Rest in Peace Leonard Nimoy

Leonard Nimoy
1931-2015

May the Vulcan philosophy of Kol-Ut-Shan (IDIC, or Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations) live long and prosper.

Clip from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan:

Morozko (AKA Jack Frost)

AKA Frosty AKA The Crystal Star AKA Father Frost

I had a bit of a difficult time thinking of what to say about this strange little Soviet film.  I had not grown up watching Morozko so had no real nostalgic sentiment coloring my views towards it like so many other films from childhood I still look fondly back upon now and still love to this day that perhaps don't really warrant such affection, e.g. Sasquatch: The Legend of Bigfoot; The Alien Encounters;  At the Earth's Core, etc.  I know the English dubbed version known as Jack Frost was roasted on Mystery Science Theater 3000, but I really think this film doesn't deserve derision or even gentle ribbing, but instead demands to be viewed in the context it was made: a film produced in the Soviet Union in the midst of the Cold War in 1964, based on Russian fairy tales and primarily marketed to children.  This is actually a pretty good kiddie film with colorful cinematography, some beautiful set designs, and nice location scenery, and this middle aged yet by all accounts still ruggedly handsome man living in the United States in the 21st Century thoroughly enjoyed this quaint film.  And it has several elements of the fantastique to admire: an ugly witch that lives in a walking house perched atop giant chicken legs, some beautifully gnarled and twisted trees as part of the lush background scenery with some Sid and Marty Krofft style costumed walking tree creatures to boot, and a little mischievous gnome-like creature called Father Mushroom that turns the main hero into a were-bear.  Not bad for a kid's movie!

More than anything, this film reminded me of the Swedish Pippi Longstocking films I grew up watching on TV in the 70s and 80s; you knew there was probably something being lost in translation in the English dubbing of these strange foreign films, but in the end the meaning of the stories is still successfully carried across the airwaves to the viewer--child or adult--transcending the barriers of time, space, language, and cultural differences, and that's not a bad way to spend a lazy afternoon.

Here's the trailer:

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Musica Moonday

"You're the Lovin' End" by The Banana Splits:

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These infernal snowman hand puppets were a deviously effective bait and switch tactic used on gullible Philly area kids in the 70s and 80s to pause the dial on the big wooden box for a minute or two, only to find they'd ended up on the wholesome, family friendly Al Alberts Showcase instead of what they were really searching the high frequency television aether for: kiddie TV crack like The Herculoids, Land of the Lost, or Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster.

Here's a commercial for "the mark of... Quality", Frosty Acres frozen foods.

Enjoy!

Don't touch that dial!

Krass Brothers commercial and Channel 17 WPHL station ID:

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Radio Shack commercial:

Musica Moonday

"Sugar, Sugar" by The Archies:

Public Service Announcement

Valentine's Day is for everybody!

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Carvel commercial (thank you):

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York Peppermint Pattie commercial:

Snowbeast

Caution: Spoilers ahead!

Though not given a huge amount of respect from most aficionados of "les cinema du Sasquatch", Snowbeast is still a relatively well made, solid entry in the Bigfoot genre, even if it's not a beloved classic.  Written by The Outer Limits writer/producer Joseph Stefano--who also happened to write the screenplay for a little movie called Psycho--this 1977 made for television film follows the basic template set by Jaws a couple years earlier, with a bloodthirsty Yeti stepping in for the great white shark; instead of a quaint New England fishing village the setting here is a small ski resort town beset by increasingly frequent hominid attacks on the tourist population.

There are not a ton of monster scares in Snowbeast but what it does have are lots and lots of shots of people skiing and snowmobiling with just a sprinkling of sexual tension between the three leads (but unfortunately no fondue): Bo Svenson plays a down on his luck former ski champ; Yvette Mimieux is his long suffering wife who also happens to be a crack investigative TV news reporter who just recently did a story on the mystery of the Sasquatch; and Robert Logan plays her old boyfriend and manager of the local ski lodge that is under assault by the hairy creature.

Like a lot of other 'squatch flicks, the creature in Snowbeast is implied rather than shown straight out, mainly in first person view lurking behind trees and barns, backed by an ominous Jaws like score, with only an occasional glimpse of its great hairy hand.  I wasn't sure if they even had a full costume made for this movie until near the end when the beast is finally seen in its full glory and the film makers' restraint in showing only occasional glimpses becomes fully justified: that ain't no 100% yak hair, Peter Graves approved, The Mysterious Monsters Yeti costume, that's for sure!

