The Oubliette (1914)

The Oubliette (1914)‘Sirrah, lead me to whence come these lamentations.’

A poet sets out to walk to Paris along with a friend, but blows all their money on the way to help out an elderly couple who are being evicted from their home. To restore their fortunes, the duo rob two monks on the road, but are arrested soon afterwards in a local tavern.

This was the third 30 minute silent picture following the adventures of real-life 15th Century French poet François Villon. Although historical details are understandably a little sketchy, Villon seems to have been a habitual criminal, and was actually condemned to death in 1463 after getting into a street fight whilst on bail for another offence. He had already published his most famous poetical work by then (‘Le Testament’ in 1461), and whether this helped his case or not, his sentence was commuted to banishment after which he vanishes from the pages of history. Still, he does seem a somewhat dubious figure to cast as a hero in a series of pictures, although I guess the passage of time has probably leant a romantic slant to his exploits, even if he was convicted of killing a priest in 1455 (being pardoned later on by the King!)

The film opens with Villon (Murdock McQuarrie) taking an exuberant leave of his friends to hit the road with brilliantly named sidekick Colin (Chester Whitney). Unfortunately, exuberant is probably the kindest way to describe McQuarrie’s acting technique which resembles someone guiding a plane down onto an airport runway. After smoking crack. He calms down enough to bail out the old man and his wife who are being thrown out on the street, but then assaults a pair of holy men and their donkey, assisted by the redundant Colin. If this seems a strange occurrence to appear in a film of this vintage then this was before the Production Code really got started (censorship in other words) and it’s fair to say that monks in the middle ages were more concerned with gaining a stranglehold on the local economy and levying heavy taxes, rather than bothering themselves with anything as unproductive as matters of a spiritual nature.

Later on, our caped crusaders get pinched by the rozzers but our leading man escapes, leaving Colin to his fate on the gallows (Villon is such a hero, isn’t he?!) But he does intervene on behalf of heroine Pauline Bush (I guess she’s prettier than Colin). She’s been kidnapped on the road by a dastardly villain whose plans for her probably include something other than a candlelit dinner for two and an evening watching Netflix. And this is why the film is of interest to us now (bet you were wondering, weren’t you?!) You see, this damn bounder is played by none other than silent screen legend Lon Chaney in one of his earliest surviving films. His screen time is disappointingly brief, and director Charles Giblyn obviously didn’t believe in close ups so we can’t really judge if he’d done anything special with his makeup for the role either. However, we do see him fight with a sword and fall from a first floor balcony onto a table, a stunt which he carried out himself. Although it’s not one of the most daring you’ll ever see, given the era and the likely absence of any health and safety procedures, it was probably quite dangerous.

The Oubliette (1914)

Devo were pleased with the results of their latest video shoot.

A print of this film was only discovered in 1983 (by a couple rebuilding their porch!), giving hope that other Chaney lost films might be rediscovered, in particular ‘London After Midnight’ (1927), the last copy of which was supposedly destroyed in the great MGM studio fire of 1967. Unfortunately, this picture is no showcase for his great talent, being a stilted, rather dull melodrama, not assisted by the performance of our leading man or any notable talent behind the camera.

Director Giblyn delivered over 100 silent pictures from the canvas seat, but immediately returned to the acting profession when sound pictures arrived in the late 1920s. A string of unbilled character parts followed in films like ‘The Mysterious Dr Fu Manchu’ (1929), ‘The Bad Sister’ (1931) (with Humphrey Bogart and Bette Davis in early roles) and ‘Sons of the Desert’ (1933) with Laurel & Hardy. Leading lady Bush played in an unbelievable 248 pictures from 1910 to 1917, although you’ve probably already guessed that nearly all of them were shorts, rather than features.

This is one for Chaney completists only. Oh, and if you were wondering what on earth an ‘Oubliette’ is, then wonder no more. lt’s a dungeon only accessible by a trapdoor in the ceiling. Presumably this relates to the cell where McQuarrie is imprisoned toward the end of the picture. Which he leaves through a hole in the wall.


His Majesty The Scarecrow Of Oz (1914)

His Majesty, The Scarecrow Of Oz (1914)‘My name is Button Bright. I’m lost. I don’t know where I come from, and I don’t care.

