Tag Archives: CinemaScope

Dragonfly Squadron

3-D Blu-ray Review: “Dragonfly Squadron” (1954)

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Well this is a treat! As a movie, Dragonfly Squadron (1954) is fairly ordinary, a war movie with a familiar story and genre stereotypes: hardline, humorless commanding officer; sly second-in-command; subordinate with a personal grudge against his commanding officer; a woman emotionally torn between the dedicated, self-sacrificing doctor she married and the commanding officer she loves, etc.

Conversely, Olive Films’ release of this 3-D Film Archive restoration is one of significant historical importance. Dragonfly Squadron was photographed but never released in 3-D. By the time it opened in March 1954, the new widescreen and stereophonic sound format pushed by 20th Century-Fox, CinemaScope, had won the technological dissemination battle. The original 3-D negative film elements managed to survive, but a 3-D Blu-ray release of a movie as obscure as Dragonfly Squadron, a movie produced not by one of the major Hollywood studios but rather by lowly Monogram/Allied Artists, a Poverty Row company, was practically nonexistent until Bob Furmanek and Greg Kintz of the 3-D Film Archive came along and pushed for its stereoscopic restoration.

For fans and admirers of older 3-D movies, Furmanek and Kintz are providing an invaluable service, preserving, restoring, and making available 3-D features and shorts that might otherwise be lost forever. Classic 3-D movies are rarely theatrically revived, and when they are almost invariably what gets shown is either House of Wax (1953) or Alfred Hitchcock’s Dial M for Murder (1954), with a few scattered other titles (Creature from the Black Lagoon, for instance) exhibited less frequently. I’m reminded of a press conference Jackie Gleason gave announcing the redistribution of “Lost” Honeymooners episodes. Asked why he chose to make them available, Gleason slyly replied, “I’m sick of watching those other Honeymooners,” referring to the “Classic 39,” episodes rerun ad infinitum. The same holds true for classic 3-D, turning even a movie as  minor as Dragonfly Squadron into a major viewing event.

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Though set just before and during the outbreak of the Korean War in May 1950, Dragonfly Squadron’s story harkens back to World War II movies like Flying Tigers, They Were Expendable, and Back to Bataan, with maybe a dash of Go for Broke! (1951). John Hodiak stars as Maj. Mathew “Matt” Brady, a celebrated but grounded-for-medical reasons Air Force instructor tasked with training green American and South Korean pilots at Kongku Air Base, with little more than three weeks to whip them into shape. (Among the young pilots is James Hong, uncredited.)

He discovers that his ex-fiancée, Donna Cottrell (Barbara Britton) is also stationed there. They planned to marry until she learned that her supposedly dead husband, Stephen (Bruce Bennett), a prisoner tortured in Indo-China was, in fact, alive. He loves her and as he’s a saintly, dedicated physician (despite mutilated hands) she remains devoted to him, despite her feelings for Brady.

More familiar plot points emerge: Capt. Veddors (Harry Lauter) resents Brady, blaming him for the death of their mutual best friend in a plane crash. Other genre stereotypes: Capt. Woody Taylor (John Lupton) and Anne (Pamela Duncan) are a young married couple anxious to return to the States after being stationed in Korea for two years without a break. Matt’s best friend is Capt. MacIntyre (Gerald Mohr), whose genial wisecracks contrast by-the-book Brady’s stiffness. Also in the squadron are the requisite southern hick (Fess Parker), an elfish flyer (Eddie Firestone, uncredited) always hiding a mutt under his leather jacket, and a soft-spoken, efficient junior officer (Adam Williams) who all but has “Doomed” painted across his helmet.

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Dragonfly Squadron’s plot may be familiar but its execution, under the sure hand of efficient B-movie director Lesley Selander, is nonetheless involving and well-paced for a picture of this type and budget. Reportedly the film’s cost was around $300,000, dirt-cheap by major studio standards but a bit more expensive than the usual Monogram/Allied Artists programmer from this period. Air Force and Marine Corps. hardware helped make the film look a bit more expensive than it actually was, but Selander’s good direction adds to the film’s modest polish.

The film also makes use of stock shots, some in regular 2-D, and there are few opticals. A battle and evacuation near the end of the picture offer the best 3-D effects, with everything done full-scale with on-set special effects. Much of this material looks great.

It also helps that good actors populate the story. John Hodiak was a bona fide star, albeit a fading one, Hodiak one of dozens leading men who established themselves during the early ‘40s, when many established stars had abandoned Hollywood temporarily to fight the war, only to leave actors like Hodiak struggling once they returned.

