WAR OF THE SATELLITES (1958)

Roger Corman's rock-bottom budget for this film would put one comfortably in a new Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat. He directed and produced this sixty-six-minute, double-billed, imaginative film released by Allied Artists. The frenetic, disjointed score with percussive xylophone by Walter Greene opens and closes the film like a mid-Sixties science fiction television series. Think of it as a conglomeration of The Jetsons and Lost in Space themes. Coupled with the then-trendy, opening animated graphics—a Corman trademark—and strategic placement of bold text, it suggests the viewer will hardly be able to contain themselves for an hour. This is the oft-told tale of evil twins (clones). All the tension occurs aboard a manned satellite spacecraft with interior props made from the finest cardboard and plywood. 

As is so often the case in recent movies, it is left to a single hero to save the film, the world, and the girl. This would be Dick Miller and Susan Cabot (above), respectively. After an opening scene of disappointed scientists watching another satellite being destroyed, the film shifts to a gratuitous romantic couple—an apparent comedy team—in a 1957 Mercury convertible parked on the lane of love. They witness a UFO crashing, though what they pick up appears to be a large, professional firework. Whatever. A Latin phrase is inscribed. Roughly translated, “Earthlings are a bunch of belligerent boobs.” Just a guess. From a matching set of leather recliners, and with arms dutifully crossed before launching, anyone can survive space travel from the "liftoff lounge." 

The story picks up inside the United Nations, where world representatives discuss recent attacks by an unknown force on satellites. War with Earth has been declared after the UN disobeys the repeated subtle hints with satellite destruction. Perennial villain Richard Devon (below) is the genius behind the “Sigma Project,” designed to eliminate the attacks. He is well-cast in this film. Miller and Cabot are key team members supporting his theory. The responsibility of launching satellites falls under the UN Satellite Control Center. The large, single control panel is so simple to operate that it can be monitored by one man, Roger Corman, himself.

As their key speaker, Devon departs for the UN. En route, an alien force takes control of his steering wheel—despite Devon’s humorous preventive efforts—and plummets the vehicle down an embankment in a fiery crash. The sound effects of the alien force are lifted from the Martian crafts in The War of the Worlds, released five years earlier. Though some thought he was already a bit screwy, the UN council members mourn the death of Devon for about thirty seconds before he suddenly appears before the council, not a scratch or a burn on him. Few recognize the evil clone. He is equipped with a popular accessory, the ability to “splinter off” any number of Devons. Satellite crews suggest he is appearing in more than two places at the same time.

Wanting to make sure Devon is safe for the trip, the doctor wants to listen to his heart. He excuses himself because he has none. Later, he creates a heart by himself by placing his two hands in that general area. In the closing moments of the film, he becomes amorous toward Cabot, who is freaking out. Be still, your beating heart! Devon's emotionless speech pattern and no longer using a smoking pipe make Miller suspicious. Devon is now pushing "Plan B," but Miller knows "Plan A" is the safer and more effective course to counter the celestial blob that has been destroying previous satellites. 

The makeup department provided an effective, final evil demonic look for a clone. Devon's twitching "smile" adds to the effect. A couple of special effects are handled pretty well. Devon blackens his hand from a nearby chemical torch, but is unaware of it. The lab assistant runs to the doctor. Devon simply starts rubbing his hands together (the magic of hand degreaser) and removes the "cajon burn" from his hand. There is another rather cool, weird solarization effect (alternating negative print) near the climax with music that sounds as if played backward—an effect that will get a good workout after the mid-sixties with added hallucinogenic colors. The aliens cannot comprehend the inherent need for humans to defend themselves against aggressive attacks on freedom. Miller is left to make the point that space exploration is anyone's challenge.

Note: The point of this film has been used often after the US ended World War Two. To this day, according to many Hollywood scriptwriters, aliens are nearly always smarter than humans and arrive to warn us, in varying degrees of gullibility, about the use of nuclear weapons, their expected mutations from testing such, or the conquering of space, destroying its purity. The mere suggestion of such things masquerades as fact.

