
All summer long Turner Classic Movies is celebrating various actors with their ongoing “Summer Under the Stars” series. But August 10th is truly something to celebrate. Today TCM will be running films that feature one of my all-time favorite actors, the extraordinarily talented and incredibly handsome Dirk Bogarde.
This would be worthy of mention no matter what films they were showing, but TCM has gone out of their way to showcase many of Dirk Bogarde’s best films from the ’50s and ’60s today that are rarely shown in the US and not available on DVD. Some highlights from today’s programing include The Spanish Gardner (Philip Leacock; 1956), Penny Princess (Val Guest; 1952), So Long at the Fair (Terence Fisher & Antony Darnborough; 1950), The Blue Lamp (Basil Dearden; 1950), The Servant (Joseph Losey; 1963), Our Mother’s House (Jack Clayton; 1967) and Darling (John Schlesinger; 1965). They’ll also be playing three films from the popular “Doctor series” (Doctor in the House; 1954, Doctor at Large; 1957, and Doctor in Distress; 1964). The Doctor films were huge hits in the UK and helped make Bogarde a world-renowned film star, but American audiences rarely have the opportunity to see them.
If you happen to be as obsessed with Dirk Bogarde as I am you’ll want to spend the entire day in front of your television. Of course that’s not always possible so consider recording some of these hard to see films for future viewing. Many of these films are not even available in the UK and they’re directed by British luminaries such as Val Guest, Basil Dearden, Jack Clayton and Terrence Fisher. This is truly a rare opportunity to see some great British movies and the event shouldn’t be missed by my fellow Dirk devotees.
Previously at Cinebeats: At Home with Dirk Bogarde.



When I first mentioned that I was going to start “Modern Mondays” at Cinebeats I briefly discussed how much I liked musicals so I thought I’d share a few thoughts about the best musical I’ve seen in recent years, Love Songs (aka Les chansons d’amour; 2007).
Love Songs was directed by the talented French filmmaker and writer Christophe Honore (Ma mère; 2004, Dan Paris; 2006) and features an original musical score by composer Alex Beaupain. It also stars one of my favorite working actors, the incredibly handsome and charismatic Louis Garrel (The Dreamers; 2003, Regular Lovers; 2005, Dans Paris; 2006). The film tells a rather simple and bittersweet story about three young lovers living in Paris who are torn apart physically and emotionally after one of them unexpectedly dies. Romantic films featuring bisexual threesomes instead of typical “boy meets girl” couples are rare enough, but I’m pretty sure that Love Songs is one of the first full-length musical involving a ménage à trois.
The film’s unconventional take on love and loss is refreshing and beautifully handled by director Christophe Honore. In many ways Love Songs is the director’s love letter to French cinema from the ’60s. Fans of classic French films such as Jacques Demy’s The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964), Francois Truffaut’s Jules and Jim (1962) and Jean-Luc Godard’s A Woman Is a Woman (1961) will easily spot their influence on Honore’s film, but like the nouvelle vague artists that he celebrates here, director Christophe Honore is clearly interested in breaking new ground. He sidesteps much of the ambiguity that was often a trademark of ’60s French cinema to unabashedly deal in honest human anguish, passion and desire.
Love Songs is a sentimental film and I appreciated its sweetness and romanticism, but it’s also a thoughtful meditation on loss and the painful grieving process that occurs after we loose someone we deeply care about. There’s nothing more agonizing than the sudden and unexpected death of a loved one and I think Love Songs greatest achievement besides it’s wonderful score, smart script and beautiful cinematography is the way in which it expertly conveys that overwhelming sense of unexplainable sorrow that can become paralyzing after you suffer a great loss.
The talented British’ born actor Shane Briant made his screen debut in the Hammer horror film Demons of the Mind. Since then he’s gone on to appear in over 60 films and television productions including Straight On Till Morning (1972), The Picture of Dorian Gray (1973), The Mackintosh Man (1973), Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter (1974), Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1974), The Naked Civil Servant (1975) and Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1981). Currently Briant is focusing his attention on writing and he has recently completed a psychological thriller called Worst Nightmares that will be released in the US on May 12th. I’ve admired his film work for many years so I was thrilled to get the opportunity to ask Shane Briant a few questions via an email exchange about his early movies and current writing projects.
Cinebeats: Your first starring role was in the 1972 Hammer horror film Demons of the Mind directed by Peter Sykes where you played the disturbed brother of Gillian Hills. Thanks to the impressive cast, which also included Manfred Mann vocalist Paul Jones, Demons of the Mind seemed to be an early attempt by Hammer to try and attract a younger and possibly more “happening” audience. I personally think the film is very effective and rather daring for its time due to its subject matter. How did you get the part?
Shane Briant: I’d just finished playing the role of a ‘damaged’ youth in Children of the Wolf at the Apollo Theatre in London’s West End with Yvonne Mitchell and Sheelagh Cullen. It was a three-gander. I was nominated for the London Theatre Critics Award for Best Newcomer that year. So in some respects I was ‘hot’. That’s when Michael Carreras signed me to a two-year contract with Hammer films. Demons of the Mind was the first film.
