This week in the Deep Hurting Project is The Beast of Yucca Flats. Yep, it took two years for the Project to get to something that was on Mystery Science Theater 3000. While I have been literally a lifelong fan of MST3K, and this no doubt eventually led to my starting the Project, surprisingly, most of the movies featured on the show lean far more towards "So Bad It's Good," there'd usually be one movie per season that actually was that bad, something like The Castle of Fu Manchu, Monster A Go Go, Invasion of the Neptune Men, or the filmography of Coleman Francis. Think of Coleman Francis as Ed Wood's evil twin. Neither had any talent as a filmmaker, but while Ed Wood's incompetence was endearing, Francis' was, well, to quote Kevin Murphy: "Director Coleman Francis uses edits like blunt instruments. He uses blunt instruments like blunt instruments. His major themes are death, hatefulness, death, pain, and death. He looks like Curly Howard possessed by demons from Hell. He tried to pass off Lake Mead as the Caribbean Sea. His films have the moral compass of David Berkowitz. He hurts us and I want him to know it, except if he's still alive, because there's the small chance that he's still strong enough to crush my windpipe with his bare hands."" Fortunately, Coleman Francis died two decades before MST3K decided to riff all three of his films. Surprisingly, The Beast of Yucca Flats, despite meriting a mention on TVTropes' "So Bad It's Horrible" page, is easily the closest to So Bad It's Good, and that's largely because of its bizarre style, with a mind-numbingly slow pacing, and almost no dialogue (due to Francis not having enough money to shoot with sound) except for occasional exchanges that are either off-screen or (more rarely) in such a long shot that nobody would tell whether or not their lips matched the words on the soundtrack (so, in essence, anyone with any dialogue is Fake Shemping themselves), or the terse and enigmatic narration, delivered by the director himself. And since it's on Amazon Prime, I'm taking it on.
And his final film Red Zone Cuba was meant as a tragedy starring an everyman with poor impulse control (perhaps a cinematic updating of the naturalistic novels of the late 19th century) and ended up as a piece of shit whose protagonist is basically a sociopath physiologically incapable of turning down any opportunity to commit a crime (exemplified by the whole plot of seeing a military recruitment ad and immediately deciding to join up and deserting as soon as he got the recruitment bonus, plus the fact that he ended up throwing a random restauranteur down a well and raped his blind daughter just because). And he dropped the ball on most, if not all aspects of filmmaking just as bad as he did for his protagonist. It's really telling that the film's theme song sounds like this:
And it's still generally considered one of the best parts of the film. Well, that and Cherokee Jack.
But neither of those two films are on Amazon Prime, and Beast of Yucca Flats was. And you know what? I think I'm finally going to take on A Talking Cat!? next week, and the one I have planned for the week after is going to be a real doozy...
- I'm torn between making a reference to "Warm Leatherette" and being shocked that we actually got to see more titty in this version than I expected.
- That girl from the prologue? Never appears again. The guy who strangled her? Never revealed. Any relevance whatsoever to the remaining 52 minutes of the film?
- Yep, the protagonist of this film is credited as a guest star.
- "Flag on the moon. How did it get there?"
- Y'know, Coleman Francis, feel free to go into more detail. It's not like you're going to talk over important dialogue.
- Scientific progress? The more I learn about the whole "A-bomb testing" thing, the less I can reconcile it with scientific progress. The whole race to nuclear power started because of what can only be described as a comedy of errors, and while I tend to be in favour of nuclear energy (at least if done properly), the atomic tests conducted after August 1945 didn't really do much good but give an excuse for America and the Soviet Union to wave their dicks about and threaten the survival of the human race.
- Yes, we know Javorski was a noted scientist. You just said that a few minutes ago.
- Holy shit, actual dialogue. I did not expect to actually see people talking in this movie. To be fair, they were far back enough that it probably didn't matter if their lips didn't sync.
- Wait, there are no flying saucers in this movie. Why bring them up?
- Coyotes, once a menace to travelers. And now they're in my hometown.