And of course, Snowbeast doesn't let you down when it comes to the classic ol' hairy hand smashing through the glass window scene, an always appreciated stock-in-trade scene of 70s Bigfoot films, though instead of a log cabin bedroom or trailer home bathroom window, the Yeti in this flick smashes in a school auditorium window during preparations for the annual winter carnival celebration and the crowning of the new Snow Queen--though in a twist on the usual rite of the winter solstice, it is not the young and virginal Snow Queen that is sacrificed during this frenzied Bacchanalia but the driver of her chariot, the Snow Queen's very Mother that is the victim of the Snowbeast's pagan blood lust.  In the ensuing chaos of the monster's attack on civilization, the Snow Queen's silver crown is trampled and smashed and the owner of the ski lodge herself--the old Crone, previously an unbeliever in the very real and furry incarnation of unbridled Nature, red in tooth and claw--is violently knocked down by the mob, probably breaking her hip in the process (and we all know what happens then).

I must also mention the cinematography on this film is pretty damn decent for a low budget made for television film.  The commercial breaks fade to a bloody red instead of the normal black and there are some moody 70s style lens flares from shooting into the sun.  The natural scenery is also used to good effect: the location filming adds verisimilitude and it really does look cold, capturing the eerie, almost magical feeling during the short days of winter around daybreak or dusk, when the sun is low in the sky--just barely peeking above the tree line--and shadows are long, and you can see your breath, and you just don't know what strange thing might be watching you from the dark woods beyond.

Best line in the flick:
The manager of the ski lodge is about to identify a crime scene victim: "I must have seen her somewhere, maybe I'll recognize her when I see her face."

Sheriff (after a pause): "She doesn't have one..."

Here's a clip:



That's all for now--see you next time.

Here's "Snowbeast" by Gary Busey Community College to play us out:

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Swanson Hungry-Man TV dinner commercial:

Musica Moonday

"Superstatic, Instamatic Electric Vibrations" by Lancelot Link and the Evolution Revolution:

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Ski-Doo snowmobile commercial from 1971:

Jack Frost

One of only two films that I'm aware of that are centered around the glorious mid-winter holiday that is Groundhog Day, Jack Frost (1979) is not one of the more widely remembered or beloved works from Rankin/Bass but it is still pretty enjoyable nonetheless, if only for some sheer silliness that occurs during its short 48 minute running time.

Caution: spoilers ahead!

This latter period Rankin/Bass stop-motion animated TV special, narrated by a bed ridden groundhog named Pardon-Me-Pete who looks suspiciously like a small, fuzzy Buddy Hackett, takes place in the vaguely eastern European village of January Junction, where downtrodden pumpkin peasants eke out a meager existence under the thumb of the tyrannical Kubla Kraus--the king of the Cossacks--who rides around the countryside on his steam powered mechanical horse, Klangstomper, stealing each hard earned and practically worthless copper kaputnik for "taxes" (100 copper kaputniks equals only a penny in this land of extreme inflation).

Where it gets truly bizarre is when the villainous Kubla Kraus, all alone in his castle atop Miserable Mountain, whips out a small metal homunculus named "Dummy" and proceeds to have a conversation with his creepily complimentary yes-man alter ego--a true puppet dictatorship in action; meanwhile the hero of our story, Jack Frost--now posing as effete human tailor Jack Snip instead of the powerful invisible Sylph he truly is, in a futile attempt to win the love of a local peasant girl--valiantly tries to rouse the peasants to rebel against the autocratic Kubla Kraus!

Some other stuff happens too: the villagers happily cut up icicles into "ice coins" to trade in "ice money" during the winter months when they're plentiful thanks to Jack Frost, and they give empty boxes called "dream presents" to each other for Christmas since they're all too poor to afford real gifts.  In the end, Jack Frost voluntarily renounces his humanity to return to his invisible, immortal weather elemental form in order to save the townsfolk from the terror of Kubla Kraus (shades of Superman II), and the girl he attempted to win, instead marries a tall blond haired, blue eyed, lantern jawed knight in golden armor instead of the strange and slight clothes maker/invisible creature of Faerie.  Jack Frost returns alone to his home in the clouds, a wiser and more bitter pagan spirit elemental.  The end.

Oh well, you can't win 'em all kids.

Here's a short promo for a repeat airing from 1980:

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Commercial for Micronauts with glow in the dark brains:

Musica Moonday: Groundhog Day Edition

Pardon-Me-Pete singing that old chestnut, "I've Got a Day Named After Me, February Two":

The X from Outer Space

Sat down and watched The X from Outer Space (1967) for the very first time recently.

Having no nostalgic or emotional connections to this giant monster movie, while watching the titular antennaed birdlike creature repeatedly destroy Japan I will report that I did have an occasional olfactory flashback to the strangely comforting petrochemical smell of those small rubber monster toys sold for a quarter in egg shaped plastic capsules from bubble gum vending machines back when I was a kid.

As for the film: I liked it a lot; colorful with a great swinging sixties soundtrack.

Here's the international trailer: