The TV Show:

Amongst 1950s TV chestnuts, The Loretta Young Show was nothing if not consistent.

Sure, it may have undergone a title change (from Letter to Loretta) halfway through its first season, but most of the other elements for this anthology – hosted and performed by one of Classic Hollywood’s great beauties – stayed firmly in place from the first episode (Trial Run, 1953) through to the last (Not In Our Stars, 1961). Fading in to an interior set, amidst a swirl of waltz-timed music, a door opens – and Loretta makes a grand entrance in a swanky, au courant gown. She does a little twirl, often tossing up the hemline of her dress with the flick of her left hand, and trots across the lavishly appointed living room before announcing the evening’s fare in her best “I’m on my way to Bullock’s Wilshire, but I thought I’d stop by and share this with you, my adoring public” voice. The introduction sets the tone for the uplifting, Reader’s Digest-like morality tale that follows, one that usually has a plum role for our Loretta. Each episode then wraps up with Loretta reading a passage from the Bible or a piece of great literature, which further emphasizes the theme of the night’s story. What became a weekly ritual for TV viewers of all ages then concludes with the innocuous tilt of Loretta’s head and the plea: “Good night. See you next week”

Although it’s rarely broadcast these days, The Loretta Young Show serves as a fascinating look at how the film industry adapted to the emerging television medium. A 17-DVD box set in honor of Young’s 100th birthday, endorsed by Loretta Young’s children and put together by Timeless Media Group, amply showcases the versatility and energy that Young put into the show. Even for classic film fans who never thought of Young as much of an actress might be taken aback – if only by Young’s unwavering determination (her three Emmy awards for this show must have come with a “Hardest Working Woman In Showbiz” certificate). Although the show was an unabashed vehicle for Loretta as host/actress in the first two seasons, exhaustion forced Young to step aside for half of the third season, which was guest hosted and performed by the likes of Barbara Stanwyck, Irene Dunne and Van Johnson (sadly, none of these episodes are present on this set – which is devoted to Loretta’s best performances).

Once one gets past the those campy, strangely insincere introductory segments, The Loretta Young Show holds a lot of good, meaty episodes that are great examples of early dramatic TV. Some of the best stuff dates from the Letter to Loretta period, when one gets a sense of Young attempting to do the kind of virtuoso roles that were perhaps denied her in the film world. Second episode The Mirror is a particularly good example, with Young going from conceited to vulnerable as a socialite who finds herself trapped in her summer home with a deranged woman who escaped the nearby mental asylum – definitely her Sorry, Wrong Number moment. There’s also a lot of fascinating historical drama here, with Young playing everyone from Charlotte Bronte to a Revolutionary War maiden, even Egypt’s Queen Nefertiti. The stories are always compelling and, surprisingly, not too preachy. The only episodes that don’t hold up well The comedic ones. Never much of a funny woman to start with, the installments in which Young and company attempt overt laughs come across as broadly performed, failed sitcom pilots.

Lots of consistency and cozy familiarity are at play in The Loretta Young Show, too, since these episodes were produced by Loretta herself for the production unit (Lewislor Films) she founded with her second husband, Tom Lewis. The episodes were competently directed and scripted by a stable of friends of the couple from their film days, populated by reliable character actors and leading men who were solid yet generic enough not to steal attention away from Loretta’s characters. Rather than stifling the show, however, one gets the sense that everyone involved was endeavoring to do their best. Even the later seasons, which show a trace of fatigue with the subject matter and stories explored, benefit from that professional finish. There had to be a reason to tune in every Sunday evening besides those fabulous dresses, after all.

One of the more amusing things about The Loretta Young Show to view (from a modern perspective, at least) comes from the differences between Host Loretta and Actress Loretta in each episode. It’s a good bet that if you see an episode with Host Loretta particularly dressed up to the nines, the part she’ll be playing as Actress Loretta will have her as humble and dressed-down as possible. Take season Three’s episode The Pearl, for example, with Loretta in lacy bodice and gigantic gold medallion pendant transports the viewer to a story about a poor Japanese fisherman’s wife who comes across the rare and valuable pearl that he’s been hiding from her. As campy as it sounds, the episode is actually a beautifully paced, subtle half-hour with some notable work from Young and her Asian co-star, Teru Shimada.

