was portrayed by Lisa Marie, and an attendant renewal of interest in her strange career. In Vampira: Dark Goddess of Horror, W. Scott Poole describes how a series of fans temporarily befriended the always-reticent Nurmi in her later years, largely so they could ask her questions about Ed Wood and James Dean. (She and Dean were briefly an item until, by most accounts, he rejected her.)

Writer Robert R. Rees was one such fan. "The Vampira Chronicles" is culled from Rees' "volumes of correspondence" with the one-time horror host. Among many other topics, Nurmi shares her thoughts about Bela Lugosi, Tor Johnson, Ed Wood, and Plan 9 from Outer Space. Those who have seen Maila Nurmi in such films as Flying Saucers Over Hollywood or The Haunted World of Edward D. Wood, Jr. will know what to expect from an article like this. In her autumn years, Vampira affected an air of nobility and spoke with a quasi-British accent. When she spoke of Ed Wood, it was with an attitude of what I'll call "benign contempt," as if her former employer were merely a pesky little insect she couldn't be bothered to crush. In any event, the lady wasn't afraid to speak her mind, so we have some choice quotes here:

• "Mr. Lugosi was a victim of a hospital induced drug addiction for the last three years of his life only. He was too dignified a person to sink to 'milking' sympathy. And he got no sympathy -- only smears and jeers."

• "I'd say Bela was a victim of Ed Wood, society, and himself."

• "I don't know about early responses to Glen or Glenda, but I guess it was just passed off as a very bad second feature. as were all Ed Wood movies in the '50s. It was autobiographical and poignant. Lugosi had no sense of humor and was overplaying because Wood was milking the early essences of stage acting out of him. Wood doubtless thought he had extracted a fine dramatic performance out of his actor. Bela was too sick to care much one way or the other -- so long as he pleased his boss. All of this is only my considered opinion."

• "Bela was very sick and would craw out of his deathbed, at the last, to tub thump Ed Wood movies, only to be insulted by a public who had been poisoned by a smear campaign."

• "Tor Johnson was a member of Ed Wood's professional entourage, so he worked all pics. Tor was a gentle, kindly man. Some juvenile delinquents tried to overturn our car during a monster personal appearance tour. Tor said (phonetically) 'Pee knudt poys. Khoo hooome.' (He had a Swedish accent.) The boys disbanded under his influence."

• "[Ed Wood] was in fact a transvestite but did not practice it at work except during the filming of Glen or Glenda. [...] See, during Plan 9 (and I worked only one day), he wore men's clothes (like riding britches) and shoes but did use a megaphone. Ed Wood, it seemed to me, was an animal lover and a kind man."

• "[Ed] had no sense of humor and was totally literal and matter-of-fact."

• "The atom bomb had just newly been invented and Oppenheimer was much in the news shortly before Plan 9 was being written (1956) -- so Ed Wood's theories about nukes were logical deductions of a probable future."

• "Other than that 15 minutes before his camera (for which I insisted on playing mute and was paid $200) I did not work for Ed."

Artwork from Bizarre.

Interestingly, Maila Nurmi describes both Lugosi and Wood as being humorless, a claim I would dispute. Bela did comedy many times on stage and in movies, as covered in Jay Alan Henderson's article earlier in this very magazine. Meanwhile, Eddie's sense of fun was fairly legendary, according to those who socialized with him. There are too many stories about Ed being the life of the party or going out of his way to be outrageous for him ever to be considered humorless. He might have taken both Plan 9 and Glenda seriously, but there are examples of intentionally-comedic work in his repertoire as well, both as a writer and as a filmmaker.

"The Vampira Chronicles" also includes another iteration of the oft-repeated incident in which Maila Nurmi flatly turned down an offer to play Madam Heles in Necromania. Laid up in a hospital bed and unable to walk at the time (circa 1971), she had no interest in appearing nude in Ed Wood's Gothic porno film. In this version of the story, it is Wood's associate John Andrews ("one of those beer-boozed alcoholic morons") -- not Eddie himself -- who drunkenly called Ms. Nurmi to make the indecent proposal. "Fer a hunnert apples, baby, an usin' yer name," Andrews is purported to have said. Obviously, Maria Arnold was willing and able to take the small but pivotal role of Madam Heles.

