Showing posts with label Willis O'Brien. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Willis O'Brien. Show all posts

Equinox and the Odd Story Behind a Fan-Made, Theatrically-Released Horror Film

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If you follow the film industry as much as I do, then you'll know how often directors clash with studio executives when determining the final cuts of big-budget films. Such conflicts between the artists who create the art and the people who fund the art and mistakenly think that they are artists too have resulted in a long, long list of expensive failures. (Alien 3 (1992) and The Invasion (2007) immediately comes to mind.) Of course, it continues to happen--so much so with Hollywood productions that it's almost inevitable at this point--but how would you feel if the same thing happened with the theatrical release of a low-budget, fan-made film?


Such was the case with Equinox. It began as an amateur horror fan film made in 1967 (its original title: The Equinox: Journey into the Supernatural), and then it was re-edited, partially re-shot and distributed theatrically by Tonylyn Productions in 1970. For a long time, the Tonylyn version of Equinox was the only version that was available to the public; when Criterion released their two-disc set of Equinox back in 2006, they included both the original 1967 cut with the theatrical cut on the same disc (both with commentaries) for direct comparison. While neither cut are examples of horror filmmaking at its finest, the differences between the original edit and theatrical edit are astonishing and reflect how much the fans got right--fans who meticulously studied the craftsmanship that went into their favorite movies--and how much the so-called professionals got wrong.

Read on for my complete comparison of the two versions of Equinox, and how no movie is too small for creative differences between creators and producers.

In both edits, Equinox is about a group of college students who travel to the cabin owned by college professor, Dr. Arthur Waterman (Fritz Leiber Jr.), to check up on him because of his recent absence from their campus. They arrive to find that the cabin has been torn apart and Waterman is missing. Their search for the professor leads them to a mysterious text called the Book of the Damned that is filled with ancient inscriptions and spells intended to open a portal to a demonic parallel world--a portal that Waterman has already opened....

What Equinox is widely known for is that it features the early work of three special effects artists who would later work on some of the most popular films of the 70s, 80s, and 90s. These artists were Dennis Muren (Star Wars, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, E.T., Terminator 2, Jurassic Park, A.I., War of the Worlds), Dave Allen (The Howling, Willow, Ghostbusters II, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, The Arrival) and Jim Danforth (Clash of the Titans, Creepshow, The Thing, The Neverending Story, Day of the Dead, Prince of Darkness). Muren produced the film for only $6500 and he co-directed the original cut of Equinox with Mark Thomas McGee, who also wrote the film's script. Muren and Allen worked on the stop motion effects, while Danforth provided the cel animation and matte paintings.

A forced perspective shot from Equinox.

Essentially, Equinox is a demo reel for the early effects work of Muren, Allen and Danforth; that the demo reel also happens to have an intriguing and creative story--albeit a poorly acted, poorly scripted and somewhat disjointed story--is simply a bonus. Considering that the film was shot on a tiny budget with amateur talents, the end results are very impressive.

Many aspects of Equinox echo the influence that the horror and sci-fi fan culture of the early-to-mid 20th century had on budding young filmmakers; depending on how you look at it, Equinox is a love letter of sorts to the creature features of that era. Muren and Allen were devoted fans of pioneering stop motion animators Willis O'Brien and Ray Harryhausen, and several of the effects scenes in Equinox are clearly influenced by O'Brien and Harryhausen movies such as Mighty Joe Young and It Came from Beneath the Sea.

Forrest J. Ackerman makes an uncredited cameo in Equinox by lending his voice to an audio recording that plays early in the film (he also provided a video introduction for the Criterion Equinox set). Ackerman's contributions to the horror and science fiction genres were numerous, and his biggest legacy to the fans of those genres was a magazine he published called Famous Monsters of Filmland. Famous Monsters differed from other entertainment magazines of its time by focusing on the artistry that's performed behind the scenes, such as special effects and creature costume designs. Muren and his production crew must've been devoted acolytes of Ackerman's magazine and the movies it covered, because their love of classic creature features and the techniques that brought them to cinematic life is on display in each frame of their original cut of Equinox. Such open affection provides a sort of charm that offsets some of the amateur film's more uneven aspects.

