William Castle's Shanks, a '74 super-oddity that has never been released on VHS or DVD anywhere in the world, played last night on Turner Classic Movies (TCM); when I saw it in the program listings a week ago, a long voyage to experiencing it was finally drawing to an end.
I first read about Shanks, which stars world famous mime Marcel Marceu, in Cinefantastique. They'd given the film a short, not entirely positive review, but it sounded like gold to me. I waited and waited for the film to be released in Australia, but that never happened. Never saw it on TV, either, and never stumbled on a pirated version from a US TV broadcast (I know others did). Nope, Shanks was destined to be the one that got away, one of those titles I never thought I'd see in my lifetime.
That's why I always knew I'd like Shanks. I knew it would touch something in me. And it did. Parts of it disappointed, too, but they didn't spoil the overall experience of seeing it for the first time.
The film's opening title sequence, featuring circus music and animated figures, is a pleasing taste of things to come. Alex North's music, which received an Oscar nom, see-saws between contemporary and classical. Because Marceau is the main character and never speaks, the film is a defacto Silent Movie. There is dialog, but the tone and the pitch of the central performances are more Charlie Chaplin than 70's exploitation. Unfortunately, there is an off-kilter exploitation angle introduced later in the film that feels totally out of place, and it is the one aspect of the film that deflates its virtues.
A great deal of the film's running time is spent on Marceu's amusing and beautifully directed experiments with the dead. He revives several key characters, and some of the best scenes involve him parading them down the main street of his country town, or manipulating them to kill his enemies. The stuttery movements of the actors playing these animated corpses is a sight to see, as is a sequence where the corpses battle a biker gang led by exploitation staple Larry Bishop, the director of the recent (and pretty awful) Hell Ride.
The film is set in gorgeous countryside that reminded me of the rural English location of William Wyler's magnificent The Collector. The film's pace is a little too slow at times, and the drama is fairly inert. Although Marceu is excellent in his multiple roles, I didn't find him to be a terribly commanding screen presence. The classical photography and lighting by legendary cinematographer Joseph F. Biroc is stunning, though, and acts as a striking counterpoint to Castle's wild surrealism.
Unfortunately, the introduction of a motorcycle gang into the story does considerable damage to the brittle tone and texture of the movie; it felt very European until this strange switch occurred. Was Castle forced or felt obliged to pander to his teenager audience by throwing them a piece of familiar exploitation meat? Looks like it. Although the scenes of the bikers being stalked by the dead are effective, their presence just feels wrong.
Although it has its faults, Shanks is a truly original, bizarre, and beautiful movie. I waited thirty-five years to see it. The wait wasn't in vain.
I first read about Shanks, which stars world famous mime Marcel Marceu, in Cinefantastique. They'd given the film a short, not entirely positive review, but it sounded like gold to me. I waited and waited for the film to be released in Australia, but that never happened. Never saw it on TV, either, and never stumbled on a pirated version from a US TV broadcast (I know others did). Nope, Shanks was destined to be the one that got away, one of those titles I never thought I'd see in my lifetime.
Well, now I've seen it, and I must say it is easily Castle's most bizarre and original achievement; it was also his last. Was it worth the thirty-five year wait? Well, is anything? My expectations were high -- but why? Cinefantastique had not canonized the film as a classic; they'd been somewhat critical of it. So why did I choose to ignore their review and act like they'd championed it? I don't know. I do know I get "feelings" about films sometimes. Irrational feelings. Feelings that have no basis in fact. Feelings formed by pure intuition.
That's why I always knew I'd like Shanks. I knew it would touch something in me. And it did. Parts of it disappointed, too, but they didn't spoil the overall experience of seeing it for the first time.
Marceu is Malcolm Shanks, a deaf mute puppeteer and mime who works for the crusty Old Walker (played by Marceu also). Shanks lives with his greedy sister (Tsilla Chelton) and her alchoholic, good-for-nothing husband (Philippe Clay). These two scoundrels are out to steal every cent Shanks makes working for Walker. What Shanks actually does for the grizzled Walker is pretty vague, but puppet making appears to fall under the job description.
Old Walker is a backyard reanimator, and he shows Shanks how he can make a dead frog hop by attaching electrical nodes to its body. He fires up a dead rooster, too, but he uses a type of acupuncture to do that; he controls the creature with a remote control resembling an early incarnation of a video game controller. When Walker kicks the bucket, the lonely Shanks decides to reanimate him. The movie gets very strange from there.
The film's opening title sequence, featuring circus music and animated figures, is a pleasing taste of things to come. Alex North's music, which received an Oscar nom, see-saws between contemporary and classical. Because Marceau is the main character and never speaks, the film is a defacto Silent Movie. There is dialog, but the tone and the pitch of the central performances are more Charlie Chaplin than 70's exploitation. Unfortunately, there is an off-kilter exploitation angle introduced later in the film that feels totally out of place, and it is the one aspect of the film that deflates its virtues.
A great deal of the film's running time is spent on Marceu's amusing and beautifully directed experiments with the dead. He revives several key characters, and some of the best scenes involve him parading them down the main street of his country town, or manipulating them to kill his enemies. The stuttery movements of the actors playing these animated corpses is a sight to see, as is a sequence where the corpses battle a biker gang led by exploitation staple Larry Bishop, the director of the recent (and pretty awful) Hell Ride.
The film is set in gorgeous countryside that reminded me of the rural English location of William Wyler's magnificent The Collector. The film's pace is a little too slow at times, and the drama is fairly inert. Although Marceu is excellent in his multiple roles, I didn't find him to be a terribly commanding screen presence. The classical photography and lighting by legendary cinematographer Joseph F. Biroc is stunning, though, and acts as a striking counterpoint to Castle's wild surrealism.
Unfortunately, the introduction of a motorcycle gang into the story does considerable damage to the brittle tone and texture of the movie; it felt very European until this strange switch occurred. Was Castle forced or felt obliged to pander to his teenager audience by throwing them a piece of familiar exploitation meat? Looks like it. Although the scenes of the bikers being stalked by the dead are effective, their presence just feels wrong.
There is a sweet subplot involving actress Cindy Eilbacher, a young teenager who seems smitten with Shanks. Resembling a slightly more attractive Marcia Brady, Eilbacher has a few great scenes in which she expresses disgust at what Shanks is doing with corpses. A scene in which she is served by a couple of reanimated humans at her own birthday party, organized by Shanks, is a beauty. Larry Bishop also gets an opportunity to molest her in a surprisingly brutal scene (for this film, anyway).
Although it has its faults, Shanks is a truly original, bizarre, and beautiful movie. I waited thirty-five years to see it. The wait wasn't in vain.