Before we leave this feature, I'd like to present Maila Nurmi's own personal "recipe" for Vampira. It's tempting to say that she's derived solely from Charles Addams' Morticia, but that's an oversimplification. The character of Vampira had a number of "mothers," so to speak, as shown below:

2 oz. Theda Bara (vamp, vamp)

2 oz. Morticia (morbid Victoriana)

3 oz. Norma Desmond (Sunset Boulevard)

4 oz. Tallulah Bankhead (the voice dahling)

2 oz. Marilyn M. (Demons are a ghoul's best friend)

3 oz. Katie Hepburn (Victorian English)

2 oz. Bette Davis (mama, baby)

3 oz. Billie Burke (dilettante insouciance)

3 oz. Marlene D. (singing voice)

8 oz. Bizarre magazine pin-up (an S&M magazine of the day)

(big boobs, waist cincher, mesh hose, high shoes, long nails)

"Criswell Predicts" by Conrad Brooks (pg. 37)

(l to r) Conrad Brooks; Criswell.

The man who turned out to be the last-surviving cast member of Plan 9 from Outer Space pays tribute to one of his fallen comrades in this short-but-sweet retrospective. Conrad "Connie" Brooks, who appeared in every major Ed Wood feature from Glen or Glenda? (1953) to The Sinister Urge (1960), was clearly a key member of the director's inner circle during Wood's golden age. Here, Brooks gives the readers of Cult Movies an overview of the career of prophet, profiteer, and inveterate entertainer Criswell.

The article seems aimed at those who only know Cris from his appearances in Plan 9, Night of the Ghouls, and Orgy of the Dead. Brooks explains: "Criswell's work on the films of Ed Wood was certainly a sideline for the man. I'm sure that Criswell worked with Eddie mostly because they were friends, two unusual Hollywood types." Trying to present a more balanced picture of the prognosticator's great career, the article helpfully describes Cris' work outside of the Wood films, including his books, his newspaper columns, and his numerous appearances on NBC's venerable The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson. Conrad Brooks devotes the majority of the article (75%, I'd say) to Criswell's infamously inaccurate predictions, culled from his first two books. I already covered a lot of the same territory in a previous Ed Wood Wednesdays article, but it never hurts to revisit this material. Some choice excerpts:

• "I had a vaulting imagination, and my searching wet noodle of a mind was hard to control. I was not interested in the present events, but more interested in how they would turn out."

• "I predict that the present teen age drug problem will end in dire tragedy! The climate changes will make many drug mixtures fatal, and rather than becoming vegetables upon use, the person will be the victim of death!"

• "I predict it will be a very common and inexpensive operation to change a woman into a man with the simple transplant of the sex organ."

• "For we have only a short time left on this world as we know it! On August 18, 1999 -- all will cease. And we will cease with it!!"

Okay, so the world didn't end on August 18, 1999, but Criswell must have been one of the very first celebrities who routinely talked about "climate change." He was not only sure that the climate was changing, he expressed the opinion that mankind was to blame! How's that for seeing into the future?

And that will just about do it for part one of this ludicrous, two-part series about Cult Movies, No. 11 from 1994. As they say in television, "To be continued..." Why two parts? There was simply too much interesting material in this one issue to possibly cover in a single article, so I've decided to break this piece down into two more manageable halves. It was either that, or cover the articles one at a time the way I did with the stories in Blood Splatters Quickly. I figured this was a reasonable compromise. Patience, my pet.

NEXT: Part 2 of this mini-series, featuring "White Ghost" Valda Hansen, Bela Lugosi in Las Vegas, Wood biographer Rudolph Grey, a look at Ed's very first novel, The Casual Company, and so much more! You won't wanna miss it!

The 'Chinese Democracy' of various things

One of the most-anticipated and least-listened-to albums in rock history

This is what 14 years did to Axl Rose.

Remember Chinese Democracy? In case you've forgotten, it was a semi-popular 2008 album by Guns N' Roses. Previous to Chinese Democracy, GNR had not released a full-length studio recording since 1993's "The Spaghetti Incident?," so anticipation was fairly high when the LP first debuted.

It only reached #3 in America, but it went all the way to #1 in Argentina, Finland, Canada, New Zealand, Poland, Switzerland, and even Thailand. It got mostly favorable reviews domestically, and the title track was a mid-sized hit as well, reaching #34 on the charts.

