“It’s all here! The happy fun times. And the crazy turned-on dangerous times.”
If movies have taught me anything at all about life it is this - a lot of young women dream about becoming professional dancers. Some want to be celebrated ballet dancers or Broadway stars. Others dream about becoming high-kicking Rockettes, well-paid strippers or trophy-winning ballroom dancers. In Ted V. Mikels B-movie bonanza Girl in Gold Boots (1968), Michele (Leslie McRae) wants to be a go-go dancer.
Michele is tall, dark and gorgeous. She could be Jennifer Jones’ long lost cousin if she wasn’t so uncomfortable in her own skin. You’d expect to find Michele working behind a makeup counter at Macy’s or modeling swimsuits somewhere but when we’re introduced to her she’s working at a greasy diner with her alcoholic father. When she’s not serving food and pouring cups of black coffee for her customers, Michele is dancing to music on the diner’s jukebox. One sunny day a violent gun-toting thug called Buzz (Tom Pace) walks into the diner and spots our heroine practicing her dance moves. He promises Michele that he’ll be able to make her a star if she travels to L.A. with him. Michele’s a little weary of Buzz but after a fight with her father she leaves the dirty food joint behind and heads west with Buzz in his old white convertible.
On the way to L.A. Michele and Buzz pick up a peacenik biker named ‘Critter’ (Jody Daniels) who likes to write songs on his acoustic guitar. When sparks start to fly between Michele and Critter, Buzz gets angry and tells Michele that she has to make a choice between her budding romance with Critter or going to L.A. with him to become a go-go star. Michele can’t give up on her dancing dreams so she puts her personal feelings for Critter aside and the three misfits continue on to L.A. When they finally reach the big city Buzz’s first stop is at The Haunted House club on Hollywood Boulevard, which is decorated with horror movie props and looks more like some fabulous amusement park ride than an actual dance club. Buzz’ sister Joanie (Bara Byrnes) is the main attraction at The Haunted House club where she and her team of go-go girls dance the night away wearing gold and silver boots while entertaining a mixed crowd of young and middle-aged hipsters as well as sleazy old men.
When Michele sees the girls shaking their stuff in skimpy costumes while the audience cheers them on, she knows that this is the life for her! Later Buzz introduces Michele to his sister and the two girls hit it off right away. Joanie promises Michele that she’ll get her a job at The Haunted House club and proceeds to show her some moves while the management looks on. Even though Michele seems to dance to her own rhythm and appears more than a little awkward at times, everyone in the film is impressed by her dancing skills. Or maybe they just like looking at her curvy body in the skimpy costumes? For whatever the reason, she’s hired right on the spot.
Buzz and Critter also find work at The Haunted House club. Critter takes a janitorial job so he can stay close to Michele and keep an eye on her, while criminal-minded Buzz ends up working for the club owners as a drug pusher. You see, the sad fact is that the swinging Haunted House club is just a front for the management’s drug selling operation. Innocent Michele is unaware of this but she benefits from it on her way to becoming a go-go star. When her mentor Joanie starts to show signs of drug addiction the club owners offer Michele the job of “substitute lead dancer” for the Haunted House club so Joanie can take an unexpected “vacation.” Michele’s a little weary of taking the job at first but she’s also eager to become a dancing star. The sexy new dresses she’s been given as gifts, and the wild parties she’s starting to attend, have offered her a taste of the glamorous life and she clearly wants more.
Critter is smart enough to know that things aren’t what they appear to be at the Haunted House club and after making some extra money by selling some of his songs to the house band, Critter confesses to Michele that he’s a draft dodger and asks her to run away with him. At first Michele refuses to go but when Joanie finally collapses due to her drug use, Michele is forced to face the horrible fact that she’s working at a drug den instead of a legitimate dance cub. Things finally come to a head and Critter ends up in a nasty brawl with the creepy club owners. When it’s all over Michele and Critter leave the Haunted House club together and you hope that they’ll find their fortune and fame somewhere else. Unfortunately all that glitters is not gold in Girl in Gold Boots.
Unlike countless other films about would-be dancers trying to fulfill their dreams, Girl in Gold Boots ends on a low note. Michele gives up her dreams of becoming a professional go-go dancer to become Critter’s “war-bride” after he reenlists in the military. The former draft dodger and go-go girl finish the movie singing a downbeat song that contains the following lines:
“You can dance on the rim of a rainbow. Walk a tightrope across the sky
But you must come down, put your feet on the ground bye and bye.”