THE WASP WOMAN (1959)

Roger Corman found his infamous niche in recycled teenage drive-in horror movies. Ignore his sensational text in the above poster. It has nothing to do with the film. This self-directed and produced film is another bad representation. Not William-Castle-bad, however. Roger's brother, Gene, maintaining the Corman gene, produced Beast From Haunted Cave, which was double-billed with this film and better. The screenplay was written by the perennial Western bad guy, Leo Gordon. For an estimated fifty grand, I suspect a chunk of the money went for hiring Susan Cabot again from the previous year for War of the Satellites, and Corman's superior, Machine Gun Kelly. It should be no surprise that the production quality is lifeless, with a waste of about twelve minutes at the opening as we follow a “Doctor of Waspology,” Michael Mark, through the woods looking for a wasp’s nest. He is also ostracized by the local beekeeper union because he is not a team player. Bees, dude, not wasps! But he has made an incredible discovery. There is a wasp enzyme serum that can turn back the aging process. Truly, what sinks this film is the hilariously poor wasp head costume at the end. That alone makes this a "horror-ble" movie.

The opening score by Fred Katz is mesmerizing, yet annoying. A very dissonant and chaotic arrangement that supports the background image of bees making honey. Never mind the movie is about wasps. The film score was used several times for Corman's science fiction movies. The score, with dominant xylophone, specifically during an in-car camera drive and general "investigating" filler scenes, is a sensory experience of bargain-basement filming. 

Susan Cabot does a good job in her final film and with the best special effects in the film. As the CEO of a major cosmetic company, her initial appearance gives the impression of a dowdy, middle-aged female with no social life. Ever. Yet wasps are very social. But then, so are bees. I digress. Product advertisements have featured her image since the launch of her company, but recently, sales have tanked with her current image. An extremely "complex" bar graph, made by a middle school project, needs clarification from Fred (Anthony) Eisley to explain plummeting sales. Using something called a pointer, he offers a blunt suggestion: replace Cabot’s image with someone younger. His assessment is applauded by the entire board. Cabot lowers her head in self-awareness.

Excentric “Dr. Waspy” re-enters the picture and shares his research with Cabot. Vanity, thy name is wasp. Of course, she needs to look younger, and after a few injections, violá, she reveals her new, confident self. From a wasp’s perspective, she could not look more vibrant. It becomes her new line of injection cosmetics. Then the headaches start. Cabot’s stunt double goes into action, turning into a blood-sucking vampire wasp (head). Much easier than what the poster suggests, a wasp's body with Cabot's face. Hello, CGI. Needless to say, the board members will be voting on a new CEO.

Note: Barboura Morris, with her attention-getting first name, plays Cabot’s assistant and a flirting target for Eisley. She was well-versed in low-budget movies and may have recognized the film score since it was used for her first Corman outing, “A Bucket of Blood.” Always on cue is character actor Frank Gerstle, naturally playing a police detective. A filler to pad the film's length is two attractive office tarts, one of whom manicures and buffs her nails down to the cuticle. In another uncredited role, Corman plays the doctor attending to "Dr. Waspy" after his jaywalking accident.

MACHINE GUN KELLY (1958)

This eighty-minute Roger Corman production masks any low-budget thoughts as the money has been spent wisely. It is an entertaining tale of gangsters in the early Thirties. The non-stop opening and period background score gets the viewer anticipating what comes next after a slickly planned getaway with a loot hand-off and the usual car swapping. Charles Bronson, in his first film lead, plays the title character who has a death fear rather than a death wish, as if promoting his future movies. Even Bronson tells co-star Susan Cabot, “The fear comes over me...like a cold sweat,” his 1970 movie. Though no one in the cast would be considered Oscar-worthy, Bronson is competent early in his career. Everyone is living up to their salary, including Morey Amsterdam, who probably did not affect the budget that much. Transport yourself to 1958 and that perspective will allow you to watch this movie for its entertainment value. Of which, there is plenty.

