THE KILLER SHREWS: Iconic late-1950s, mini-budget scare-fest gets classy DVD release

If you suspect, as did I, that the late-50s horror movie THE KILLER SHREWS might turn out to be a killer snooze, not to worry. This old movie, said to be one of Stephen King's favorite horror films, is an interesting watch for several reasons. First, of course, there are those "giant shrews," which look an awfully lot like dogs costumed up to resemble what the movie-makers imagined might pass muster as monsters. They don't. Which is part of the fun. TrustMovies believes that he saw this film in its original theatrical incarnation back when he was a teenager -- or maybe caught it later on TV. More than a half century after, watching it again proved a surprisingly enjoyable trip down memory lane.

This is mostly due to the fact that the movie makes a near-perfect stand-in for so many of the cut-rate horror/monster films of that era. And in fact it may even have been a tad ahead of its time. From the opening scene (above), at sea, with the skipper and his more-or-less first-mate exchanging what passed at the time for witty repartee in movies like this (three years later, the first James Bond movie would raise action-movie repartee to new heights), we can't help but notice that that mate is a black man. Aside from Sidney Poitier movies, this was unusual for its time, and although -- yes, indeed -- the black man is the first victim of the monsters (a cliche now so imbued into our culture that it is referenced in every third horror film), at the time black men were seen seldom enough on screen that this first-death cliche had not yet fully come into being.

The monsters' second victim, by the way, is the Hispanic caretaker,so you can rest easy in the assurance that Hollywood has, as ever, understood the pecking order very well. The story is simplicity itself: The little boat arrives on an island to pick up some passengers. But due to an oncoming storm/hurricane, the boat must dock and its crew spend the night rather than removing the handful of people from the island. Why those people are so desperate to be removed is soon explained: they're scientists who have been experimenting on "nature" (never a good idea, right?) and in the process have created these mutant shrews (above) -- which the movie goes to great lengths to explain the nature of (the usual shrew info: vicious killing machines that must eat their own weight in live food every few hours, etc.).

Yes, there is a pretty girl involved (the daughter of the lead scientist, who, even though everyone is about to be eaten, insists on changing her clothes for dinner: It's that kind of movie), a villain (below: the cowardly would-be lover of the pretty girl), and another hard-working scientist (shown further below), who is, of course, expendable. Watching the movie unfurl, like the clockwork thing it is, proves fun, too, showing us how little has changed, plot-wise down the decades. The big difference between now and then are the special effects and the gore quotient. There's no CGI involved, so these "shrews" have to be scary on their own. Or at least funny. Which they are. And the gore? There ain't none. None at all. Deaths happen behind trees, or in the shrubbery, well out of our view. Compare this to what is thrown at us now, and you may find yourself more grateful for the grade B horror of this era.

The film's director, Ray Kellogg was known primarily for his special effects work, including Marilyn Monroe's movies (Don't say it! Those boobs were enhanced?) -- which, ironically, is the least convincing part of this movie. The cast -- pretty much unknowns, with the exception of leading man James Best (who is still going strong today!) -- is serviceable, as is the dialog and direction. This is the kind of film that could be made over a very short time, would be expected to turn a tidy profit, and often did.

The leading lady, pert and blond Ingrid Goude (center, three photos above), was a former Miss Sweden, and provides the sole bit of pulchri-tude in the movie. Otherwise, it's those dog-gone shrews that offer the major entertainment value in this zircon-in-the-rough from bygone days.

Hitting the street this past Tuesday, November 11, The Killer Shrews has been digitally restored via the Film Chest Media Group, and the restoration is pretty good, particularly given that most viewers will not expect pristine visuals from this kind of film. Running a thankfully short 69 minutes, the movie carries a reasonable price tag of $10 suggested retail. Maybe Netflix or some other streaming/digital sources will carry it, too, so the rental market will be served.

AFA hosts BIG JOY, Stephen Silha/Eric Slade's doc on one of our lesser known icons, James Broughton, along with ten of Broughton's films

Surely I've heard (or read) the name James Broughton a number of times during my life, particularly, I suspect, in the company/subject of the Beat Generation: Ginsberg, Kerouac et al. But I managed not to be curious enough about the name or the man attached to it to do further sleuthing. Now, thankfully, I don't have to because a couple of smart, talented filmmakers, Stephen Silha (shown below, right) and Eric Slade (below, left), aided by their editor and co-director, Dawn Logsdon (further below, left), have done it for me, producing a first-class documentary -- BIG JOY: THE ADVENTURES OF JAMES BROUGHTON -- about this classy, talented, ahead-of-his-time poet and filmmaker (among other skills) who lived the kind of life that many of us might choose, had we only balls enough to pursue it.

