It! (1967) and The Shuttered Room (1967) - An Obscure Best Of The Big Lots Bargain Bin Double Feature

      A copy of the out of print Warner Home Video DVD pictured at left goes for anywhere from thirty to fifty dollars now.  I fished it out of the Big Lots bargain bin and paid only three dollars.  The monetary value of this disc in the secondary market doesn't necessarily correlate with the merit of the movies on it, but it does make this purchase one of the prouder moments of my career in disc speculation.  Fortunately, both It! (1967) and The Shuttered Room (1967) are decent movies, as well.  They're probably not fifty dollars worth of decent, but they make a passable double feature for a rainy afternoon - provided you can lay your hands on them.

                                   It! (1967)
                    -  Click Here For Trailer -

     It! is almost certainly the lesser of the two movies, and yet  it holds a peculiar fascination for me.  I'm a sucker for any even remotely watchable old movie about which I've somehow manage to remain previously unaware.  This faux Hammer flick about museum employee Arthur Pimm's pet golem - an imposing ambulatory statue Pimm commands to do his nefarious bidding - is a loopy B-movie hoot.  Pimm is played to hammy perfection by the late Roddy McDowall, who maintains viewer sympathy throughout even though he lives with the corpse of his dead mother and evokes the creature (identified specifically as the Golem of Prague) to murder on his behalf.  You've gotta love any movie that has the chutzpah to culminate with the British military attempting to address the golem's impervious nature by detonating a nuclear warhead in a heavily populated area of London.

     It! was written and directed by Herbert J. Leder, the same man who wrote and almost directed the delightfully peculiar monster brain flick Fiend Without A Face (1958) - currently available from Criterion.  It! enjoyed wide release on a double bill with Leder's equally obscure The Frozen Dead (1966) - currently available from the Warner Archive.  So where is It! currently available?  Well aside from this particular OOP disc, I was unable to find it anywhere.  I discovered evidence of an airing or two on Turner Classic Movies several years ago, but that's about it.  This is precisely the kind of movie that makes a case for not entirely abandoning the notion of collecting movies on hard media.  I couldn't even find It! available to stream.

     One final bit of trivia:  although shot in color, all prints for the U.S. theatrical release of this British production were in black and white.  As illustrated in the screen caps below, the disc release is in glorious Eastmancolor. 

It! (1967) Stephen King had the confidence to omit the exclamation mark.

Arthur Pimm (Roddy McDowall) lives with the corpse of his mother.  Why?  Because Psycho (1960).

Simon Says . . .  hold your arms out parallel to one another in front of you like the Golem of Prague.

Then there was this gratuitous slice of cheesecake, courtesy of Pimm's fevered imagination.

. . . so they'll obviously have to go with the nuclear warhead in a populated area.

When all else fails, make your golem take a time out at the bottom of the ocean.

                                   
                                                               The Shuttered Room (1966)
                                                                    - Click Here For Clip -

     The Shuttered Room, based upon a story idea left incomplete by the late H.P.Lovecraft, was actually written by Arkham House founder and "posthumous collaborator" August Derleth.   As such, it enjoys a slightly higher profile than It!, and this movie adaptation actually is one of the better attempts to translate the notoriously difficult tone of  Lovecraft's work into cinematic terms.  The story revolves around a newly married couple that inherits an abandoned watermill on the island of Dunwich, Massachussets from the wife's recently deceased parents.  The mill harbors an unspeakable horror in its shuttered attic, and the locals clearly know more than they're willing to share.  Though the tale is set in New England, The Shuttered Room was filmed in Norfolk, England.  It utilized a pre-existing mill location that was, in fact, an ancient landmark.  The mill burns to the ground at the end of the movie, and it actually was razed for filming despite the protests of the local populace.   

     The Shuttered Room isn't particularly original, but it's a solid slow building mystery highlighted by performances that are uniformly better than the material demands.  In particular, Oliver Reed has a jolly old time chewing up the scenery as a lecherous local thug named Ethan.  The Shuttered Room also makes effective use of  attractively shot locations and languid pacing to build the eerie atmosphere that is the most Lovecraftian element of the movie.

     Unfortunately The Shuttered Room, like It!, is also now a difficult movie to see.  So why am I posting about these movies?  Well, I'm trying to pay it forward.  The only reason I nabbed this disc when I found it was because I'd seen an article about The Shuttered Room a year or so prior in Rue Morgue Magazine.  Otherwise I would have had no awareness of either of these titles, and I would have most likely left the disc when I came across it.  So heads up:  if you happen upon a copy of this release at a reasonable price, buy it.

The Shuttered Room (1967)  Imagine this title card accompanied by off-putting  jazz music.

And that means you're only a ferry ride away from lots of creepy, whispering locals.

Oliver Reed enjoys a game of grab ass (more than necessary, perhaps) with co-star Carol Lynley.