There are a few up-and-comers in the cast, notably Fess Parker and, much later in the story, Chuck Connors, both oozing charisma and obviously on the ascent. Decent actors who regularly toiled away in cheap films dominate: Bruce Bennett, Gerald Mohr, Adam Williams, Frank Ferguson, etc. Pretty Barbara Britton’s career was, like Hodiak’s, in gradual decline; she co-starred in the first 3-D feature of the 1950s, the one that launched the craze, Bwana Devil (1952).

Dragonfly Squadron lacks the kind of in-your-face 3-D effects many wrongly assume all ‘50s 3-D movies overdid, the Western Charge at Feather River being an obvious example. Despite a dearth of eye-popping effects, Selander subtly and intelligently stages many scenes to bring out multiple planes of depth. In a bar, for instance, all the chairs are stacked up on tables while on the bar itself are various half-empty glasses, to emphasize the depth of the bar a bit more, while many of the sets have doorways leading to back rooms and whatnot. It’s a far cry from the drab art direction of a typical Monogram movie, e.g., Louie’s Sweet Shop in the Bowery Boys pictures. It’s not a great showcase for 3-D, but what’s there is well executed. Several scenes are also staged in darkened rooms, and the perception of depth is quite interesting.

Dragonfly Squadron is presented in its original 1.66:1 widescreen format. The black-and-white film has its share of speckling and, surprisingly, little bits of faint, barely perceptible color (on the tip of an actor’s nose, for instance) I would guess was somehow used to align the image during postproduction. Mostly though the picture looks very good, and the 3-D is spot-on perfect throughout. Cheap as Dragonfly Squadron may have been, in some ways the use and ultimate look even of ordinary 3-D scenes here is somehow more impressive compared to how unimaginatively most new 3-D films use the process today. (The same proved true on another cheap 3-D title now on Blu-ray, Man in the Dark.) The presentation includes the film’s original intermission card, a nice touch. While some of the bigger 3-D movies were exhibited with stereophonic sound, Dragonfly Squadron was always mono, and thus presented that way here. It’s fine, on par with other mid-‘50s mono releases. It’s also worth noting that the film’s original 3-D title cards, heretofore presumed lost, have  been reinstated.

The Blu-ray comes with a standard 2-D version of the film, along with a lively (2-D) trailer.

Dragonfly Squadron might not rank alongside the great Hollywood war movies, but its release, finally, in 3-D deserves all the accolades Bob Furmanek and Greg Kintz are receiving. Also with this title they’ve clearly demonstrated how desirable titles like this one can be restored and presented in flawless 3-D for a reasonable amount of money. And that, in turn, will hopefully prompt more 3-D Blu-ray releases like this one in the future.

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DVD Review: The Ghastly Love of Johnny X (2012)

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Hovering somewhere on the All-Out Bizarro Meter between such delirious treats as Anthony Newley’s Fellini-meets-Benny Hill opus Can Hieronymus Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humppe and Find True Happiness? (1969) and Roy Rowland’s Technicolor Dr. Seuss acid trip The 5,000 Fingers Of Dr. T (1953), director Paul Bunnell’s extraterrestrial AIP hot rod flick The Ghastly Love Of Johnny X (2013) is, like both of the above, sort of a musical.  More important, though, what all three films share is an almost suicidal devotion to Weirdness for Art’s Sake (certainly they didn’t do it for money’s sake) – and I have to say, I admire that.  What else can you say about a movie that opens with Invasion Of The Body Snatcher’s old pro Kevin McCarthy (in his final film role) bravely wearing what looks like a Devo hat and gravely intoning, “I sentence you … to Earth”?  It’s pretty easy to be odd, or cult, or offbeat, but it’s something else to be truly out there (fans of Keith Giffen’s mentally disturbed Ambush Bug from mid-1980s DC comics will know what I’m talking about here …)

Released last year on DVD by Strand Releasing Home Video, The Ghastly Love Of Johnny X takes its cues from ultra-subversive, lo-budget sci-fi films like Tom Graeff’s Teenagers From Outer Space (1959), Ed Wood’s Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959) and Phil Tucker’s Robot Monster (1953).  The inspiration isn’t just subliminal:  Bunnell literally has Johnny X (Will Keenan) and his gang of space delinquents emerge from the same cave-mouth as the bubble-headed RoMan in Robot Monster.  Bald-headed actor Jed Rowen, who plays the alien heavy Sluggo here, also bears a striking resemblance to hulking Tor Johnson in Plan 9 From Outer Space, which I’m sure is more than accidental.   (For those who haven’t seen it, Teenagers From Outer Space directed by Graeff aka Jesus Christ II, as he announced in a 1959 Los Angeles Times ad, is a total revelation.)  The other big influence here is souped-up Fifties rock of the “Purple People Eater” and “Flying Saucer Rock & Roll” variety, by way of late 1970’s punk bands like The Cramps and The Flesheaters who mashed up the primal Gene Vincent/Eddie Cochran blast of early rock with Metaluna Mutant sci-fi / horror imagery.