The theatrical release poster for Equinox.
Dennis Muren and Mark Thomas McGee 
were not credited on this poster.

The theatrical version of Equinox saw the addition of new footage, footage that was produced by Jack H. Harris and written and directed by Jack Woods. Some of the new footage consisted of re-shoots of what was in the first version, while the other new footage added new scenes, new characters and new dialogue. Unfortunately, the new additions to the story add nothing of value to the film; if anything, Equinox becomes even worse because of it. The dialogue is more wooden and is loaded with redundant exposition, the new subplots weigh down the film's pacing, and some of the original effects footage was cut to accommodate the new footage (!). Adding insult to injury, the theatrical version of the film begins and ends the same way as the original version--which emphasizes exactly how useless the new footage is.

All I can figure is that Woods thought that Equinox would be his big break as a writer and director (hint: it wasn't), so he tried to put as much of his stamp on it as possible. It should also be noted here that the theatrical version of Equinox lists Woods as director and co-writer, while Muren's credit went from being the co-director and producer to just associate producer. Woods even put himself in front of the camera as a new character named Asmodeus, a demon who assumes the guise of a park ranger and exerts his sinister influence over young ladies by making funny faces at them before feeling them up (no, I'm not kidding). Considering that Harris made a name for himself by producing The Blob in 1958 for only $120,000, it's a shame that he was willing to let Woods run roughshod over the work that was so passionately and cost-effectively made by Muren and his crew.


Asmodeus (Jack Woods), as he grimaces, puckers, clenches 
and frowns his way into the soul of an innocent victim.

Equinox has long been rumored to have greatly influenced yet another low-budget cult classic, Sam Raimi's The Evil Dead. To be sure, the films are very different from each other, and the Evil Dead films (particularly Evil Dead 2) are much darker, scarier and better plotted than Equinox. However, the Evil Dead movies feature so many of the same details as Equinox--the cabin in the woods, the prominent role of a tape recorder, an ancient book of dark incantations that summons demonic creatures and opens portals to other worlds, a necklace that is key to warding off evil, a group of teenagers being attacked by monsters that appear and disappear, and so on--that it's hard to deny the connection. Click here to see a visual comparison between Equinox and the Evil Dead movies on The Lucid Nightmare site.


The way I see it, Equinox and The Evil Dead are low-budget bookends of sorts to the changes that horror cinema went through during the 70s. Equinox reflects the heavy influence of O'Brien, Harryhausen and Ackerman on one generation of horror film fans, whereas The Evil Dead reflects the heavy influence of George Romero, Tobe Hooper and Wes Craven on a later generation of horror film fans.


Because Equinox at its best is a cheap fan-made film, your interest in seeing it will greatly depend on how much you would like to see this kind of film from another time in film history. In other words, you don't watch Equinox to see a classic horror film; instead, you watch it to see an example of how fans from a particular era applied what they learned about the crafts practiced by their movie idols to a film they financed and produced on their own, and how that film was later changed for the worse by someone else for theatrical release.

I've seen plenty of movies that were released on DVD and Blu-ray as both a theatrical cut and a director's cut, but this is the first and only time I've seen this situation occur with a fan film. For that reason alone, I highly recommend Criterion's release of Equinox for anyone who is interested in horror and sci-fi fan culture. You should also try to see Criterion's Equinox if you believe that modern CGI-based special effects lack the creativity and finesse of older special effects techniques such as matte paintings, forced perspective and stop motion animation. Click here to read Glenn Erickson's review at DVD Talk of both discs that are in Criterion's set; however, if you are interested in seeing both versions of Equinox but have no interested in buying it, the first disc of the Criterion release is available for rental through Netflix.


In 1985, Equinox was distributed on VHS by 
Wizard Video under the title The Beast.




