Unpublished Playboy interview with Stanley Kubrick/Bernard Knowles.
Interview by Anonymous.
Early in 1968, Playboy magazine contacted me about the possibility of interviewing Stanley Kubrick. It was an offer I eagerly accepted. 2001: A Space Odyssey had just opened, and critics, whether they loved the film or hated it, were united on one point: nothing like it had ever been see on a movie screen before.
But was that really true?
Back in my years as a teenaged Cinema Misfit, I gobbled up any film that was made in the 1930s…romances, musicals, screwball comedies, gangster movies, even Paul Muni films…I saw and loved them all. Now, as I move into the sunset of my life (or at least the mid-afternoon), my ardor for some of these flicks may have waned a bit (I’m looking at you, “Bringing Up Baby”), but “Holiday” has always retained a hold on my heart.
What about Harold Lloyd’s character in Never Weaken (who is mildly criminal, suicidal, and cowardly) makes him a silent comedy hero? While he doesn’t evoke the sympathy felt for Chaplin’s tramp, or demonstrate the amazing athletic abilities of a stone faced Keaton, Lloyd still possesses the one quality that a silent comedian must have if he’s to become a hero: he challenges the status quo in some way (even if it’s inadvertently, completely by mistake) and upsets the apple cart of daily routine. Make no mistake about it. Never Weaken isn’t about anything but being funny. It has a single, burning question at it’s center: how many jokes can be crammed into a single 40 minute film? Still, like all good silent comedies, Never Weaken can’t help but also reveal a world of unlimited possibilities, surprises, and laughter.
If you’re expecting government cover-ups, ETs, implants, and alien hybrids–you know, X-Files kind of stuff–this might not be the movie for you.
I Promise to Pay (Columbia, 1937) tells the story of a low-level office clerk, Eddie Lang (Chester Morris), who wants nothing more than to be able to finance a one-week vacation for his wife, Mary (Helen Mack) and their two children. To do so, he succumbs to the lure of easy money from an illegal loan shark (Leo Carrillo). When he is unable to pay back the loan immediately and is forced to contend with the 1,000 % yearly interest rate, he falls victim to a myriad of nasty thugs who threaten him and his family with bodily harm, kidnapping, and death. A fast-paced, surprisingly stark depiction of the Depression era bolstered by winning performances, especially that of Leo Carrillo’s creepy yet compelling depiction of a ruthless, egomaniacal crime boss.
Harold Lloyd’s two-reeler High And Dizzy is definitely a *hight* point in silent drunken antics. The drunk routine is like a virtuoso piece of music. The notes never change. It’s all about the performance. Complicated, but clean and direct. Difficult, but appearing effortless. The drunk has three emotional gears he can shift between. Happy camaraderie, confusion, and belligerence. There’s more than enough to provide variety and pacing for a two-reeler.
The first few minutes of 10,000 BC boldly establishes two main themes: people walking — and really stupid dialogue. The challenge of trying to review a film like 10,000 BC or even talk about it, is that you almost immediately begin making obvious comparisons with better movies and trite observations about how trite the plot line is and the next thing you know (just like the movie) nobody’s listening and you’re going blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Darkness. Flare of acetylene torch — revealing a man sitting on the floor, wedged in between two pieces of bulky equipment. The headgear he is wearing has been ripped open, revealing his face, a single stream of blood trickling down his forehead. He waits in the darkness, the only light the glare from the torch. [...]
Blood Freak isn’t for everyone, but the next time Thanksgiving rolls around, try popping it in the DVD player. After watching the film, you might find yourself experiencing a surprising level of empathy with the turkey cooking in the oven, and if nothing else, Blood Freak might drive away a few unwanted relatives.
In 1966 the Anti-Megalosaurus Force (AMF) was established to defend Japan from Monsters. Who knew? Not just a bunch of flummoxed army guys wearing white gloves, but an elite force — 4072 members strong. Talk about a thankless job. The only profession taking more of a beating than the AMF when Godzilla makes landfall, is the home insurance industry, which has been busy selling policies between monster rampages.
Jim Rutherford
Nancy Louise Rutherford
Lou Aguilar
The Misfits