One thing to keep in mind while viewing these DVDs is that they are not the original broadcast films (which have apparently been destroyed), but later syndicated copies with updated graphics, i.d. bugs and copyright info added in. Despite the inherent flaws in the presentation, it’s a nicely put together set that highlights Loretta’s contributions to the show in all eight seasons. The packaging doesn’t include original airdates, plot synopses, or cast and crew credits, but there’s a lot to enjoy for Loretta Young fans. The episodes on this set are arranged in roughly chronological order as follows:

The Loretta Young Show: The Best of Seasons One – Four
Disc One: Trial Run (S1, EP1, 09/20/53); A Family Out of Us (S1, EP21, 2/7/54); Prisoner at One O’Clock (S1, EP3, 10/4/53); Girl on a Flag Pole (S1, EP4, 10/11/53); Turn of a Card (S1, EP5, 10/18/53); Earthquake (S1, EP6, 10/25/53); The One That Got Away (S1, EP7, 11/1/53); Kid’s Stuff (S1, EP8, 11/8/53); The Bronte Story (S1, EP9, 11/15/53); Laughing Boy (S1, EP12, 12/6/53).
Disc Two: Love Story (S1, EP11, 11/29/53); Thanksgiving at Beaver Run (S1, EP10, 11/21/53); The Faith of Chata (S1, EP13, 12/13/53); The Night Dad Came Home (S1, EP14, 12/20/53); Hotel Irritant (S1, EP15, 12/28/53); Inga #1 (S1, EP16, 1/3/54); Lady Killer (S1, EP17, 1/10/54); Secret Answer (S1, EP18, 1/17/54); The Mirror (S1, EP2, 09/27/53); Hollywood Story (S1, EP20, 1/31/54).
Disc Three: Act of Faith (S1, EP22, 2/14/54); Big Little Lie (S1, EP19, 1/24/54); New York Story (S1, EP23, 2/28/54); Man’s Estate (S1, EP29, 4/11/54); Nobody’s Boy (S1, EP24, 3/7/54); Count of Ten (S1, EP25, 3/14/54); Clara Schumann Story (S1, EP26, 3/21/54); Son, This Is Your Father (S1, EP27, 3/28/54); First Man to Ask Her (S1, EP28, 4/4/54); Forest Ranger (S1, EP30, 4/18/54).
Disc Four: Dr. Juliet (S2, EP2, 8/29/54); Double Trouble (S2, EP3, 9/12/54); The Lamp (S2, EP4, 4/18/54); You’re Driving Me Crazy (S2, EP5, 9/26/54); Reasonable Doubt (S2, EP6, 10/3/54); On Your Honor, Your Honor (S2, EP8, 10/17/54); Girl Scout Story (S2, EP9, 10/31/54); No Help Wanted (S2, EP10, 11/7/54); Something About Love (S2, EP12, 11/21/54); Our Sacred Honor (S2, EP13, 11/28/54).
Disc Five: Feeling No Pain (S2, EP33, 4/17/55); Three Minutes Too Late (S2, EP17, 12/26/54); Evil for Evil (S2, EP15, 12/12/54); The Girl Who Knew (S2, EP18, 1/2/55); The Flood (S2, EP19, 1/9/55); The Refinement of Ab (S2, EP21, 1/23/55); Decision (S2, EP20, 1/16/55); 600 Seconds (S2, EP22, 1/30/55); The Case of Mrs. Bannister (S2, EP23, 2/6/55); Dickie (S2, EP24, 2/13/55).
Disc Six: Option on a Wife (S2, EP25, 2/20/55); Tale of the Cayuse (S2, EP26, 2/27/55); Case Book (S2, EP27, 2/27/55); Inga #2 (S2, EP29, 3/20/55); Dateline Korea (S2, EP28, 3/13/55); Mink Coat (S2, EP30, 3/27/55); Let Columbus Discover You (S2, EP31, 4/3/55); He Always Comes Home (S2, EP32, 4/10/55); The Little Teacher (S2, EP344, 4/24/55); I Remember the Rani (S2, EP35, 5/1/55).
Disc Seven: Christmas Stopover (S3, EP17,12/25/55); Inga #3 (S3, EP19, 1/8/56); The Secret (S3, EP22, 1/29/56); The Pearl (S3, EP23, 2/12/56); Gesundheit (S3, EP25, 2/26/56); His Inheritance (S3, EP27, 3/18/56); But for God’s Grace (S3, EP26, 4/1/56); Double Partners (S4, EP1, 8/26/56); The Question (S4, EP2, 9/2/56); Little League (S4, EP4, 9/16/56).
Disc Eight: Now a Brief Word (S4, EP6, 9/29/56); The Years Between (S4, EP7, 10/7/56); Goodbye, Goodbye (S4, EP9, 10/21/56); The Great Divide (S4, EP10, 10/28/56); The End of the Week (S4, EP12, 11/11/56); Inga #4 (S4, EP13, 11/18/56); Somebody Else’s Dream (S4, EP15, 12/9/56); Three and Two, Please (S4, EP16, 12/16/56); Imperfect Balance (S4, EP17, 12/30/56); Queen Nefertiti (S4, EP18, 1/6/57).
Disc Nine: My Favorite Monster (S4, EP19, 1/13/57); Miss Ashley’s Demon (S4, EP20, 1/27/57); Tension (S4, EP22, 2/17/57); Wedding Day (S4, EP23, 2/24/57); The Room Next Door (S4, EP26, 3/31/57); So Bright a Light (S4, EP27, 4/7/57); The Legacy (S4, EP29, 4/21/57); The Countess (S4, EP31, 5/5/57); Mind of Their Own (S4, EP32, 5/12/57); Royal Partners I (S4, EP33, 5/19/57); Royal Partners II (S4, EP34, 5/26/57).

