Playing Cops & Robbers—With Real Cops!

A good friend and I signed up for the Citizens Police Academy offered by the Garner PD. It's a nine-week course going over various aspects of local law enforcement, from DWI stops to tazers. I've always been fascinated by police stuff, so it seemed like it'd be fun.

I had no idea how cool it would turn out to be.

Last week, we covered domestic violence and community-oriented policing. Some of the spousal abuse statistics were mind-boggling. This lecture was abbreviated, however, because we got the opportunity to observe some rapid deployment training being conducted at a local middle school. Plastic BBs and blue plastic pistols. Yelling and radio chatter. Loads of adrenaline and testosterone.

This was a training exercise to work on new procedures developed in the bloody wake of Columbine. Nowadays, rather than surround and contain the shooter(s) (which in Columbine meant that the freaks kept blasting while the cops waited outside), the cops "actively engage" the shooter. All law enforcement folks in North Carolina are trained the same way for this kinda stuff, using a four-person diamond formation as they make their way down the hallways. We were given the chance to try it out, and it's a beautiful thing in its simplicity.

The idea is that if the first four people on the scene are a combination of deputies and police officers or whatever, they can get inside the school quickly and make their way toward the shooter.

The idea is to take him/them out quicker--and to give him/them something besides kids to shoot at.

SOMETHING BESIDES KIDS TO SHOOT AT. In other words, you enter the school part law enforcement officer, part target. Hang a big "Shoot me please!" sign on themselves so our kids don't get hurt. Standing in the hallways the other night, hearing "gunshots" and screaming down the hall, I found the whole idea chilling. But the cops I met saw it as part of the job. And I admire the hell out of them for it.

Scotty's Chuckwagon Meets Frankenstein

Here in Raleigh, there was a shopping center called North Hills. Not the new North Hills, the OLD North Hills. Before it said hello to Mr. Bulldozer, it was on the same patch of dirt where the new one sits. Anyway, I went there a lot when I was a kid. It had a Woolworth's where my best friend James and I bought Aurora monster models, a very good hot dog place (with shaved ice!) called Scotty's Chuckwagon and a great big movie theater called the Cardinal (that in the ultimate crime against nature, was turned into a Buttblister Video).

During the summers, they used to run matinees on Saturdays. Not the kiddie-show swill they run now, these were Godzilla movies and cool stuff like that. James and I went to a lot of them. Our moms would drop us off, we'd go to the movie, have a hot dog perhaps and maybe head to DJ's Book & News for the latest issue of "Famous Monsters." It was all about monsters, you see. Good times.

James had a birthday last month and as I was trying to come up with something to get him, I thought of "Mad Monster Party," one of our Cardinal matinees. What a movie. Got him the DVD.


It's a stop-motion feature from Rankin/Bass, the cats that gave us "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer," "The Year Without A Santa Claus" (the great one with the Heat-miser and Cold-miser) and others. This time, it's a parade of all your favorite classic monsters--Frankenstein, Dracula, the Mummy, etc.--written by some of the freaks from "Mad" magazine. Like I said, it was all about monsters back then.

Monsters. Stupid jokes. Goofy songs (like "It's The Mummy"). Eastmancolor. A masterpiece.

Whenever I think of "Mad Monster Party," I'm reminded of something that happened at that matinee. There was a group of guys behind us, even bigger idiots than we were. And these bastards kept kicking the back of our seats. Maybe they were just squirmy kids, or maybe they were TRYING to piss us off. Either way, they pissed us off. James said something that I can't remember, though I'd bet money it wasn't very nice. A few seconds later, a tub of hot buttered popcorn plopped down on his head. In the dark, he looked a little like Weird Harold from "Fat Albert." Those kids bolted and James began complaining about how oily his hair was, a complaint that continued throughout the day.

Other matinees we saw included "War Of The Guargantuas" (starring Russ Tamblyn), "Godzilla Vs. Megalon" (I think) and "Godzilla's Revenge" (which stunk, even for a Godzilla movie).

I can't remember when I've had that much fun since.

An essential purchase (unless, of course, you're an idiot)

I'm not a big fan of Best Buy, but they've figued out a slick way to snag $20 of my hard-earned. It's The Classic Sci-Fi Ultimate Collection, an exclusive (and awkwardly-named) boxed set of great Universal sci-fi from the Fifties stuck on three DVDs.

