Category Archives: Film History

Money, Vision, and Psychotronic Film

Money, Vision, and Psychotronic Film

There is an interesting distinction between exploitation filmmakers. There are those who are just in it for the money — people like Herschell Gordon Lewis. And then there are visionaries (who were often con men) who would do whatever they could do to get their ideas on film — people like Ed Wood.

It doesn’t much matter to the final result. Lewis would never write anything as breathtakingly personal as Glen or Glenda. Yet in many ways the two men were quite similar. Wood certainly wanted his unique vision to be profitable. And Lewis was quite willing to tackle the social issues of his day in his later films.

Realism in Filmmaking

The issue, I think, is the realism of the filmmaker. Lewis famously said that he felt sorry for filmmakers who were trying to make art. Now, like so many things Lewis said, I think it was more for effect than anything else. But there is no doubt that Lewis was, as the Mothers put it, “only in it for the money.”

Wood, on the other hand, would have made his films if he knew that there was no money in it.

If Lewis Had Made Glen or Glenda

I focus on Glen or Glenda because it is Wood’s most pure vision — from his id on to celluloid. And this is why I consider it one of the greatest films ever made and the greatest idiosyncratic film ever made. (Oh, if he were only alive to see me write that! And sorry, George Barry: you still made a great film.)

But Lewis would have had no problem making Glen or Glenda himself — so long as he thought it would have made money. But I doubt it would have been as good — at least to viewers like me.

Wood was down on his knees begging society to understand him and those like him. Lewis would have been down on his knees looking for dropped dollars at the drive-in entrence.

Different Ways to Make a Great Film

Anyone who’s read more than a couple of sentences by me knows that I fall into the Ed Wood camp. Art? Professionalism? These are fine things in their right place. But they aren’t very important in psychotronic film. What I most love about psychotronic film is that it surprises me. When I first saw Glen or Glenda, I felt like I had entered Ed Wood’s brain — a wondrous place to spend an hour.

With Lewis’ films, I don’t get that experience. He never let’s me inside because his motivation is money, even if what he produced was often great.

An Aside: Ed Wood Was a Good Director

The idea that Ed Wood was a bad (much less the worst) director is nonsense. Most people who have seen any of his films have only seen Plan 9 From Outer Space — and only after being told it is a bad movie. And the rest just take it as a fact, having never seen it. (This is similar to Gary Larson’s “Hell’s Video Store,” which only had Ishtar for rent — a cartoon he created — and later apologized for — having never seen that great comedy.)

Plan 9 is not a bad film! Although hardly a great film, it is interesting throughout. What’s more, it’s subversive!

Focusing on Stupid Things

Yet people focus on things like the tombstones falling over. Why? Because they’ve been told to! I’m a movie fanatic. Now I mostly watch them alone, but I’ve watched hundreds with audiences, and they don’t notice things like this.

I think it wasn’t until my own fifth watching of Plan 9 that I noticed the tombstones. Why? Because I was concentrating on the story — like most viewers.

Who Does Professionalism Impress?

The exceptional amount of professionalism put into Hollywood films is put their for the filmmakers themselves. And this is why we end up with films like the first Star Wars looking so bad after a couple of years that Lucas was driven to replace all his special effects because two years later they were embarrassing. (I think doing that is an artistic sin; art exists in its own context; but I guess it isn’t a sin for Lucas because he is no artist.)

But most filmmakers don’t have that kind of money or power. So we have countless films that turn from live-action to cartoons and back. I personally find it distracting. Tombstones falling over on a tiny part of the screen is much easier to overlook than the fact that half of the third act of The Matrix Revolutions is a cartoon — and one that looks worse ever year.

Watch Jail Bait (which Ed Wood made between Glen or Glenda and Bride of the Monster). You will see a perfectly competent writer and director. Indeed, in terms of professionalism, he was easily as good as Herschell Gordon Lewis. But Wood had a personal vision that Lewis did not. And maybe Lewis is right: we should pity Wood.

But had Wood been an art painter, it is exactly this vision that would have made him a star. But since film is commodity to most people, Lewis is the success and Wood the failure.

Luck and the Movies

Still, we can’t lose sight of the fact that Lewis was just lucky. It’s not like gore wasn’t in the air. As I pointed out in my discussion of Blood Feast, Akira Kurosawa was already playing with gore in Yojimbo (1961) and in a spectacular way in Sanjuro (1962).

Had it not been for Blood Feast, Lewis would be remembered fondly by people like me for films like Scum of the Earth! and The Gruesome Twosome, but he would not be the icon he became.

The same is true of Wood, of course, but in a horrible way.

Some people decided to focus on Plan 9 From Outer Space and decide that it was the worst film ever. I don’t know where they got that idea — maybe just because Michael Bay hadn’t started making films yet. Most likely, they just didn’t understand what Wood was doing. And they probably hadn’t seen that many films anyway.

But it caught on. Ed Wood was “the worst director of all time” based upon seeing only one of his films and not understanding it. Sorry, but this is great writing and directing:

The Psychotronic Filmmakers Curse and Blessing

One thing you hear again and again in director commentaries on psychotronic films is disappointment. The directors wish they could have done this or that. Or they made a bad decision here. Or they really wish they had been able to go back and re-shoot this scene or shoot a missing transition. But they couldn’t. You never hear this from Hollywood directors because they aren’t constrained in that way. They’re constrained in a much worse way: in what the kind of film they can make to begin with.

