[Stop Button Lists] The Lost Worlds of Kevin Connor

Kevin Connor, partial filmography, 1975-1981

I have heard of Arabian Adventure, I had forgotten I knew about it when I was thinking about doing this list. Kevin Connor’s career–which has gone from British fantasy films to American television to direct-to-video to the Hallmark channel–reminds of someone like Jack Arnold, who went from Creature from the Black Lagoon to “Gilligan’s Island.” I’m sure a lot of guys who directed “The Brady Bunch” had made some decent pictures in the forties and fifties.

But I wanted to do a list about Connor after watching The People That Time Forgot again for “Stop Button Favorites.” It’s a weird series of fantasy films, most starring Doug McClure, three adapted from Edgar Rice Burroughs, a few starring Peter Cushing, a few starring John Ratzenberger!

Land That Time Forgot had been my dinosaur movie as a kid, it and Planet of the Dinosaurs. Even after Jurassic Park came out, because Jurassic Park was “real” not movie fantasy. It did all the imagining for you.

Doug McClure and Peter Cushing are bewildered Victorians in AT THE EARTH'S CORE, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.
Doug McClure and Peter Cushing are bewildered Victorians in AT THE EARTH’S CORE, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.

Of the films on the list, I’d say Land That Time Forgot is easily the most “respectable.” It lacks the constant sexuality of People and it’s nowhere near as stupid as At the Earth’s Core. Now, Earth’s Core had Caroline Munro but she was sort of forgotten in the late eighties and early nineties. A mythic siren of PG-sexiness my generation didn’t grow up with.

And Warlords of the Deep didn’t have much U.S. distribution on home video. I’m not even sure it’s out now; I rented it (on R2) from Nicheflix the moment I could but I had never even come across it on VHS at that point and I was always on the lookout. As for Arabian Adventure, like I said, I sort of forgot about it even existing. I know I saw the seventies Sinbad movies but not much after I was seven or eight.

Goliath Awaits, the only entry on the film not a theatrical release (Goliath was a syndicated prime time miniseries), is there because it is such a perfect postscript to Connor’s other fantasy films.

John Dark produced all of Connor’s fantasy films–not Goliath–and they had a lot of similarities between them. They were period pieces. Land and People take place in the late 1910s, At the Earth’s Core is set in the Victorian era, Warlords is early 20th century (nothing too specific) and Arabian Adventure is, you know, some kind of fantasy era of Arabia. It’s not supposed to be very good; I know I have to see it now but I’m not looking forward to it.

They mixed American actors down on their luck with British actors who were just doing another gig to pay the bills. They launched no careers–unless they helped Sarah Douglas along to Superman II or Ratzenberger to “Cheers”–yet they are incredibly memorable films. Kino Lorber even got Connor to do commentary on their recent Land That Time Forgot blu-ray. It’s not a cult classic, but only because it the eighties weren’t long enough for it to catch on enough before Jurassic Park. It’s a quasi-cult classic.

Thorley Walters, Sarah Douglas, and Patrick Wayne star in THE PEOPLE THAT TIME FORGOT, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.
Thorley Walters, Sarah Douglas, and Patrick Wayne star in THE PEOPLE THAT TIME FORGOT, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.

And they aren’t good. Well, People That Time Forgot is good. I’d love to hear a commentary on that film to see if Connor was being stylistic or they just didn’t have the money. But the other films aren’t good. Earth’s Core and Warlords are both awful. Back when I got them all (well, I owned Land and People) and watched them one week, my friend Jim was worried I had lost my mind. “What are you doing to yourself?” he said. Later, after I saw Goliath Awaits–I had first heard about it in high school, but had not found the full length version until 2007 or so–I mailed Jim a copy immediately. Such lunacy most be shared.

Over the years, even before the site, I have reexamined the interests of my youth, or even just the films people said were good when I was a youth, and tried to be as objective as possible. Good and enjoyable aren’t the same thing. A well-made movie can be entirely unrewarding (or partially unrewarding). Navigating nostalgia and how it interacts with the viewing experience of a film is simultaneously frustrating and fun. Critical thinking can be fun. Much like talking about these Kevin Connor films.

What’s upsetting about the films, listed chronologically, is how they don’t inform one another. Connor leapfrogged. Okay Land, bad Earth’s Core, good People, bad Warlords, haven’t seen Arabian but heard it’s even worse than the bad, then underwhelming TV mini series Goliath. It’s inconsistent to say the least. It does seem, however, even though there was so much cast and crew crossover, People and Land were their own franchise. Connor and Dark and McClure’s collaboration wasn’t the franchise.

Doug McClure and John McEnery star in THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.
Doug McClure and John McEnery star in THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT, directed by Kevin Connor for American International Pictures.