Cinebeats: After making Demons of the Mind you starred in the unusual Hammer thriller Straight On Till Morning, which also featured the accomplished British actress Rita Tushingham and was directed by the talented filmmaker Peter Collinson. Your performance in the film as a deeply disturbed young man is very impressive. I suspect that it was a demanding role. Did you do any research in order to flesh out your character?
Shane Briant: There wasn’t any research I could do. If I’d been a dentist I would have researched how dentists work but being a psychopath, there’s not much specific info. So I just tried to be normal and yet appear weird. Maybe that’s me?

Top: Shane Briant in Demons of the Mind (1972)
Bottom: Rita Tushingham & Shane Briant in Straight On Til Morning (1972)
Cinebeats: In 1973 you played Dorian Gray in a made-for-TV version of Oscar Wilde’s classic story The Picture of Dorian Gray. It’s one of my favorite adaptations and you did a terrific job of capturing the decadent elegance found in Wilde’s character. You seemed to really enjoy yourself in that role. Was it a challenge to play such a notable and notorious character like Dorian Gray?
Shane Briant: Not really since there had only been one version before me – that of Hurd Hatfield. He actually came to visit us on set. He was pretty cool. Not overly friendly. What I thought might be interesting is to get away from Hurd’s performance. It had very obvious gay overtones. Though I kept a bit of the bisexual qualities of the character in, I think mine was very different from his. The script was very loosely based on Wilde’s book anyway so I stuck to the script as much as possible. Glenn Jordan is a master director. He’s won at least 7 Emmy’s – that says it all. Nigel Davenport was the most fun actor I have ever worked with. Hugely funny and a great technician.
Cinebeats: After making The Picture of Dorian Gray you took a break from horror and appeared in John Huston’s 1973 spy thriller The Makintosh Man alongside James Mason, Ian Bannen, Dominique Sanda and the recently deceased Paul Newman. Your role is rather small and I wish you had been given a bit more to do in the film, but you’re very memorable as James Mason’s evil henchman Cox. Can you tell me a little bit about your experiences working with the Oscar winning director as well as the impressive cast on that film?
Shane Briant: I had a much larger part initially. But when I arrived on set in Malta I was told they were now re-writing the script day by day and I’d get the ‘pages’ at midnight every night. This was a huge disappointment to me. The fact of the matter was that Huston had just made a film that was very special to him (Fat City) and The Mackintosh Man was, as far as every one of the stars (as well as Huston) was concerned, simply a money-spinner to be finished before Christmas so everyone could go on holiday. That’s why it was perhaps one of Paul Newman’s least spectacular films. Newman was a delightful man. Very friendly, very real and modest. He always ate with the crew and when we arrived he got up from his lunch and walked to the three of us English actors, held out his hand and said “Hi. I’m Paul Newman. Welcome to the set." Playing scenes with him was wonderful. Oh, and….his eyes were spectacular. When he looked you in the eyes, you become a rabbit looking at a mongoose. I was intensely sad to hear he died. His charity work was wonderful. I got to know James Mason a bit, but not Sanda.
Cinebeats: You returned to Hammer studios again a year later and made two more movies with them. The terrific Terrence Fisher film Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell with Peter Cushing and the excellent vampire thriller Captain Kronos - Vampire Hunter. You were very good in both films and I’ve read interviews where you’ve mentioned that playing Simon Helder in Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell was your favorite Hammer role. It seems like you were destined to become the next big Hammer star following in the footsteps of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. I suspect that you would have if the studio hadn’t decided to slow it’s output down to a crawl after 1974 and finally stopped producing films altogether in 1979. Did you have any desire to continue making films with Hammer?
Shane Briant: I did Captain Kronos because there was nothing else for me to do at Hammer and they’d paid for a two-year contract. It wasn’t, I think, a very good film, and I had very little to do in it. It was around then that Hammer started to wind down as a force in the industry so I went and did other things. I wouldn’t have wanted to do just horror films anyway. Mind you, I wouldn’t mind doing another one now – that’d be fun!

Top: Shane Briant & Paul Newman in The Makintosh Man (1973)
Bottom: Shane Briant & Lois Daine in Captain Kronos - Vampire Hunter (1974)
Cinebeats: At the end of the ‘70s you seemed to be working non-stop and appeared in many critically acclaimed television productions including the controversial 1975 film adaptation of Quentin Crisp’s autobiography The Naked Civil Servant. Quentin Crisp is a fascinating character and one of the most well known gay icons in Britain. Britain, like most of the world, wasn’t particularly gay friendly in 1975 and even today there’s still a lot of controversy surrounding gay rights. I personally think The Naked Civil Servant is impressive for the way it celebrates individuality and uses humor to examine the effects of discrimination. What prompted you to take on the flamboyant role of Norma in The Naked Civil Servant and was it a difficult film to make?