Smirking Cabot, perhaps never looking better than in this role, has been the gangster’s “personal agent” from day one and her condescending attitude keeps Bronson under her thumb. All the while smiling as if she is invincible. Her attitude in this movie has become the standard for many criminals or sickos in today’s movies. That evil is a pleasure. In that regard, like it or not, Corman may have broken new ground. On a personal level, I found Cabot’s annoying, bright and pronounced esses irritating. A split-second steel-on-steel sound that sometimes arises from acting out a female character you are not supposed to like. Enunciating, rather than slurring the words, will usually help this affliction. Perhaps the best/worst example of this was Sally Kellerman’s typical delivery. Yet I digress. Equally annoying is her mom, played by Connie Gilchrist. Ma is proud of her criminal daughter and thinks she could do a lot better than Bronson. She belittles him at every opportunity, turning him into the Rodney Dangerfield of gangsters. Gilchrist not only runs her mouth but also a house full of “ladies” for financial support.

Morey Amsterdam, the gang’s lighthearted weasel/stool pigeon, returns with the loot from the film’s opening heist but several thousand are missing. He tries to laugh it off then denies he took any for himself. He lied. Bronson is none too happy. He later plots a meeting with him to talk about another job. Corman throws in an odd premise concerning one of the gang members, Frank DeKova, who was a big game hunter before one arm was mangled by a natural habitat African. He now keeps a mountain lion behind his gas station in a cage. It is DeKova’s place where they meet. Bronson stalls the conversation before pushing Amsterdam against the cage and, somehow, the weasel loses an arm to the lion. I doubt any moviegoer saw that coming. Nor found it believable. In what seems like a short time, Amsterdam is back in the business. All smiles and several pounds lighter.

After a botched robbery, because Bronson freezes up when he spots a casket being delivered across his path, he decides to go bigger. Lacking little logic, he takes up kidnapping. "Ma Gilchrist" will finally give him some respect. He and Cabot abduct an executive’s daughter and her nurse, played by Barboura Morris. Richard Devon completes the kidnapping trio as a sleazeball who cannot help but make a pass at the young nurse. Devon, as “Apple,” is at odds with Bronson. Devon challenges Bronson at gunpoint during a heated exchange. Bronson, in his trademark, clinched teeth and monotone phrasing, his machine gun pointed at him, explains, “Go ahead Apple. And I will peel and core you.” Hey! That is some tough talk. Like a "family outing," Cabot’s parents show up at the hideout with food and encouragement. Suddenly Gilchrist does a complete 180, being so kindhearted and gentle toward the little girl, fawning over her. Perhaps Corman wanted to illustrate that over half the people in this movie have serious personal issues.

In an amusing sequence, the police bring the Amsterdam weasel in for questioning. After he leaves the squad room, two officers lose him because “he snuck into the lady's room.” Their diligence casts a cloud over their upcoming promotions. But the weasel, seeking revenge, gives a tip on Bronson’s location via an “anonymous” phone call, which the police immediately recognize as Amsterdam. The gang goes berserk when Amsterdam arrives and I imagine most moviegoers noted that anyone on screen at this point may not make it to the end. DeKova demonstrates his mental problems which, up until this point, outside of the lion behind his gas station, there were no suggestions of his illness. Giving some final Rodney Dangerfield zingers, the police arrive, taunting and belittling Bronson before hauling him off to prison.

Note: In the real 1933, Kelly's arrest was overshadowed by a famous breakout of John Dillinger and his future gang on the same day. But Hollywood has never been too concerned about facts. They like to blur them, though. Their business is entertainment at any cost. The truth has been warped here but an Internet search might square things. It is understandable they would make Bronson a tough guy, even though the real Kelly was not as tough as his wife led people to believe. In this film, "Machine Gun" is not married.