Fifties SensaBility
This
is the first installment in a series of analytical reviews concerning specific
“B” films of a particular time period. The objective is to dive deeper into the
components of these films; the stylistic elements, the themes and the overall
context, to grasp a better understanding of what makes this type of film so
distinctly “B.” These aren’t the familiar faces of “Plan 9,” or “Attack of the
50 Foot Woman,” that are seen today as the poster children for this era.
Instead the focus will be on movies that aren’t necessarily “critically
acclaimed,” but are basically prime examples of the many works that defined the
stereotypical patterns.
Test Subject 1:
The Man Without a Body
Dir. Charles Saunders, W. Lee Wilder
1958, 118 Minutes
Film, in its subjective nature, can be forgiving in respect
to the idea of quality. What makes a movie "good" depends entirely on the
viewer’s expectations, both in what type of entertainment the viewer wants, or
how the filmmaker plays with those expectations to offer something different. Part
of what makes a B film so fascinating is its ability to exist as both a good
and bad work of art. Budget constraints on a farfetched concept can still have
redeeming qualities if it is earnest in its execution and offers anything at
all to surprise the viewer. It is true; Man
Without a Body has its flaws, and upon the time of its release in 1957 was
most likely a film Paramount tossed over its shoulder into the vault after its
initial drive-in theatre run. At the heart of this quiet little sci fi horror movie, however, is a genuine passion to be a good film,, and its evident in subtle ways, from the visuals to the
overall themes.
Much
of the stigma surrounding this film is in fact its concept, and how it goes
about the execution in terms of writing. This story could’ve used a bit more
gestating; Karl Broussard, a wealthy millionaire who fears the mortality that
will ensue from an inoperable brain tumor, looks to a mad scientist to
resurrect the head of the prophet Nostradamus and apply it to his body. This
has an intense scientific plot hole concerning the logic behind how Broussard
and Nostradamus could possibly coexsist as one person, or how Broussard expects
to keep living as himself when the brain on his shoulders will be of another
person. Plot holes like this, though they are to a lesser extent, pop up here
and there throughout, but it is the type of story that would be reserved for the bottom half of a double bill, so This approach to storytelling doesn’t necessarily bode
well for supporting dialogue. Characters constantly starting lines with the
name of who they’re talking to leaves one to believe everyone on the set had
some form of Alzheimers. In case you forgot in the last 5 seconds, our main
character’s name is Karl Broussard, and don’t question the doctor, because “I’m
a doctor! Remember that!” These types of lines are pretty much gold in terms of
a B film; its terribleness offset by a sort of consciousness makes for great
entertainment at the end of the day.
But
as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words, and for the most part Man embodies that philosophy. This is a
visually competent film (It must've been good to have a second director to screen out the bullshit, even if he was only hired to meet a British quota for workers on non-Brit productions filmed in England). There are some very dynamic shot compositions here that
take advantage of screen depth and allow for relationship dynamics between
characters to unfold. Broussard’s invasion of the foreground in a scene with
the Doctor permeates the film with his paranoia. He addresses the Doctor, but
never faces him; so lost in the brain that is failing on him, he has no care
for the people who are helping him. Test tubes and lab machines clutter the
screen space as they cut through or frame characters who are diligently at work
to resurrect the human brain; a visual metaphor for how science, in its attempt
to simplify and rationalize, is really bringing us closer to convolution in the
form of power we have no idea how to control.
Characters
such as the self involved and paranoid Broussard and the logical yet
sympathetic Doctor do a very good job of keeping consistent characters who show
their emotional capacities well, albeit not too various in range. There is more
going on with these characters than what is on the surface, which is a relief
considering the crappy things they’re forced to say. The doctor is torn in two
between a love for science and the love of his life, and has moments where he
seriously contemplates these things in relation to one another. Broussard’s
performance is layered with a thick yet subtle coat of fear of mortality that
drives all of his actions from stealing Nostradamus’ head to killing the man
that’s courting the woman he’s lost amidst his psychotic spiral. It’s certainly
not up for any Oscar nominations, but the acting does its job efficiently
without any means of showboating. Similarly, this particular B film eases up on
the practical effects. It does the typical “head on a table” trick, this time
with a small monkey, and the final reveal of Nostradamus’ head on a modern body
is laughable with its over abundance of bandages and gauze. This is all easily forgivable,
considering that Man sacrifices a
practical effects show in favor of allowing the central themes of science
providing immortality be the driving force behind its engagement. This is most
likely a product of low budgets for sure, but it works fine here.
So
what of the themes? No matter what science does in progress, immortality cannot
be reached, or that the individual, especially one of rags to riches hard work
such as Broussard, will feel some type of exception to the inescapable process
of life and death? Broussard seems so focused on beating death that he’d
sacrifice the one physical thing that keeps him connected to the divine; his
mind. He yells into the head of Nostradamus “you are Karl Broussard! You ARE
Karl Broussard!” Yet Nostradamus calmly refutes this; he is Nostradamus.
Broussard’s constant paranoia to make sure he lives on with the mind of a great
philosopher places himself as a product of western culture. The fact that he’s
constantly paranoid that he will die at any second mirrors a cultural awareness
of nuclear threats from opposite sides of the world in this era. His yearning
to be in touch with the divine after using the institution of capitalism to
work his way from poverty to riches speaks volumes too the self important
approach we in the western culture use to approach concepts like death. We’ve
done so much work as individuals; there must be some scientific way for humans
to solve the issue of mortality.
Man Without a Body
is not cinematic gold by any stretch, but it does have a lot going on for
itself, and definitely holds up as a stronger piece in the B film canon.