Whether for money or vision, the psychotronic filmmaker is artistically free to make the kind of films they think people want to watch — whether they are right (as Lewis was) or wrong (as Wood was). In the end, we get films that delight us if we are open to them. All the “art” and professionalism in the world will not stop me from passing out before the first reel is finished.

The Short Life of Jill Banner

The actor Jill Banner is iconic because of her role in the cult classic Spider Baby but also because of her tragic death at 35 years old. You can find quotes about her below.

“Jill Banner” sounds like a fake name and it is. She was born Mary Kathryn Molumby on 8 November 1946 in Bremerton, Washington to parents Raymond Molumby (18 August 1888) and Muriel Molumby (27 November 1919), nee Bergheim.

Jill’s father had three sons from a previous marriage but it doesn’t appear that she had any real interactions with these half-brothers.

Her father died when she was just 2 years old. After that her mother moved around a lot, apparently to live with relatives. However, since her father is buried in South Dakota, it is likely the move there was before he died.

By 1961, at the age of 15, she was attending Hollywood Professional School — a private K-12 school for child performers. At 17, she met and became close friends with Peggy Lipton, who would go on to star in The Mod Squad and marry Quincy Jones.

Her first big break came in 1964 when she auditioned for Spider Baby. Writer-director Jack Hill said of it, “We just chatted with her and she admitted she hadn’t had any experience. But she said, ‘I’m a lot of fun to have around.’ And the way she said that, all of us in the room suddenly felt that this strange girl was just right for the picture.”

Sadly, although the film was all but done by the end of 1964, the financial backers went bankrupt. This delayed the film’s release by three years. By that time, she had sever on-screen credits to her name, mostly on TV. After its release, she continued to work steadily, entirely in TV and usually cast as a young hippy.

In 1968, Banner met Marlon Brando when he was working on Candy (1968). They seem to have stayed together until 1976. She has no film credits for the last 4 years of this period. They were going to get married but had a fight and Banner moved to New Mexico to work in real estate.

In 1980, Jill Banner returned to Los Angeles. Just two years later, on 7 August 1982, she was driving on the Ventura Freeway (Hwy 101). A drunk driver in a truck hit her. She was thrown from her Toyota experiencing intense head trauma. She was in a coma and soon died at the Riverside Hospital in North Hollywood.

Jill Banner Filmography

I’ve watched everything I can find that features Jill Banner. Here is a full list of her TV/film credits with details about her roles.

  1. 24 January 1966: The John Forsythe Show Season 1 Episode 19 “If Food Be the Music of Love” — She plays Marcia. I haven’t managed to find a copy of this. Forsythe plays a retired Air Force officer who inherits a girl’s school. Comedian Guy Marks played his Air Force buddy, Elsa Lanchester was the school principal, and Ann B Davis was probably a teacher. This episode is about the poor quality of food at the school. I assume Marcia was one of the students. Forsythe’s daughter Page played a character with that name in two earlier episodes.
  2. 4 February 1966: Weekend of Fear — She plays Carol, the main character’s boyfriend’s ex in this micrro-budget thriller. She exists mostly to allow the villain to explain her evil plan. The film stars Mikki Malone, who is credited with a number of porn films in the 1990s although I would assume those were not sex roles given her age.
  3. 12 February 1967: Deadlier Than the Male — She plays Pam in an uncredited role in this spy thriller. I haven’t been able to find her in the released film. In an 8-minute sequence that was cut from the final film, Pam is a model who Robert mistakes for a spy. It’s a rather good scene. Elke Sommer is also featured in the film.
  4. 2 March 1967: Dragnet Season 1 Episode 7 “The Hammer” — She plays Camille Gearhardt, a bad girl with criminal tendencies who hooked up with the wrong guy and ends up in prison for accessory to murder. She gets to deliver a great line, “You got nice eyes… for a cop!”
  5. 3 May 1967: C’mon, Let’s Live a Little — She plays Wendy in this Bobby Vee vehicle. There are three young dark-haired women who act as a kind of single character. Banner does most of the talking for them. The singer Kim Carnes is featured in this film.
  6. 17 August 1967: The Stranger Returns — She plays Caroline, the daughter of the town’s double-dealing postmaster in this excellent spaghetti western. The character exists mostly to be used as a pawn but she does get a great moment with a slap.
  7. 21 December 1967: The President’s Analyst — She plays Snow White, a hippy who James Coburn hooks up with while on the run from the feds. The film also features William Daniels and Arte Johnson in small roles.
  8. 24 December 1967: Spider Baby or, The Maddest Story Ever Told — She plays Virginia, one of the three insane Merrye children. She is obsessed with spiders. The film also features Lon Chaney Jr, Carol Ohmart, and Sid Haig.
  9. 5 March 1968: Shadow Over Elveron — She plays Jessie Drover, the pregnant daughter of corrupt Sheriff Verne Drover (Leslie Nielsen) who is forcing her to have an abortion. This TV movie also stars James Franciscus and Don Ameche.
  10. 9 January 1969: Dragnet Season 3 Episode 14 “Homicide: DR-22” — She plays Eve Stewart Wesson, a heroin addict and prostitute. She delivers a ton of exposition very much in the style of the show. Burt Mustin co-stars.
  11. 20 March 1969: Dragnet Season 3 Episode 23 “Forgery: DR-33” — She plays Sondra Kay Thompson, a sympathetic check forger. It’s a tiny role.
  12. 25 September 1969: Dragnet Season 4 Episode 2 “Homicide: The Student” — She plays Nancy Morton, a college student who knows an unstable murderer. This is another part with a lot of exposition and little else.
  13. 13 November 1969: Dragnet Season 4 Episode 8 “DHQ: Missing Person” — She plays Shirley Lawson, a young woman with a split personality. Her “older sister” wears a blond wig, so it’s fun to see that. This is the best of her Dragnet roles.
  14. 12 March 1970: Hunters Are for Killing — She plays Holly Fornell, the young hippy daughter of the cafe owner. She seems to exist entirely to establish Burt Reynolds as a good guy who doesn’t sleep with the gorgeous young woman who throws herself at him. But it’s hard to say since I’ve only seen this TV movie in German. It also features Martin Balsam, Melvyn Douglas, Suzanne Pleshette, and Larry Storch.
  15. 20 March 1970: The Name of the Game Season 2 Episode 23 “Echo of a Nightmare” — She plays Vivi Sue. I have not been able to see a copy to know more. The episode features guest stars Hoagy Carmichael, Arthur Hill, and Ricardo Montalban.
  16. 15 October 1970: Ironside Season 4 Episode 4 “Noel’s Gonna Fly” — She plays Judy Blue, a hippy girl who Noel interacts with after he runs away. It’s a bigger role than normal for her, featured in 3 locations. Lorraine Gary guest stars.
  17. 4 December 1970: The Name of the Game Season 3 Episode 12 “Why I Blew Up Dakota” — She plays Ginger Schermer, a “stewardess” who is the alibi for an artist accused of murder. This episode has a guest cast including Jose Ferrer, Carolyn Jones, Roddy McDowall, and Paul Stewart.
  18. 30 January 1972: Cade’s County Season 1 Episode 16 “Slay Ride: Part 1” — She plays Melanie, a young woman at a Native American commune. She exists to provide some exposition about the murdered woman. The show is actually pretty good; too bad it didn’t take off. The episode features character actor John Schuck and Academy Award-winning producer Tony Bill.
  19. 2 February 1972: Adam-12 Season 4 Episode “The Adoption” — She plays Rita, a young woman who agreed to give up her baby for cash who has had second thoughts. She says at the end of the episode, “I’m keeping my baby” — 14 years before Madonna’s “Papa Don’t Preach.” Jackie Coogan is featured in a subplot about a college football team giving performance-enhancing drugs to the students.
  20. 6 February 1972: Cade’s County Season 1 Episode 17 “Slay Ride: Part 2” — She is credited as Melanie, but doesn’t seem to have been in this episode.
  21. 5 March 1972: The Bold Ones: The New Doctors Season 3 Episode 11 “Discovery at Fourteen” — She plays “Curlish Girl.” I haven’t found the episode online. But I’ve found enough to know that Ron Howard plays a young man who is afraid he is gay. Given her character’s name, I assume this isn’t much of a part. The show had a great cast including EG Marshall, John Saxon, and Robert Walden.