The Loretta Young Show: The Best of Seasons Five – Eight
Disc One: A Dollar’s Worth (S5, EP1, 10/20/57); Innocent Conspiracy (S5, EP2, 10/27/57); Little Witness (S5, EP5, 11/24/57); Friends at a Distance (S5, EP7, 12/8/57); The Demon and Mrs. Devon (S5, EP10, 1/5/58); The Accused (S6, EP29, 4/26/59); Dear Milkman (S5, EP15, 2/9/58).
Disc Two: A Greater Strength (S5, EP17, 2/23/58); The Oriental Mind (S5, EP19, 3/9/58); Time of Decision (S5, EP21, 3/23/58); To Open a Door (S6, EP23, 4/6/58); Dangerous Verdict (S5, EP25, 4/20/58); South American Uncle (S5, EP27, 5/4/58); Strange Adventure (S5, EP28, 5/11/58).
Disc Three: A Day of Rest (S5, EP29, 5/18/58); The Near Unknown (S6, EP1, 10/5/58); A Visit to San Paulo (S6, EP4, 10/26/58); The 20 Cent Tip (S6, EP6, 11/9/58); In the Good ‘Ol Summertime (S6, EP3, 10/19/58); The Woman Between (S6, EP8, 11/23/58); Black Lace Valentine (S6, EP19, 2/8/59).
Disc Four: The Happy Widow (S6, EP10, 12/7/58); Sister Ann (S6, EP15, 1/11/59); Incident in Indiana (S6, EP17, 1/25/59); The Portrait (S6, EP21, 2/22/59); Mr. Wilson’s Wife #1 (S6, EP26, 4/5/59); The Prettiest Girl in Town (S6, EP23, 3/8/59); Tenderizer (S6, EP24, 3/21/59).
Disc Five: Mr. Wilson’s Wife #2 (S6, EP27, 4/12/59); The Road (S7, EP1, 9/20/59); One Beautiful Moment (S7, EP2, 9/27/59); Mask of Evidence (S7, EP4, 10/11/59); A New Step (S7, EP7, 11/8/59); Lady in a Fish Bowl (S7, EP9, 11/22/59); Alien Love (S7, EP12, 12/13/59).
Disc Six: Little Monster, Tall Tales (S7, EP15, 1/10/60); Mrs. Minton (S7, EP17, 1/24/60); Second Spring (S7, EP20, 2/21/60); The Trouble with Laury’s Men (S7, EP22, 3/13/60); Faith, Hope & Mrs. Flaherty (S7, EP27, 5/8/60); The Eternal Vow #1 (S7, EP28, 5/15/609); The Eternal Vow #2 (S7, EP29, 5/22/60).
Disc Seven: Long Nights (S8, EP1, 9/18/60); Love Between the Acts (S8, EP6, 10/23/60); The Seducer (S8, EP8, 11/6/60); Unconditional Surrender (S8, EP10, 11/20/60); These Few Years (S8, EP12, 12/11/60).
Disc Eight: Quiet Desperation (S8, EP17, 2/5/61); This Subtle Danger (S8, EP15, 1/15/61); Doesn’t Everybody (S8, EP24, 4/2/61); Emergency in 114 (S8, EP26, 4/23/61); The Forbidden Guests (S8, EP30, 5/28/61); Not in Our Stars (S8, EP31, 6/4/61).

The DVDs:

The Loretta Young Show: 100th Birthday Edition‘s 17 discs come packaged in two thick clamshell-style cases, with each disc getting its own spot on hinged partitions. A cardboard slipcase with lovely Loretta pictured on the front pulls it all together.