As depressing as the ending is, the young couple seems content so I guess the audience is supposed to be happy that they let go of their dreams and joined the war effort. I personally suspect that the future doesn’t hold much promise for Michele and Critter. I’ve always thought that peace loving Critter would probably get killed in Vietnam and Michele would end up back in L.A. working on Hollywood Boulevard as a go-go dancer and strung out on drugs just like her mentor Joanie.
Girl in Gold Boots is obviously not your typical dance movie but that’s why I enjoy it so much. It’s elevated by a terrific jazz influenced score by composer Nicolas Carras who created music for many of Mikels’ best films. The movie also features music by Chris Howard and The Third World and the renowned bongo player Preston Epps, who all make a brief appearance in the movie. The wild dance scenes were shot inside a real Hollywood night spot and they’re creatively edited and full of energy even though the go-go girls seem to have rather amateurish moves. This trashy low-budget dance movie is an entertaining way to spend 90 minutes if you’re looking for something fun to watch that doesn’t require very much from its viewers. Over at IMDb.com audiences have called Girl in Gold Boots “The bane of dancing films everywhere” and “worse than any other bad bad BAD movie you’ve ever seen” but don’t let the negative press discourage you from watching it. Believe me when I tell you that there are far worse movies you could spend 90 minutes with besides Girl in Gold Boots. Ted V. Mikels is one of my favorite American B-movie makers and if you haven’t had the opportunity to experience a Ted V. Mikels film yet do yourself a favor and see Girl in Gold Boots or one of the films Mikels made with Tura Satana such as The Doll Squad (1973) or The Astro-Zombies (1968).
The director is almost 80 years old but he’s still making movies. If you’re interested in buying yourself a copy of Girl in Gold Boots or want to know more about Mikels I highly recommend visiting Ted V. Mikels Official Site. The director currently sells autographed copies of the film on DVD for only $10.95.
My look at Girl in Gold Boots was inspired by Ferdy On Films‘ Invitation to the Dance Movie Blogathon, which ends today. Be sure to stop by the blog and check out all the other dance inspired submissions.
Over at Ferdy on Film the Invitation to the Dance Movie Blogathon is in full swing and lots of people are sharing their thoughts about their favorite dance moments captured on film and debating the merits of individual dancers. I’m currently writing a longer piece about one of my favorite dance movies that I hope to finish up soon. But in the meantime I thought I’d share one of my favorite dance scenes.
The following clip is from the 1980 Umberto Lenzi film Nightmare City, which was originally shot in 1979 and it features some of the worst dancing I’ve ever seen in any film. Thankfully I’m not alone in my dislike for the dancing showcased in Nightmare City. As the following clip will clearly demonstrate, zombies don’t care for bad dancing either and they proceed to dismember the female offenders and eat them alive. This clip is gory and not for the faint of heart. But if you can withstand the cheap special effects and Stelvio Cipriani’s electronic euro-disco score, you might enjoy it as much as I do!
Elke Sommer and her bunny want to wish everyone
a happy holiday weekend!
Real world responsibilities, job hunting and a bad cold have been interfering with my writing and blog updates lately. I’m also going on a brief vacation tomorrow and I won’t return until Tuesday next week, but by then I should be feeling a lot better and you can expect me to start regularly updating Cinebeats again.
During my downtime I have been catching up on some reading. I got some interesting books for Christmas last year including Geoffrey Nowell-Smith’s Making Waves: New Cinemas of the 1960s and Amos Vogel’s Film as a Subversive Art, which have been keeping me busy. Both books make for some fast, fun and fascinating reading.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about how I write about film and the way I approach viewing and analyzing the movies I watch after the film critic Adrian Martin was kind enough to consider my blog in a brief piece he wrote for de Filmkrant which you can read here:
I’ve admired Adrian Martin for awhile and I find his writing and interviews very inspiring so I was extremely surprised and deeply flattered when Girish kindly pointed out Adrian’s piece in his own blog, which led to an interesting conversation there. I tend to get a little intimidated by all the wonderful and extremely thoughtful conversations that take place at Girish’s blog and I get nervous about jumping into the fray, but Girish has always made me feel very welcome there even when the other commentators occasionally seem to be twisting themselves up in small knots trying to talk around me and over me
I must also say that I’m really happy to be considered an ‘enthusiast’ by Adrian since it was really my love, appreciation and interest in unusual films that have often been maligned in the past or overlooked such as Boom! and Blood and Roses, which really motivated me to start writing about cinema and I find the original Cahiers du cinéma writers extremely inspirational.