Ten Horror and Sci-Fi Films That Should Be Remade

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During the last few weekends, a series of horror and sci-fi movie remakes have appeared at the box office. Remakes of Conan the Barbarian, Don't Be Afraid of the Dark, Fright Night and Rise of the Planet of the Apes (which is a remake of Conquest of the Planet of the Apes) have already been released, and a remake of Straw Dogs is scheduled for release in a few days. It appears that the big studios are determined to remake as many of their big name horror and sci-fi franchises as possible, for no other reason that they want a "sure thing"--namely, franchises that already have devoted fan bases--instead of taking the financial risk of investing in something new and unproven.

What I believe is that if remakes are what the studios want to produce to save money and minimize, then they should be doing is remaking movies they already own but weren't complete successes in their original incarnations for the sake of improving them with better creative teams and better budgets. Read on for ten suggestions of horror and sci-fi films, listed in chronological order, that didn't quite work the first time around and deserve a second chance.

1. The Maze (1953)


As a complete movie, The Maze is less than the sum of its parts. It has plenty to hold the viewer's interest: A mysterious family curse that causes its victims to age rapidly, a gloomy castle in the misty Scottish highlands, a shadowy figure that roams the castle's halls at night and leaves behind strange webbed footprints, and an outdoor hedge maze that is fatal to uninvited guests. William Cameron Menzies' direction provides a visually engaging setting for the story, and his "dimensional" style of cinematography fit the film's original release in anaglyph 3D. Unfortunately, almost all of the film's mysteries are either quickly explained or completely forgotten by the film's conclusion. With a more meticulous script and sense of visual style that matches Menzies', The Maze has the potential to bring Lovecraftian 3D thrills back to the silver screen for a new generation of horror fans.



2. The Monolith Monsters (1957)


In a decade where science fiction movies were crowded with alien invaders and giant radioactive mutations, Monolith Monsters took a novel approach by depicting a threat from beyond the stars that was neither an animal nor a plant but a mineral. The movie's titular menaces are crystal-like rocks from space that grow to gigantic heights when they're exposed to fresh water, which then shatter into fragments when they hit the ground after they become too large. This cycle repeats itself every time the rocks are exposed to water, until they threaten to crush a small town. Did I also happen to mention that the rocks' ability to absorb moisture allows them to drain the moisture from the bodies of nearby people, thus turning them into stone? With such a unique kind of horror, a remake of The Monolith Monsters would be an amazing science fiction disaster movie that leaves 2012 and The Day After Tomorrow looking very subdued by comparison.



3. The Black Scorpion (1957)


The Black Scorpion looks like one of those movies that ran out of money for special effects in the middle of production--which is a shame, because it was one of the last movies that employed the talents of Willis O'Brien, the stop-motion animator who brought life to the titular ape in King Kong. To make the most of what little effects money it had, Scorpion reuses some of the same scorpion effects shots over and over again (much like how cheap cartoons save money by reusing the same footage). Nevertheless, the story about gargantuan scorpions that rise from a forgotten, subterranean world to tear apart victims with their mammoth claws and impale them on their giant stingers should be brought back as a remake with a better special effects budget.



4. I Bury The Living (1958)


I Bury The Living is a fascinating B-movie that was directed by Albert Band. It depicts a man who may (or may not) have the power to kill people simply by rearranging the colored pins on a cemetery map. While this movie tells a very creepy tale, it avoids answering one of the questions that it raises: If someone had the power to kill others by manipulating a cemetery map, could that same person also raise the dead through the same process? I've heard quite a few rumors that scenes were written for this film that answer this question in the affirmative, but they were never shot; thus, I would love to see a remake of I Bury The Living that pushes the story into gruesome world of corpse reanimation.



5. Phase IV (1974)


As killer bug movies go, Phase IV is in a bizarre class of its own. Instead of ants that get bigger or more bloodthirsty due to some kind of atomic or natural disaster, the ants in Phase IV become smarter as the result of a mysterious cosmic event. With its minimalist, surreal script and astonishing insect cinematography make Phase IV a fascinating film, its maddeningly suggestive yet vague ending (which director Saul Bass has said was imposed by the studio) put this film on my remake list just so we can see this story told again with a more satisfying conclusion.