"When in doubt, twirl!" is one of the first quotes we hear from this guy, and, yes, we think: Of course! "Broughton was a trickster," somebody on-screen soon explains, and this makes perfect sense, as well. If you were a gay man back in mid-20th-century America, you had to survive on your wits and sleight-of-hand. If Broughton might have appeared a little effete, still he managed to attract and sometimes

seduce the ladies, including, yes, famous film critic Pauline Kael, fathering her daughter, even if he did not stick around long enough to help raise the child. Broughton would later marry and spawn a son (whom the movie-makers interview, along with many, many other friends and collaborators)  before at last meeting and falling head over heels for the man who would become the love of his life, a fellow named Joel Singer, some 35 years Broughton's junior.

In between all this (and continuing after it), there was the creativity: the dancing, the poetry, and especially the films. Fleeing to London in the early 50s with his then-partner Kermit Sheets to escape the McCarthy-inspired witch hunts, Broughton, who made mostly short films, there created one of his most famous:  The Pleasure Garden, which won a special prize at the Cannes Film Festival, with the award handed to Mr. B by one of his idols, Jean Cocteau.

Among his many films, The Bed is probably best known of all -- for its funny, loony use of the title object, which Broughton, shown at right and below, fills with naked men and women doing just what you'd imagine. And more. Groundbreaking in a number of ways, The Bed appeared in 1968, precisely the right time for a breakout like this one.

Silha, Slade & Logsdon have put together a frisky, fleet and immensely enjoyable film of which, one imagines, Broughton himself would have approved. While it does enshrine its subject in a lot of humor and good will, it also makes clear the fellow's dark side, along with how difficult it must have been for women like Kael (who indeed encouraged and contributed to Broughton's film-making) and the man's later wife, who at one point on camera nearly breaks down, as she remembers her love for the man and the immense loss of him she experienced when he left her for Mr. Singer (shown below, left).

We also learn about the philosopher Alan Watts (lately such an important part of Her), and how he claimed that Broughton was the only person who understood him -- and who truly understood the playful aspect of zen.

The finale brings together so many of the people we've heard from, now all reading, one after another, a short phrase from one of Broughton's poems. This is an inspired, lovely ending to a film that seems very nearly as original as its subject. You're likely to come away wishing you'd known this man. Meanwhile, we've got Big Joy, as well as Broughton's films and poems, to fill the gap.

Thanks to Anthology Film Archives, Big Joy is having its theatrical premiere here in New York City, beginning this Friday, March 21, through Sunday, March 23, each evening at 8pm at AFA. On Friday, March 21, there will be a special after-party sponsored by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence – the location will be announced at the screening.

AFA is also hosting two programs of selected films by James Broughton:

PROGRAM 1 
Saturday, March 22 at 5:30.
MOTHER’S DAY 1948, 22 min, 16mm
THE BED 1968, 19 min, 16mm
NUPTIAE 1969, 14 min, 16mm
THE GOLDEN POSITIONS 1970, 32 min, 16mm
THIS IS IT 1971, 10 min, 16mm
Total running time: ca. 100 min.

PROGRAM 2: Collaborations with Joel Singer 
Sunday, March 23 at 6:15
TOGETHER 1976, 3 min, 16mm, b&w
SONG OF THE GODBODY 1977, 11 min, 16mm
THE GARDENER OF EDEN 1981, 8.5 min, 16mm
DEVOTIONS 1983, 22 min, 16mm
SCATTERED REMAINS 1988, 14 min, 16mm
Total running time: ca. 65 min.

For more information about AFA -- tickets, directions, etc. -- simply click on the link.

Important Update! 

Summer Theatrical Tour: 

Chicago, May 16-22 at Facets Cinemateque  

Portland, May 24, 4:30pm at Hollywood Theatre 

Mendocino, May 31, 5:30pm at Crown Hall 

Los Angeles, June 10, 8pm at West Hollywood Library 

Los Angeles, June 12, 7:30pm American Cinematheque 

Spielberg Theatre 

New York, June 18, New York Public Library, time TBD 

Seattle, June 19, 7 pm at Gay City Calamus Auditorium 

Dallas, June 27, 9:20pm, Texas Theatre

BIG JOY will also be released on DVD/VOD 

via Kino Lorber's Alive Mind label on June 3rd.