Before I disappear for a few days, I thought I’d share a few links to various things of possible interest…
My buddy Kate has started her own film blog called Love Train for the Tenebrous Empire. If you enjoy horror films and unusual subgenres like nunsploitation, please stop by Kate’s blog and tell her I sent ya!
- Love Train for the Tenebrous Empire
Ferdy on Films is putting together a blogathon May 4th - 10th called Invitation to the Dance that will focus on various forms of dance found in films. I have a serious weakness for musicals that makes me drop everything I’m doing and watch them if I ever come across one playing on TV so naturally I plan on excepting Marilyn’s invitation and I hope other film bloggers will as well!
- Invitation to the Dance Movie Blogathon
And last but not least, Tim Lucas recently offered up a sneak peek at the upcoming Criterion - Eclipse 3 Disc DVD Box Set of The Delirious Fictions of William Klein, which has me super excited since it promises to be one of this years most interesting DVD releases. I’ve only seen Klein’s wonderfully surreal and fantastic film Who Are You, Polly Maggoo? (Qui êtes-vous, Polly Maggoo?, 1966) myself, but the print I saw many years ago was from a horrible multi-generation VHS tape that was barely watchable so I’m really looking forward to this release. Now I’ll finally be able to enjoy Who Are You, Polly Maggoo? in all its glorious widescreen splendor, along with many of Klein’s other films that I haven’t had the opportunity to see yet.
- The Delirious Fictions of William Klein
You can experience a little bit of William’s Klein’s magic in the following clip from his film Who Are You, Polly Maggoo? (1966)
Attention horror aficionados! At The Evening Class Michael Guillen has organized a Blogathon to celebrate the work of Val Lewton in conjunction with the new Val Lewton documentary produced by Martin Scorsese called The Man in the Shadows, which premieres on Turner Movie Classics (TCM) tonight. Lewton produced and wrote some of my favorite horror films from the ’40s, including his under-appreciated classic The Seventh Victim. The Seventh Victim was directed by the great Mark Robson, who made some terrific films for Lewton, but I think The Seventh Victim is their best joint effort. The movie even made my own list of 31 Films That Give Me the Willies, which I compiled for Halloween.
Over at Final Girl Stace Ponder is hosting her monthly film club, which takes a look a Dario Argento’s horrific masterpiece Suspiria. Her blog readers were asked to watch the film and participate in writing about the movie and there’s some nice observations being shared there.
I had planned in participating in both events by writing about the way Lewton’s The Seventh Victim influenced Dario Argento Suspiria and informed Italian horror cinema in general, but a head cold and pressing deadlines for other writing projects I’m currently working on sort of got in the way of my weekend plans, but don’t let my absence stop you from participating in these fun events! If you’re not up for writing about Val Lewton or Dario Argento’s Suspiria you can still participate by reading all the posts and offering up your own comments.
When I was a kid I often spent my weekends watching double features that played on television as part of the “Monster Matinee” and I thought I’d write about one I can vividly remember seeing for the Double Bill-a-thon currently running at Broken Projector.
I watched a lot of great double features on the Monster Matinee show during the late seventies and lots of forgettable movies as well. One double bill that really stands out in my memory was when William Beaudine’s Billy the Kid versus Dracula (1966) and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter (1966) were aired back-to-back. I had seen a brief commercial for the movies before they played and I was more than excited about seeing them together since they promised lots of “terror,” “thrills” and “action.” I had grown up loving westerns and horror movies, but until that point I had never seen any movie that combined cowboys with monsters. I just knew that Billy the Kid versus Dracula and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter had to be great. The mere idea of a horror/western film sent my 10 year-old mind reeling!
I invited some neighborhood kids over and asked my mom to make us some Jiffy Pop Popcorn and Tang to enjoy with the movies. We all gathered around the TV as the films began and anticipation was high, but nobody was looking forward to seeing these movies more than me. The first film shown was Billy the Kid versus Dracula, which starred the great John Carradine. I had previously seen John Carradine in the terrific 1945 film House of Dracula where he was very good. He scared me silly in that movie, so naturally I assumed he’s be great as Dracula again. Boy, was I wrong! As this incredibly dull film trotted along I immediately knew something wasn’t right. Billy the Kid versus Dracula totally lacked suspense and I couldn’t understand why. The other kids got restless and started playing board games. I ended up making excuses for the movie the entire time it was playing even though I found myself giggling at all the wrong moments. When Billy the Kid versus Dracula ended all the kids got up to leave, but I tried explaining to them that this was a ”double feature” and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter was on next. I was sure it would be better than the first movie we watched. The kids all ignored my desperate pleas and left. The popcorn and Tang were all gone so there really wasn’t any reason for them to stick around anymore.