While we were recording “Alan Smithee,” Matt and I would often decide–talking about the bad movie of the episode–the story of its making would probably more interesting than the resulting film itself. We never did any of the Kevin Connor movies for an episode; we probably should have at least done one. Is there some great story behind the scenes of these films? Maybe, but I think not.

But for at least ten years, in the seventies and eighties, many of these films filled children’s minds with imagined lands and some inappropriate thoughts about cave girls. They aren’t insignificant, they shouldn’t be forgotten. I’m just not entirely sure they’re worth seeing. Other than People That Time Forgot. I think I wanted, as Matt and I were discussing what to do with “Alan Smithee” (we ended up closing it down), to try to get an interview with Sarah Douglas about her fantasy and sci-fi work as she’s now awesome on Twitter.

What do these films of Connor’s deserve now? A good book. I wish I had the time and resources to write it. I’ll have to hope to read it instead.

The Decalogue: Eight (1990, Krzysztof Kieslowski)

Eight is, unquestionably, great. At a certain point, it got good. And then Kieslowski didn’t screw up it being good. It started with problems, of course. The episode opens with Maria Koscialkowska as a lonely old college professor. Until Teresa Marczewska, a younger woman, shows up out of the blue to observe a class, it’s boring. It’s an ethics class. Where Kieslowski makes a reference to another episode of The Decalogue and all of a sudden he lets off some steam. For the first time ever.

That release of pressure, along with Koscialkowska’s fantastic performance, lets Kieslowski and co-writer Piesiewicz make the fantastical real and solid. And that reference to the other episode helps with it.

Then it keeps going and it keeps getting better and better. After twenty-two minutes, Kieslowski hits every note. Though it’s because Koscialkowska and Marczewska are great. Their performances make Eight something spectacular.

3/3Highly Recommended

CREDITS

Directed by Krzysztof Kieslowski; written by Krzysztof Piesiewicz and Kieslowski; director of photography, Andrzej Jaroszewicz; edited by Ewa Smal; music by Zbigniew Preisner; production designer, Halina Dobrowolska; produced by Ryszard Chutkowski; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Maria Koscialkowska (Zofia), Teresa Marczewska (Elzbieta) and Tadeusz Lomnicki (the tailor).


RELATED

Lolita (1962, Stanley Kubrick)

The first half of Lolita is a wonderful mix of acting styles. There’s James Mason’s very measured, very British acting. There’s Shirley Winters’s histrionics; she’s doing Hollywood melodrama on overdrive but director Kubrick (and Winters) have it all under perfect control. And then there’s Sue Lyons as the titular character. She’s far more naturalistic than either Mason or Winters–and certainly more than Peter Sellers in his supporting role. The second half of the film loses that mix. Instead of Mason playing off other styles, he’s mostly left to his own hysterics.

And Winters was better at them.

Lolita is a difficult proposition as Mason, as a supreme pervert, has to be somewhat sympathetic. Winters, who should be sympathetic, has to be a villain. Lyons, who is a victim, has to be villainous. And what about Sellers? He has to not run off with the picture, which he almost does every time he’s in the movie.

That first half, which Kubrick tells in summary, is gloriously well-paced. It moves in short sequences–sometimes just a shot with actors entering and leaving–and it moves it lengthy scenes. It’s far more interesting stuff than the second half of the film, which is a Hitchcockian thriller without any thrillers.

Great music from Nelson Riddle, great photography from Oswald Morris.

Everything sort of falls apart in the third act as Kubrick rushes to find a conclusion. The second half, with Mason’s outbursts and arguments, can’t compare to the sublimity of the first.

3/4★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Stanley Kubrick; screenplay by Vladimir Nabokov, based on his novel; director of photography, Oswald Morris; edited by Anthony Harvey; music by Nelson Riddle; produced by James B. Harris; released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Starring James Mason (Prof. Humbert Humbert), Shelley Winters (Charlotte Haze), Sue Lyon (Lolita), Jerry Stovin (John Farlow), Diana Decker (Jean Farlow), Lois Maxwell (Nurse Mary Lore), Bill Greene (George Swine), Marianne Stone (Vivian Darkbloom) and Peter Sellers (Clare Quilty).


RELATED

[Eassy] Dire Jamboree: “Baby” Kong and the Sins of the Father

King Kong, as advertised in The New York Times (March 2, 1933).
KING KONG, as advertised in The New York Times (March 2, 1933).

Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack’s 1933 film, King Kong, is one of the most popular films ever made. Besides being a box office smash on release–and then again and again on its rereleases–Kong is nearly universally praised, whether by the Library of Congress or the American Film Institute. In his first movie guide, Leonard Maltin called Kong a “moviegoing must”[1]. The last edition of Maltin’s movie guide, has the same two sentence capsule, but in the intervening forty-six years, Maltin has added information about Kong’s remakes, restorations and colorizations. He has also included the subsequent notation–“followed immediately by The Son of Kong[2].