Quotes From People Who Knew Her

I’ve done a lot of research to get a handle on Jill Banner. Here are notable quotes from the books.

Jack Hill

Writer and director Jack Hill was interviewed in The Hatching of Spider Baby and this is what he said about Jill Banner:

I don’t know how we found out about Jill Banner [for Spider Baby]. Somebody must have told us about her. She just came into the office for an interview and I’m sure she wasn’t expecting to get any kind of a leading role. We just chatted with her and she admitted she hadn’t had any experience. But she said, “I’m a lot of fun to have around.” And the way she said that, all of us in the room suddenly felt that this strange girl was just right for the picture. She just had this kind of presence.

It wasn’t until not too many years ago I had been trying to locate Jill Banner. I had a phone number on her, and I had no idea that she had died. And I learned that she had died in a terrible, terrible automobile accident on the Pacific Coast Highway. She was at that time living with Marlon Brando and, in fact, working on a screenplay with him. And I also heard from Jill’s manager that Brando had told someone that Jill was the only woman he had ever really loved. At her funeral, he remained long after everybody else had left — standing over her grave. So it must have been quite a relationship. And she was quite a remarkable girl, so I could understand very much why Brando would be fascinated by her.

Everett Greenbaum

Writer Everett Greenbaum (co-writer of The Ghost and Mr Chicken) is quoted about Banner in Brando: The Unauthorized Biography by Charles Higham:

He also had an affair with an ill-fated woman named Jill Banner. A tiny, appealing former actress who talked in a low-pitched sexy, drawling comic voice like Mae West, she eternally fascinated Marlon. According to Marlon and Wally Cox’s old friend Everett Greenbaum, Marlon was fiercely possessive of this intriguing girl. “I used to take Jill for rides in my airplane,” Greenbaum recalled. “Every time Jill went flying with me, Marlon got furious. They had a fight and then made up. Marlon bought her a golden apple made of solid gold studded with emeralds, rubies, and diamonds. She wore it around her neck. Then they went to some island in Hawaii, and Marlon had an argument with her on the beach and he yanked the apple off and threw it away in the ocean.”

Greenbaum added, “Jill was killed in a terrible car crash. I was at the funeral. I didn’t see Marlon. But I heard afterward he was hiding in the trees next to the burial ground.” Fearful of the attentions of the press, Marlon, as at Wally Cox’s funeral, didn’t want to be seen even by the other mourners.