6. The Car (1977)


The Car is one of the many Jaws rip offs that appeared during the late 70s, although it's one of the few that has nothing to do with water, fish and swimming. In spite of its derivative nature, ;">The Car is still a creepy little film about a possessed automobile that terrorizes a small desert town. With its pitch black windows, eerie sounds and animal-like behavior, the titular vehicle is a unique movie monster that deserves a tune-up for a second trip on the silver screen. With a bigger budget and a more nuanced screenplay, I could imagine a remake that has a driverless car isolating another small desert town by running down supply trucks and toppling power lines and cell phone towers, and then bumping off the remaining citizens who try to escape.



7. The Eyes of Laura Mars (1978)


The Eyes of Laura Mars has a remarkable pedigree: It was directed by Irving Kersher, co-scripted by John Carpenter, and featured Faye Dunaway, Tommy Lee Jones, Raúl Juliá and Rene Auberjonois. Yet for a film about a photographer who receives psychic visions that allow her to see through the eyes of a serial killer as he brutally murders his victims, something just doesn't work. It could be because of the film's rushed "twist" ending, or that it fails to explore in greater detail the true nature of the visions (such as when they really started, not when the main character began to accept them as visions), or that the romance subplot doesn't feel as compatible with the rest of film (no matter how logical the relationship is within the context of the complete story). Regardless, I'd love to see a creepier and better-paced remake of this movie, just so this story can reach its full, frightful potential.



8. Tourist Trap (1979)


You know what's creepy? Dolls and ventriloquist dummies. You know what else is creepy? Mannequins. Of these three sorts of unlikely yet effective scares, killer dolls and dummies have been the subject of many horror movies, while killer mannequins have only been the subject of one: Tourist Trap (which was produced by Charles Band, son of the aforementioned Albert Band). Tourist Trap is an uneven, hit-and-miss affair, a blend of House of Wax, Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Twilight Zone. It's got enough mannequin-centric scares and shivers--particularly the final shot--to merit a second chance on the big screen, perhaps with less imitation of House of Wax and Chainsaw Massacre and more holy-crap-mannequins-are-out-to-kill-me shocks. With the current state of practical effects and CGI technology, I'm convinced that these murderous, on-the-move mannequins will generate a few weeks' worth of nightmares for movie viewers of all ages.



9. Looker (1981)


Even though Looker was the fifth film directed by bestselling sci-fi author Michael Crichton, who also wrote the film's script, it is not the best example of Crichton’s talents as either a director or a screenwriter. The finished film is an unmistakable mess, with a story that meanders through several different plot points (including some vague conspiracy involving subliminal messages in TV commercials) without ever adequately connecting them into a coherent, compelling whole. In spite of its shortcomings, Looker has an intriguing, eerie central concept: professional models who go through plastic surgery to correct very specific flaws--down to the millimeter--in order to achieve a specific standard of beauty and in turn gain employment, only to be systematically murdered as they are replaced by computer-generated duplicates who actually are "perfect". In the right hands, Looker could be brought back to the big screen as a high-tech, giallo-esque mash-up of The Stepford Wives, S1m0ne and Blood and Black Lace.



10. Trancers (1985)


Yet another low-budget B-movie from Charles Band. Trancers has preposterous yet entertaining plot: To change the future to suit his nefarious agenda, a "psychic vampire" from the year 2247 travels back in time to 1985--with a police trooper from the same era hot on his trail. While its idea of a mind-controlling serial killer is handled better than most other films with a similar premise (such as God Told Me To), Trancers is too busy ripping off Blade Runner and The Terminator to explore this creepy concept in greater detail. Thus, a remake that goes into greater ghastly detail about what a "trancer" is and its ultimate purpose would be a fun, action-filled flick.




John Brosio: Beautiful Disasters, Space Adventures and Bloody Bridal Horrors on Canvas

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I first saw the above painting on the 3-D Monsters blog, which told me the name of the artist who painted it: John Brosio. I initially thought that the painting was a tribute of sorts to the giant monster movies of the 50s and/or the stop-motion animation work of Ray Harryhausen and Willis O'Brien. After doing some more research on Brosio, it turns out that I was kind of right but there's more going on in this painting--much, much more. Read on for more information about this unique artist, his influences, and some additional examples of his work.