Video:

The 146 episodes on this set are sourced from the best materials available, which results in an adequate image on par with what you’d find on budget collections of ’50s-era television. The show’s original 35MM film negatives were apparently destroyed by NBC during contract negotiations with Loretta and Tom Lewis. The 100th Birthday Edition episodes are mastered off 16MM syndication dupes, prints whose source imperfections are noted in disclaimers on each disc. There are a lot of half-hours packed on each disc (ten per disc on the first set; seven on the second), with compression that emphasizes the graininess of the source prints. Most of the episodes also sport “Loretta Young Show” bugs, colorized title cards, and trademark/copyright info added more recently.

Audio:

The original mono soundtracks provided on these episodes are a bit raggedy, but the dialogue and underscore is decently mixed. During scattered places on a few earlier installments where the audio drops out entirely, the missing dialogue is supplemented with subtitles. No other subtitle or alternate audio options are provided.

Extras:

A few featurettes, which appear to have been produced in the ’90s. The first disc of the Best of Seasons One-Four set contains a brief Loretta Young Biography (3:29) and an Interview with Loretta’s Children (15:53), in which Peter, Judy and Christopher Lewis discuss their mom and her famous on-set “swear box” (among other topics). The Best of Seasons Five-Eight portion contains In Her Own Words – Loretta Young Talks About The Loretta Young Show (33:50). Although the first few minutes merely repeats the biography from disc one, the remainder consists of fascinating audio interviews with Loretta on the show’s genesis, production – and those dresses. Narrated by son Christopher, Loretta Young’s Home Movies (27:14) takes us through Super-8 footage of Loretta on the set, at home and on vacation. In Beverly Washburn Interview (16:13), the former child actress who co-starred in several Loretta Young Show episodes shares fond memories of a supportive, encouraging set. A 14-minute programme of weathered movie trailers from throughout Loretta’s career round out the extras.

Final Thoughts:

Compelling drama and lighthearted comedy, served with a dose of (not too preachy) moralism, formed the basis for The Loretta Young Show‘s 1953-61 run. Timeless Media Group’s 17-disc 100th Birthday Edition box set is possibly the most complete version of this eclectic anthology going. Although it isn’t a perfectly representative collection, the diversity of roles Young takes on in these half-hours might surprise even the most skeptical of her fans. Recommended.

Matt Hinrichs is a designer, artist and sometime writer who lives in sunny (and usually too hot) Phoenix, Arizona. Among his loves are oranges, going barefoot and blonde 1930s movie comedienne Joyce Compton. Since 2000, he has been scribbling away at Pop Culture weblog Scrubbles.net. One can also follow him on Twitter @4colorcowboy.

THE PROGRAM

The Mass Effect game series never spoke to me much as a gamer; despite owning the first game in the trilogy, I’ve never completed it, but over the past few years have watched friends play it, seen videos, and ultimately, found it impossible not to hear how the trilogy ended in the controversial final game. Any gamer worth his or her salt knows that cheap “cash-ins” on games occur quite often in the form of animated prequels or tie-in movies. “Mass Effect: Paragon Lost” is the first major example I can think of, where a tie-in movie, in this case a prequel following a minor character from “Mass Effect 3,” attempts and largely succeeds and telling a compelling story, which most importantly, speaks to fans of the parent series and those completely unfamiliar alike.

The hero of “Paragon Lost” is James Vega, voiced by Freddie Prince Jr., reprising the role from “Mass Effect 3,” as he completes duty on Fehl Prime during the time of a brutal, deadly attack by the Collectors. As Vega’s squad suffers both heroic successes and personal losses, the natural progression of things reveals the inevitable: not everything is as it seems and Vega’s story is on a windy path. At its core, “Paragon Lost” follows a derivative formula, but when executed properly, this formula can prove quite entertaining. The idea of the young, cocky squad of intergalactic soldiers is nothing fresh and generally two phenomenal executions of the idea spring to mind: “Aliens” and “Halo.” “Paragon Lost” never reaches the pinnacles of either series, but by and large, knows all the right notes to play to get audiences to react favorably.

Truth be told, if the quality of the animation was above the vast mediocrity offered, “Paragon Lost” might have been an even more enjoyable viewing experience, but sadly, everything from character design to the motion of the characters seems, bluntly, cut-rate. Eventually, the viewing eye grows accustom to the style, but this doesn’t erase the fact, that a large part of the animated film experience is merely serviceable. Thankfully, the voice acting, often a make-or-break element in animation works, helping to give the world of “Paragon Lost” a more lived-in feeling and slightly make up for its visual shortcomings.

I won’t lie, “Paragon Lost” might have been an even more enriching experience had I played and finished, at minimum, the first two entries in the game series. There were a few references I picked up on that make me realize, fans of the game series will get the most from what “Paragon Lost” has to offer; for me, the character of Vega is a little stock, but knowing he’s a part of “Mass Effect 3,” coupled with my overall enjoyment of the story, make me want to consider giving the series another try. “Mass Effect: Paragon Lost” is lean, mean entertainment that doesn’t try to reinvent any genre conventions; it knows its limitations and in the story department, largely delivers.