Marlon Brando

Marlon Brando is probably not the most trustworthy source for information about Banner — or anything, really. The entirety of Songs My Mother Taught Me come across very much like Ernest Hemingway in A Moveable Feast — as a man who, despite all his successes is still trying to prove that he’s a real man. But he dedicates two chapters to Jill Banner, who he refers to as Weonna. Please note that many things he says are factually wrong like her hair and eye color and her mother being from Ireland (she was born in South Dakota).

Although I let some women believe I loved them — and in some cases I may have meant it at the time — there was one woman I loved more than any other.

I was in my early forties when I met Weonna in Rome. She had a part in Candy and was with a friend of mine. He and I had the same rivalry I’d had with Carlo Fiore; we both tried to seduce each other’s girl. After he introduced me to Weonna in a hotel lobby, he went off and I put it to her succinctly.

“Why don’t we go upstairs and fuck?” She answered, “Why not? Let’s go!”

That was the beginning and the end of the seduction.

Weonna was born only about a hundred miles away from my birthplace. She had written a little, done some acting, modeled for a while, made some money in real estate. She was an extraordinary piece of construction, with white skin, soft natural blonde hair, freckles, a lot of moles, green eyes, and a voice with the slightest hint of an Irish accent, a hand me down from her mother who was from Ireland. She made me laugh harder than any woman I’ve ever known. She was quick to understand and laughed at me a lot, too. Like my mother and grandmother, she had a sense of the absurd, thought the outrageous, and impose no limits on her imagination. She was amusing, witty, intelligent, eccentric. But she was also troubled. She distrusted people, drank too much, and occasionally used drugs — not hard drugs, but pills. It was spasmodic; she would use them awhile, then swear off them, be clean for a while, then start again, and I’d have to take her to a hospital because it was the only place where she could stop. Still, we had a lot of fun together, and even now I often laugh at what we laughed at then.

Note that Jill had brunette hair and blue eyes.

After this, he tells a story about stealing some pipes with Banner where she refuses to lie to the police for him. He notes, “I thought her disloyalty unbecoming.”

In the next chapter, he talks about Jill’s jealousy and describes a couple of (undoubtedly rare) examples of where he was innocent. Then he gives his side of how they broke up, which is flat-out contradicted by Brando’s assistant.

For several years I saw Weonna off and on and we loved a lot and fought a lot. She was a tough woman and gave as good as she got. She had an unerring sense of how to prick my insecurities and jealousies, and we had ferocious fights. I suppose neither of us was willing or able to change our ways. At our last meeting we stood toe-to-toe and really destroyed each other emotionally. It was a grizzly collision: Weonna, to get back at me because she said I had hurt her, had seduced one of my sons. I didn’t explode. I simply realized it was over and that there was no possibility of anything between us again. After what she did it was impossible to patch it up. I reassured my boy that he should not feel guilty, that what happened had been a maneuver by her to stick a dagger in my heart, and that he had no reason to feel any remorse.

Brando continues with some details about Banner’s later life but it isn’t clear how accurate it is:

For about five years, I didn’t see Weonna, though I thought about her often and from time to time heard news about her: she had moved to New Mexico, had given up acting, had done well in real estate, and had entered law school.

He goes on to talk about them when she returned to Los Angeles. It’s mostly self-serving nonsense. He claims that had she lived, they would have gotten back together.

It is notable that many sources claim she was working for Brando at the end. There is no mention of this.

He ends by claiming that Banner wanted to be buried with her father. I don’t doubt she once said that. But people get this idea that if someone says something once to them that much be The Truth. She didn’t know her father. She wasn’t a practicing Catholic. “Her mother is also dead now, and I’ve often thought of having Weonna’s casket moved so that she can be with her father. I know that one day I’ll do it.” He never did.

Alice Marchak

Alice Marchak was Marlon Brando’s long-time personal assistant. She wrote about the experience in Me and Marlon. She tells a rather different story to Marlon’s but I suspect they can be integrated.

Marlon had asked Jill to marry him. He suggested she pick out a ring. Instead, she opted for a ruby and emerald apple, that he had made for her, which she wore on a gold chain around her neck. Jill chose the apple for sentimental reasons. Marlon affectionately called her “the apple of my eye.”

The engagement was of short duration — the wedding bells would not be ringing.

They were en route to Tahiti via Hawaii with some friends and, as Jill recounted, they were on the balcony of the hotel. There were large waves crashing over the rocks below. Marlon was in a very surly mood; he was trying to antagonize everyone. He picked on her until he got a rise out of her. She uttered something that sent him round the bend. He went for her. He missed her, but not the ruby apple, which he tore from her neck and threw over the balcony into the sea and rocks below.

As far as Jill was concerned, the engagement was broken at that moment. There was no way the jeweled apple could be retrieved from the rocks and the sea. The attack, and loss, naturally upset her. That’s when, she confided, Marlon urged Valium on her. But she had cleaned up her act. She wasn’t going to allow him to control her ever again. And certainly not with drugs, as he had in the past. She decided she had to save herself. She couldn’t go to Tahiti with him. She returned to California. Called me. I applauded her decision. Jill left California. She didn’t say goodbye to anyone. None of her friends would tell Marlon where she was if they knew. Her mother professed not to know where her daughter was. When I spoke to her, she said Jill was saddened by not being able to let me know where she was, but she was afraid that out of loyalty to Marlon, I might tell him. It was a year before I heard of her whereabouts, but I never told Marlon.

A friend of mine, who lived in Santa Fe, had seen her. I never tried to contact Jill directly, but periodically I would call her mother to inquire about her. I wanted her to know I cared.