You couldn't ask for five cooler movies: "The Incredible Shrinking Man," "Tarantula," "Monster On The Campus," "The Monolith Monsters" and "The Mole People." Okay, "Mole People" is actually kinda crummy, but it's a cool kinda crummy. All five are in beautiful black and white; "Shrinking Man" is in anamorphic widescreen.

The first three are the work of director Jack Arnold (who contributed the story for "Monolith Monsters"). Jack also directed "The Creature From The Black Lagoon," "It Came From Outer Space," "No Name On The Bullet" and a buncha episodes of "Gilligan's Island" and "The Brady Bunch."

Out of this box, "The Incredible Shrinking Man" is the best movie. The writing's great (by Richard Matheson, from his novel), the acting above par and the special effects ahead of their time. Thought-provoking stuff.

But my favorite of the bunch is "Tarantula." First, it's got Leo G. Carroll, Mara Corday, John Agar and Nestor Paiva. It's got giant insects, a sign of quality among Fifties monster movies. It's black and white. And the pilot in the climax is Clint Eastwood. What more could you want? It's a big drag that it hasn't been given the widescreen treatment: the dead space at the top and bottom makes it look a little clunky.

The other pictures are a lot of fun. And they get the usual top-drawer transfers from Universal. I'm glad to see them treat their sizable stash of classic monster and sci-fi films with respect. They deserve it--after all, they saved the studio from bankruptcy a time or two. But, again, widescreen woulda been nice (these films were shot full-frame to be cropped to around 1.78 or 1.85:1.

Not sure what the scoop is on the whole exclusivity thing. But for the time being, you can only get them at Best Buy. So what are ya waiting for?

Whipped Cream & Other Designs

If you've ever flipped through records at a yard sale or thrift store, chances are good that you've seen the classic LP "Whipped Cream & Other Delights" by Herb Alpert's Tijuana Brass about 637 times. First, it's a running joke among record collectors--this thing is literally everywhere. Second, it's cover is unforgettable.

It's a concpet album: each song has some sorta food in the title ("A Taste Of Honey," "Peanuts" and, of course, "Whipped Cream"). The record itself is one of Alpert's better records, I'd say. Not significantly above par--at least not enough to explain why the record reached the Number 1 album slot and stayed in the Top 40 for months and months. Musta been that cover.

The woman sporting the whipped cream (actually shaving cream since the lights and whipped cream didn't get along) is Delores Erickson. She was three months pregnant at the time of the shoot, so the strategically-placed goo had to be a little more strategic than would've otherwise been necessary. Herb Alpert says he had to be convinced to use the shot--he felt they'd gone too far.

Not only was that album a smash, thanks to the cover (not to take anything away from Alpert and band), but the band's previous releases re-entered the charts, and the next album also did very well. And all sorts of records suddenly appeared with covers clearly derived from "Whipped Cream & Other Delights." Sometimes it was just the way the type appeared on the cover, other times the phototographer was in on the joke. Three examples appear here: The Frivolous Five's "Sour Cream & Other Delights," Pat Cooper's "Spaghetti Sauce & Other Delights" and Soul Asylum's "Clam Dip & Other Delights."

What prompted me to write this was hearing that Miss Erickson will be making an appearanceat at an upcoming local record show. This coming Saturday, the 23rd, at the Clayton Center in Clayton. It's an all-vinyl show. Looking forward to it.

Recently, "Whipped Cream" and a couple other HA & TB records were released on CD (by Shout Factory) in remastered editions with bonus tracks. Also, there was a new piece called "Rewhipped" that featured all the tunes from "Whipped Cream" in heavily remixed form, some with additional horn parts from Alpert. What you think of the music is a matter of taste, but for my money, the new cover pales by comparison to the original.

The Pinnacle Of Human Achievement: Where Eagles Dare

You know, that artificial heart valve was a pretty neat trick. The Panama Canal's kinda cool. And I'm a big fan of the polio vaccine. But when it comes to us humans really getting something right, there's no better example than "Where Eagles Dare" (1969).

It's got an intricate plot. Pretty scenery. Nasty villains. A truly great actor. An icon. A wonderful score. And, best of all, lots (and lots) of violence. [And for the more snobbish among us, there's a little Shakespeare thrown in for good measure: the title's from Richard III: "The world is grown so bad, that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch."]

It's my favorite movie. Has been since I first saw it back in 1974. And I'm a little embarrassed (but at the same time, oddly proud) to admit I've seen it more than 75 times. That's more than 200 hours of my life dedicated to watching Clint Eastwood and Richard Burton put a major dent in the Nazi Party. Time well spent.