Shane Briant: I was offered a cameo by Jack Gold. I knew all my scenes would be with John Hurt. Of course I did it. It was fun to really go over the top. Gold actually insisted we did, but the other two ‘girls’ didn’t go as far as Jack wanted. I just let go and had fun. John was great to work with – inspirational. What an actor!
Cinebeats: You’ve continued to act and have appeared in a lot of worthwhile movies including Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1981), Hawk the Slayer (1980), The Lighthorsemen (1987) Grievous Bodily Harm (1988) and Till There Was You (1990) as well as many popular television productions. Are there any performances that you’re particularly proud of?
Shane Briant: The Picture of Dorian Gray and Lady Chatterley’s Lover I think. And quite a lot of the TV stuff over the years. Oh and Farscape Episode: Eat Me (2001).

Top: Shane Briant and John Hurt in The Naked Civil Servant (1975)
Bottom: Shane Briant and Sylvia Kristel in Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1981)
Cinebeats: You currently seem to be focusing a lot of your attention on writing. Besides fiction you recently wrote the script for the award winning short film A Message from Fallujah (2005), which you also appeared in. When did you start writing and do you find it more rewarding than acting?
Shane Briant: I started writing as an exercise in 1994 when I was contracted to go to Europe on a children’s TV series called Mission Top Secret. I’d been changing my scripts for thirty years so I thought why not see if you can write a novel. So I wrote one day by day as we made our way around Europe. The story started in Spain, moved to Switzerland, then went to Germany, France and finally Poland. I made up a story that fitted. Simple. When I got back I showed it to an agent who showed it to Harper Collins who just happened to be looking for some home grown spy novels. I was lucky. I’ve never stopped. Worst Nightmares is my debut in America. It’s my best work and very dark and thrilling. Not many people who have read it haven’t been taken aback by it’s style. It’s VERY different to other books. Think ‘Dorian Gray’ meets ‘Hannibal Lector’.
Cinebeats: I haven’t had the opportunity to read Worst Nightmares, but the premise sounds intriguing. According to the book’s official site worstnightmares.net it involves a "disturbed killer known as the Dream Healer who seduces his victims into revealing their deepest fears, and then kills them with this knowledge." How did you come up with the idea for the book and was it tough to write?
Shane Briant: I had often wondered how it’s possible that ordinary people will share their most intimate secrets with total strangers on the Internet. They will go to dating sites and reveal all their most secret fears and aspirations. I always thought this very dangerous. After all, what were the people the other end of the cyber beam actually like? So I invented the Dream Healer. People with terrifying nightmares go to his frightening website in the belief that he will cure them of their phobias. Instead he tracks down these unfortunate people and abducts them. Then he realizes their worst nightmares in real time. Amped up a hundred fold. Scary!
Cinebeats: Do you have any writing or acting plans for the future that you’d like to share? Any upcoming projects that you’re particularly excited about?
Shane Briant: I’ve just finished writing the sequel. It’s called Worst Nightmares 2 – The Game. It continues from the last page of Worst Nightmares. I can’t reveal much because your readers won’t yet have read Worst Nightmares but it’s even darker and more….unusual, I think.
Shane Briant will be signing copies of Worst Nightmares later this month in New York at the Book Expo America (BEA). He also blogs and can be found on Twitter.
For more information about Shane Briant’s latest book please visit worstnightmares.net. I also recommend reading Holger Haase’s review of Worst Nightmares at the Hammer and Beyond blog. And you can find more information about Shane Briant at this informative tribute site: Shane Briant.

It’s impossible to put into words the impact that David Bowie’s music has had on me throughout the years, but there probably isn’t another living music artist who I admire more. I started listening to Bowie’s music when I was just 12 years old and one of my earliest concert memories is of seeing Bowie’s 1983 Serious Moonlight Tour at the Oakland Coliseum. Around the same time I also saw David Bowie star in Nicolas Roeg’s groundbreaking science fiction film The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976) when it played on a double bill with Performance. Over the years my admiration for Bowie’s acting abilities as well as his recording career has only grown.
David Bowie’s first acting role was in an eerie and surrealistic silent horror short called The Image (1967) directed by British filmmaker and writer Michael Armstrong. Armstrong’s directing credits include the Tigon horror anthology The Haunted House of Horror (1969) as well as the effective and memorable Mark of the Devil (1970), which tells the story of two 17th century witch hunters (Udo Kier and Herbert Lom) and was obviously inspired by the 1968 Tigon film The Witchfinder General. Armstrong is also responsible for writing the script for Pete Walker’s horror comedy House Of The Long Shadows and co-writing Tobe Hooper’s Lifeforce with Dan O’Bannon. This list of Michael Armstrong’s credits may not seem all that impressive to your average film viewer, but it should spark the interest of some horror fans.