The giant crab painting is titled "Fatigue 2". Its predecessor in the series, "Fatigue" (see below) features a giant octopus much like the one seen in Harryhausen's It Came From Beneath The Sea, although this super-sized, sea-faring cephalopod appears to prefer suburbia over the San Francisco bay.


While these two paintings suggest that Brosio is a painter of giant monsters, that's neither entirely correct nor incorrect. Brosio's main interests are larger-than-life monsters of an all too real variety: tornadoes. When you go to his site to see his work, he has four galleries of paintings devoted to tornadoes, each portrayed in a wide variety of colors, shapes and settings. Thus, the giant monster paintings are thematic parallels to the tornado paintings: they both depict massive disasters (either in their beginnings or in progress), with the tornado paintings operating on the literal level and the monster paintings operating on the metaphorical. Another curious detail is that in both sets of paintings, the people who appear in them appear mostly indifferent in reaction to what they are seeing. As mentioned in Bonnie Gangelhoff's 2003 interview with Brosio in Southwest Art magazine:
The tornado is both a thing of terrible beauty and a metaphor for modern life, as far as Brosio is concerned. “My tornado paintings seem to move back and forth between two pursuits—an inquiry into the phenomenon itself and its use as an element of allusion in allegory,” he says. In many ways his paintings are scenes from movies that don’t exist. More often than not they are composites of tornadoes he has witnessed and various elements from his everyday life and imagination. ... But that isn’t all. As with many of Brosio’s works, there is more going on than meets the eye at first glance. ... (P)eople appear oblivious to the tornado hovering overhead. They mill about—life goes on in spite of the danger. The work is also a comment on how people view violence, Brosio says, and the tornado is a symbol of that violence. “People are numb to violence in this country, and they don’t want to see it,” he says. “Violence has become so accepted that they say, ‘Oh, it’s just happening there. Let’s just walk around it.’”
The Brosio interview is fascinating to read, and it reveals quite a few insights about Brosio's inspirations and professional background. For example, Brosio interned in the Creature Department at Lucasfilm's Industrial Light and Magic (ILM) special effects studio at one point in his career. He was later commissioned by Lucasfilm in 2006 to produce "Redemption" (see below) as part of the 30th anniversary of the Star Wars saga. Go to Brosio's site to learn more about "Redemption" and other examples of his commissioned art.


The interview also mentions another recurring theme in Brosio's work, the depiction of things that are both beautiful and dangerous. This not only applies to Brosio's paintings of the tornados, but also to his paintings of various animals (such as snakes, scorpions and sharks) and his ghoulish series of "Fatherless Bride (1-5)" paintings, as seen below.









Myths and Monsters in Motion

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I went to see the re-make (or alternate adaptation?) of Clash of the Titans the other weekend. The film is enjoyable in its own right, with a decent script, a solid cast, and good direction by Louis Leterrier (who did a great job with 2008's The Incredible Hulk, in my opinion). However, because of its name and virtually identical approach to the ancient Greek myth of Perseus, it inevitably invites comparisons to the 1981 Clash of the Titans film, the last film where stop motion special effects legend Ray Harryhausen created the mythic monsters. This post isn't a review that compares the movies; instead, it is a reflection on the stop motion style of special effects in the context of modern movie making technology that uses Clash of the Titans as a central example. Read on . . .

To put it simply, the mythic monsters in the 1981 movie were created by using stop motion animation techniques, while the monsters in the 2010 movie were created by using CGI animation techniques. I've read many complaints over the years regarding how Hollywood is becoming--or already is--overreliant on CGI effects, thus creating over-produced but creatively bankrupt films. Indeed, recent reviews of many recent big-budget films are littered with the accusation that such films are more like video games than actual films. While I think that such an accusation is just as unoriginal as many of the films about which they are complaining, there is a kernel of truth to it, even if the critics themselves are unaware of it--that is, CGI techniques are used to create video games and film effects, whereas stop motion animation is the unique creation of cinema. This statement may not mean much on its surface, but the cinematic aesthetics that it evokes are worthy of careful consideration.


