Rock & Rule (1983)

 Rock & Rule (Dir: Clive A Smith, 1983). 

Rock & Rule is a futuristic, dystopian sci-fi rock musical from Canadian animation studio Nelvana.

On a post apocalypse planet Earth in which mutant rodents have displaced extinct humans as the dominant species, evil genius rock god Mok (voiced by Don Francks with singing by Lou Reed) plots to summon an inter-dimensional demon, presumably in pursuit of world dominance. In order to fulfill his maniacal plan he must engage the talents of Angel (Susan Roman with singing from Blondie's Deborah Harry), a young, ambitious singing mouse with the desired vocal frequency to open up a portal to the demon's domain. Kidnapping Angel and whisking her off to his lair in Nuke York, the pair are soon perused by Angel's fellow band members on a daring rescue mission. Yeah, I kinda lost the thread of the plot a couple of times, but what the hey? Hallucinogenics may help...  

In development since the late 1970s, Rock & Rule would fall foul of studio politics when a new regime at distribution company MGM/UA would lose faith in the movie, delaying its release and only granting it a limited theatrical run in 1983. Seemingly destined for obscurity, the feature would eventually gain cult status when made available on the burgeoning home video and cable TV markets. 

Back in the '80s, Nelvana were known for popular TV 'toons The Raccoons (1985-1992) and the Star Wars series Ewoks (1985-1986) and Droids (1985-1986). The studio's debut feature film, Rock & Rule shares a visual style with the period TV product, albeit a notch up in production values. The cast of humanoid creatures with animal faces recall the non-duck periphery characters of Carl Barks' Uncle Scrooge comic book universe. This influence is particularly apparent in a trio of Beagle Boys-esq henchmen. 

Yet, while the sub-Disney character design may appeal to the kids, some mild swearing, drug taking and sexually suggestive humour that wouldn't seem out of place in Ralph Bakshi's x-rated animations Fritz the Cat (R Bakshi, 1972) and Heavy Traffic (R Bakshi, 1973) means it is largely unsuitable for young'uns. Seemingly aimed at teens who feel they have outgrown Disney but are a little too young for Bakshi, it would be fair to assume it caused some headaches among the MGM/UA marketing department; at least partially sealing its fate with regards to release.

An impressive array of recording artists was assembled to soundtrack the movie, with contributions from Deborah Harry, Cheap Trick, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop and Earth, Wind and Fire. While the music is good, it is perhaps less memorable than such an exemplary line-up would suggest. None of the songs particularly lingering in the memory after the end credits roll, and I would image that, by the time of the movie's eventual release in '83, much of it seemed outdated to its intended audience.

Still, there is an engaging weirdness to Rock & Rule which means it is never less than entertaining. With a visual aesthetic which veers uneasily between impressive and rough around the edges, it is no animated classic. But with a decent post-punk soundtrack and frankly bizarre plot, it easily earns its cult status. For grown-up kids weened on 1980s Saturday morning cartoons it has an undeniable nostalgic appeal; a genuine oddity that deserves to be watched at least once. 

Attack on the Iron Coast (1968)

Attack on the Iron Coast (Dir: Paul Wendkos, 1968).

Following the success of The Great Escape (John Sturges, 1963), producer Walter Mirisch would attempt to repeat its success with other WWII themed movies including 633 Squadron (Walter E Gruman, 1963), Submarine X-1 (William Graham, 1968) and this cheap and cheerful effort. 

Inspired by the real life Operation Chariot, a raid on the German occupied French port St Nazire, Attack on the Iron Coast details an mission to destroy a Nazi stronghold, lead by hardheaded Canadian army Major Jamie Wilson (Lloyd Bridges) and dissonant British navy Captain Franklin (Andrew Keir).

Herman Hoffman's screenplay is a cliched affair, with narrative tropes familiar to anyone who has ever watched a WWII movie. Add to this the unimaginative direction of Paul Wendkos and some overwrought performances from its cast of B movie regulars and we have a well meaning but somewhat ham-fisted actioner. The use of stock footage in battle scenes and obvious model work in the effects sequences only accentuate the movie’s low budget. 

Top billed is Lloyd Bridges, an amiable leading man who always seemed more comfortable on the small screens than in movies. He gives a decent performance as commando leader Major Wilson, tormented by the thought of sending his squad on the deadly duty. More effective is co-star Andrew Keir as the stoic Captain Franklin, at loggerheads with Wilson after his own son was lost on one of the Major's previous missions.