Looking at the opening credits for The Son of Kong, one sees many familiar names from King Kong, but most duos are broken up. Ruth Rose is again on screenwriting duties, but her co-writer from Kong, James Ashmore Creelman, is absent. Schoedsack is directing, but Cooper is now just executive producing. Robert Armstrong and Frank Reicher are staring again, but Son is missing Bruce Cabot and Fay Wray.

Son of Kong does not have the reputation of Kong. It currently carries a thirty-three percent critics rating at “Rotten Tomatoes” (compared to the original’s ninety-eight)[3],[4]; the Leonard Maltin guide, in its first and final editions, awards the film ★★½[5]. Much better than “Rotten Tomatoes” and actually quite fair. Son of Kong’s negative reputation–so infamous Peter Jackson made fun of the film in a zealous April Fools Day joke in 2005 while remaking the original–has stunted both scholarship of the film and discussion of it.

Gentlemen prefer brunettes. Robert Armstrong and Helen Mack in THE SON OF KONG, their second pairing for RKO in 1933.
Gentlemen prefer brunettes. Robert Armstrong and Helen Mack in THE SON OF KONG, their second pairing for RKO in 1933.

When comparing the films, star Robert Armstrong preferred Son of Kong, saying the role of Carl Denham was better in the sequel. Not sharing the screen so much with Cabot, Wray (or King Kong) meant Armstrong got “a great deal more character, swell dialogue and love scenes.”[6]

RKO Radio Pictures started production on Son of Kong in early April, a few days before the nationwide release of King Kong[7]. Kong had been such a success in its New York opening in March and had so impressed the studio brass, they had not just ordered the sequel, they had made Cooper the new head of production for the entire studio[8]. Hence his inability to return to the sequel as co-director.

Cooper pitched the board a “bigger and more elaborate” sequel to Kong. He brought together Rose, Schoedsack and Willis O’Brien (who did the first film’s exceptional special effects) to put together a story in March 1933 before Rose went off to write the script. Everyone was very excited. And then the RKO board halved the budget.[9]

Merian C. Cooper and his pipe dreams of KONG.
Merian C. Cooper and his pipe dreams of KONG.

Son of Kong was always going to open in the 1933 holiday season. RKO wanted a sequel when moviegoers were still excited about Kong and Cooper wanted to beat any stop motion imitations[10]. While Cooper’s biographer Mark Cotta Vaz characterizes Cooper as disinterested in Son of Kong–Cooper, as the new head of production, ordered Son of Kong rushed and was only interested in the “bottom line” on the film, not the day-to-day progress of it[1].

However, RKO associate producer David Lewis characterizes Cooper as much different as a production head–at least when it came to films involving Ruth Rose. Rose was married to Schoedsack and Cooper took an active interest in the production of her scripts. He brought Lewis onto another film written by Rose, Blind Adventure, to make sure it got its best possible version. That film, released in August 1933–before Son of Kong wrapped principal photography for its actors–shared a director in Schoedsack and its leads in Armstrong and Helen Mack. Cooper, as RKO head, had halted production of Son of Kong to get Blind Adventure made.[12]

A poster for SON OF KONG.
A poster for SON OF KONG.

There has been very little comprehensive research on the making of Son of Kong. Most citations come from a 1992 “American Cinematographer” article, which itself largely cites a 1975 book about the making of King Kong. Both article and book have an appreciative view of the film, but both also contain a number of historical inaccuracies. Vaz’s Cooper biography, from 2005, does not suggest scholarship on the subject is improving.

But if film historians have been interested (for the most part) but unable to properly chronicle the making of Son of Kong from the generative standpoint–the film crew’s troubles and tragedies during production are relatively well-known–at least those keen scholars are head of film critics. Son of Kong’s negative reviews did not start with “Rotten Tomatoes,” they started with “The New York Times” the day after the film premiered in New York. Even though the film was a hit in 1933–not just in the United States but also internationally, including in Malaysia (Son of Kong was “one of the few Hollywood-made films depicting that part of the world that looked sufficiently authentic to be accepted” by local audiences)[13]–it has never had a good reputation.

SON OF KONG, as advertised in The New York Times (December 29, 1933).
SON OF KONG, as advertised in The New York Times (December 29, 1933).

That bad reputation started on a very cold day in December 1933. “New York Times” film critic Andre Sennwald must have bundled up–New Yorkers were dealing with a temperature of three below zero on December 29, 1933, the coldest day in the city in thirteen years[14]–before heading to West 50th Street to see Son of Kong at the Roxy Theatre. The next day, Sennwald reported the film was a “low melodrama,” albeit one with “loud and satisfying” laughs. He was unsure if the filmmakers had intended the humor[15]. Given Son of Kong’s first joke–a smart one–comes at the end of the opening titles, it is hard to understand Sennwald’s confusion. If only Sennwald read the movie gossip columns of the time–writer Ruth Rose had quite intentionally and openly “expanded” the already extant comedy to “compensate” for RKO’s halving of the budget[16].