The Princess of Oz falls in love with a gardener’s boy. Her father is incensed, and hires the old witch Mombi to freeze her heart. Kansas girl Dorothy is already a prisoner of the old crone and enlists a scarecrow to help her escape and foil the King’s dastardly schemes.

Children’s author L. Frank Baum enjoyed global success with his books set in the Land of Oz, but early films based on his work were made without his control, as he’d sold the rights for financial reasons. All those films are now lost, with the exception of ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz’ (1910). When Baum reacquired the rights, he formed his own film company and released three silent features set in Oz, of which this was the last.

Inevitably, the plot is a simple one and has no shades of grey. We have lovely, innocent Princess Gloria (Vivian Reed) being forced into a loveless marriage by her dastardly father King Krewl (the clue’s in the name!) played by Raymond Russell. She’d much rather knock boots with Googly-Goo (Arthur Smollet) but he’s just a lowly serf and has a very silly name. Luckily, Dorothy (Violet MacMillan) and her friends, Scarecrow (Frank Moore), Cowardly Lion (Fred Woodward) and Tin Woodsman (Pierre Couderc) are on hand to make sure the course of true love runs smooth.

Director J. Farell MacDonald was behind the camera for all three of Baum’s ‘Oz’ movies, and it’s obviously he was learning all the time, as this is the most technically accomplished of the trilogy. There’s more location filming, different camera angles, and a better grip of narrative thanks to far more fluid editing. There’s even some primitive wire work with the flying witches, which might be easy to spot but was probably quite ambitious at the time. There’s also a surprisingly effective sequence where the Tin Woodsman decapitates Mombi (Mai Wells) only for her to put her head back on. This is shot against a darkk doorway, which allows for the actress to play ‘headless’ in a black bag. Pleasingly, it’s basically the same principle as was developed by SFX wizard Jack P Fulton for filming the ‘missing’ parts of Claude Rains in Universal’s ‘The Invisible Man’ (1933), although obviously that was a tad more sophisticated.

His Majesty, The Scarecrow Of Oz (1914)

The restraining order hadn’t worked.

Performances are as you would expect, and we still get actors dressed as pantomime animals, although there is less of that than might be expected. Some of the cast drop props on a couple of occasions, and there’s a strange continuity gaff with the Scarecrow’s head, but l’m guessing that reshoots were not a priority and some of the footage may have been lost over time. It’s actually quite remarkable that all three of Baum’s films have survived mostly intact.

MacMillan was 29 years old when she played Dorothy, graduating from other roles in the previous two films in the series: ‘The Patchwork Girl of Oz’ (1914) and ‘The Magic Cloak of Oz’ (1914) in which she played a Munchkin Boy and the King of Noland respectively! Judy Garland was only 17 when she tackled the role and had no previous experience in Oz at all, so it’s obvious who was better qualified for the role. Predictably, many of the other cast members had parts in the other Baum films; although it seems that no-one ever played the same part twice. Director MacDonald quit the canvas chair in 1917 to concentrate on his acting career, which saw him play small parts in F W Murnau’s classic ‘Sunrise’ (1927), ‘The Maltese Falcon’ (1931), ‘Show Boat’ (1936) and finish his career with ‘Superman and the Mole Men’ (1951)!

As you’ve probably gathered, this is pretty basic stuff, but certain aspects do have more sophistication and better technique than you might expect. Having said that, the films were not successful and the characters remained off-screen for ten years until Larry Semon’s ‘The Wizard of Oz’ (1925).

Worth a look if you’re interested in the development of cinema and the early days of fantasy film.

The Magic Cloak of Oz (1914)

The Magic Cloak of Oz (1914)‘And silly old Zixi wanted to count the bears as people. The idea of bears as kings!’

The fairies of Oz weave a magical wishing cloak and give it to poor Bud and Fluff, a young boy and his sister who have lost their father. He wishes for happiness and, when they arrive in the kingdom of Noland, he is proclaimed monarch. Meanwhile, Queen Zixi of lx plans to steal the wonderful garment so she can restore her long lost youth…

L Frank Baum suffered various changes in fortune after acquiring worldwide success as the creator of the Land of Oz. His books made him rich, but he often lost money bankrolling theatrical shows which bombed. The result was that the film rights to his work were in and out of his hands during his lifetime. Things were obviously looking up in 1914 as he formed his own production company and began shooting on ‘The Patchwork Girl of Oz’ (1914). However, it would appear things did not go smoothly from a technical point of view and delays resulted in work beginning on this much shorter film, probably in order to meet business obligations.