Fascinatingly much of the movie was shot in London’s St Katherine Dock, after it functioned as a dock and before redevelopment saw it transformed into a leisure and tourist destination. To be honest, this and the presence of Mr Keir were my main reasons for watching this particular feature film. If this peeks your interest then it is well worth seeking out. If not there are many WWII movies far more competently made than this. 

Ultimately, Attack on the Iron Coast is the movie equivalent of a Commando comic book. While it is no cinematic masterpiece, it is a perfectly entertaining way to pass 90 minutes of your time; I imagine the movie was met with appreciation by many a young lad on the second half of a matinee double bill back in '68. 

Escape in the Fog (1945)

Escape in the Fog (Dir: Oscar Boetticher Jr, 1945).

The evocatively titled Escape in the Fog is a B-movie thriller from Columbia Pictures; directed by Budd Boetticher, billed here, as on all his early movies, as Oscar Boetticher Jr. 

Wartime nurse Eileen Carr (Nina Foch) has a nightmare about the attempted murder of friendly neighbourhood G-Man Barry Malcolm (William Wright). The premonition proves prophetic and on this preposterous premise is hung a convoluted plot involving smuggled documents, kidnapping and Nazi bad guys.  

Sometimes regarded as film noir, Escape in the Fog has noir-ish elements but is, instead, a fairly routine wartime espionage thriller. At least it would be routine, but for the incredulous plot. Set in San Francisco. but featuring little of the city’s famous landmarks, it was obviously shot on the studio backlot on a fairly meagre budget. That said, it makes decent use of its budgetary constraints; with fog cloaked exteriors both adding atmosphere and obscuring the lack of outdoor locales and elaborate sets. 

Otto Kruger receives top billing as uncover agent Paul Devon, but the real leads are William Wright and Nina Foch. A leading man who never made it out of B-pictures, Wright is a little too bland to fully convince as the hero. Better is Foch as the mystic medic; although sadly underused, she is nonetheless as watchable as ever and is probably the best reason to seek out this particular movie. Together the pair have little onscreen chemistry, thus making the romantic subplot feel a little forced. 

Boetticher was often dismissive of his early work, including Escape in the Fog. It is a little undistinguished but not without entertainment value. At just shy of 65 minutes it is short and moves at a fair pace but, ultimately, the movie is scuppered by a convoluted plot and the implausible narrative device of premonition  It is worth a watch, especially for fans of the era and of Foch, but the plot is just a bit too silly to really take seriously. 

Major Barbara (1941)

 Major Barbara (Dir: Gabriel Pascal, 1941)

An impressive array of British acting talent headline Gabriel Pascal’s feature film adaptation of George Bernard Shaw’s acclaimed 1905 satirical play. Receiving an Assistant in Direction credit, it is widely acknowledged that Major Barbara was almost solely directed by the great David Lean with some help from stage director Harold French. Producer Gabriel Pascal owned the film rights and took onscreen director credit. 

Wendy Hiller stars as the titular Salvation Army major and estranged daughter of weapons manufacturer Andrew Undershaft (Robert Morley). Rex Harrison is the Greek philosophy professor Adolphus, who sparks romantic interest from the major and business interest from her father as a possible heir to his ammunition enterprise. 

It is hard to recall a movie of its era with a more impressive cast than Major Barbara. Fresh from her performance in Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion (Anthony Asquith & Leslie Howard, 1938), Wendy Hiller gives an enormously characteristic performance as the headstrong idealist at odds with her father’s legacy. Rex Harrison, who incidentally would later star in Pygmalion musical adaptation My Fair Lady (George Cukor, 1964), is her equal, giving evidence of his stature as one of Britain’s top stars. Add to this some deliciously ripe hamming from Robert Morley and Robert Newton and early appearances from future stars Deborah Kerr and Stanley Holloway and you have a veritable who’s who of Brit actors.  

A hack amateur movie reviewer, such as myself, is in no position to criticise a great writer such as Mr Bernard Shaw. Indeed, there is little to criticise. Shaw’s satire is still sharp over a century after the play was first performed. The dialogue sparkles and Lean’s direction can’t be faulted; the movie is rightly regarded a classic. However, I feel the capitalism sympathetic climax sits somewhat uneasy with the rest of the feature. I appreciate it is satirising both sides of the capitalist coin, but the ending really did trip me up. For me it was the movie’s only real weakness; although I guess it is only a weakness depending on where you sit on the political spectrum. 

In all other respects Major Barbara is top tier entertainment from the golden age of British cinema and is highly recommended viewing.