THE DVD

The Video

The copy supplied was a DVD-R screener and as a result, an accurate rating of the disc’s technical merits cannot be applied. Should FUNimation supply a copy of the final street product for review, the review will be amended to reflect this.

The Audio

The copy supplied was a DVD-R screener and as a result, an accurate rating of the disc’s technical merits cannot be applied. Should FUNimation supply a copy of the final street product for review, the review will be amended to reflect this.

The Extras

None.

Final Thoughts

While the art design and animation quality leave a lot to be desired, “Paragon Lost” is an entertaining, rather breezy piece of sci-fi action. Even if you aren’t steeped in the lore of the Mass Effect series, if you love the genre, there are far lesser entries out there waiting to take your money and undeservedly so. Recommended.

In a crowded field, Garrow’s Law (2009-2011) is a British legal drama with an unique premise. Though its cases and romantic subplots resemble myriad other British courtroom shows, from Rumpole of the Bailey to Judge John Deed, Garrow’s Law is ingeniously set in Georgian London, specifically the end of the 1700s (and, just barely, into the 19th century). The aim of the series, in at which it largely succeeds, is to explore the often appalling social injustices of English law during this time, particularly against the poor, women, and the illiterate, and the efforts of real-life maverick barrister William Garrow (1760-1840)* to move the courts toward reformation and in particular an adversarial courtroom system.

Garrow’s Law – The Complete Collection (the BBC cancelled the program in 2012) repackages the show’s three season set DVDs into a single package that’s about one-third less expensive than buying them individually. There are 12 one-hour episodes in all, with each season set including a short featurette.

Working closely with (and grounded by) veteran barrister John Southouse (New Tricks‘ Alun Armstrong), neophyte but articulate barrister William Garrow (Andrew Buchan) takes on some of the least promising cases at the Old Bailey, from an accused serial stabber of young women, the “London Monster,” to James Hadfield, accused of attempting to assassinate King George III. Garrow typically finds himself before controversial, often prejudicial judge Sir Francis Buller (Michael Culkin), whose ruling that a husband could beat his wife with a stick no thicker than his thumb is the source of the term “rule of thumb.”

Its teleplays draw from real cases recorded in Old Bailey Proceedings and, besides Garrow, Buller, and would-be assassin Hadfield other historical figures such as newspaper publisher John Julius Angerstein (a kind of 18th century Rupert Murdoch), anti-slavery advocate Gustavas Vassa, and Welsh British Army Lt. General Thomas Picton also appear. The final episode of the first season is suggested by the trials of Thomas Hardy and John Horne Tooke.

More interesting, however, is the show’s depiction of 18th century law, the cruel injustices it inflicted on the poor especially, and Garrow’s efforts to protect the rights of these accused, establishing precedents that have become basic tenants of courtrooms in much of the civilized world. This aspect of the program is consistently fascinating.

Damaging the show slightly is its major subplot, Garrow’s burgeoning romantic relationship with Lady Sarah Hill (Lyndsey Marshal, The Hours, Rome), the wife of MP and British peer Arthur Hill (Rupert Graves) and who also acts as a kind of whistle-blower, funneling insider information to Garrow. As with the most of the writing on the show the relationship is fact-based, as Garrow and Sarah did indeed have a romantic relationship, and Arthur Hill was the father of her child, though the two were never actually married. The show’s third season dramatizes a custody battle between them over Sarah’s son.

The romantic subplot at times teeters dangerously near Harlequin Romance waters, though the strikingly beautiful Marshal and her understated performance compensate somewhat. The cast is mostly excellent, particularly Armstrong and Culkin, and despite a TV budget Garrow’s Law is convincing in its period details, presenting a lived-in, richly atmospheric London of the late-1700s that’s entirely believable.

Video & Audio

Bound in rather flimsy packaging, Garrow’s Law – The Complete Collection pulls together the three, two-disc volumes, with four hour-length episodes in each of the three DVD cases. Presented in 1.78:1 enhanced widescreen, Garrow’s Law is a handsome production properly presented here. The excellent Dolby Digital stereo audio accompanied by good English SDH subtitles.

Extra Features.

Supplements include text biographies of the historical William Garrow, as well as filmographies of the cast. But the real extras are the featurettes included with each set: “William Garrow: Fact and Fiction,” “Garrow’s Law: From Dawn to Dusk,” and a more standard behind-the-scenes promo film. Each runs 19-22 minutes.