What unspeakable evil lurks behind the door of the shuttered room?  Hope it's flame retardant . . .

. . . because in the sixties, almost every horror movie ended with a conflagration. 

     Keep an eye out for the second Warner Home Video Horror Double Feature, as well.  It features Chamber Of Horrors (1966) and Brides Of Fu Manchu (1966), and it can still be had for a much more reasonable price.  Chamber Of Horrors features both a "Horror Horn" and "Fear Flasher" gimmick that kick in whenever something terrifying occurs, and Brides Of Fu Manchu is one of five movies produced by Harry Alan Towers featuring Christopher Lee as the evil criminal mastermind.

     On a related note, Warner Brothers also released an aborted attempt at a series of  Sci-Fi Double Features comprised of only three releases, and these seem to be even more scarce. 

Demon Seed (1977) - Best Of The Big Lots Bargain Bin Busts A Nut

Demon Seed (1977) - Best Of The Big Lots Bargain Bin #2

     Most home electronics possess a proprietary ability to communicate with other pieces manufactured by the same brand.  That means my Blu-ray player, my LED, and my home theater receiver could theoretically be having a conversation amongst themselves without my knowing it.  They could be plotting against me even as I'm typing this.  In fact, I'm pretty sure they are.  I don't think they're planning on raping me to plant the seed of some unholy union between man and machine, but don't be surprised if you come to my place and see a bunch of graying, curmudgeonly little MiniDiscs crawling around.  Technology will fuck you.

AI super-computer, circa 1977.  Note how tiny it is . . .

     Demon Seed (1977) makes that idea literal, and the results are . . . fascinating?  Odd?  Silly?  The movie's narrative conceit is simple:  Proteus IV, an artificial intelligence program (voiced by Robert "tell the insurance companies you mean business" Vaughn) usurps control of the fully automated home in which Susan Harris (Julie Christie) resides.  After successfully trapping Susan in the house and severing her communications with the outside world, Proteus reveals that he wants to conceive a child through her in order to reside in a form humanity will be unable to reject.  Clearly, Proteus has yet to develop an understanding of humanity.

Proteus (center) discusses world domination with a lamp (left)

     Of course, there's a bit more to the narrative than just that, but who really cares?  The real fun of Demon Seed, - for me, at least - is how incredibly anachronistic Hollywood's notion of bleeding edge technology has grown since 1977.  The super computer that represents Proteus' brain (pic above) is massive.  Think about your intelligent personal assistant Siri that lives in your iPhone.  Granted, Siri probably doesn't want to procreate, but she keeps your affairs in order better than you do, and she's small enough to live in your pocket.  Proteus himself is represented by oversized desktop terminals that presumably control the colorful and trippy glorified screen saver that represents his thoughts and moods.  Even the specifics of the fully automated Harris household are quaint, with obtrusive HAL 9000 looking video surveillance cameras scattered throughout the home.  At least the house makes mixed drinks.  Mine doesn't.

Metal snake thing - Demon Seed (1977)

Rubik's Snake (198?)

     The real fun with the tech, though, is seeing just exactly how Proteus perverts the functions of the automated home to his own ends.  As you would probably expect, Proteus is able to mimic Susan's voice.  He's able to control the house's temperature.  He's able to lock doors and shutter windows.  None of that is really surprising, is it?  Well, how about creating and controlling a creepy morphing-metal-snake thingy that kills unwanted household visitors in the basement and looks suspiciously like a Rubik's Snake puzzle?  No?  All right,  I know what you really want to know . . .

Sorry, kids.  This is about as graphic as Susan's impregnation gets.

     How exactly does Proteus go about impregnating Susan?  Sure, I'll cop to having the same prurient interest in seeing the lovely Ms. Christie violated by a desktop computer as you do.  Sadly, the specifics are mostly discreet and tasteful.  Mostly.  Demon Seed treats us to a few fleeting moments of side boob combined with the pervy thrill of voyeurism, but that's about all.  Julie Christie is an Oscar winner, for Pete's sake, and Demon Seed isn't as much of an exploitation movie as its title would lead you to believe.  Besides, one need only seek out a copy of Don't Look Now (1973) to check out Ms. Christie's graphic lovemaking - long rumored to be the real thing - if that's what rubs your rod. 

     Demon Seed is still a lot of fun in its own right, though, and it easily ranks as one the best of my Big Lots Bargain Bin excavations.  Dated presentation aside, it effectively preys upon the pervasive fear of technology run amok, and it does so with more class than you might expect.  Demon Seed is recommended - especially if you can track down a copy for only three bucks. 

     In the meantime, remember not to drop the soap in a shower full of technology . . .