I ended up watching the second half of this double feature all alone and that probably was for the best. Jesse James Meets Frankenstein’s Daughter was actually a little better than Billy the Kid versus Dracula, but it was nowhere near as good as I had hoped it would be. I was totally dumbfounded by how bad the movies I had just seen were. My little brain was doing cartwheels trying to understand why the acting seemed so terrible and why the scripts made no sense. They were also shot so poorly that I could hardly make out was going on most of the time. I wondered out loud to myself how in the world anyone could make a boring movie with a fantastic title like Billy the Kid versus Dracula? I literally gave myself a headache trying to make sense of William Beaudine’s movies that afternoon.
My mom ended up asking me what I had thought of the films, but I was rather speechless. I explained to her that I didn’t understand them and I couldn’t figure out why they had been so bad. It was the first time in my life that I can remember being genuinely disappointed with a movie, so I told my mom I thought they were “real stinkers” and they were.
The director of these two stinkers was known as William “One Shot” Beaudine and he earned that nickname late in his career due to the fact that he would often shoot just one take, regardless of the problems that happened while he was shooting. It didn’t matter to Beaudine if actors forgot their lines or the special effects failed. He would go on filming and if any changes were made to the final product he churned out, they were done in the editing room. Before becoming a b-movie maker and working on popular television shows, Beaudine had been an assistant director to D.W. Griffith and even worked with him on films like The Birth of a Nation (1915). Beaudine also helped make Mary Pickford a star with movies like Little Annie Rooney (1925) and Sparrows (1926). Billy the Kid versus Dracula and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein Daughter were the 74 year old director’s last feature films after making over 350 movies, and they’re the work of a tired man just trying to make a buck who doesn’t seem to care what he’s shooting anymore. Both movies were often shown as a double feature at the drive-in during the sixties, so it’s not too surprising that the movies were also often shown together on television.
Beaudine’s Billy the Kid versus Dracula and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein Daughter are both currently available on DVD. If you’re curious to see one of Beaudine’s stinkers I recommend Jesse James Meets Frankenstein Daughter since it’s slightly better than Billy the Kid versus Dracula. The lovely Narda Onyx stars as Dr. Maria Frankenstein and she’s worth watching even if all the others actors involved with the film seem like their sedated and reading their lines off of cue cards.
Today would have been Montgomery Clift’s 87th birthday and Film Experience is celebrating the event with a Montgomery Clift Blog-a-thon. I’m too busy writing about horror films at the moment to write anything substantial for the event, but please stop by the if charlie parker was a gunslinger blog to see all the Monty eye-candy I’ve posted there in honor of today.
One of my favorite Japanese directors is the talented Kinji Fukasaku. When I read about the Close-Up Blog-a-thon being held by Matt Zoller Seitz at The House Next Door today, many scenes from his movies started rushing through my head. Kinji Fukasaku often used close-ups in his films to convey mood and action, so I thought I’d share a fascinating moment from Fukasaku’s terrific crime film Blackmail Is My Life (aka Kyokatsu Koso Waga Jinsei, 1968).
In the following moments represented by the still shots below, a young thug visits an unusual adult club with his lover and pretends to be someone he is not. He is fully aware that any actions he takes while he is at the club will be filmed by some criminals hiding behind a one-way mirror. The criminals think the man is unaware of their cameras and they plan to blackmail him with the film they’re shooting. At first the man is a bit nervous about having a camera film his every move, but he soon starts to enjoy the idea of being watched while it’s happening.
Fukasaku films the entire thing using close-ups that zoom in closer and closer as the scene unfolds, and it adds an uncomfortable intimacy to the action taking place on screen. These moments in the film manage to be erotic, sleazy and even a bit humorous all at once, while showing very little bare skin. It also leaves the audience in the somewhat uncomfortable position of being voyeurs who are unknowingly being observed.
Kinji Fukasaku was a brilliant director and Blackmail is My Life is the work of a man who was fully aware of the power of his camera. Many of his films are filled with creative uses of the “close-up” and this is just one interesting example.
Since Flickhead’s Buñuel Blog-a-thon is sill going strong and I’ve clearly got Belle de Jour on my brain, I couldn’t resist sharing a few more brief thoughts about my favorite Louis Buñuel film.