Parting Thoughts

Above average, Garrow’s Law is fact-based historical fiction with a concentration on late-18th century law and real-life cases that are almost always intriguing. The program’s romantic subplotting is at times a bit melodramatic but overall this is a fine, Recommended series.

* It was William Garrow who introduced the concept of “presumed innocent until proven guilty.”

Stuart Galbraith IV is a Kyoto-based film historian whose work includes film history books, DVD and Blu-ray audio commentaries and special features. Visit Stuart’s Cine Blogarama here.

Undeniably striking at first…but far, far too long. Sony’s Choice Collection vault of hard-to-find cult and library titles has released Experiment in Terror, the 1962 thriller from Columbia Pictures, directed by Blake Edwards, and starring Glenn Ford, Lee Remick, Stefanie Powers, Ned Glass, Anita Loo, Patricia Huston, Clifton James, and another actor I’ll name later (but whom I’m sure you already know). An at-times hypnotic suspenser from comedy director Blake Edwards, Experiment in Terror is probably better known today for its Henry Mancini soundtrack and for its influence on director David Lynch, rather than for its own glossy-but-minor, protracted achievements. A vintage trailer is included in this sharp-looking anamorphic black and white transfer.

San Francisco bank teller Kelly Sherwood (the underrated, skilled Lee Remick) returns home late one night, parks her Ford in her dark garage, gets out of the car, and is grabbed from behind by a wheezing psychotic named Garland Humphrey “Red” Lynch. Lynch makes it clear: Kelly is going to steal for him $100,000 from her bank, or he’s going to kill her and possibly her little sister, Toby (Stefanie Powers). He or an associate will be watching her at all times, and the minute she slips up and calls the cops, she and Toby are through. Beautiful-but-tough cookie Kelly immediately calls the F.B.I., and briefly speaks with agent John Ripley (capable Glenn Ford’s last gasp as an A-lister, after the disastrous big-budget flops Cimarron, Pocketful of Miracles, and especially Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse). However, Lynch is still in her house, and knocks her to the floor, telling her she’s had her last warning. Agent Ripley, believing Kelly was telling the truth, eventually tracks down her number and through veiled, careful conversation, gets a handle on Kelly’s dangerous situation. He eventually meets with her, offering the Bureau’s help, but Lynch is always two steps ahead of the intrepid Ripley, first knocking off potential witness Nancy Ashton (Patricia Huston), and then kidnapping Toby. Will Ripley and Kelly be able to stop Lynch before he kills again

 MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!…or sorta

Since Experiment in Terror is fairly well known to fans of Edwards’ work (it played on afternoon and late, late movie shows all the time during the 1970s and 1980s)…and since Sony puts the name of the actor playing Red Lynch right on the back DVD cover…and since anyone who’s ever watched a minimum of ten hours of classic TV will recognize his distinctive voice and facial features (Edwards pretty much shows all of his face about an hour into the movie, anyway, so it’s not like a big surprise), I’m going to “reveal” the actor’s name in the main body of the review. If you’ve never seen Experiment in Terror and you want to guess who he is (at least for the first 15 minutes or so), then don’t read any further. Otherwise…I did warn you….

 Back during my “film school” days (bleech), I remember having a fairly heated argument with one of my “film professors” (hee hee!), who stated categorically that she didn’t believe in “such a thing as a ‘Blake Edwards,’ whatever that is.” Her comment always stuck with me, not only because of the hilariously self-righteous vehemence in which it was delivered, but, truth be told, because Edwards is a good litmus test for the limitations of the auteur theory. If the auteur theory is correct, Edwards’ sensibilities, thematic concerns, and visual vocabulary, among other elements, should be discernable in most of the works he did, regardless of their genre. I used to love the auteur theory because it was the easiest one to pull out to b.s. your way through a term paper (“Professor Mimi Montage, I found meaningful shadows in these eight Murnau movies.” “A+ for you, young Pavlovian protégé!”). Today, however, I find auteurism pretty much the way I find most of those theories that were drilled into our heads back then: esoteric gossamer that are the over-codified, over-intellectualized equivalents of parlor games.

 Certainly, there are experts out there on Edwards’ movies who believe his unique signature can be found in all his movies, and to them I say, “more power to you.” When reading his advocates, I always get the feeling they’re going out of their way to champion his non-comedic outings like Experiment in Terror precisely because he could be so brilliant at comedies―a classic overcompensation by-product of the auteur theory for any filmmaker largely associated with one genre. In Edwards’ case, it’s that old canard about comedy somehow not being worthy in and of itself; a moviemaker has to bolster those humorous abilities with…something more (a good example: most historians have long-praised Chaplin and Keaton as somehow “deeper,” more significant artists than mere “laugh-getter” Lloyd). And yet clearly, Edwards’ non-comedic efforts don’t come close to what Edwards achieved in his justifiably more famous humorous outings. It’s enough for me to acknowledge that Edwards was frankly brilliant with Peter Sellers (A Shot in the Dark is, for my money, one of the best directed comedies ever); I don’t need to make a case that aesthetic misfires like Wild Rovers, Darling Lili, The Tamarind Seed, and indeed Experiment in Terror, are cohesive, inter-connected works which are better than they actually are, just to validate Edwards as a “legitimate” auteur director.