- Okay, so, I'm writing this during dinner, and I paused a movie I was watching earlier so I could go to dinner. That movie? Bela Tarr's The Turin Horse. It's basically a movie about the end of the world, but done in a superficially similar style. For the most part, the setting is limited to one failing farm (even the opening spiel about Nietzsche's descent into madness is just told via narration, with no real connection to the plot except that maybe the horse in the story belonged to the farmer in the movie), and the content is more abstract, with the first 35 minutes or so being devoted to a farmer coming home and his daughter making their dinner: two boiled potatoes. The rest of the movie isn't a hell of a lot more conventionally exciting, and when the world eventually ends, it's because the lights all go out and they can't even light a match without it immediately burning itself out. While it might seem tedious as Hell, because Tarr is a great (if highly idiosyncratic) director, he knows how to put it together in such a way that it all works, and then, you end up feeling for these two when they're eventually reduced to eating raw potatoes when they can't cook them, seemingly resigned to their fate in the darkness of a world where they can neither grow new food nor even cook the food they already have:
And because Coleman Francis is a shit director, when he makes a movie with long takes, and several scenes with little apparent connection to anything else, it just comes across as boring and the director someone who doesn't really know what the fuck he's even doing, a feeling not helped by the fact that the narration keeps repeating the same few phrases long past the point where they'd be relevant. He makes a movie about a man turned into a monster by a nuclear blast, and all he does (for the most part) is just wander around the desert and occasionally groan. He can be easily outmanoeuvered by two random kids and the whole plot against him means nothing. And it's not like Mr. Neutron where a big part of the joke is how this supposedly omnipotent guy is doing nothing but puttering around a British home and trying to seduce Mrs. S.C.U.M., the woman who does for Mrs. Entrail, and the US government's response is to bomb EVERYTHING except for the parts where he actually is. It's just shit. - Wow, the pilot's talking and no words are coming out. A sure tell of the fact that they couldn't afford to shoot with sound.
- Jesus God, Tor's actually saying shit at a distance where I can actually make out his mouth movements. Technically he's just saying "Aah:" (and I use the colon to signify that his delivery is trying for a scream, but falls far short of that) but at least it's something.
- Why are all the shots in this climax so disjointed? Why can't I make heads or tails of who's supposed to be where in this chase through Yucca Flats? It's almost like The Snowman all over again.
- What the fuck is that expression on Tor's face when he's hug-strangling that one guy?
- Okay, so about the ending: apparently, the ending was just supposed to show Tor Johnson lying dead on the desert ground for some reason. Then a wild jackrabbit hopped up to Tor and, since Tor was actually a kindhearted man (even if he was typecast as a dumb brute), he started to hug and kiss the rabbit. Somehow, this ended up in the finished film (with a few insert shots like they actually meant for that to happen) and became a favourite scene of the people who saw the film.
And his final film Red Zone Cuba was meant as a tragedy starring an everyman with poor impulse control (perhaps a cinematic updating of the naturalistic novels of the late 19th century) and ended up as a piece of shit whose protagonist is basically a sociopath physiologically incapable of turning down any opportunity to commit a crime (exemplified by the whole plot of seeing a military recruitment ad and immediately deciding to join up and deserting as soon as he got the recruitment bonus, plus the fact that he ended up throwing a random restauranteur down a well and raped his blind daughter just because). And he dropped the ball on most, if not all aspects of filmmaking just as bad as he did for his protagonist. It's really telling that the film's theme song sounds like this:
And it's still generally considered one of the best parts of the film. Well, that and Cherokee Jack.
But neither of those two films are on Amazon Prime, and Beast of Yucca Flats was. And you know what? I think I'm finally going to take on A Talking Cat!? next week, and the one I have planned for the week after is going to be a real doozy...
Comparing the Universal Oneness of All Life to Yo Mama since 2010.
I was born with the gift of laughter and a sense the world is mad.
I was born with the gift of laughter and a sense the world is mad.