One of the most memorable things about Buñuel’s Belle de Jour is the fabulous fashions designed by Yves Saint-Laurent and worn by the lovely Catherine Deneuve. I’ve never been able to afford Yves Saint-Laurent’s fashions myself and it’s doubtful that I’d look as good as Catherine Deneuve does in them even if I could, but I enjoy watching Belle de Jour just to gaze at Catherine Deneuve’s amazing wardrobe. In this regard, I suppose I have more in common with the low-class prostitutes in the film who seem totally enamored with Deneuve’s wardrobe as well. And who can blame us? Yves Saint-Laurent was an incredible designer and his sixties-era fashions featured in Belle de Jour are absolutely stunning.
Catherine Deneuve modeling a Yves Saint-Laurent design, 1966
Yves Saint-Laurent first started designing costumes for films when he was only 24 years old and working with Christian Dior at the House of Dior, but his real success as a costume designer came after he had started his own design house in Paris. In 1963 Yves Saint-Laurent was hired to create wardrobes for the beautiful Claudia Cardinale and Capucine in Blake Edwards’ The Pink Panther (1963) and his designs impressed critics and audiences. He would go on to design fabulous wardrobes for Leslie Caron in A Very Special Favor (1965) and Jean Seberg in Moment to Moment (1965). His amazing costume designs were also featured in Arabesque (1966) with Sophia Loren, although the credit tends to go to Christian Dior for that film and you can see some of Yves Saint-Laurent’s work in the entertaining fashion focused comedy A New Kind of Love (1963) with Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, which ended up winning Edith Head an Oscar for Best Costume Design.
In 1966 the 29 year old Yves Saint-Laurent was hired to design the wardrobe for Catherine Deneuve in Buñuel’s Belle de Jour, and Deneuve and Yves Saint-Laurent developed a lifelong friendship on the set of the film. The designer has called the lovely and talented Catherine Deneuve his “muse” and he has used her as a model many times since the two made Belle de Jour together. Catherine Deneuve has also insisted on wearing Yves Saint-Laurent’s amazing costume designs in many of her films and besides an off screen friendship, the two developed a very close working relationship over the years on films such as La Chamade (1968), Mississippi Mermaid (1969), Liza (1972), Un flic (1972) and The Hunger (1983) which all feature fabulous Yves Saint-Laurent’s fashion designs worn by Deneuve.
Yves Saint-Laurent is responsible for some of the greatest film fashions seen on screen during the sixties and seventies, and some of his finest work as a designer can be found in Buñuel’s brilliant Belle de Jour.
“He had a legend, the aura of genius, a friend to the mysterious and the strange. I arrived full of holy terror and mad hope all at the same time. I was struck immediately by one thing, only one: he’s a man of whom you only see the face. The fabulous mouth, worked by life, heavily wrinkled skin, the driven eyes, but in their black ring, a sparkling light. I was incapable of saying a word, I don’t even remember if it was a production office, an apartment, a hotel room. I looked at the deep earth of his face, the clear water of his regard. They told me ‘Speak loudly, we don’t know if he’s deaf or if he pretends to be . . .’ But how to speak? I repeated to myself ‘Come on. You have to speak.’ I thought that my silence and my insistence on staring would become intolerable. Someone else would surely have addressed me, would have started to speak, if only to reduce the tension a little. He was content to just look at me. Simply, directly, as if we had met there for a mutual exam and that words weren’t necessary. A guy walked in, perhaps an assistant, I can’t remember. Buñuel turned towards me. ‘This is Clémenti. Show him the script.’ If I understood properly, I had just been hired for Belle de Jour…With no other director did I have such a feeling of confidence.”
- Pierre Clémenti on Luis Buñuel and his role in Belle de Jour from his book Quelques Messages Personnels
My favorite character in Louis Buñuel’s Belle de Jour is Pierre Clémenti’s wonderful turn as the sexy thug Marcel. Pierre Clémenti was a beautiful and talented actor who appeared in many great films before his untimely death in 1999 including The Leopard (1963), Benjamin (1968), Les Idoles (1968), Partner (1968), The Conformist (1970), Sweet Movie (1974), La Cicatrice intérieure (1972) , Steppenwolf (1974), Quartet (1981) and Belle de Jour (1967).
I haven’t written anything substantial about Pierre Clémenti yet, so I thought I’d take the opportunity provided by Flickhead’s Buñuel Blog-a-thon to post a photographic tribute to Pierre Clémenti’s character Marcel in Belle de Jour, which was haphazardly put together from various screen shots I recently took from the film.