 Experiment in Terror is a good case in point. As many critics have already acknowledged, Experiment in Terror‘s opening sequence is bravura moviemaking, a slick, sinister sequence that promises the viewer a nail-biting thriller with decidedly perverse undertones, particularly for a mainstream 1962 Hollywood mystery. Edwards, critically with the help of his foremost collaborator, composer Henry Mancini (as important, if not more so, to Edwards’ reputation as Herrmann was to Hitchcock’s), sets up a creepy, nightmarish world with Mancini’s languid, sly, buzzy electronic-and-strings theme punctuating Edwards’ and cinematographer Philip H. Lathrop’s dark, shadowy frames of Frisco nightlife. After the opening credits, once we’re inside Remick’s garage, Edwards shoots wheezing, rasping Ross Martin in complete shadow, as a high key light harshly illuminates part of Remick’s face, her terrified eyes reacting to Martin’s threats as his one hand roams over her body, getting her “measurements” right. It’s a remarkably modern, fetishistic scene, eroticizing themes of stylized violence and submission (we can’t stop thinking about how beautiful Remick’s absolutely perfect features look in that key light…as he grips her throat), which Edwards brings to an even sicker sexual pitch once Martin “teaches” Remick a lesson for calling Ford―by putting his foot on her neck as she groans into the carpet. Watching these hypnotic scenes, you can see precisely where young David Lynch first went “wrong” in his psyche, while wondering what kind of ride you’re in for after this remarkable opening.

 0Unfortunately, Edwards can’t sustain (or even adequately revisit) this heightened, otherworldly/sick suspense, and Experiment in Terror almost immediately winds down into an enjoyable but distressingly routine―and far too protracted―procedural. Edwards always had a problem with pacing and with focus (that’s a “fault,” not a “signature”), a weakness less noticeable in his comedies because of the audience’s willingness to just bump along with him from stand-alone set piece to set piece (The Great Race), but a telling fault in his more conventional dramas and thrillers (the gargantuan Darling Lili and the meandering Wild Rovers, The Carey Treatment, and The Tamarind Seed). It may make other school-trained “film theorists” derisively snort to reference a caveman reviewer like all-over-the-map Bosley Crowther (and that’s precisely why I like to do it), but he was exactly right in his 1962 review about Experiment in Terror‘s biggest drawback―its padded overlength―before he had the benefit of any theses on Edwards’ oeuvre.

1 2A thriller’s primary goal is to thrill, obviously, but Experiment in Terror takes a long 122 minutes to clumsily resolve its suspense, with at least a half hour of it unnecessary filler and repetitious scenes that likely would have been chopped out if director Blake Edwards’ producer had been anyone other than Blake Edwards (whenever they fully gave Edwards’ his head…he ran into problems). With a screenplay by crimewriting duo The Gordons (their Disney favorite, That Darn Cat, was an amusing little mystery), Edwards cuts back and forth between Glenn Ford’s stolid, coincidence-ridden investigation and Ross Martin’s hammy phone hijinks with Remick and Powers, stuffing inbetween them unnecessarily drawn-out sequences with mannequin maker Huston (her vague character is only a prop to show Martin killing someone other than Remick), stoolie Ned Glass (a too-genial pulp stereotype right out of Peter Gunn, clashing with Experiment in Terror‘s modernism), and Anita Loo (exactly how many times did we need to see that kid of hers). As far as the procedural elements go, you had tighter, more succinct investigations in any four average Dragnet episodes, while Edwards’ attempts at “atmosphere” go noticeably flat (the whole ungodly long “Roaring Twenties” bar sequence with Remick being mistaken for a hooker fails not only as a red herring, but as informative subtext). By the time everyone is running around Candlestick Park at the end, you’re not noticing Edwards’ surprisingly clumsy shoot-out (the crowded chase in the bowels of the park is alright, but the pitcher’s mound finale is, ironically, wrapped up too quickly), but rather how Martin, in his hoodie mackinaw and dark glasses, looks like a cross between the Unibomber and one of The Omega Man‘s “Family.” You can’t open up a movie so brilliantly like Experiment in Terror…and then coast into conventionality―no matter what kind of auteur genius you may be.