Ironically, the result is a far more watchable picture, in most part due to its far shorter length (just shy of three quarters of an hour). The story moves far more quickly than Baum’s other pictures, and features several different plot strands. On the one hand, we have Bud and Fluff (Violet MacMillan and Mildred Harris) trying to adjust to their royal life, but instead bankrupting the treasury by buying too many toys! Their mule Nicodemus runs off into the woods, where he teams up with a band of other animals to free a young girl from the clutches of a group of dastardly bandits. These forest creatures include a tiger, an elephant, the Lonesome Zoop (who is kind of a cross between an ape and a clown), a lazy lion (not a cowardly one), and a friendly crow. If all that wasn’t enough, there’s also scheming 683-year old Queen Zixi of lx, who looks like a young woman, but is cursed to see her true reflection in a mirror in a pleasing echo of Oscar Wilde’s ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray.’

The film is now more interesting as a document of silent cinema than as entertainment, but there’s still some innocent fun to be had from the wackiness on display. This includes a gang of fat-suited beach balls called the Rolly Rogues, who live above the clouds and eat buttons and hair pins. They even invade Noland and force the population to make them soup! There’s much running about and tearing of hair, of course, and events are in the safe hands of director J. Farrell MacDonald, who was behind the megaphone for all three films in the series.

The Magic Cloak of Oz (1914)

The mystery of what happened to Shergar was finally solved…

Of course, the SFX are as basic as you’d expect, and the animals are just actors in pantomime costume. These include series veterans Frank Moore and Fred Woodward, who played Woozy the Quaintness in ‘The Patchwork Girl of Oz’ (1914) and went on to play the cowardly lion in next, and final, picture ‘His Majesty the Scarecrow of Oz’ (1914).

MacMillan was also a Baum regular, appearing in all three films, the first two as boys, before finally being rewarded with the role of Dorothy in the last one. Queen Zixi was played by Juanita Hansen, an actress whose promising career was periodically derailed by drug problems. Eventually, she opened a clinic for addicts and, in later life, stepped out of the spotlight to become a clerk for a railroad company.

But, by far the most interesting cast member is the young Mildred Harris, who also appeared in the final entry in Baum’s Oz trilogy. She was once one of the most highly paid actresses in Hollywood and, just four years after appearing here, became the first Mrs Charlie Chaplin at the age of 17. When that union didn’t take, she began an affair with the Prince of Wales, who subsequently became notorious for his affair with a certain Wallis Simpson and his abdication of the British throne! Harris’ career declined rapidly with the arrival of the talkies, and she was working as an extra when she died after an operation at the age of just 42.

Unfortunately, Baum’s somewhat surreal sense of humour struggled to find an audience at the time the films were released. All of them flopped, and the company was sold shortly afterward along with the film rights (again!)

Worth checking out if you’re a fan of the books, or if you’re interested in the baby steps of fantasy cinema.

The Patchwork Girl of Oz (1914)

The Patchwork Girl of Oz (1914)‘Oh, no, she has no brains. The fewer the brains, the better servant.’

A crooked magician makes a girl out of household scrap materials to be a maid for his wife. Unfortunately, a passing Munchkin gives the creature some brains, and there’s an accident with Petrification Fluid…

The first feature film based on the works of L Frank Baum to be made with the author’s creative input. Baum had several careers before he hit the jackpot as a children’s author with ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz’ (1900), but he wasn’t very good with money. Over the course of his life, he see-sawed wildly between wealth and bankruptcy, and, during hard times, he was forced to sell the film rights to his magical land. This led to the earliest screen adaptations of his work, of which only ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz’ (1910) survives today. When he was back on his feet, he reacquired the property, formed his own film company and brought out three silent features in 1914, of which this was the first to go into production.