Jill was away for a few years. Then one day I learned from Marlon she had returned to California. Marlon revealed that a friend had seen her and had invited her to dinner. Marlon dropped in. He didn’t tell me the reception he received, but it must have been cool, because he didn’t see her again or he would have told me. She hadn’t phoned me. I decided I’d give her space and time since it was evident after several weeks that she did not want to resume her relationship with Marlon.

Then she called. We buried the past, but the future was in doubt. She was afraid of a relationship of any kind with Marlon. She had changed, but she realized he hadn’t. And she didn’t know if she was strong enough to withstand a Brando onslaught, or even wanted to prop him up as I had through the years. We’d stay in touch. After we terminated the call, I realized I failed to obtain her telephone number.

Marlon and I were leaving for Tahiti, Tetiaroa, for the summer. I promised myself I would call Jill upon my return. I wanted to see her again, have one of our enjoyable lunches. Vacation over, Marlon and I were on the plane en route home and Jill came to mind. It was about an eight-hour flight and during it, she came to mind several times. After the last time she flitted across my mind, I reminded myself I must contact Jill through her mother as soon as I arrived home. The thought had no sooner crossed my mind when Marlon turned to me and just above a whisper confided, “I think I’ll marry Jill. I’m going to call her when we get home.”

Banner died in a car accident before either could call.

Peggy Lipton

In her autobiography, Breathing Out, Peggy Lipton discusses Jill Banner in depth. She describes their meeting in Chapter 11, “The Magic Girl”:

The minute I saw Jill, I was enchanted. I watched her from afar for weeks. ” You have to get to know that girl, ” I kept telling myself.

Jill was my total opposite. I was the nice little Jewish girl with the good girl outfits, neatly turned up pageboy hairdo, and just the right Beret in place. On Jill everything was tight and slinky. Shirts, skirts, and cardigans that strained against her tiny bosom. Her skin was translucent. Her hair was black, her eyes cobalt blue. She was the most enigmatic, strange, mystical, magical, scary, wonderful person I’d ever seen, and, no matter what it took, I had to get to know her.

Jill would slink around like a cat, slithering between the desks or remaining completely still to observe someone making a complete fool of themselves. She had long cat fingers and long cat nails and a tiny, pouty mouth. She “oozed” Brigitte Bardot. She was meticulous about her appearance. No creases or stains over her clothes and her thick bangs were combed long and smooth enough to hide the expression in her eyes. She’d only let you see what she wanted you to see. She didn’t fidget. Everything about her was in slow motion, which fascinated me. I watched her with awe, wondering how I would ever get to know her.

Finally one day I made the approach. I was unbearably shy in most ways, but if I really wanted something, I could psych myself up to go after it. Outside in the cafeteria area, I saw Jill methodically unwrapping her sandwich so not one morsel of food would soil her impossibly glamorous fingernails. When I got my nerve, I asked her if I could have a bite of her sandwich. She said nothing, seductively putting the whole half in my mouth and watching me chew. Her finger caught a little mayonnaise on its tip and the next thing I knew she put it between my lips for me to lick off. She looked at me mischievously with her penetrating blue eyes. She was testing me; these were girls’ initiation rights. We laughed and she began talking to me, which, for Jill, was a big deal.

Lipton tells a few stories to show how Jill tested her. She also says that Jill was 16. But Lipton was 17 when she started at Hollywood Professional School. And she was only two months older than Banner, so I assume Banner was also 17. (She also later says it is 1963, so that tracks.)

In Chapter 12, “Enter Earl,” Lipton brings up the subject of sex via a 50-something war correspondent who Jill and she hung out with after school. It does not seem that Jill was sexually involved with him.

Jill and Earl were like characters in a movie. It was as if they had invented themselves. Jill seemed to come from nowhere. She had no father. No sisters. No brothers. She lived with her mother, but in all the years we were friends, I never met her mother or even talked to her. They came from Iowa farm country and her real name was Mary Kay — that was all I knew. That’s all I ever knew. The fact that we were so different from each other in our looks, our backgrounds, and our personalities had a profound magnetic pool on our relationship.

We became best friends. Every day after school, the two of us took our positions on Earl’s ratty couch. Her head on one end and my head on the other, our legs intertwined, drinking Coke and smoking cigarettes, petting the cats, and just fantasizing about our lives.

In Chapter 17, “We’ve Got a Ticket to Ride,” the two (with Earl’s help) try to meet The Beatles. But Peggy had to take the lead because Jill got cast in Spider Baby. She screwed things up for Jill but did end up meeting and sleeping with Paul McCartney. This seems to have caused a break in Jill and Peggy’s relationship, which lasted for about a year.

There is one story about Jill protecting Peggy from an abusive ex-boyfriend. And then Jill is never mentioned again except in passing at the end of the book related to an event in 1997, “I didn’t have Jill in my life anymore — she had died in a car crash in 1982, while living with Marlon Brando.” The fact that she’s wrong about Jill living with Brando shows their relationship was over long before Jill’s death.


Image of Jill Banner taken from Find a Grave. Licensed under Fair Use.

How to Count IMDb Credits: It’s Harder Than You Think

William Kerwin - How to Count IMDb Credits: It's Harder Than You ThinkI have highly mixed feelings about the Internet Movie Database (IMDb). I have since the beginning. Soon after it appeared on the web, I wrote to them, begging that they do credits properly. It bugged me especially that they didn’t list screenwriters in credit order. It also bothered me when they started adding a bunch of (uncredited) entries. That’s fine for a minor actor that you can see in the film. But just because a screenwriter was paid to write a draft or punch up a script doesn’t mean a single word or idea made it into the final script. Leave it to the WGA to work out. That’s a big part of what they do.