Best Of The Big Lots Bargain Bin - Paul Bartel's Private Parts (1972)

     Being a horror fan is hard work sometimes.  The older I get, the harder it becomes.  We horror fans have voracious appetites, and every movie we add to our "watched" lists makes it that much harder to find the next one.  The pool dwindles.  We end up exploring oddly specific subgenres out of desperation, feeling all the while that there truly is nothing new under the sun.  The law of diminishing returns kicks in - previously unwatched content isn't necessarily good content.  In fact, if a movie is any good it's almost a lock that we've already seen it.  We live for the occasional unheralded gem, the odd little surprise that somehow previously escaped notice.

     When we unearth one of these buried treasures, we're obliged to share with others in our community, other horror junkies jonesing for their next fix.  I'm pretty sure that's how cult movies are born.  I submit for your consideration the late Paul Bartel's feature directorial debut, Private Parts (1972).

     I became a big fan of the Big Lots DVD dump bins a few years ago while enduring some nasty medical problems that left me perpetually broke and frequently homebound.  I'd previously been one of those guys who regularly burned through piles of money on new DVD releases, and I simply didn't have the finances to keep doing that.  Movies from the dump bins were only three dollars a pop, and they satisfied my compulsion to buy new DVDs without breaking the bank. Admittedly, though, my excavations frequently yielded pretty sorry results.  They also often encouraged me to sample titles I might've otherwise passed by, perfectly worthwhile titles that had found their way to the dump bins simply because their availability outstripped consumer demand.

The lovely young Ayn Ruymen as Cheryl Stratton

     I'd never even heard of Private Parts prior to finding it in a dump bin, and that made me wary right off the bat.  Most of the titles I dug from the bins I at least had an awareness of.  This was completely unknown to me.  I'd recently fished out a copy of Paul Bartel's Eating Raoul (1982), probably his most critically lauded work as a director, and I'd been underwhelmed.  It was broad and silly.  Had the pickings not been slim that day, I probably would not have given Private Parts a shot.  After watching it, I was perplexed as to how I'd never heard mention of it before because I was delighted by what I found.

     I should pause here to make clear that Private Parts isn't a game changer.  It's an odd, funky, and morbidly funny exercise in weirdness.  It's at once familiar and unique.  It brings to mind the movies of Frank Henenlotter (Basket Case, Brain Damage) in its casual, good-natured sleaziness.  I suspect it was a hard movie to market, and perhaps that's why it fell through the cracks.

Developing Cheryl in the basement darkroom

     Private Parts tells the story of teenage runaway Cheryl Stratton (Ayn Ruymen) who finds herself homeless in Los Angeles after she quarrels with her roommate.  She winds up in a skid-row hotel run by her peculiar, morally rigid Aunt Martha (Lucille Benson) and populated by an assortment of  loonies.  One odd and reclusive tenant, a photographer named George (John Ventantonio), takes a rather unwholesome interest in Cheryl.  Then the bodies start piling up, and Cheryl soon realizes why Aunt Martha is so uptight, George is so weird, and everyone else is so dead.  To say more of the plot would ruin the fun.

George's "significant other"

     Private Parts possesses that special "pushing the envelope" vibe peculiar to movies from the 1970s, and it boasts at least one showstopping set piece involving a blow up doll, a syringe, and an unsavory exchange of bodily fluids that's guaranteed to make even jaded horror fans squirm a little.  It's an uncomfortable viewing experience that lingers in the mind.  The movie also paints an especially grotty and lived in picture of L.A. that provides a strong sense of time and place.  Aunt Martha's squalid, creepy old King Edward Hotel is a character itself - a sad, dilapidated affair that still hints at the fabulous showplace it undoubtedly once was.

Lucille Benson as Aunt Martha

     Speaking of characters, Private Parts earns much of its unique atmosphere from a series of nicely detailed and mildly overstated performances, with Lucille Benson's Aunt Martha being an obvious standout.  Benson is one of those wonderfully talented character actresses that you'll recognize instantly but have difficulty placing.   Viewers of a certain age will likely remember her from the short lived 1980s Tom Hanks sitcom Bosom Buddies, wherein she played essentially the same role, albeit with less emphasis on the cracked extremes.  Horror fans will most likely remember her as the dowdy, sandwich making housewife that provides Michael Myers with his first shiny new piece of cutlery at the start of Halloween II (1981).

Laurie Main as the Reverend Moon

     There's also Reverend Moon, the jovial tenant with a thing for refrigerator repairman, played by Laurie Main.  Close your eyes and listen to his voice - he's the narrator from Winnie The Pooh, as well as the story reader on many Disney produced read-along CDs and cassettes.  Watch for a brief appearance by Stanley Livingston, as well, who played Chip Douglas in the long running television sitcom My Three Sons.

     Private Parts is perverse, funny, and atmospheric, and it stands as one of my all-time favorite bargain bin finds.  Be advised, though - you'll want to steer clear of the trailer prior to watching the movie, which is why I haven't provided a link to it here.  Just trust me, this demented little flick is well worth any genre fan's time, and it's truly worthy of a cult following.

                  Up next in the Best Of The Big Lots Bargain Bin series:  Demon Seed (1977)