The Image was Michael Armstrong’s first film and along with David Bowie, it also stars the hard working actor Michael Byrne in one of his earliest roles. Byrne appeared in the excellent horror film Vampyres (1974) and had minor roles in many popular war based dramas and action films made during the seventies including Conduct Unbecoming (1975), The Eagle Has Landed (1976), A Bridge Too Far (1977) and Telefon (1977). Today he’s probably mostly known for his appearences in popular modern films such as Braveheart (1995), Gangs of New York (2002) and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989).
In The Image Michael Byrne plays a troubled artist haunted by a ghostly young man who appears to step right out of one of his paintings. David Bowie plays the mysterious apparition who is haunting the artist and his unusual good looks and other-worldly appearance are used to great effect here. Bowie was just 20-years-old when he made his acting debut, but he had studied with the avant-garde performance artist and actor Lindsay Kemp who included elements of Mime and Butoh into his teaching. Bowie obviously made use of the skills he developed studying under Kemp for his role in The Image and his wordless performance as an unrelenting spectre is undoubtedly the most memorable element of this short film. But The Image also contains an interesting minimalist soundtrack and some nice looking black and white photography from Ousama Rawi.
Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray probably influenced Michael Armstrong’s script and it’s possible that some might see a homoerotic undercurrent running through the film, which is interesting when you consider the rumors surrounding David Bowie ’s relationship with his openly gay acting teacher Lindsay Kemp. But director Michael Armstrong has only described The Image as “A study of the illusionary reality world within the schizophrenic mind of the artist at his point of creativity.”
The Image was shot in just three days and completed in 1967, but it didn’t have its official screen debut until 1969. Due to the violent content of the film it became one of the first shorts to receive an ‘X’ certificate from Britain’s notoriously restrictive film rating’s board. The Image seemed to disappear into obscurity after its limited release, but in recent years it has been rediscovered and restored. This brief 14 minute film is currently available on YouTube and makes for some great Halloween viewing.
The Image (1967) Part II.
If you’d like to learn more about the making of The Image I recommend visiting Michael Armstrong’s official website where you’ll find images from the film as well as the original script that you can download and read for free.

“Ever since I first met him here, I’ve dreamt about Akechi. A vain man who acts like a critic. When his face appears in my dreams it disturbs me. I’ve never before had such an experience. He looks as if he knew and understood everything. His eyes! His lips! He obstructs my dream. He pursues its form. He’ll eventually become the dream itself.”
- Black Lizard
Japanese director Kinji Fukasaku made two of my favorite films of 1968. Blackmail is My Life (aka Kyokatsu koso Waga Jinsei) and Black Lizard (aka Kurotokage). My deep affection for the Black Lizard was made public when it landed in my list of 25 Favorite Foreign Language Films that I compiled last year. At that time I mentioned that I wanted to write more about Fukasaku’s film and after watching it again recently I thought It was time to finally share some of my thoughts about this fascinating and extremely entertaining movie that always manages to find its way onto any list of “Favorite Films” that I compile.
Black Lizard opens with a detective named Akechi Kogoro (Isao Kimura) following his friend into a private night club hidden in a maze of Tokyo alleyways. As the two men silently descend into its depths the camera scans the club walls and occasionally focuses on large reproductions of Aubrey Beardsley’s art for Oscar Wilde’s Salome, which are lit by colorful florescent lights that seem to flicker and bounce across the screen. When the men finally reach the main entrance of the club, the doors burst wide open and they’re greeted by nude girls covered in body paint who dance wildly to the sound of psychedelic rock and carefree laughter. Numerous couples can also be seen throughout the club engaging in erotic play while consuming vast quantities of booze. Detective Akechi makes his way to the bar to order a drink and while it’s being poured he wonders aloud why he has followed his friend into this strange place. As he contemplates the evening and makes mental notes of future events that will soon consume him, the club suddenly goes dark and silent. Out of the shadows steps a beautiful woman (Akihiro Maruyama aka Akihiro Miwa) cradling a long cigarette holder in one hand while she surveys the room with her hungry eyes. When she finally slinks up to bar and strikes up a conversation with the befuddled detective, it’s clear that she is no ordinary woman and this is no ordinary nightclub. Detective Akechi has entered the decadent world of the Black Lizard where nothing is true and everything is permitted.
Kinji Fukasaku’s film follows the exploits of a criminal mastermind known as Mrs. Midorikaw aka “The Black Lizard” and her gang of outcasts that include a hunchbacked confidant, a dwarf and a murderous snake-eyed woman. The Black Lizard likes to collect beautiful jewels as well as beautiful people who she kills and then displays like dolls in her hidden island lair. The Black Lizard is obsessed with a priceless diamond known as the Star of Egypt and plans to steal it from a world-class jeweler as well as kidnap the jeweler’s beautiful young daughter so the girl can be turned into a lifeless “doll” for her trophy collection. Unfortunately a wrench is thrown into the Black Lizard’s plans when Detective Akechi arrives on the scene. Over the course of the film the beautiful criminal and brilliant detective play an erotically charged cat-and-mouse game that will leave one of them dead and the other heartbroken.