Critics and film scholars have spent countless hours analyzing Luis Buñuel’s film Belle de Jour (1967) and the mysterious Asian box that appears in one of the movies most memorable and erotic scenes. As someone who has read a lot of Marquis de Sade’s work, I’ve personally never seen the box as being very mysterious or profound, so I thought I would share my own thoughts about the buzzing box for the Luis Buñuel Blog-a-thon currently being hosted by Flickhead.
Many reviews of Belle de Jour seem written by rather chaste critics who often insist on weighing Buñuel’s film down with its clear social implications and debatable morality, instead of fully embracing it for the erotic masterpiece that it is. Like most of the surrealists, Luis Buñuel was clearly inspired and fascinated with the work of authors like Marquis de Sade, Octave Mirbeau and Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, and traces of Buñuel’s obsession with their work can be found throughout Belle de Jour. From its emotionally distant characters, to its masochistic ideas and brothel setting, the film could be read as a checklist of erotic themes found in early French literature.
When I saw Belle de Jour for the first time and watched the scene with the infamous buzzing box, I was immediately reminded of the sounds of insects and a brief passage in Marquis de Sade’s erotic classic Philosophy in the Boudoir, where he referenced a tale told by the 15th century Italian explorer Amerigo Vespucci. This titillating tale involves native women in Florida who supposedly made their men place “small poisonous insects in their male members until they swelled up tremendously and caused an insatiable libido.” It also explains that these insects could cause a man “dreadful pain” and “ulcers, ” but the negative implications aren’t as interesting as the erotic ones. With this odd tale lingering somewhere in the back of my mind, my first assumption about the buzzing box was that it contained insects that the box’s owner planned to use on himself as a sort of aphrodisiac to pleasure Catherine Deneuve’s character Séverine with.
This somewhat unusual assumption on my part is also fueled by Luis Buñuel’s own personal fascination with insects which appeared in many of his films, but at first glance could seem notably absent from Belle de Jour. Buñuel’s fascination with insects was first shown in An Andalusian Dog (Un chien andalou, 1929), but you can also find insects in his other films such as the scorpions in The Golden Age (L’ Âge d’or, 1930) and the cockroaches in The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie, 1972). According to Buñuel scholar Julie Jones who also provides the commentary for the Belle de Jour DVD and seems to agree with me about the insect quality of the sounds emanating from the mysterious box, Luis Buñuel associated insects with “the life of the instincts” and even wanted to make a film about insects.
If my casual assumptions are true and Buñuel is referencing the Amerigo Vespucci/Marquis De Sade tale in Belle de Jour, it could also easily explain Séverine’s sudden joy in participating in a sexual act with that particular client at the brothel. Séverine is clearly a submissive woman who the Madame Anais has insisted needs a “strong hand.” Her desires seem unquenchable and a long session of intense lovemaking with a sort of “super man” would undoubtedly excite and please her. The untranslated conversation between Séverine and the man seems to indicate to me that he will be the one using whatever is in the box during their sexual encounter, which is why he clearly tells her “Don’t be afraid.” It’s also important to notice how the man guards the box and holds it closely to his body in the film. It’s his secret and his possession, which could indicate that whatever it contains directly affects him even more than those around him.
Buñuel never fully explained the contents of the box within the film himself and seemed to enjoy the confusion it caused among critics and audiences, but I think the influence of de Sade’s writing on Belle de Jour and Buñuel in general might betray him here. As I mentioned above, the work of Marquis de Sade greatly inspired the Surrealist movement and Belle de Jour is ripe with references to Marquis de Sade’s novels, including Philosophy in the Boudoir where the tale of strange insects and their effects on the male anatomy are alluded to. It is a book that Buñuel read and must have known well, and I’m sure his own personal interest in insects would have made the Amerigo Vespucci/Marquis de Sade tale incredibly fascinating and appealing to him. Especially because it so deeply and directly links insects to “the life of the instincts” which Buñuel clearly obsessed over.
Renowned Surrealist Margritte’s artistic interpretations
of Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy in the Boudoir
Since I’ve never read Joseph Kessel’s original novel Belle de Jour which Buñuel based his film on, I can’t elaborate on my assumptions as much as I would like to, but the inspirations for Kessel’s book seem very clear. It’s obvious that Kessel based his fictitious female character of Séverine on the male character of Severin found in Sacher-Masoch’s book Venus in Furs and he probably found inspiration in the erotic writings of Anais Nin, who I assume inspired the name of the brothel in Belle de Jour and its Madame. With all of these erotic literary references littered throughout Belle de Jour, I think it’s natural to assume that Buñuel’s mysterious buzzing box could possibly be linked to the insects briefly referenced in Marquis de Sade’s Philosophy of the Boudoir.
