Showing posts with label trog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trog. Show all posts

Monday, May 25, 2015

The One & Only Goes Berserk


Boy do I love this woman.

Look, I know that Joan Crawford was probably not the best human being to ever sashay across this planet. But while her reputation may have been irrevocably damaged by wire hangers and rose gardens, one can’t deny that the woman commanded the kind of screen presence that makes you want to pick up a cigarette, pour some scotch on those rocks, take a sip, lean back, and say, “They just don’t make ‘em like they used to.”


Then you quickly eat some cake and brush your teeth because cigarettes and scotch are horrible things.

Quick Plot: Monica Rivers is the ringmaster and co-owner of a struggling circus because cinema has never known a circus that wasn’t struggling. One night, her popular tightrope walker meets a rather unfortunate and grisly fate, toppling to his death as onlookers chow down on peanuts and cigarettes (ah, the ‘60s). 


The good news is that a circus that puts out a good accident/possible homicide experiences a huge boost in ticket sales. Business, you see, never changes.


It doesn’t take long for The Great Rivers Circus to double down with murder, this time taking down Monica’s stuffy co-owner. The culprit remains a mystery, but a solid batch of suspects are introduced. Among them:

Frank Hawkins, a young tightrope performer who shows up just after the initial death to show off his skills. Also, this twentysomething hunk pretty immediately puts his moves on the sixtysomething Monica because, duh, she’s Joan F*cking Crawford


Matilda, the bitter blond magician’s assistant who seems a little too eager to shine suspicion on her employer


Bruno, the loyal dwarf who seems to resent anyone that disagrees with the fabulous Monica


Angela, Monica’s daughter recently expelled from a posh private school (yes, the Mommie Dearest similarities are not unimportant)


Plus a whole gaggle of bearded ladies, strong men, clowns, lion wranglers, and other circus folk, sometimes singing straight at the camera with a loyal tuba backup.


Much like Strait-Jacket, Berserk! plays out like a mystery peppered with camp. In this case, said camp comes courtesy of some pretty glorious fixings. We’re talking showgirls in jumpsuits being stepped over by a giant elephant! 


A tightrope walker in tight silver pants wearing a bag over his head as he passes over a row of bayonets. 

Gloriously tight silver pants

A poodle parade led by a star! 


Best of all, 61 years young Joan Crawford effortlessly casting a spell on her much younger paramour (and the film never mentioning their age difference). 


The final reveal--which I won’t spoil--gets even juicier, even if it feels more than a little ridiculous. That’s a good thing, especially considering director Jim O’Connolly would later NOT do a good thing by making a horribly boring movie about Joan Crawford bonding with a Bigfoot-ish thing.

Thankfully, Berserk! is no Trog. I don’t know that the world could survive another Trog.


Instead, Berserk! is just FUN. Poodle parade fun! Sawing a woman in half in front of children fun! Well-timed lightning saving the day fun! The appeal is simply limitless. 


High Points
It’s not just that Joan Crawford is a screen goddess. It’s that she clearly cared about Berserk!, as silly as it may be. Not only did Crawford provide her own (fabulous) wardrobe, she also gives a committed, cheeky performance in a film that’s a fairly far cry from Mildred Pierce

Low Points
Boy is that some well-timed lightning!

Lessons Learned
A circus isn't a charm school!


Lions are quite sensitive

Obviously

The French Revolution could have been avoided if Louis XVI partied like Joan Crawford


The Winning Line
“She’s attractive. In a common sort of way.”


Could anyone say this with the same punch as Miss C?

Rent/Bury/Buy
Berserk! is no Baby Jane, but boy is it a good time. Fans of the circus will get to see circus tricks! 

Fans of fit men in tight silver pants get to watch a fit man walk a tightrope in tight silver pants! 
(Really tight)

Fans of Joan Crawford get to see her sexy gams!


Everybody wins. 


Thursday, May 26, 2011

No. Trogs. Ever!


It has recently come to my attention that a lot of my reviews open with same basic pattern: As a lifelong fan of ______ it’s truly shameful that I’ve never seen ________
At the risk of repeating myself, how can I possibly begin a post about today’s feature without the following:
As a lifetime fan of Joan Crawford, it’s a criminal shame that I’ve never seen a movie where she teaches prehistoric cave creatures how to roll a ball. And then has to shoot him with a stun gun.

Quick Plot: A trio of spelunkers (one ironically named Cliff) explore an underground cave in a sleepy riff-raff-free British town where they discover the soon-to-be named Trog. Trog, you see, is named for his trogladite identity which means he’s an upright ape-like creature that speaks in grunts and struggles mightily to move in such a way that his mask doesn’t fall off.

Also, he has Joan Crawford eyebrows.
Enter Dr. Brockton to save the day. Played by a blond Crawford with a stylish assortment of pre-Dress Barn suit sets, she and her daughter work to educate and, let’s face it, domesticate Trog, primarily by teaching him how to play with whatever might be hanging out in your 1970s toychest. Her rival scientist is stuffy, male, and British and therefore, hellbent on proving the gentle creature a menace to modern society. A showdown is imminent.

Yawn. Despite the presence of one of cinema’s most powerful leading ladies, Trog is overwhelmingly dull. You’d think that anything combining Mommie Dearest with an ape man would at least offer camp value, but aside from a random cropping ripe for youtube. Trog just ain’t that interesting. The shame is ours.
High Points
A scene involving stop motion animated dinosaurs is all sorts of Pee-Wee’s Playhouse fun
Low Points
You know. Most of the rest of the movie

Lessons Learned
All scientists are a little deranged
Too much riff-raff will give a town a bad name
Just because your profession is something as mild as cameraman or butcher is no excuse to not try to battle a giant and violent ape man with your own little homo sapien hands

Even a stalagmite made of felt, velcro and glitter is still pointy enough to puncture the flesh
Rent/Bury/Buy
Eh. Trog should be reserved for Crawford completists and, well, no one else. Maybe the ghost of Bette Davis, who I’m sure got a pretty good kick out of watching her frenemy smile pleasantly as an ape man companion sings along with an LP record. That’s something. Kind of.