In the seven years since its release, however, this noteworthy collection has largely been neglected. This is rather remarkable because, previous to its release, Chinese Democracy was one of the most infamous and written-about albums in the history of rock. The hour-long LP was 14 years (!) in the making, and by the time it came out, lead singer Axl Rose was the only original Gunner left in the lineup. The other musicians had either been fired or quit in disgust.

For years, rock magazines such as Rolling Stone dutifully reported all of the delays, missed deadlines, and outrageously mounting costs of the mysterious album, all of which were attributed to control freak Rose and his single-minded obsession with making Chinese Democracy absolutely perfect. Some writers even speculated that the album would never see legal release.

Finally, in 2008, Axl Rose proved the doubters wrong. What Rose had not predicted, however, was the implosion of the music industry, the decline of albums in favor of singles, and the general shift in audience interest away from heavy metal and towards pop and hip-hop. He'd made his masterpiece, but the general public had already moved on. After nearly a decade and a half of rumors and false starts, Chinese Democracy debuted to widespread indifference. Besides, no real album could possibly hope to compete with such hype and publicity.

Clearly, however, writers have not totally forgotten about Chinese Democracy, because they still use it as a metaphor for anything whose release is delayed for years and years. Some examples:

• Gawker called the Affordable Care Act "the Chinese Democracy of legislative components."

• RVA called D'Angelo's new album Black Messiah "the Chinese Democracy of R&B."

• The Reformed Broker called the Verizon iPhone "the Chinese Democracy of smart phones."

• Dowsing called Empire! Empire! (I Was a Lonely Estate)'s You Will Eventually Be Forgotten "the Chinese Democracy of emo."

• A pinball site called Pinside (their motto: "Flippin' fantastic!") declared that "the new Metallica Code is the Chinese Democracy of the pinball world."

• You want more? Well, according to various pundits, there are Chinese Democracys of "indie rock albums," "blog posts," "video games," "reality TV albums" (whatever those are), "algorithm changes," and "mountain bikes," too, plus a hell of a lot more.

So in a weird way, Chinese Democracy did achieve a sort of immortality -- not as a piece of music, but as a figure of speech. Does that count as a triumph?

One Song at a Time: "The Fast Food Song"

The Fast Food Rockers, moments before they were executed for treason by the state. 

The song: "Fast Food Song"

Artist: Fast Food Rockers

Released: 2003

There will always be a place in our society for completely mercenary "bubblegum" pop songs designed to grab the public's attention with the grim determination of a rabid terrier sinking its fangs into a mailman's leg. Seemingly idiotic and naive and therefore considered "harmless," this kind of music is actually quite cynical and calculated, driven largely by marketing and not by creativity.

The goal of these songs, which usually employ some kind of moronic gimmick and have a fiendishly catchy sing-song chorus, is simple: garner tons and tons of airplay within a short span of time, try to parlay that notoriety that into some quick sales, then cash in and get the hell out of Dodge before people get too sick of you.

(Such songs, however, inevitably overstay their welcome, which is why the artists behind them have such truncated careers.)

In years past, these kinds of tunes thrived on the radio.That's where we first found "Disco Duck," "Pac Man Fever," and "Barbie Girl," all of which I secretly love. Now, I guess, such ditties go directly to the internet, e.g. "The Duck Song" and its sequels. (Note: for all I know, "The Duck Song" may be completely sincere. Forgive me if it is.)

For a while, this field of entertainment was dominated by CGI animals, like Gummybear and Crazy Frog. By not being recognizably human, these animated creations made bubblegum pop even more obviously mechanical and impersonal. At least groups like Aqua and Rednex were made up of human beings ... sort of.

You might think America has a sweet tooth for this kind of pop music, and you'd be right, but this is one area in which we simply pale next to Europe. In England particularly, they just live and die for this crap. The British pop charts are like some weird lottery where athletes, flash-in-the-pan celebs, and cartoon characters have as good a shot at success as any pop singer. Hell, even the Smurfs topped the charts over there! No foolin'!