And there are other problems with IMDb. The biggest is just how cozy they are with Hollywood. All the ridiculous, overblown advertising. And it bugs me that now the studios just feed them their complete credits. Certainly, it makes the site more efficient and profitable. It also makes the site less human and fills it up with a lot of garbage credits (the Hollywood style). And the site has shown no interest and going back to old and odd films and filling them in and correcting errors.

IMDb’s Biggest Practical Problem

But the biggest practical problem I have with IMDb is the way they list credits. And I’ll explain with character actor William Kerwin, but this is true of almost anyone who worked in any capacity in television. If you check IMDb, it says he has 132 acting credits: films and television shows. And that’s the killer. Because a film is equivalent to an episode of a television show, not the whole series. I’ll come back to Kerwin in a moment.

Consider Robert Clary, the actor who played LeBeau on Hogan’s Heroes. According to IMDb, he has only 22 credits! Yet he’s actually been in 219 films and television episodes. And in most of those he was a major part of the cast.

Now I know a lot of people think that television is very different than film, but it really isn’t. That’s especially true for character actors. Regardless what they’re in, they are usually going to be working for a day or two. So whether on film or television it doesn’t matter.

For the technical people, television is generally easier because the shows are shorter and they have established sets and so on. So directing for television shows is a whole lot easier. (Note: directing a television movie is in no way different than directing a theatrical film.)

I’m usually looking at actors and I want to have an idea of how much they’ve worked. And that “credits” number is often wrong.

How to Fix IMDb’s Credits Problem

But there is a relatively easy way to make the correct calculation. Scroll through all of the titles that the person has worked on. Make a note of any television show they were on more than once. In each case, note down one less than the number of episodes they were on. Add all these up and add them to the number IMDb reports as “credits” and you have the actual number of films and television episodes they worked on.

So returning to William Kerwin, we have Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok (5), Play of the Week (2), Lancer (6), Blind Ambition (4), and Romance Theatre (5). So that’s 4 + 1 + 5 + 3 + 4 = 17. So we add 17 to the IMDb credits total of 132, and we get 149.

This Matters

I picked Kerwin both because of his association with Herschell Gordon Lewis, but also because he never starred in a series or played many recurring characters. So it was an easy example.

But this has always bothered me. In his case, it isn’t that big a deal: 132 vs 149. But in the case of Clary, it’s huge: a difference of almost 200: 22 vs 219. Or consider Valerie Harper, who has 70 “credits” but starred in 110 episodes of Rhoda alone. Or Julie Kavner with 69 “credits” but 110 episodes of Rhoda and 643 episodes of The Simpsons.

So this can be a very big deal. And since Psychotronic Review takes film (especially low-budget film) very seriously, we will always provide the right number and not just take IMDb’s lazy and offensive number.

Blood Feast and the Brilliance of Paucity

Blood Feast and the Brilliance of PaucityI recently bought a fantastic book, Regional Horror Films, 1958 – 1990. The truth is that I’ve been fairly stuck in California. Even when you talk about the films of Ed Wood, they were still made in Los Angeles. They look like Los Angeles. And this is at a time when different parts of the country really did look different. But my interest is more about how these films got made. And as the author, Brian Albright, notes: much of what makes these films shocking is that the filmmakers are making the best of their limited resources.

I’ve noticed this very often in literature. I don’t consider William S Burroughs a great writer. Junkie and Queer show him to be a competent pulp writer — on par with Ed Wood but certainly not as good as Jim Thompson. (I should admit that I’m something of a Thompson fanatic. And I believe that Pop 1280 is one of the great novels of the 20th century.)

William S Burroughs Accidentally Produces Greatness

Then Burroughs comes out with Naked Lunch — one of the great novels of the 20th century. Burroughs was so high on alcohol and opioids that he has no memory writing it. Many of the pages were spattered with blood. And it was a mess. If it weren’t for Jack Kerouac‘s exquisite editing of the manuscript, it would have been nothing more than the ravings of a madman. I personally think that Kerouac’s greatest literary contribution to the 20th century was this editing and not his books, which I find rather dull. (His poetry is better.)

It was Burroughs’ lack of traditional literary skill that made Naked Lunch a masterpiece. I remember my mother (who was only happy when reading) trying to read the book and finding it impenetrable. So I sat down with her and went sentence by sentence explaining exactly what this madman was saying. She eventually grokked it, and was able to read the rest. It’s one of my favorite memories of my mother.

Filmmaking Is Harder Than Writing

The situation is so much worse with film. I am not a great writer. But I can write a competent novel. If you want, I can write in the style of Fitzgerald or Stein. But to make a film — a short one, not even a feature length — is beyond me. I’ve tried. For one thing, making a film is something that is almost impossible for one person to do. And I don’t have a lot of friends.

Blood Feast is, in many ways, an amateurish film. It looks much like the first couple of films of John Waters. Yet it is one of the most important films ever made. It invented the splatter picture. Yet most viewers couldn’t tell that. No violence is ever done on screen. For example, the villain rips the tongue out of a woman. But all we see is (in reality) a sheep’s tongue in the hand of the villain.