The plot, such as it is (and narrative isn’t really Ghastly Love’s strong suit) revolves around Johnny X and his crew being sent to that place where no civilized being would go, i.e. Planet Earth, for unspecified crimes like talking back to their elders and digging fast cars.  After they arrive here, they cross paths with a squaresville soda jerk called Chip (Les Williams) who unwisely develops the hots for Johnny’s petulant, va-va-va-voom girlfriend Bliss (the delightfully named De Anna Joy Brooks) who introduces herself by prancing out of her T-bird in high heels like she’s stepping over hot coals and then barking out, “My name is Bliss.  Repeat it.”  At some point the storyline takes a serious left turn into sun-baked high desert psychobabble with the introduction of a reclusive rockabilly star, Mickey O’Flynn (Creed Bratton, from The Office) who resembles Hasil Adkins on a bad, bad night.  Not to give too much away, but Mickey soon turns up as a corpse who, with the help of Johnny’s missing Resurrection Suit, is able to come back to life (sort of) in time to perform “Big Green Bug-Eyed Monster” to his fans in best ghoul rock style.  Screaming Lord Sutch would be proud.  Oh, and he picks up an incredibly perky teenage groupie, Dandi (played by Misty Mundae lookalike Kate Maberly from The Secret Garden) who bats her big doe eyes at his decaying flesh like he’s Justin Bieber …

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To be honest, none of it much matters.  What counts here is Bunnell’s oddball, revisionist slant on Fifties el-cheapo sci-fi / pulp cinema and his sheer love for the B&W CinemaScope frame, which has almost completely disappeared from the language of cinema these days.  (Bunnell apparently purchased the very last batch of Eastman Kodak Plus-X fine grain stock to shoot the film on … Whether the film stock inspired the “X” in Johnny X is anybody’s guess but I’d like to think so.)  Critics complain about the loss of B&W cinematography in general, and rightly so – but the loss of B&W Scope is maybe the most painful blow.  (If you ever have a chance to see Hubert Cornfield’s The 3rd Voice (1960), Masahiro Shinoda’s Pale Flower (1964) or Wojciech Has’s The Saragossa Manuscript (1965) – all superb examples of Scope cinematography in B&W – projected on a big screen, jump at it.)  With cinematographer Francisco Bulgarelli, Bunnell does an excellent job of using the Scope frame to his advantage, most notably in the “Hernando’s Hideaway”-style number “These Lips That Never Lie” shot at a derelict drive-in.  Using just two actors – soda jerk Chip and alien vamp Bliss – he manages some impressive choreography of camera, music and performers that encapsulates the Pajama Game-left-under-a-heatlamp vibe of much of the score.  (My personal favorite, though, is Johnny X rhyming “Cause firstly and lastly / I am still ghastly” with his best teen rockabilly drawl.)

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Cast-wise, Will Keenan (best known for Troma’s Terror Firmer (1999) and Tromeo & Juliet (1996), and later a new media guru at Maker Studios and Endemol) projects an admirable Gary Numan-like quality as alien Johnny.  Even after his Act 3 conversion you can tell he’s still a wicked little boy at heart.  Brooks as his outer space squeeze Bliss sinks her fangs into most of the script’s best lines – “I could really use your help … I’ve never said that to anyone before, at least with my clothes on” – and hits just the right note of high camp and low-cut burlesque queen sashaying and strutting through Bunnell’s rear-projected phantasia.  Arguably the best, or at least strangest, performance goes to Bratton as rockabilly ghoul Mickey O’Flynn, channeling Bill Murray’s cadaverous self-parody in Zombieland (2009) – or vice versa actually, since this was shot well before Ruben Fleischer’s zombie-comedy.  Having watched Ghastly Love several times now, I still can’t tell quite which moment it is when Bratton dies or comes back to life:  he seems to be both alive and dead from the first time he appears on screen.  Kudos as well to the great Paul Williams (Phantom Of The Paradise) who drifts into the film unannounced as a late-night cable-access talk show host, looking like he just sniffed glue and stuck his finger in a light socket.

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The DVD itself is presented in a clear, crisp transfer in 2.35:1 widescreen with 5.1 surround sound.  Extras include deleted scenes, outtakes, theatrical trailer and a tongue-in-cheek Making Of documentary (hosted by Mr. Projector).  One of the stranger reveals in the featurette is that Bunnell began production on Ghastly Love in 2004 and then put it on hold for lack of funds.  He resumed filming six years later in 2010 with the same cast (amazingly there seems to be little difference in appearance between the original and later footage, even down to make-up and costumes), with the film finally screening theatrically in 2012 – eight years after it began shooting.

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The Ghastly Love Of Johnny X is available on DVD and for rental / download at Amazon and on NetFlix.