So the next time you find yourself wondering what’s in the box, I can only suggest considering insects and their erotic implications, as well as their symbolic importance in Buñuel’s own work.
“This film is really in one sense about Lee Marvin. It’s about him as a character. He went out to the war and he was a sensitive 17 year-old boy and you know, he was brutalized and in a way he was expressing himself through violence. He was always trying to recapture his humanity that he felt he had lost and that’s really what the story is about. It’s about a man who comes back from the dead and tries to find his humanity.”
- Director John Boorman on Point Blank (DVD commentary)
After appearing in countless war films, westerns and crime dramas, Lee Marvin won his first Oscar in 1965 for Cat Ballou and followed it up with a starring role in the extremely successful movie The Dirty Dozen. Hollywood was impressed with Marvin’s success and they offered him complete creative control over his next film. That film would be the stylish 1967 Neo-noir crime thriller Point Blank.
The film was directed by the talented British filmmaker John Boorman who Marvin had met in London while filming The Dirty Dozen. Boorman approached Lee Marvin with a poorly adapted script of a pulp novel called The Hunter written by Richard Stark (pen name for Donald E. Westlake) and expressed interest in making a film with him. Marvin hated the original script, but he wanted to make the film with Boorman so the two men spent many long evenings in London working out the details and exploring creative concepts before finally plunging ahead with their proposal.
During this process Point Blank became a very personal project for Lee Marvin. He was involved in almost all aspects of the film including the movie’s development, story, staging, sound effects and stunts. Besides just making an entertaining movie, Marvin wanted to use various metaphors within the film to explore his deep-seated feelings about a career spent playing violent killers and a lifetime trying to come to terms with the horrible things he had experienced during WWII, where he had served as a sniper for the U.S. Marines.
In Point Blank Lee Marvin plays Walker, a reluctant criminal who stumbles into a bad situation and pays dearly for it. After being convinced to join in a criminal heist with an old friend and his wife that takes place in San Francisco at Alcatraz Prison, Walker is shot “point-blank” by his friend who wants the money and Walker’s wife all for himself. Walker seems to recover and decides to go after the $93,000 he is still owed from the job. As the film progresses we follow him on his quest to confront his would-be killer and recover his money while leaving a trail of dead and beaten bodies behind him. Of course there’s much more to this crime film once you start scratching at its stylish surface.
Lee Marvin has an incredible screen presence that can easily intimidate an audience with its animal intensity. In Point Blank he literally jumps off the screen at times, but some of the films most poignant moments are its quieter ones which critics rarely mention. Before Marvin is transformed into the angry gun carrying Walker who dominates most of Point Blank, he’s shown as a sweet love struck man, who romances his wife and seems willing to do anything to help out a friend. We also see him nervously contemplating his crimes before and after they take place. Walker might be tough and dangerous, but he’s also a thoughtful and sensitive guy with a big heart.
I think it’s clear that John Boorman and Lee Marvin wanted to present Walker as a man who was transformed by violence and disappointment. Much like the innocent 17-year-old Lee Marvin who naively went off to war and was deeply changed by what he experienced there, Marvin’s character in Point Blank is clearly not a naturally violent man, but he has no problem committing acts of violence once he has experienced it first hand. Marvin’s Walker rises from the dead as a sort of angel of vengeance in the film to pursue the money that’s owed to him, but this vengeance is tempered by Walker’s complicated inner life and throughout the course of Point Blank Lee Marvin’s character never actually kills anyone.
Walker beats a few men senseless and threatens them with violence, but he often acts more like an angel of mercy who has the ability to kill, but usually offers people his understanding instead. Thanks to Lee Marvin’s powerful screen presence these gentler aspects of his character in Point Blank are often overlooked by critics who see him as a merciless and destructive man, willing to do anything to get back the money that’s owed him.
