4D MAN (1959)

 

Jack H. Harris, from his original screenplay, produced this eighty-five-minute independent film for Valley Forge Film Studios. It was directed by Irvin Yeaworth and distributed by Universal International. Its smaller budget is a well-kept secret thanks to bits of impressive special effects, suspenseful cinematography and an engaging lead actor. Yet it is not consistently successful. The jazz score is hit-and-miss, for one. The film's slightly off-kilter opening credits may appear at various spots on the screen with graphic arrows inserted randomly for a split second, stinging your eyes. Despite these creative elements, it is not a spy thriller nor a pilot for a television series.

The premise of this imaginative science fiction film is explained by voice-over while we witness a young scientist, James Congdon, accidentally ignite a small fire after his experiment goes awry while adjusting, what looks like, a shortwave radio made in high school shop class. An awkward, yet funny transitional editing occurs as the small fire in a trash can consumes the building instantly by the next film frame in identical, scale model flames. The jazz band blasts in as if to celebrate the blaze. A music cue better suited for a spy barely escaping imminent danger. The university is not pleased with Congdon’s research results and he finds himself instantly unemployed. Not necessarily due to his misplaced range of acting skills.

Congdon reunites with his older brother, Robert Lansing, in his film debut, as a distracted and dejected scientist whose laid-back, moody trademarked acting style adds his own dimension to the film. His lab is in the midst of an experiment with what appears to be a huge sugar cube. The material is Cargonite, so dense it is assumed impenetrable—perfect for a set of travel luggage. Once the lab equipment is activated it sounds like there is a squirrel going nuts trying to break out of a wooden cage. Rounding out the main cast trio is Lee Meriwether, in her shaky film debut, getting early training for adjusting dials in a lab coat for her role a few years later on television’s, The Time Tunnel.

Congdon is pleased to know Lansing has plans to marry Meriwether. The three have dinner in an upscale restaurant with Congdon bringing over-sized drawing paper to do a sketch inside the large menu while waiting to be served and ignoring the conversation. She cannot take her eyes off him and suggests he join their research team. Lansing seconds the notion. The big band score explodes and she invites the brother to dance. There is no room for dancing nor a designated area so the nearby patrons carefully guard their tables and everything on it. Just imagine impromptu dancing inside an Applebee's.

The film takes an embarrassing turn as the three have a picnic in a hillside park, after fashion, in the middle of nowhere. There is a self-propelled children’s merry-go-round with a studio camera mounted in the center. We watch a giggling Meriwether and an aggressive-looking Congdon go round and round in front of a blurring landscape and an accompanying score grossly out of place. The frivolity ends with an attempted game of tether ball with Meriwether escaping with no eye injuries. Lansing looked as concerned as I was about these scenes. Quietly and in deep thought, Lansing decides to leave. Alone. His potential bride slips into the fifth dimension.

Congdon shares his 4D theories with big brother. That restaurant sketch is unveiled in tangible form as a pencil through an inch-thick solid mass of steel. But for no apparent reason, after excitedly retrieving the object upstairs, Congdon takes a tumble coming back down. Really odd without a laugh track, so provide your own. Apparently, the one-off sample was mentally created by Congdon, willing the pencil through the steel with the help of an amplifier. Lansing begins experiencing painful headaches after his own 4D testing. His doctor is amazed at the electro-impulses of his brain. He speculates his mental capacity may be unlimited. What better use for an impulse than proposing to Meriwether. 

Lansing locates her at the home of a friend where, as a favor, she is monitoring a younger-than-twelve-looking Patty Duke. Duke was an acting veteran compared to the three main leads in this film. Meriwether tells him marriage will never work because he is so wrapped up in research. Brooding, he storms off, later breaking into his brother’s locker at the research center. He attempts to push a pencil through a thick metal plate but his hand also goes halfway through. It is the first excellent special effect in the film utilizing a prop that fits Lansing's fingers. His brother later witnesses the feat and then disturbingly tells him the amplifier was never on, dude. Lansing went into the fourth dimension entirely by his own will.

Lansing begins to realize his miraculous electro-impulses allow him a great deal of latitude. High notes from an electric organ signify his 4D state. Another successful effect is the first time he puts his arm through a store window to steal an apple. The glowing blue outline around his arm where it intersects the glass pane is nicely done. The next time though, the audience is not being fooled by simple camera positioning for an edge-on window pane view along with camera processing wizardry. His lust for power turns him into a bank robber with little fear of ever being incarcerated for any length of time. Oh, and it gets worse. His “special effects” accelerate the aging process at a rapid rate. When seeking a doctor’s help he inadvertently discovers this by simply touching the doctor, rejuvenating his own life. The doctor is accidentally drained for all he is worth. An ironic twist on a doctor's final bill. The doctor’s ninety-year-old facial aging process is done with a smooth effect. Now a very wanted man, Lansing litters the town with old people, including his self-serving boss, Edgar Stehli, who looked to be pushing eighty-five anyway.

Lansing earlier hid the amplifier in a lab vault. He returns to retrieve it, apparently, on April Fool’s Day with humorous results. He pushes the open button but Congdon pushes the close button from the control booth, preventing Lansing any access. He cannot figure out what is going on with that stupid button! He turns around to look toward the booth, but he and Merriweather have crouched down out of sight. He hears no snickering. Everyone pops up again to play the same "trick" when Lansing tries another access point. Pretty funny.

Lansing is really bummed that he and Meriwether cannot agree on any dimension together. The century-old Lansing, still with a thick head of hair, only wants a final kiss. She obliges. From her lab coat, a revolver fires. They quickly break away yet are temporarily anchored together by a four-inch string of spittle. Without a doubt, the single most disturbing effect. Strangely, no explanation for why Meriwether never ages. In a rage, he defiantly proclaims his invincibility and convinces himself he can even pass through a wall of Cargonite. Let’s just say he does penetrate the wall. 

Note: The film’s big band jazz score was written and conducted by Ralph Carmichael, a gospel award-winning composer, arranger and conductor. No such accolades for scoring this film. The previous year he composed the score for, “The Blob,” but not the movie’s theme. Carmichael would soon establish himself as the father of contemporary Christian music, arranging and writing popular songs of faith. He would occasionally arrange hymnal standards for various albums with a big band flavor, causing quite a stir among pipe-organ-only worshipers.