Anyway, I thought I'd draw your attention to a particularly egregious UK hit from 2003 that somehow failed to cross the pond and make it big in America. It's something called "Fast Food Song" by Fast Food Rockers. Seems legit. The melody apparently comes from a Moroccan folk song, because of course it does. The song went to #2 (how appropriate) on the UK charts and thereafter became a staple on the lists of "worst singles of all time." Listen and judge for yourself. I'd say that, if you were looking for a soundtrack to your type 2 diabetes, you've found it here.



P.S. Still reeling from this song? Here's the antidote:

The Clearblue commercial makes a great argument for mass sterilization

"Oh my god, I think I'm gonna cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

In their infinite wisdom, the gods who run the internet have decided that I must sit through the Clearblue Advanced pregnancy test commercial several dozen times each day. Why, internet gods, why? What did I do to offend thee? Whenever I click on a video or article these days, I brace myself for that insipid music, that stilted acting, that dreary dialogue. Keep in mind, I have now seen this commercial more times than I've seen all my favorite movies put together. I should have it memorized by now,

There are a few different versions of this commercial floating around. The shortest edit mercifully cuts down the dialogue by a few lines, for example, but adds an uncomfortably long, text-only, oppressively silent disclaimer at the end explaining that this particular pregnancy test is not meant to take the place of a visit to a real doctor and that, if you use it, your child has a 40% higher chance of being born with either more or fewer fingers than what is considered "normal."

Either way, you get the basic plot here: two textbook "basic bitches" sit across a kitchen table, and one reveals to the other that she is two weeks pregnant, causing the other to squeal with delight. And how does the baby-mama-to-be know the number of weeks? With the Clearblue Advanced Pregnancy Test with Weeks Estimator™, of course! It seems pretty benign, and it only lasts 15 seconds. So why do I hate this ad so much? Let me count some of those ways.

This ad's color scheme: taste the rainbow.

• The music. I mentioned this before, but the background score is beyond wretched. There's no integrity to it whatsoever. I mean, just listen to it! It's this sappy, wussy, "la la la," frou frou frippery, the musical equivalent of low-fat yogurt with no fruit on the bottom. And I think part of the melody is swiped from the "Every kiss begins with Kay" jingle from Kay Jewelers. At least those ads have the decency to include Jane Seymour, a lady of character and taste, rather than these two colorless ninnies. And speaking of color...

• The overall production design. I know that Clearblue has "blue" in the name and that the company's business model is founded upon baby-making, but even so, the "baby blanket blue" color scheme in this ad is oppressive to my eyes. I mean, the clothes, the walls, the furnishings, and even the actresses' faces and arms have this pale, washed-out blue tint to them. This whole commercial looks like it got badly faded on laundry day. And, of course, the women in this world don't eat, so what do they do with their plates? Stick 'em on the wall, of course! Gah! What awful parallel universe is this? Because it certainly doesn't look like any place on Earth.

• The acting. I can't decide whether the acting in this commercial is subtly brilliant or not-so-subtly terrible. If these women are supposed to be actual friends who really do care about one another, then the acting on display here sucks eggs. But, on the other hand, if the subtext here is that these women secretly hate each other and can barely disguise their contempt for one another, the acting is pretty good. Because that's what comes across when Not Pregnant Lady covers her face to deliver the commercial's big line: "Oh my god! I think I'm gonna criiiiii-yeeeee!" On the outside, she's pretending to smile. On the inside, she's screaming, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" But I'm pretty sure these women are genuinely supposed to enjoy each other's company, so I'm going to say that the acting is lousy.

• The women themselves. One of my favorite hobbies is making snap judgments about people based on just fleeting first impressions and very little actual evidence. So, of course, that's what I did with the women in this commercial. I've judged them and found them guilty on a number of charges. Specifically, I have decided that these two ladies are the poster children for "basic bitchery" in the social media era. Their lives revolve around yoga, North Face jackets, UGG boots, pumpkin spice, and their own smartphones. And what do they do to relax? Well, they sip overpriced coffee from giant white mugs in a hermetically-sealed kitchen and natter on about the joys of getting knocked up. 

So there you have it, folks. I think the evidence is all there. The Clearblue Advanced pregnancy test commercial is a flagrant and unmistakable violation of the Geneva Convention. Its cast and crew should be soundly horsewhipped for a period of no less than 15 consecutive hours. Thank you.

So that's what it's like to get stuck in an elevator. Hmm.