The plot gives us young Munchkin boy Ojo (played by the very female, 29 year-old Violet MacMillan) who lives in near poverty with her guardian, Uncle Nunkie (Frank Moore). Realising that prosperity awaits in the Emerald City, the duo pack their bags and set out, although they seem to have forgotten to consult Google Earth as there’s no Yellow Brick Road in sight. Along the way, they come across magician Dr Pipt (Raymond Russell) who has been working for the past six years to create ‘The Powder of Life’, the sole purpose of which seems to be that his wife Margolotte (Leontine Dranet) needs some help with the household chores! You can’t help thinking it might have been a bit easier (and slightly quicker) to just hire someone, but there you are.

Anyway Ojo slips the Patchwork Girl some brains from the bottles in the ‘Magic Brains’ cupboard(!) and chaos is the result. Then it’s off on a quest through the Land of Oz to find the bizarre ingredients required to return certain cast members to life. These objects include three hairs from the tail of a Woozy and a six-leaf clover. As well as the Woozy, which is played by Fred Woodward in a selection of different-sized cardboard boxes, we also meet the Lonesome Yop and the Soldier with the Green Whiskers. Apparently, Woozy is a ‘Quaintness’ so now you know.

The Patchwork Girl of Oz (1914)

The selection in the ‘Brains’ aisle had become a bit limited after Brexit.

Technically, there were noticeable advances since ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1910). That was just a filmed stage show, with a camera pointing directly at the action while characters entered and exited a single cardboard set. The camera is still (mostly) static here, but we get mid-shots, long shots, and the beginnings of editing technique. There’s location filming, a more developed storyline, and far fewer actors dressed as pantomime animals. Although we do get Mewel (a mule, surprisingly), a hungry tiger and the Cowardly Lion.

The king of beasts is played by none other than Hal Roach, who went on to achieve worldwide success as a writer-producer-director and movie mogul, specialising in the world of silent screen comedy. He’s best remembered now as the producer who brought the world Laurel and Hardy, but the ‘Our Gang’ series of shorts were just as big at the time. And it began here, on this film no less, because it was here that he met unknown-comic Harold Lloyd, who was playing an unbilled bit. Together, the two started making their own short films and, before too long, Lloyd was an international star, reaching the height of his fame with pictures like ‘Safety Last!’ (1923) and ‘The Freshman’ (1925). By then, Hal Roach Studios were firmly established as one of the biggest in Hollywood.

This film, and the other Oz features made by Baum’s company were not a success, however, and the business folded pretty quickly. Baum had many further financial up’s and down’s before his death in 1919. Despite the endurance of his literary creation, his reputation has suffered somewhat in recent years with the reappraisal of some of his political beliefs. Although a supporter of the woman’s suffrage movement, he also wrote a series of inflammatory editorials relating to the Native American race in the 1890s. Baum maintained that the safety of the white American settlers depended on ‘the total annihilation of the few remaining Indians’ and that ‘we cannot honestly regret their extermination.’ It seems probable that Baum modified his views in later life, however, as he deplored the horrible situation of Indian Reservations in his novel ‘Aunt Jane’s Nieces and Uncle John’ which was published in 1911.

Like many silent pictures, this is little more than a curiosity now, but it was certainly a marked improvement on the only earlier Oz film that has survived the passage of history.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1913)

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1913)‘Dr Lanyon, man of disbelief, behold!’

Dr Henry Jekyll divides his time between his charity patients and his private scientific enquiries, leaving little time for his sweetheart or social engagements. Unfortunately, his experiments began to get seriously out of hand… .

Early silent version of the famous Robert Louis Stevenson tale, which is one of the most filmed in screen history, having first been brought to the screen in a 1908 short starring Richard Mansfield. This is a longer version but still clocks in at less than half an hour, which make for a brisk pace, but often leaves the impression of ‘edited highlights’. This was actually a Universal production, arguably the studio’s first horror picture, although during the ‘golden age’ of the monster movie they were beaten to the punch by the classic MGM 1931 production, which netted Frederic March an Academy Award in the title roles.

lnevitably, when viewed today, this is a fairly crude and stilted production. A great deal of the film vocabulary that we take for granted now was still not fully formed, so we get a complete lack of camera movement, no close ups, arm waving performances and disjointed storytelling. The film also gives us no information about Jekyll’s motivations. Yes, we see him in furious conversation with colleague Dr Lanyon and lawyer Utterson, but intertitles are limited to only a few brief words. Presumably the audience of the time were familiar enough with the source material to at least have a rough idea of what was going on.