A perfectly over-the-top World War II action picture, "Where Eagles Dare" concerns a team of British commandos (and one American) parachuting behind enemy lines to rescue a kidnapped American general. Or something like that. There are a number of doublecrosses and plot twists along the way to keep us guessing. But the plot is never so complicated it distracts from all the action. Director Brian G. Hutton keeps things moving so fast, it feels like a 15-chapter Republic serial spliced end to end. One incredible setpiece follows another, all courtesy of stunt coordinator Yakima Canutt.

It's all nonsense—and that's a compliment. The bullets fly fast and furious, many of them coming from Eastwood. All kinds of stuff blows up in glorious fashion: buildings, airplanes, bridges, you name it. And your typical war movie dialogue—"Broadsword calling Danny Boy"—is elevated to high art by Richard Burton. I'd listen to Burton read the phone book. (By the way, towards the end of the film, as he drives the bus to the airfield, he looks a little tipsy.)

There are a number of mistakes and goofs along the way. Various types of military equipment that didn't exist at the time. Reflections of the camera crew showing up in windows. Bullet holes appearing and disappearing. And some rather 1969-ish haircuts worn by men in uniform. But who cares? It's all part of the fun. And since the whole film moves so fast, you don't notice stuff like that till you've seen it something like 57 times. Trust me.

For a second there, things were looking up.

I have a theory: any movie seems better when you have Raisinets. This hypothesis was developed when considering all the cheap, crummy monster movies I watched--and loved--as a kid, with a Coke and Raisinets always handy. I have a deeply-rooted appreciation for what makes cinema a true art form, so what else could be making me love junk like "War Of The Gargantuas," "The Crater Lake Monster" and "The She-Creature?" It ain't the acting or cinematography, folks. Must be the sugar.

When Nestle bought the company that made Raisinets back in the Eighties, they screwed them up. They just weren't as good, so I switched to Brach's and have been more or less faithful to them for the last 22 years.

Well, at the store the other day, my wife came across a bag of Dark Raisinets. I had to have them. This was just the sort of life-affirming event I've been hoping for.

But guess what? It's not real dark chocolate! They taste just fine, but pretty weak for "dark" chocolate.

They're loaded with fat and cholesterol, but brag on the package about their anitoxidants. I feel a little conned or ripped off or lied to or something.

But I'm gonna need another bag before long.

Great Moments In Cinema #33: Bikini Beach

The green metal-flake VW cruised through the drive-in lot toward the concession stand, its redline tires crunching in the gravel as it prowled in search of the best vantage point. Passing by the Beatnik Bandit, the Deora and the Silhouette, it found its spot, parked and waited for the feature to begin.

The concession stand was a shoebox. The screen was my parents' console TV. And the patrons were my Hot Wheels and Matchbox cars. That's how I saw my first Beach Party flick, "Bikini Beach." And it made quite an impression on a eight-year-old kid from South Georgia: I thought life on the California beaches was really like that. Anyway, I was hooked. And "Bikini Beach" remains one of my favorite films to this day.

At the time of its release in 1964, the critics' nightmares were coming true: the AIP "Beach Party" films were becoming a series. With the third one, "Bikini Beach," they'd truly hit their stride. It's got chicks in bikinis, rail dragsters, Beatle satire, Gary Usher songs, Boris Karloff, Don Rickles, Eric Von Zipper, Bonehead and Candy Johnson. All that, plus a fake monkey.

A masterpiece of Dumb.

Frankie Avalon plays two roles this time. He's Frankie, of course, and he's "The Potato Bug," an obnoxious British recording star. He handles the part surprisingly well, turning in a Terry Thomas-ish performance (aided by fake teeth). He does one satirically Beatlesque tune (complete with yeah-yeah-yeahs), playing a cool doubleneck Danelectro guitar. Of course, the two Frankies compete for the affections of Annette. (I have to stop here to mention that for some people, such as my wife, the Potato Bug subplot is the cinematic equivalent of Chinese water torture.)

Keenan Wynn's out to get the kids this time, using a chimp named Clyde (actually Janos Prohaska in a monkey outfit) to show up the gang by outdoing them at surfing, driving a dragster, etc. Plot-wise, that's pretty much it. But we're not here for the plot, are we?

Don Rickles does a lot for this film, returning as Jack Fanny who's now changed his name to "Big Drag," ditching the bodybuilding scene for dragracing and the arts. "...I got out of the Fanny business. That's all behind me now." (Smart move, Jack.)