Shocking Then, Tame Now

It’s tame stuff by today’s standards, but it was shocking for 1963. And it was the result of a lack of resources. All the filmmakers had that would attract an audience was young women in their underwear and blood. And they used those to the best of their ability. And they scored. According to Wikipedia (no reference), the film cost $24,500 to make ($200,000 today) and made $4 million ($33 million today) without the aid of any home rentals.

The producers also used William Castle style promotion. For example, they took out a lawsuit against it in Florida claiming it was obscene. The point was to get publicity, which worked very well.

Professionalism Can Be Limiting

But after Blood Feast, many imitators came along. In fact, after their third splatter picture, the producers decided not to make any more because the genre was getting too crowded (and thus unlucrative). But the point is that no Hollywood production would have made such a film. They didn’t have to. They had good writers and actors and lots of money. The producers of Blood Feast (basically Herschell Gordon Lewis — a psychotronic icon — and David F Friedman) didn’t have these things. They didn’t even have much talent. But they managed to make a film and create a genre.

This is one of main reasons I love psychotronic film. Professionalism is often the death of creativity. How many romantic comedies have you seen? Is any one of them much different than any others? No. That’s not to say I don’t like them. I’m very fond of It Happened One Night and French Kiss, although those two films are so similar (separated by over 60 years) it’s almost embarrassing.

Even with all the copies of Blood Feast, I’ve never seen a film quite like it. And I’m glad. Because I find it more disturbing than the technically better films that came later. It’s easy for me to laugh along with Dead Snow. Blood Feast seems almost like a documentary compared to it. And that’s why (as much as I like it) Dead Snow will be forgotten, and Blood Feast will be studied by film students fifty years from now.

Afterword

You can find this film on Daily Motion with lots of commercials. I’ve just ordered the special edition DVD and will create a page for it. At this point, I haven’t watched it enough and don’t know enough about it to write a page for it. I’m using it here only as an example of how a lack of resources can produce brilliance.

Film Length and the Death of Entertainment

Robot MonsterWhen it comes to psychotronic films, you will often find short films. For example, Robot Monster, which is just 62 minutes or Bride of the Gorilla, which is 70 minutes. But this is unusual. When The Reduced Shakespeare Company got their first contract, their act was one hour long and the company that was going to be booking them told them that they had to make the show at least 90 minutes. That’s the key. If people are going to pay for a play, they expect at least an hour and a half.

But things used to be different at the movies. You go into the theater. You see a newsreal. Then there’s a cartoon. Next comes the B feature and then the A feature. That’s entertainmaint! That’s perhaps three hours of entertainment. It sure beats what you get today: one or more commercials, as if you hadn’t paid $8.50 to get into the theater and then paid $7.00 for some stale popcorn. Then you get a bunch of trailers for movies you don’t want to see. And finally, the “feature presentation” — as if there were any presentation other than ads.

So in the 1950s, you could get away with an hour long film, because there would be two of them. Today, you just get one film. And it isn’t just one and a half hours long. Sometimes it is two and a half hours. Sometimes it is four hours.

Okay, sometimes it’s worth it. Schindler’s List was over three hours long, and that’s not even counting the ten minutes you sit in the theater seat sobbing. Long films can be great! But usually it is something more like Marvel’s The Avengers, two and a half hour green screen action that is hard to follow and pointless if you do manage.

Brief Introduction to Dramatic Structure

Regardless of how you chop a film up, it has three acts. (Forget Shakespeare and five acts; they could all be divided into three acts.) The first act sets up what’s going to happen. The second act is just wasting time because you don’t want the story too short. And the third act resolves everything.

In an hour and a half film, that comes down to this:

  • First act: 20 minutes
  • Second act: 60 minutes
  • Third act: 10 minutes

I’m sure you see the problem. That second act is way too long. A good writer will make it interesting. But generally, a whole hour to fill is dull.

But look at how it is for an hour long film:

  • First act: 20 minutes
  • Second act: 30 minutes
  • Third act: 10 minutes

Now you only have a half hour to fill with the characters running around looking for an ending. You sit in the theater and before you know it, the film is over! Something goes wrong, the characters have to overcome it, and the film ends. With the hour and a half film, there has to to be two, three, maybe even four unbelievable conflicts that have to be overcome. If you came to the theater tired, you slept through at least a third of act two. And if you’re unlucky, it was the last third and you missed the end of film. Hopefully, you came to the film with a friend who can explain the whole thing.

I love short films because they get on with the story. Longer films go on for no reason. Especially in an action film, I don’t need to see another fight scene. And I certainly don’t need to see a 15 minute fight scene when a 2 minute scene would do. (I’m talking to you John Woo!) Because I like a little reality in my films.

Usually, in real life, something goes wrong, you deal with it, and then you move on. Real life isn’t: something goes wrong, you deal with it, but then something else goes wrong, so you deal with it. But then something else goes wrong. That kind of writing is designed to justify the ridiculously large budgets of modern films that you don’t want to see anyway.

A New Movie Experience

If I had my druthers, I would go back to the old days. Start with a 10-minute documentary on something — anything. Then a cartoon — maybe one with that animal and an acorn (those never get tired). And then a low-budget hour-long film. And then an hour long film with some stars. I’d pay $15.00 for that. I’d certainly pay $15.00 for it before I would Avengers: Infinity War in 3-D.