This is not to say that creating detailed special effects inside of a computer is a simple task, or that impressive technological power can outperform even the most polished artistic talent in terms of aesthetic impact. Nevertheless, when watching the latest Titans movie, there was something more ephemeral, less tangible than the ones created by Harryhausen in the 1981 version (particularly the demon creatures that the underworld god Hades divides into in a few parts of the film, creatures which move so fast that they amount to little more than large, dark blurs with wings). If I had to summarize it in a sentence, it is as if many of the 2010 CGI monsters moved too smoothly, too fluidly to be convincing, whereas the 1981 stop motion monsters had enough wealth of detail in their appearances and dimensons to compensate for their less-than-realistic motion.

By the same token, I've seen some comments that compare both versions of Titans and regard the effects of the 1981 version as "hokey", "kitsch", or "cheesy". The suggestion behind these comments is that stop motion filmmaking is a technology that is obsolete and meant to be replaced, as opposed to a form of artistic expression and cinematic storytelling. This is somewhat similar to Disney's announcement not too long ago that they were going to completely stop doing hand-drawn animated feature films and instead produce only CGI animated feature films. Subsequently, there were many hand-drawn animation fans cheering at Disney's change of heart over this decision and its resultant release of The Princess and the Frog; sadly, I have yet to hear many critics and film fans wondering where the new generation of stop motion masters such as Ray Harryhausen and Willis O'Brien have gone.


Yes, stop motion animation hasn't completely disappeared from cinema: Coraline and Fantastic Mr. Fox are both great examples of stop-motion animation at work. But what made the work of O'Brien and Harryhausen worthy of extra merit were the extra lengths they went to integrate their artistry into live-action film. Everything from the stop motion models' designs (from their general appearance to the detailed modeling of their 'skins'), to their surrounding miniature sets, to their lighting and photography had to be meticulously planned and executed so that they could be intergrated into the live action film footage as seamlessly as possible (the swordfighting skeleton scene from Harryhausen's Jason and the Argonauts comes immediately to mind). When the extra care was given to this kind of special effect, the craftsmanship behind the work could clearly be seen in every frame of the film. Sure, the monsters in the 1981 version of Titans don't move as fluidly as their 2010 counterparts, yet Harryhausen's creations still generate an awe of their own if for no other reason than that they were all done by hand, not by machine.

Then again, even when stop motion animation in live-action films was in its (supposed) heyday in the 1950s and 60s, it still didn't acheive the support or appreciation that it deserved--even in situations where stop-motion animation would've be a more effective aesthetic choice. For example, for as much as I enjoyed George Pal's 1953 version of War of the Worlds, I can only wonder how amazing Ray Harryhausen's version would've been. Likewise, while Them! (1954) is clearly the superior "big bug" movie it does not diminish the work that Willis O'Brien did in The Black Scorpion (1957), which raises the question of how much more could've been done visually in Them! had the giant insects been created in stop motion and not life-sized puppets. That's not to say that stop motion animation is always perfect--for every one Beast from 20,000 Fathoms there are dozens of Crater Lake Monsters. Like any other artistic medium, it is only as good as artist who uses it.


The good news is that there are some signs--at least among the low-budget filmmaking community--that stop-motion is not completely being scrapped in favor of CGI. For example, stop-motion animation was used to brillant effect in low-budget indie film The Call of Cthulhu (2005), one of the best H.P. Lovecraft adaptations I've ever seen. Regardless, I'm hoping that after all that it has contributed to horror, fantasy and science ficiton films, stop motion animation won't be unfairly relegated to obsolence in the minds of moviegoers.

For your additional reading pleasure, check out these informative stop motion sites:
  • The Official Ray Harryhausen Website, which is maintained by The Ray and Diana Harryhausen Foundation. The Ray and Diana Harryhausen Foundation is devoted to preserving Harryhausen's work, including his original stop motion puppets.
  • The Seventh Voyage, a very detailed Harryhausen tribute site.
  • Stop Motion Works, a site that specializes in stop motion animation history, news and technology.
  • The Art of Stop Motion Animation, a site that was published in conjunction of a traveling museum exhibit of the same name.