The Jekyll and Hyde transformations are executed by lead actor King Baggot either falling into shadow and allowing for a jump cut, or simply turning away from camera to mess up his hair and slip in his false teeth! Actually, it often seems that there’s little physical difference between the two characters at all, beyond Hyde’s preference for pulling silly faces, walking everywhere in a painful crouch and wearing a tall hat.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1913)

He swore he would never drink again…

There is an interesting sequence (not in the book) where Jekyll, already haunted by his transformations into Hyde, stares wistfully after a group of choristers passing in the street. The implication is made even clearer by the foregoing intertitle: ‘Dr Jekyll; martyr to science.’ Our hero has presumed upon God’s territory and is therefore damned.

It was a good year for actor Baggot and director Herbert Brenon as they also teamed up for the feature length ‘Ivanhoe’ (1913), which was another big hit. Baggot was the first actor to be individually promoted by the Hollywood publicity machine and became an international star, known variously as the ‘King of the Movies’ and ‘The Most Photographed Man in the World.’ He was a writer and director as well as a performer, functions he performed on ‘Shadows’ (1914) in which he also played 10 separate roles! Sadly, his disdain for the ‘talkies’ and an increasing alcohol problem led to a swift decline in the late 1920s and by the start of the following decade he was already playing unbilled bit parts in films like ‘Bad Sister’ (1931) with youngsters Bette Davis and Humphrey Bogart. He did continue working until his death in 1948; with walk on’s in productions like ‘A Day at the Races’ (1937), ‘The Philadelphia Story’ (1940) and ‘The Postman Always Rings Twice’ (1946).

Brenon had a more substantial career, although he also struggled with the transition from silent film. Sadly, the move to ‘talkies’ began at just the wrong time for him; he’d just directed the biggest film of his career, the lavish production of ‘Beau Geste’ (1926) starring Ronald Colman. It’s quite interesting to contrast Brenon’s Jekyll and Hyde with the far more famous version of the same story starring John Barrymore that came out only seven years later. Brenon certainly had brevity on his side, but in every other conceivable way, he was completely eclipsed, especially in terms of basic technique. Such was the breakneck pace of evolution in every department in the early days of Hollywood.

As with many of the earliest silent pictures, this film is more of a historical curiosity than anything else.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1910)

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1910)We’re off to see the Wizard…

Young Dorothy discovers that the scarecrow on her family’s Kansas farm is alive. When a cyclone arrives, they are transported to the Land of Oz, where they meet a Tin Woodsman and a Lion. Travelling through a forest, they are captured by Momba the Witch…

L. Frank Baum began his career as an actor and writer in the theatre and was an unsuccessful storekeeper and newspaperman before hit the jackpot with his children’s novel ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz’ (1900). It was launched with the help of a Broadway musical stage play, and eventually became a global phenomenon. Unfortunately, Baum’s financial acumen was not as great as his literary prowess and, after the failure of his ambitious stage version in 1908 (which incorporated excerpts of film), he was declared bankrupt in 1910. As part of the settlement, Baum lost the rights to some of his books and this film was produced without his input.

This 13-minute silent is the earliest surviving cinematic version of the story, with Baum’s 1908 footage being lost. It was loosely based on the original 1902 musical, although the story focuses far more on the conflict with the wicked witch. Obviously there are no songs, but there is one sequence where Dorothy does a few dance steps and the principals set off skipping two by two into the forest, although there’s no yellow brick road in evidence. Essentially what we get is a static camera shooting actors against painted studio backdrops that have very little depth, and animal costumes wouldn’t look out of place in the school pantomime.

As might be expected, what photographic effects there are recall the ‘stop the camera/start the camera’ tricks of French pioneer Georges Méliès, although there is a nice dissolve at one point as a character slowly vanishes. Costumes and settings are nowhere near as elaborate as Méliès’ creations, and it’s fairly obvious these filmmakers don’t possess his flair or expertise. The credits of the film are actually lost, and the identity of those involved is disputed by film historians. Otis Turner is usually given the nod as director but, more controversially, many believe that Dorothy was portrayed by a young Bebe Daniels. She played opposite Rudolph Valentino in ‘Monsieur Beaucaire’ (1924) and later became a star in early musical ’42nd Street’ (1932). Having married British actor Ben Lyon, the two relocated to England where they became stars all over again, along with members of their family, on radio, TV and film in the highly popular ‘Life With The Lyons’ show.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1910)

‘Once more into the breach, dear Munkins…’

Of course, the film has little but curiosity value now, but there are some touches that are likely to raise a smile. Toto the Dog has been replaced by Imogene the Cow (apparently from the 1902 stage show), the Wizard produces doves from his top hat like a stage conjurer and his female assistants refuse to help him with his retirement plans because union rules mean they can’t work after noon.