–Frank Moraes

The Unfortunate Beginning of Psychotronic Film

The Fifty Worst Films of All Time - The Unfortunate Beginning of Psychotronic Film

There have long been admires of the strange and incompetent in film. But as a definable thing, we really have to go back to 1978 and Harry Medved’s The Fifty Worst Films of All Time. Note that these were not primarily psychotronic films. Medved is a film lover (and I dare say a psychotronic film lover), so he didn’t primarily go after low budget films. Many of them were big budget films like the 1973 musical version of Lost Horizon. And others were smash successes like Airport 1975. There’s not one Ed Wood film in the book, although it does have a fair share of independent cheapies.

But Medved writes in the introduction of the book:

At this point, we might as well come clean and make an embarrassing confession: we get a kick out of bad films. What’s more, we’re convinced we’re not alone. How else can you possibly explain the continued popularity of TV’s “Late Late Shows” unless you assume there are hundreds of thousands of people out there who take a perverse pleasure in particularly ludicrous entertainments?

Those who know me, will know that I shudder a few times reading even that small quote. But I believe that Harry Medved was about 16-years-old when he wrote it. And I can’t but think that he has matured in his thinking, even if he hasn’t reached my point of understanding that in these supposedly bad films, there are things to love.

Attack of The Golden Turkey Awards

Sadly, two years later, Harry Medved hooked up with his older brother Michael Medved to write The Golden Turkey Awards. It makes sense that Michael would go on to be a professional reviewer, because he has all the arrogance and lack of creativity that is required in a film “critic.” This book is far less academic than the first, and goes after low budget films much more. Most sad of all, The Golden Turkey Awards was much more successful than The Fifty Worst Films of All Time.

The book even attacks Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, a classic. If you can’t see the art in that film, I’m afraid that you are hopeless. I will doubtless discuss the book more later, but I simply can’t find my copy at the moment.

How Plan 9 From Outer Space Got Smeared

This led to everyone “knowing” that Ed Wood was the worst director of all time and that Plan 9 From Outer Space was the worst film. These aren’t even debatable claims; they are simply wrong. The main thing Wood lacked was a second unit director. And Plan 9 From Outer Space is actually a fairly enjoyable film if you just sit down and watch it. I suspect 90 percent of the people who complain about Plan 9 have only ever seen what was in Ed Wood.

But the main thing to remember about The Golden Turkey Awards is that it was hugely influential. Although Michael Weldon’s Psychotronic TV (started in 1980) was not based on it, it’s clear that the Medved brothers had opened a niche in film criticism. The fact that they did it in a grotesque way doesn’t really matter.

The Defining of Psychotronic Film

Although the Medveds made their money, it is Michael Weldon who stands as the king of the genre because his approach was the opposite of theirs. He appreciated them — warts and all — and sometimes because of the warts.

I do sometimes get a chuckle out of something going terribly wrong. When I watch Plan 9 and the headstones tip because the grass carpet is pulled, I always smile. But I also remember what Wood says in the movie Ed Wood when one of the backers complains about this, “Nobody will ever notice that. Filmmaking is not about the tiny details. It’s about the big picture!”

He’s right. When I first saw the film, I didn’t notice this or any number of other problems. That’s because I was involved with the story. And 90 percent of viewers are the same way. This is why films panned by “critics” are often huge successes. And anyone who listens to “critics” is a fool.

Most people will enjoy Plan 9 much more than Die Wand. I love them both. But most people will find Die Wand very slow — and too intellectual. Plan 9 From Outer Space, on the other hand, is action-packed. It is filled with that 1950s American plucky optimism, even while the theme of the film is subversive. But you’d have a hard time finding a professional “critic” recommending Plan 9 over Die Wand.

“Oh, the Pain”

It’s sad that psychotronic film as a genre had such unfortunate beginnings. This is especially true because most people are still stuck in The Golden Turkey Awards way of looking at these films. I, always tending toward messianic behavior, want to see that change. With it’s disreputable beginnings with the Medved brothers (although I understand that they weren’t focusing on psychotronic film, since the concept hadn’t even been invented yet), it is amazing that psychotronic film has come so far.

Here is a quote from Bill Warren in Flying Saucers Over Hollywood (available in some versions of Plan 9 From Outer Space) about the film that the Medveds would have us believe is the worst film ever made:

It’s interesting all the way through and that’s more than you can say about a lot of pictures, because the biggest sin a film can commit is being dull. And Plan 9, whatever it is, is not dull.

(Warren also says, “The fact that he made these pictures against all odds, including his total lack of talent as a filmmaker, I think is what speaks the best of him. I mean, he really wanted to do this. And he did it. And the big difference between Ed Wood and his detractors like the Medveds and other people who really put him down and said he was not just a bad filmmaker but a worthless filmmaker — which is two different things — is that he actually made these movies by God.”)

When a person laughs at poor quality filmmaking, it is usually a sign that they know nothing about how movies are made. But laugh at these films all you like — as long as you also respect them. Because they deserve to be respected, as Harry Medved understood. (The less said about his brother the better.) In the same documentary, an older and wiser Harry Medved reflects on Ed Wood’s later life, “I think that it really broke him, the fact that he ended up directing super-8 movies for some porno series called The Encyclopedia of Sex. This is not a job for a guy who made such classics as Plan 9 and Bride of the Monster and Glen or Glenda.”

Afterword: Ed Wood Box Set

Ed Wood BoxCheck it out: The Ed Wood Box. It contains a film that I haven’t seen (although I’m not a huge Ed Wood fan). This looks like a collection that every psychotronic film lover should own. It includes: Glen or Genda, Jail Bait, Bride of the Monster, Plan 9 From Outer Space, Night of the Ghouls, and The Haunted World of Ed Wood (more a special features disc than a documentary).