Speaking of the drags, check out Clyde's dragster. It's The Showboat, a four-engine Buick-powered dragster owned by "TV" Tommy Ivo. (Ivo was a Fifties TV star who turned to drag-racing in the Sixties and provided technical assistance for this film.) The Showboat has four slicks and when it hops off the line at Big Drag's Dragstrip, it smokes up the entire track. How did anybody see to steer the thing? (A model of the car was available in the Sixties and, luckily, was re-issued in the Nineties.) However, it turned out that four engines were not necessarily an advantage in drag-racing: due to the extra weight, it was slower than Ivo's twin-engine machine. Dig it below, with Rickles.


Dean Jeffries' showcar, the Mantaray, also appears. The Potato Bug cruises up to the dragstrip in it. That's actually Jeffries, in the Bug's duds, behind the wheel. Jeffries is also the creator of the Black Beauty from the "Green Hornet" TV show.

All the racing stuff was shot at Pamona Raceway, with footage from the '64 Winternationals (including a run from "Big Daddy" Don Garlits). It don't get no better than this!

Another highlight is the appearance by The Pyramids, the crazed bald surf band known for their hit "Penetration." They do two songs, "Record Run" and the boss instrumental "Bikini Drag." (Both tunes finally appeared on a Pyramids compilation CD from the good people at Sundazed. Thanks, y'all.) "Little" Stevie Wonder also appears.

Around this time, "Famous Monsters Of Filmland" magazine held a make-up contest with the winner getting the chance to appear in an AIP film—and AIP getting their movie plugged in FM. The winner was Val Warren, which explains why there's a werewolf running around at times. Given the rest of the film, he seems right at home.

Floyd Crosby was "Bikini Beach"'s director of photography. At the time, he was also shooting AIP's Corman/Poe series. And he's former Byrd David Crosby's dad--and grandfather to Melissa Etheridge's kid, I guess.

I watch "Bikini Beach" about once a year, nowdays on a great-looking DVD from MGM. I was reminded of it recently when I happened upon a great blog: checkthecoolwax.blogspot.com. There you'll find some tunes lifted from the film, along with stuff from the rest of the series. You should also check out www.wediditforlove.com/diggers-Bikini-Beach.html for information on the cars in the drag sequences. And if you haven't seen the film itself, by all means do. It's really stupid. And really great.

Great Moments In Cinema #26: Gun Crazy

Growing up a second-generation movie nut in the days before home video meant helping Dad gather 16mm films from a sometimes bewildering array of resources. Not to mention a gaggle of Hollywood fringe people, hustlers, shut-ins and mom's-basement-dwellers. Among these people, there were a handful of movies they hadn't seen in ages but that they discussed in reverant tones, as they recalled when and where they first saw them. One was Joseph H. Lewis' "Gun Crazy" from 1949 (also known as "Deadly Is The Female").

It's a Bonnie and Clyde type story: two gun-obsessed lovers (John Dall, Peggy Cummings) embark on a crime spree with typically tragic results. What makes this B movie something worth seeking out (and these days that's as simple as plunking down $15 at deepdiscountdvd.com) is what Joseph H. Lewis, cinematographer Russell Harlan and the cast do with it.

Lewis was one of those directors who could do a lot with a little, and I'd argue that if he had had any real money to work with, his films wouldn't have been as good. He kept his pacing tight--there's no fat on any of his pictures. And he did some crazy inventive stuff to stretch his budgets. "Gun Crazy" features the perfect example: a single-shot bank robbery sequence (with the camera in the back seat of the getaway car) that plays more like TV's "Cops" than it does a late-Forties motion picture. It's a stunning piece of film that has been imitated or ripped off countless times in movies that spent more on catering than this film's total cost. And that's just one example: this is one of the best-looking B movies ever, filled with bizarre camera angles and weird lighting.

As an adult with a swelling DVD collection, I've had a chance to see a lot of the obscure films my dad and his collector buddies were such fans of.* Unfortunately, few of them have lived up to the years of movie-geek hype I was subjected to. "Gun Crazy" does. In fact, I think they undersold it. What's more, it even holds up to the psycho-babble and over-analysis film scholars have heaped upon it to since film noir became a big deal in the Seventies.

Other Jospeh H. Lewis pictures worth checking out: "Invisible Ghost"(1941) with Bela Lugosi, "The Big Combo" (1955) and the incredible Sterling Hayden western "Terror In A Texas Town" (1958). Good stuff.

* That availability has to be the true benefit of the home video revolution, with the downside being that we now see great works like "Citizen Kane" on the same box we use to view "Celebrity Fit Club." There's something troubling about that.