Black Lizard is based on a stage play written by the acclaimed and controversial Japanese author Yukio Mishima. Mishima adapted his play from an original story by the renowned mystery and horror author Edgowa Rampo that was first published in 1934. Many of Rampo’s original story elements and basic plot points can be found in the script for Black Lizard, but Mishima injected his adaptation with a romantic decadence and homoeroticism that was clearly his own creation. Yukio Mishima often found inspiration in the writing of British authors such as Oscar Wilde who was part of Britain’s Aesthetic Movement and many of the themes found in Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray reoccur in Mishima’s own work again and again. Mishima’s script for Black Lizard is really an extravagant showcase for many of his favorite themes including sadism, martyrdom, unrequited love and an obsession with beauty and death, which are also popular motifs found in the art and literature of the Aesthetic Movement.
During his lifetime Yukio Mishima wrote many highly acclaimed Kabuki plays and modern versions of classic Noh dramas. The structure, style, depth and melodramatic tone of traditional Japanese theater is also echoed in his script for Black Lizard. Characters often speak their dialogue with a poetic rhythm while using dramatic gestures to signify what they’re feeling. And the elaborate sets used in the film are staged and lit in a way that resembles modern theater with a distinctive pop art sensibility. It’s also important to note that Japanese Noh drama is performed entirely by men who wear masks to portray female characters and in Kubuki plays the female roles are frequently performed by male actors. Although Yukio Mishima’s stage adaptation of Black Lizard often starred female actresses, Mishima thought that the cross-dressing male actor Akihiro Miwa was the only performer who was able to fully inhabit the role of Mrs. Midorikaw / the Black Lizard.
Mishima’s play was undoubtedly also influenced by classic literature and poetry that emerged from the Shudō (homosexual) tradition among samurai warriors in medieval Japan who Mishima greatly admired. These tragic and melodramatic tales often focus on unrequited love, erotic obsessions and the romantic lives of the warrior class. Naturally these stories occasionally ended with the death of a samurai who takes his own life during a ritual suicide, which is referred to as “seppuku” within the bushido code.

Akihiro Miwa and Yukio Mishima first met in 1952 when Miwa was a young hostess working at a coffee bar in Tokyo where gay intellectuals and artists would often gather. The two became very close and while Mishima was gaining attention and recognition in Japan as one of the country’s greatest writers, Akihiro Miwa was making a name for himself as a popular cabaret singer and stage actor. Over the years Akihiro Miwa has made different claims about the seriousness and nature of his relationship with Yukio Mishima, which were probably influenced by his respect for Mishima’s family. The author’s family attempted to deny Yukio Mishima’s homosexuality after his death, but it now seems to be common knowledge that Akihiro Miwa and the legendary author were long-time lovers.
Film director Kinji Fukusuka was a fan of Yukio Mishima’s work and after seeing the play performed by Akihiro Miwa he asked Mishima and Miwa if they would be interested in collaborating on a film version of the play with him. Thankfully they agreed and the two apparently worked rather closely together with Kinji Fukasaku on the 1968 film adaptation of Black Lizard. Although background information about the film’s production is rather scarce, I suspect that Mishima must have had some influence over the film’s look and impressive set design. I also believe that Akihiro Miwa worked closely with the costume designer and celebrated manga artist Masako Watanabe to create his wardrobe for the film.
Yukio Mishima’s script for Black Lizard was first filmed as a musical in 1962 by director Umetsugu Inoue who’s probably most well-known for the colorful musicals he made with the Shaw Brothers (Hong Kong Nocturne, Hong Kong Rhapsody, etc.). I haven’t had the opportunity to see Umetsugu Inoue’s version of Black Lizard but I have seen clips and still shots from the production and by all indications, it looks like it’s an amazing movie. Information about Umetsugu Inoue’s film adaptation of Black Lizard is almost nonexistent but I suspect that Mishima generally preferred Kinji Fukasaku’s adaptation of the film since the writer was much more confident about his creative ideas and world view in 1968. Naturally that confidence transfers into his film collaboration with Fukasaku. This is reinforced by Mishima’s brief role in the 1968 film playing a violent man that the Black Lizard kills and turns into one of his favorite “dolls.” Yukio Mishima did not appear in the 1962 film version of Black Lizard and he seemed to distance himself from Umetsugu Inoue’s film adaptation of his play over time.