As we follow Walker along on his violent odyssey the film often seems to veer off in abstract directions that follow no clear narrative structure, but there are plenty of visual and verbal clues that tell us a lot about the journey Marvin’s character is undertaking and his real goals. And what are these goals? If we take Boorman’s comments about the film at face value it’s clear that the money Walker is hunting for is actually a metaphor for his lost humanity, which seems forever trapped in a sort of prison of his own making. Like Lee Marvin himself, the character of Walker has been transformed by the violence and disappointment he has suffered in his life. Unfortunately he discovers throughout the course of the film that nothing, including the love of a beautiful woman and the destruction of his enemies, can return his innocence and restore his humanity. Walker can only accept his transformation and imprisonment, and learn to live with it.
Point Blank is an incredible looking film that uses bold color schemes and creative camera work in ways similar to Antonioni’s arthouse dramas Red Desert (1964) and Blowup (1966), as well as Seijun Suzuki’s Neo-noir crime thrillers Youth of the Beast (1964), Kanto Wanderer (1964) and Tokyo Drifter (1966). John Boorman has expressed that Antonioni’s films and classic noir inspired the overall look and feel of Point Blank, but I haven’t come across any indication that Boorman or Marvin were aware of Suzuki’s early films before making their movie. Much like Seijun Suzuki, as well as the French director Jean-Pierre Melville, John Boorman injects his crime film with an overall sense of malaise and turns Lee Marvin’s Walker into one of cinema’s greatest existential heroes alongside Jo Shishido’s Jo Mizuno in Youth of the Beast and Alain Delon’s Frank Costello in Le Samourai.
There is very little dialogue in Point Blank, but what is there seems extremely powerful and often very telling. Even Walker’s one word name tells the audience a lot about his character. One of the films most important moments comes towards the end when Walker finally confronts the man who seems to hold the keys to his fortune.
Brewster:You’re a very bad man, Walker, a very destructive man! Why do you run around doing things like this? Walker:I want my money. I want my $93,000. Brewster:$93,000? You threaten a financial structure like this for $93,000? No, Walker, I don’t believe you. What do you really want? Walker:I - I really want my money. Brewster:Well, I’m not going to give you any money and nobody else is. Don’t you understand that? Walker: Who runs things? Brewster:Carter and I run things. I run things. Walker:What about Fairfax? Will he pay me? Brewster:Fairfax is a man who signs checks. Walker:No, cash. Brewster:Fairfax isn’t going to give you anything. He’s finished. Fairfax is dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.
20 years ago today on August 29, 1987, Lee Marvin left this earth. Unfortunately like many young men who find themselves on bloody foreign battlefields far from home, a part of Lee Marvin had died many years before. Through countless roles as a ruthless killer and movie heavy, Marvin had expressed the violence that had eaten away at him in various creative ways. Point Blank was an accumulation of Marvin’s previous roles held up to a prism and projected back to the audience in a kaleidoscope of colors and action. Underlying that is the echoing silence that permeates Point Blank and seems to cut right to the very core of Lee Marvin’s character.
I personally think Point Blank is one of the greatest Ame
If movies have taught me anything at all about life it is this - a lot of young women dream about becoming professional dancers. Some want to be celebrated ballet dancers or Broadway stars. Others dream about becoming high-kicking Rockettes, well-paid strippers or trophy-winning ballroom dancers. In Ted V. Mikels B-movie bonanza Girl in Gold Boots (1968), Michele (Leslie McRae) wants to be a go-go dancer. 
When I was a kid I often spent my weekends watching double features that played on television as part of the “Monster Matinee” and I thought I’d write about one I can vividly remember seeing for the 
(aka Kyokatsu Koso Waga Jinsei, 1968).
In 1966 the 29 year old Yves Saint-Laurent was hired to design the wardrobe for Catherine Deneuve in Buñuel’s Belle de Jour, and Deneuve and Yves Saint-Laurent developed a lifelong friendship on the set of the film. The designer has called the lovely and talented Catherine Deneuve his “muse” and he has used her as a model many times since the two made Belle de Jour together. Catherine Deneuve has also insisted on wearing Yves Saint-Laurent’s amazing costume designs in many of her films and besides an off screen friendship, the two developed a very close working relationship over the years on films such as La Chamade (1968), Mississippi Mermaid (1969), Liza (1972), Un flic (1972) and The Hunger (1983) which all feature fabulous Yves Saint-Laurent’s fashion designs worn by Deneuve.
So the next time you find yourself wondering what’s in the box, I can only suggest considering insects and their erotic implications, as well as their symbolic importance in Buñuel’s own work.
by Marquis de Sade
by Iwan Bloch
by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch
by Octave Mirbeau
by Anais Nin
by Anais Nin
by Anonymous
(1967)
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(Le Charme discret de la bourgeoisie, 1972)