Sequels quickly followed: ‘Dorothy and the Scarecrow in Oz’ (1910), ‘The Land of Oz’ (1910), and ‘John Dough and the Cherub’ (1910), all usually attributed to Turner as director. Unfortunately, to this date, they are all lost films. Baum regained the rights to his fictional world shortly afterwards, and formed his own film company, releasing three longer movies in 1914, one of which just about ran to feature length. Baum wrote 17 novels based in Oz, but his fortunes continued to fluctuate through the remainder of his life, mainly because of his love of bankrolling theatrical shows, several of which flopped. He died after a stroke in 1919.

An interesting fragment of film history, which may possess little merit in its own right, but was one of the important first steps down a very familiar road.

Himmelskibet (Heaven Ship) (1918)

Himmelskibet_(1918)The Danes go to Mars!

A young aviator builds a spaceship and flies to Mars, despite opposition from the scientific establishment. As the weeks pass, his crew threaten to mutiny, and when they arrive on the red planet their actions aren’t too clever either. Luckily, it takes more than a few crude earthlings to upset the indigenous population.

At a length of approximately 80 minutes, this Danish picture is quite possibly the first full-length feature ever made that portrays space flight and landing on another planet. Inevitably, the science is pretty wonky with our vehicle looking like a cross between a shed and a sea plane and likewise horizontal flight to escape Earth’s gravitational pull is rather quaint. The interior of the ship resembles a submarine, which is understandable given the technology of the time, and at least there is some effort to make it look functional with various dials and switches.

Our young, ambitious hero Avanti Planetaros (Gunnar Tolnæs) recruits his father to help out with his interplanetary project as somewhat conveniently he happens to be a scientist/astronomer. His sister’s boyfriend is also one of the white-coated brigade, and is happy to come along for the ride. Unfortunately, the rest of the crew are a motley bunch of volunteers and includes Dan the Dane, who’s a big, rough looking chap who likes his ale. I couldn’t help but wonder what his actual duties were on the ship. Anyway, our Earthbound villain is Professor Dubius, who is err… a bit dubious about the whole thing, and doesn’t mind letting people know about it, both at meetings and in the newspapers.

Despite all these problems the expedition finally reaches its goal, helped over the last few yards by the Martians themselves. These prove to be a bunch of insufferable old hippies, who hang around in flowing robes and carry tree branches. Mars is a utopia (’Heaven’ possibly?) where no one actually does any work and the young girls do the ‘Dance of Chastity’ (stop sniggering at the back, it’s actually rather cute). Scenes of this rural idyll are intercut with scenes of life back on Earth, mainly featuring drinking, violence, inappropriate dancing, and other sinful pursuits. ‘Love is what you call God’ the Martians sing, making us quite grateful that this is a silent movie.

But, despite all this loveliness (or perhaps because of it) the crew want to go back home. This Martian utopia looks all well and good, but of course it’s not exactly a thrill a minute. Our hero has fallen in love with the Headman’s daughter (the angelic Lilly Jacobson) which complicates things a tad, until she decides return with him to spread the word of the Martian’s creed of love and peace. Good luck with that!


‘For God’s sake, reconfigure the lateral sensor array!’

This film is actually most interesting for its pacifist stance. Produced towards the end of the Great War in Europe, the slaughter in the trenches must have had a profound effect on society; so much so in fact that everyone waited a whole 20 years before doing it all over again. But, to be fair, there’s nothing wrong with wearing your heart on your sleeve and the Danish filmmakers do it unapologetically here. It may seem a little naive and dated to a modern day audience though.

As a drama this is so-so stuff, but it does have some noteworthy aspects. And obviously meteors had yet to infect interstellar space in the overwhelming numbers that were present during the 1950s.

Worth a look if you are interested in the early evolution of cinematic science fiction.