These days Kinji Fukasaku’s Black Lizard is often referred to as a “camp classic” by critics who don’t seem to fully grasp or appreciate Yukio Mishima’s creative aesthetic and intellectual influences, which are clearly evident in Fukasaku’s film. Black Lizard does contain occasional moments of black humor but there really isn’t anything overtly funny about the film and the humor comes from how individual viewers interpret it. The humorous aspects of Black Lizard are obviously exaggerated by modern audience’s propensity towards irony and by critics who find it impossible to take a male actor playing a female role seriously, even when that actor is someone as beautiful and talented as Akihiro Miwa. But the Black Lizard is actually played completely straightforward for dramatic effect. Besides the over-the-top action and suspense, the real focus of this entertaining film is the romantic tension between Detective Akechi and the Black Lizard, which is celebrated by Mishima’s flowery prose. No effort is made by the actors to acknowledge that Akihiro Miwa is male but there is a wonderful scene where the character changes into a man’s suit to escape detection. While Miwa is admiring his appearance in a mirror he smiles at himself and proclaims that he has “no true identity.” In turn the audience is forced to come to their own conclusions about the Black Lizard’s sexual identity, which remains fluid throughout the film.
The Black Lizard contains a lot of wonderful moments that are well worth highlighting. After the impressive club scene that opens the movie, Detective Akechi finds himself in a “medical college dissecting room” investigating the suicide of a troubled musician whose body as been stolen. The detective discovers a dead “black lizard” (the criminal’s calling card) next to a large tub filled with corpses that bob in and out of the dark water. The moment is both shocking and visually striking. In some ways it also foreshadows what the future holds for the detective as well as the Black Lizard. Another one of my favorite scenes involves a lengthy card game played between the Black Lizard and Detective Akechi. Director Kinji Fukasaku shot the scene from an upward angle through a glass table and the effect is impressive. The scene between the two actors is similar to a moment in Norman Jewison’s film The Thomas Crown Affair when Steve McQueen and Fay Dunaway engage in a game of chess that is filled with sexual tension. Black Lizard also features some great action sequences including a memorable car chase that is interrupted by a motorcycle gang who shoot colorful smoke from the back of their bikes to obstruct the view of the police behind them. Like many of the scenes in this captivating film, it has a surreal quality and seems as if it’s taken straight out of a Tokusatsu production or manga story.
Kinji Fukasaku’s film was a minor hit with Japanese audiences and critics when it debuted in 1968, but the movie didn’t find an international audience until its revival at Chicago’s Lesbian and Gay International Film Festival in 1985. The film began to gain a small but devoted cult following when it was released on video by Cinevista Inc. in 1992 and subsequently the film has been shown at various other venues across the country. Unfortunately Black Lizard has never been released on DVD and it is possible that Yukio Mishima’s family is partially responsible for the film’s limited distribution. I wrote a letter to Criterion about five years ago asking them if they would consider releasing the film on DVD but I never got a reply. With their recent DVD releases of Yukio Mishima’s Patriotism (1966) and Paul Scharder’s biographical film Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (1985), I can only hope that Criterion will consider releasing Black Lizard in the near future and give this important and entertaining film the special attention it rightfully deserves.
A year after the release of Black Lizard Kinji Fukasaku followed up its success with an imaginative sequel called Black Rose Mansion (aka Kuro bara no yakata), which also featured a script by Yukio Mishima. Akihiro Miwa once again has the starring role in this production as a tragic figure named Ryuko. Many of the themes found in Black Lizard are carried over into the sequel, but Black Rose Mansion is a much more melancholy film with gothic overtones and very little action. It some ways it seems to reflect the sullen mood of Yukio Mishima at the time. Black Rose Mansion was the last film adaptation of Mishima’s work before his death. The following year the author would commit seppuku in a very public ritual suicide leaving his lover Akihiro Miwa to mourn his death alone.
If you’d like to see more images from the Black Lizard you can find them in my Black Lizard Flickr Gallery.

Today I read the sad news at Holger’s terrific Hammer and Beyond blog that the handsome and talented action star Kerwin Mathews has passed away at the age of 81. Mathews is best remembered for his roles in adventure and fantasy films like The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958), The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (1960), Jack the Giant Killer (1962) and Battle Beneath the Earth (1967). Many of his movies were childhood favorites of mine.
It’s hard to imagine growing up without Kerwin Mathews. Whenever one of his movies appeared on television when I was a kid I would jump for joy. He had a great voice and he was a totally believable adventure hero with brains and a heart. Most people dismiss the acting in his films, but Mathews could make you believe he was fighting skeletons, battling a cyclops and shrinking to the size of a doll. How many actors can do that? There’s just no getting around the fact that the guy had talent. His ability to make his audiences believe in the unbelievable should be applauded.
Mathews appeared in some good and not so good thrillers as well before retiring from acting in the 1970s. According to the article below he moved to San Francisco with his longtime partner Tom Nicole, where he sold antiques for awhile. At a time when so many gay actors were forced to stay in the closet and unable to get work, Kerwin Mathews managed to become a popular action star who was loved by millions, while maintaining a relationship with his partner for an impressive 46 years. Mathews was a truly great American movie hero.
