Murder In A Blue World/Una Gota de Sangre Para Morir Amando (1973)

‘I can always be sure of myself with my new gold Panther underwear.’

In the near future, pioneering doctors are carrying out medical research to subdue agression in delinquents after a crimewave involving gangs of youths. Meanwhile, a serial killer is at work, targeting young men and leaving the police few clues…

Unsatisfying, unfocused social satire that was a French/Spanish co-production from writer-director Eloy de la Iglesia. Kubrick’s ‘A Clockwork Orange’ (1971) was obviously the principle inspiration/touchstone here, but whereas that film was a shocking examination of the nature of youth and violence, this film is likely to provoke yawns more than anything else.

Prize-winning nurse Anna (Sue Lyon) has a secret. She likes to take young men back to her big house, have sex and then perform a non-regulation heart operation with a scapel. Oblivious colleague Jean Sorel would like the first part of that experience, but she’s not interested and he’s busy curing teenage hoodlums with extreme electo-shock therapy anyway. Destined for the operating table in one way or another is Chris (son of Robert) Mitchum who has fallen out with his gang mates over some missing money.

‘Hang on a second…Jack’s just chased Danny into the maze…’

The film begins with some heavy-handed satire on advertising and consumerism, courtesy of some fake TV ads. Of course, there’s comic potential in that but the humour is broad and obvious. One of following scenes sees Mitchum’s gang pull a home invasion much in the manner of Malcolm McDowell’s Droogs in some other film I could mention and with pretty similar (if not so graphic) results. In case we miss the Kubrick reference, the family on the wrong end of it were about to sit down and watch ‘A Clockwork Orange’ (1971) on their big screen TV. Subtle. 

Later on, we see Lyon don a series of disguises so she can hang around in hotel bars and pick up men in the finest 1970’s lounge suits. When she takes them home, she plays cassette tapes of Strauss waltzes (‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ (1968) – nudge, nudge, wink, wink) before she seduces them. In case it happens to have slipped your mind, Lyon was also Kubrick’s ‘Lolita’ (1962) and to make sure you remember that, on a couple of occasions we see her reading Nabakov’s original novel and the book gets a nice big close up. Subtle.

Surprisingly, having said all that, there are a couple of moments of actual quality here. A shot of Lyon walking through a storm of leaves in a blood-spattered white dress is terrific, and there’s a wonderfully prescient auction scene. What’s on the block? Some of Alex Raymond’s original ‘Flash Gordon’ artwork from the 1930s! In a time when film merchandising had yet to create a collector’s marketplace, it’s a spot on prediuction. Unlinke the continued use of cassette tapes. 

‘Do you want my eyes wide shut or what?’

The main problem here, however, is the story; a real hodgepodge of ideas and plot threads. They do come together in the film’s final act but, by then, it’s far too little too late. The cast seem strangely detached from the material (perhaps that was intentional), but none of them are vaguely interesting or sympathetic so the audience has no reason to care. Just pity the unwitting audience member who thought they were getting the Kubrick film when this was marketed in some territories as ‘A Clockwork Terror’!

Given the right material, Lyon could deliver a fine performance. See that little Kubrick film and John Huston’s ‘Night of The Iguana’ (1964) if you need proof. However, she looks all at sea here. Sorel, a veteran of many a Giallo film, is merely smug and Mitchum so laidback that he’s almost horizontal. Fair enough, that worked for his Dad, but Mitchum Jr doesn’t have anything approaching that level of natural charisma. At least this was a step up from ‘Bigfoot’ (1970) though. But then again what isn’t? Mitchum twice ran for Congress; in 2012 and again in 2014. On both occasions, he was unsuccessful. Rumour has it that his poor record on Sasquatch rights was a significant factor.

Blunt, obvious satire which tries the patience more than the funny bone.

End of the World/La Fin Du Monde (1931)

‘Please summon our mother to the asylum.’

Disgusted by the modern world, a famous astronomer retires to an observatory in the frozen wastes. He is forced to reconnect with society when he discovers a comet on a collision course for Earth. The news causes massive panic, and unscrupulous financiers seek to use the situation to their own advantage…

Abel Gance was a highly successful French filmmaker of the 1920s, whose modern reputation rests largely on silent epic ‘Napoleon’ (1927), a film so vast in scope that it required special projection equipment and a custom-made screen to show it. Nowadays, it’s a recognised classic, partly due to the director’s use of close ups and dolly shots; common film grammar now, of course, but almost unknown in the silent era. He even shot some scenes in colour and 3-D, although they were discarded later. Not surprisingly, the special screening arrangements prevented any commercial success on the continent and, on release in America, it was cut down considerably from its original running time of over 5 hours(!) and flopped. Hard. The upshot of all this was that, by the early 1930s, Gance no longer had the creative freedom he had enjoyed in his heyday, and that may go to explain this well-meaning but rather lifeless project.

This tale of the coming apocalypse focuses on the Novalik brothers; Martial (Victor Francen), a Nobel-prize winning stargazer and Jean (played by Gance himself) an aesthete and philosopher. Martial has achieved world renown but Jean prefers to live anonymously in poverty. He rejects the love of pretty blonde society gal Genevieve (Colette Darfeuil) because he knows that he is ‘born to suffer’ on behalf of mankind; something that provokes much staring off into the distance while looking vaguely constipated. Unfortunately, Darfeuil gets into the crosshairs of dastardly arms manufacturer Schomberg (Samson Fainsilber).

This is a curious, and rather dated story. On the plus side, Gance does not skimp on the concluding spectacle, and the mendacious behaviour of the authorities and big business ring all too true. Where the film fails is in the personal stories of its main protagonists. The self-sacrificing Jean is a ridiculously messianic figure; playing Jesus on the cross in a passion play, lying on his sick bed surrounded by white doves, and being stoned in the street when he tries to help a child. The fact that the director chose to cast himself in the role is an interesting choice, to say the least!

‘I say, Cecily’s garden parties are really wizard, what!’

Elsewhere, the other main characters are one note; Francen the dedicated scientist, Fainsilber the dedicated capitalist, but there is one notable exception: Darfeuil’s apparent heroine. Hers is a problematic role. At first, she is dedicated to Gance’s martyr-in-waiting, vowing to wait for him even after he rejects her. Shortly after that, though, she’s flirting with Fainsilber at ritzy parties, much to the joy of her ambitious father (Jean D’Yd).

After one such encounter, he forces himself on her, and her father advocates she marry him to save the family from being disgraced! Not surprisingly, she runs away to join Team Francen and help in their efforts to get the word out about the upcoming Armageddon and prepare a new world for whoever might survive. This decision is reinforced by a vision of Gance on the cross. However, she soon gets bored with all that pesky office work, and runs back to rapist Fainsilber instead! Then she betrays him to Francen as the comet approaches! Women, eh? Just can’t make up their minds!

What also won’t sit too well with a modern audience is the slow pacing and some of the performances, which are ridiculously melodramatic at times. Similarly, some of Gance’s filmmaking techniques, although highly innovative at the time, now appear a little forced and crude. The climactic scenes are also of their time; there’s lots of drinking as the final hours approach but not nearly as much fornication as you would expect. Still, it was 1931, l suppose.

A seriously dated spectacle, with undoubted historical value but offering little in the way of entertainment.