In the first paragraph of his four paragraph review, Sennwald spoils the end of Son of Kong before going on to complain about the lack of spectacle in the film. He did report the film’s target audience–“the youngsters”–loudly enjoyed themselves during the same screening. So Son of Kong was for someone, just no one who appreciated the “mechanical ingenuity” of the original[17].

A scene from SON OF KONG.
A scene from SON OF KONG.

Of course, O’Brien and his crew utilized effects techniques they discovered while making the original. Technically, they were better at their craft on Son of Kong. They just did not have the time or budget to do the type of sequences in the original.

Reading Sennwald’s review today, having just seen Son of Kong–and his sentiment the sequel is “for kids” is widely held one (if people even bother to talk about Son of Kong)–it seems as though Sennwald and other critics have, over the years, seen a much different film.

Son of Kong is a depressing journey through poverty, both domestic and foreign, in an attempt not to find fortune but to find general comfort. That “great deal more character” Armstrong talked about in reference to his role? The events of the first film have left his character in deep depression, not to mention incredible legal trouble.

King Kong, as advertised in SON OF KONG.
King Kong, as advertised in SON OF KONG.

The film works on two very different levels. First, the one where Schoedsack and Rose joke at the idea of making a sequel to King Kong. Whether it is bringing in the unseen map maker, revealing him a murderous, dishonest drunken coward, or just having leading lady Helen Mack have a show with a bunch of cute little monkeys, Son of Kong defies the audience to get comfortable with the film. In Armstrong’s self-loathing, the film prods the audience into accepting their culpability for watching the first film and then going to see a sequel.

The Son of Kong, in 1933, is either the first post-modern studio sequel or the first famous one. And it is entirely unappreciated for that quality. The ending of the film–the one Sennwald so pointlessly (and thoroughly) spoiled–erases the “franchise.” Schoedsack, Rose, O’Brien and Cooper send it out with a bang too–Son of Kong’s Skull Island is no longer the lost world of the original film, it is a fantasy land. As it becomes more fantastic, Armstrong becomes more human. By the end of the film, he is practically a grown-up.

Since day one, critics have tried comparing the height of Son of Kong to its “father.” The film scholarship on Son of Kong is so tepid, leading lady Helen Mack’s character does not even have an agreed upon name. Called Hilda in the opening titles, no one ever refers to Mack as anything but Helene in the picture itself. No one seemed to notice this incongruity for fifty years.

Instead of being dismissed Son of Kong (it currently enjoys less regard than Schoedsack, Rose, Armstrong and Cooper’s 1949 Mighty Joe Young), the film should be appreciated and considered for its peculiarities, its singular elements. It’s strictly on the level, even with the funny business.


Classic blog

THIS POST IS PART OF THE THE CLASSIC MOVIE HISTORY PROJECT BLOGATHON HOSTED BY FRITZI OF MOVIES SILENTLY, RUTH OF SILVER SCREENINGS AURORA OF ONCE UPON A SCREEN. SPONSORED BY FLICKER ALLEY.


RELATED


Notes

  1. Leonard Maltin, ed., TV Movies (New York: Signet, 1969), 251.
  2. Leonard Maltin, ed., Leonard Maltin’s Movie Guide 2015: The Modern Era (New York: Penguin, 2014), 765.
  3. “Son of Kong (1933),” Rotten Tomatoes, accessed June 27, 2015.
  4. “King Kong (1933),” Rotten Tomatoes, accessed June 27, 2015.
  5. Maltin, Movie Guide 2015, 1309.
  6. Orville Goldner and George E. Turner, The Making of King Kong: The Story Behind a Film Classic (South Brunswick, NJ: A.S. Barnes, 1975, 199-201.
  7. Ray Morton, King Kong: The History of a Movie Icon from Fay Wray to Peter Jackson (New York: Applause Theatre & Cinema Books, 2005), 99.
  8. Mark Cotta Vaz, Living Dangerously: The Adventures of Merian C. Cooper, Creator of King Kong (New York: Villard, 2005), 234.
  9. Morton, Movie Icon, 93-5.
  10. Ibid.
  11. Vaz, Living Dangerously, 248-9.
  12. David Lewis, The Creative Producer, ed. James Curtis (Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1993), 45-6.
  13. Goldner and Turner, Making of King Kong, 206.
  14. “Mercury 3 Below Zero, Coldest Day in 14 Years; Relief Here Due Today,” New York Times, December 30, 1933.
  15. Andre D. Sennwald, “The Screen: Another Jungle Monster,” New York Times, December 30, 1933.
  16. Morton, 95.
  17. Sennwald, “Jungle Monster.”

a superior film blog

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 278 other followers