The San Francisco Chronicle has published a nice article about Kerwin Mathews’ life and death on their website: Kerwin Mathews — Movie Star

I recently watched Massimo Dallamano’s Dorian Gray for the third or forth time and I was inspired to write about the movie. When the opportunity to contribute to Neil’s Trashy Movie Celebration Blog-a-thon arrived I figured a review of the film would be the ideal contribution since it definitely qualifies as a trashy movie - eurotrash to be exact - and it’s also a personal favorite.
Oscar Wilde’s classic tale of a vain, wealthy and beautiful youth whose sins are preserved in a portrait that ages horribly, while he remains young, has been adapted for the screen many times. But I don’t think any movie except Massimo Dallamano’s 1970 film has been able to really capture the decadence of Wilde’s original story. Dallamano set his film version of Dorian Gray in the present, which at that time was the height of the sexual revolution in the late sixties. This gave the director ample opportunity to explore the world of swingers, uninhibited sex and gender bending through the eyes of the curious Dorian Gray.
The movie stars the attractive German actor Helmut Berger who made a name for himself in some of Luchino Visconti’s best films including The Damned, Ludwig and Conversation Piece but he also appeared in many European thrillers and various other trashy movies such as the notorious Salon Kitty. The critics have never been too kind to Berger, which is a shame because when he’s good, he’s very very good and when he’s bad, he’s still a lot of fun to watch! Helmut Berger has what so many actors lack today, charisma and screen presence.
Massimo Dallamano really couldn’t have picked a better actor to play the vain and self absorbed Dorian Gray. Helmut Berger is clearly enjoying himself in the role and it’s easy to believe that women and men of all ages and sexual persuasions are attracted to him. Berger’s erotic persona and fluid sexuality are used to their fullest extent in the film and the audience is easily able to project their own fantasies into the movie if they’re willing.
The movie opens with a shot of Dorian’s blood-stained hands signaling what’s to come and then we’re immediately taken to a cabaret where a drag queen is performing as Dorian and his companions watch. When the drag queen strips down to reveal sexy black lingerie, you know you’re in for a wild ride. It’s impossible to watch the opening moments of Dorian Gray and not be reminded of Helmut Berger’s own drag performance in Visconti’s The Damned where he impersonated Marlene Dietrich. The Damned was released a year earlier and Dallamano’s sly tribute to Helmut Berger’s earlier performance in Visconti’s movie acts as a wonderful introduction to Dorian Gray.

As the film progresses Dorian meets his first love interest in the tragic figure of an aspiring Shakespearean actress named Sybil Vane. Sybil is played by the pretty Swedish actress Marie Liljedahl who’s mostly remembered for the erotic films she made including Jess Franco’s Eugenie. In Dorian Gray we’re asked to believe that Marie Liljedahl is an innocent virgin seduced by the devilish Dorian and it actually works. Thankfully the director doesn’t bore us with their courtship. Dorian and Sybil seem to fall in love at first sight and their relationship quickly turns sexual. The audience knows they’re in love because key lines from Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet are played over and over again in the background as the two lovers gaze into each others eyes and roll around in bed together. Sybil devotes herself to Dorian but after he falls in love with his own portrait, Dorian can really only be faithful to himself. Under Henry’s influence Dorian forgets his feelings for the naive Sybil and begins to dabble in the decadent lifestyle that will soon destroy him.
At first Dorian’s passions are rather mild, and include occasional make-out sessions with wealthy socialites, as well as fancy parties with expensive foods and lots of booze. Sybil doesn’t appreciate Dorian’s upper-class friends or approve of their lifestyle and her jealousy turns to delirium when she notices other women flirting with Dorian. After Sybil suddenly kills herself in an act of desperate passion, Dorian succumbs to his most depraved desires. He claims that he feels nothing after Sybil’s death but Dorian tries to bury his grief in random sexual encounters, yacht parties and go-go clubs. He visits bath houses with Herbert Lom, cruises the docks for sailors and seduces a wealthy elderly woman in a horse barn. The Dorian in Massimo Dallamano’s movie has no inhibitions and we get to enjoy his decadent adventures as they’re divulged.

As you may have noticed by now, many of the actors in Dallamano’s film are regulars in Jess Franco’s movies. I’ve read that Franco was originally supposed to direct Dorian Gray before Massimo Dallamano took over so it’s not surprising that the movie’s cast resembles the cast of a Franco film. It would have been interesting to see what Franco could have done with the story but Dallamano’s a skilled director, writer and cinematographer and his talents are on full display in Dorian Gray. Dallamano’s film is fairly faithful to Wilde’s original story and where previous film adaptations rarely suggested any of the sexual decadence that Wilde could only hint at in his book, Dallamano’s movie revels in it. Critics have called the film trashy and lifeless. The movie is undoubtedly trashy but it’s anything but lifeless, especially when it’s compared to other film adaptations of Wilde’s original story
Oscar Wilde was part of the Aesthetic Movement in British literature, which developed the “cult of beauty” and believed that the arts should offer cultivated sensual pleasures instead of morality and sentimentality. The British Aesthetic movement stressed the importance of symbolism and suggestion rather than statement. Intentional or not, Dallamano’s film follows an aesthetic that would have made Wilde proud. The movie celebrates the fashions, decadent lifestyles and sexual freedoms of the times that it was made in with lots of style and very little sentimentality. The beautiful Dorian and the sensual pleasures he indulges in are captured with an unflinching eye and no concern for morality.