Sorry, Butt-head, according to Archer, that won't work.

It happened to Archie Bunker. It happened to Beavis and Butt-head. A couple of weeks ago, it even happened to the gang on Archer. And today, my friends, it happened to me. After a lifetime of riding elevators without incident, I finally had the experience of getting stuck on one.

Obviously, I got out alive and unharmed. I'm not blogging from inside an elevator car, in case you were wondering. My "ordeal" only lasted about half an hour -- perfect sitcom length -- and was not even that unpleasant. Disconcerting, sure, but not traumatizing. Anyway, here's what happened.

(Note: I use the word "happened" advisedly. Like most of my "stories," this barely qualifies as a series of events.)

My train into Chicago was actually running a little ahead of schedule, so I arrived at my place of business a good ten minutes early. I was actually looking forward to beginning my day in a leisurely manner, decadently sipping my artificially-sweetened tea without having to glance nervously at the little clock in the lower right hand corner of my computer monitor. I work in a 35-story skyscraper, so there are three big banks of elevators, and a whole mess of 'em seemed to arrive in the lobby at the exact same time.

I chose (unwisely, as it turned out) Car #3 simply because I could have it all to myself. For some reason, at 7:20am, I considered this a coup. Remember that Simpsons episode with the theme park employee greedily rubbing his hands together? "All for Silas! All for Silas!" That was me, Undisputed Lord God and King of the Elevator. I work on the fifth floor, so this should have been a short ride. Somewhere between floors 3 and 4, however, I had the sensation that my elevator car had just been hit by a Buick or possibly a Plymouth.

This was not entirely unexpected. The elevators in our building have been malfunctioning for the last few months, and reports of hapless riders getting stranded en route were common. But this time, it was happening to me and not some schmucks I don't even know. Therefore: relevant.

The elevator car came immediately to a stop. The "5" button was no longer lit. In fact, none of the buttons, including the blessed "Door Open," responded to my touch. The one button which did work was the one which contacted the security guard. A genuinely concerned-sounding woman told me that (by chance, I guess?) an elevator technician was in the building and would immediately start to work on the problem. She also asked if I was okay, which I thought was a nice touch. I said I was fine and thanked her.

From there, not having a copy of Hungry Hungry Hippos on hand, I had no choice but to play the waiting game. (Damn, that's my second Simpsons reference in one article.) It was weird and solitary, sort of Twilight Zone-y.

Does it add anything to my story that I've been repeatedly listening for the last few days to the soundtrack for John Carpenter's Dark Star, which includes a lengthy elevator-based suspense sequence? It's true. In that sci-fi comedy, set in the far reaches of space aboard a lonely scout ship, poor astronaut Pinback (Dan O'Bannon) is almost crushed by an elevator while trying to feed an uncooperative alien. Now, I was Pinback!

The "repair" process was halting and strange, from what I could tell of it. At one point, the power went out on the elevator, but this was very brief. The security guard -- who kept in fairly regular contact throughout the ordeal, bless her heart -- told me it was necessary for the technician to restart the elevator this way. None of the buttons were responding yet.

After a while -- and I deliberately refrained from checking my watch -- the elevator came back to life and started to move upwards, only to crash again. A few more minutes of silence later, the elevator started going up, up, way up, way past the fifth floor. I frantically pressed all the buttons. Nothing happened. This particular bank of elevators only goes up as high as the 12th floor, which is where the Car #3 finally topped out.

Then it started descending slowly, slowly, and very slowly toward the lobby. I had that "car crash" sensation again when Car #3 eventually touched down. When the doors opened (and this was not immediate), I was rather surprised to see that the elevator car was not flush with the floor. In fact, the lobby floor was about at waist level or so, and I would have to climb up to it. It would be sort of like climbing up on your kitchen counter, if you're trying to picture it, i.e. easier for a cat than a person. But, lucky me, there was a guy in a blazer who extended his arm to help me up and out.

Sadly, I still had to get to work, so I thanked the man and got in the next elevator car over. Knowing the rules of television as I do, I half-suspected that this second elevator would stall, too. It didn't.

So today, I had the experience of actually living through the plot of so many sitcom episodes. Minus all the jokes and plot complications and so forth. Now, I'm hoping to get bonked on the head and get amnesia.