3 4The DVD:

The Video:
The anamorphically-enhanced, 1.85:1 widescreen black and white transfer for Experiment in Terror looks fairly good, with a sharpish image, decent blacks and acceptable contrast, and expected grain.

The Audio:
The Dolby Digital English split mono audio tracks is at least re-recorded at a decent level. No subtitles or closed-captions available.

The Extras:
An original trailer is included.

Final Thoughts:
Trim a half-hour out of it…and you still have a fairly conventional thriller. There’s no denying that director Blake Edwards’ opening sequence for Experiment in Terror is brilliant, suspenseful, perverted moviemaking. However, opening sequences alone do not make successful movies, and Experiment in Terror has another protracted 110-odd minutes to go after this initial creep-out. A lot of fat on promising B-material; however, if you’re in an undemanding mood, you can still mildly enjoy Experiment in Terror as a vintage thriller. On that level, I’m recommending Experiment in Terror.

Paul Mavis is an internationally published movie and television historian, a member of the Online Film Critics Society, and the author of The Espionage Filmography.

5 6

THE PROGRAM

“Eleven Samurai” marks the third film in director Eiichi Kudo’s trilogy of samurai films. Those having seen both “Thirteen Assassins” and “The Great Killing” might approach “Eleven Samurai” expecting a familiar cinematography, but completely unsure of how Kudo will handle the tone of the film. The tonal shift between his two former films strongly cements Kudo as a master filmmaker, showing he can handle both grand scale and intimate narratives set in a very large, living world. “Eleven Samurai” sadly and thankfully doesn’t deviate from those films, instead choosing to couple Kudo’s beautifully shot style with the best of both worlds, resulting in a story viewers are certain they know the outcome to, but will be pleasantly surprised in its final act.

Like his previous two films, “Eleven Samurai” is focused on the punishment of a corrupt royal, in this case Lord Nariatsu, the son of a retired Shogun, who in a fit of anger murders an innocent village on the land of another clan’s territory and then maims a respected member of the clan who calls him on his misdeed; as expected, political dealings behind closed doors leave Nariatsu with less than a slap on the wrist and a group of seasoned samurai, devoted to justice, declaring to lay down their lives in order to bestow a fitting punishment on the psychotic lord. The paths of all the characters eventually converge for a finale that is brilliant at lulling you into a false sense of security before springing a brilliant surprise.

What makes “Eleven Samurai” compelling, apart from the gorgeous art direction, are its colorful characters: from the villain Nariatsu to the catalyst in the plot to kill him, the ronin-by-choice Hayato, and all the way Nui, a beautiful and deadly female swordsman whose commitment to honor shatters the way women are generally portrayed in these genre films. Kudo keeps the film moving and thankfully short, running 30 minutes less than his previous two efforts and its this approach to filmmaking that solidifies the fact that “Eleven Samurai” is not familiar out of apathy, but of deliberate intention to balance the easily accessible (and I’d say of Kudo’s informal trilogy, this is by far the easiest for a newcomer to the genre to watch) with intelligent, quiet philosophy.

“Eleven Samurai” is not the best of Kudo’s trilogy, but its no less compelling or any less worthy of your viewing time. Taken as a complete package, the trilogy amplifies the cry of Kudo’s status as an auteur whose name should be far more commonplace than it is. For a filmmaker to make something so familiar seem so distinctive is the hallmark of a confident artist and Kudo’s “Eleven Samurai” is something very familiar, but utterly gripping until the final, I dare say, shocking final shot. It is a perfect mixture of visceral action and character drama and well worth revisiting in years to come.

THE DVD

The Video

The 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer is very crisp and clean; there’s some regular, minor print damage, but detail is striking, as is the contrast levels on this very deliberately photographed film. Compression artifacts are only spotted vaguely under close scrutiny and edge-enhancement is noticeably absent.

The Audio

The Japanese mono audio track is generally clean, with little to no distortion or hiss; some dialogue though has a light mechanical reverb to it, possibly the effect of an expansive studio, but its noticeable nonetheless. English subtitles are provided with full dialogue and film text translations, as well as the option for dialogue only; subtitles are also provided in both color and black-and-white/grey.

The Extras

The bonus features consist of the film’s trailers, text-based program notes, a still image gallery, and cast and crew bios.

Final Thoughts

Eiichi Kudo’s final offering in his informal samurai trilogy proves to be uniquely familiar and captivatingly new, often in the same scene. “Eleven Samurai” is an incredibly accessible genre film that has more than enough to offer veteran fans. AnimEigo offers a great technical presentation of a film that, in a just world, would have been on DVD a decade ago. Highly Recommended.