Of course in some ways Wilde’s Dorian Gray was a statement against everything the Aesthetic Movement stood for. The story of Dorian Gray celebrates decadence while it criticizes its indulgences. As Dorian’s eventual end approaches he is forced to pay for his sins but the joy of traveling with Dorian on his hedonistic journey is not lost in Dallamano’s film as it is in so many other movie adaptations of Wilde’s story. One of the most interesting things Dallamano does with Dorian is to wrap him in Zebra fur. Dorian has zebra drapes on his windows and zebra fur rugs on his floors. By the end of the film Dorian is dressed in a floor length zebra fur coat that would make many pimps in 1970 envious.
It’s interesting to note that zebras each have a unique stripe pattern that is similar to a persons fingerprint. Zebra can often represent individuality and in occult symbolism a zebra can even suggest knowledge both seen and unseen. Their stripped patterns of black on white or white on black hints that what you see is not always what you get. When the zebra appears in your dreams it can even indicate a time of change or represent hidden knowledge that is about to be revealed. I have no idea if the director had anything in mind when he draped Dorian’s body and decorated his home in zebra fur but I think it’s fascinating to explore what this possible symbolic gesture might suggest.
Finally, I can’t talk about Dallamano’s movie without mentioning the exceptionally groovy score by composer Giuseppe De Luca (A.K.A. Peppino De Luca). It adds many layers to the film and it also celebrates the movies most decadent moments with lots of rhythmic flair.
Unfortunately the film is only available on VHS at the moment and the quality of the prints that are available are rather awful. Hopefully a DVD company like Blue Underground or Mondo Macabro will rescue Massimo Dallamano’s Dorian Gray and restore it to it’s original splendor. The movie really deserves another look and I think critics will be able to appreciate its eurotrash charms now that over 35 years have passed since it’s original release.

Dirk’s Bogarde’s nephew has just launched the Official Dirk Bogarde Website @ http://www.dirkbogarde.co.uk/ and I’ve spent all morning there exploring the site. It’s one of the most impressive websites I’ve ever come across and it does a terrific job of celebrating one of Britain’s greatest actors.
Dirk Bogarde has long been one of my favorite actors and his filmography is really astonishing. Bogarde worked with some of of the greatest filmmakers of the 1950s, 60s & 70s and he gave remarkable performances in numerous films. He was also incredibly good looking so I’m using this occasion as an excuse to post some photos of him.
The new website contains lots of great reading material about the actor, as well as photos and other information, but one of the many highlights is Dirk Bogarde’s home movie collection which you can view online. These home movies give fans of the actor an intimate look at Bogarde’s life with his partner and manager Anthony Forwood.
If you’re interested in Dirk Bogarde or just want to know more about this talented actor, I highly recommend giving the site a look. Just make sure you have a few hours to spare because if you’re anything like me, you’ll definitely want to spend a lot of time there.

THE EARLY YEARS
When critics discuss the movies James Fox starred in during the ’60s and early ’70s, his costars often seem to overshadow him. This is somewhat understandable since Fox’s greatest films from that period feature amazing talents from the decade such as actor Dirk Bogarde and musician Mick Jagger, but James Fox is an extremely talented actor who possessed the uncanny ability to brilliantly portray young men of various backgrounds wrestling with their sexual identity and social class as the sexual revolution of the ’60s was still taking shape.
James Fox was born William Fox in London in 1939 to an upper class British family and he started acting when he was a just a child. His father Robin Fox was a theatrical agent and his mother Angela Fox was an actress who gave birth to two other sons, the talented actor Edward Fox and producer Robert Fox. Out of the three Fox children it seems that William, who was the middle child, was the only one who started his career in show business at such a young age.
His first film role appears to have been Toby Miniver in the British WW2 drama The Miniver Story (1950) which was a follow-up film to the Oscar winning classic Mrs. Miniver. Fox was only about 10 years old at the time that he made The Miniver Story, but his performance must have been memorable because he soon began to act in other films like The Magnet (1950).
Fox took a 10-year break from acting in 1952 to focus on his education, but he changed his name to James and returned to acting again in 1962, and what a return it was! James Fox showed incredible versatility as a young actor who was able to deliver exceptional performances in gritty British dramas like Tony Richardson’s The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1962) as well as lighthearted comedies like Tamahine (1963).
In 1963 James Fox really got to show off his acting chops after taking a starring role in the critically acclaimed dark drama, The Servant (1963) directed by Joseph Losey. Fox was only 24 years old at the time that The Servant was made, but his performance in this pivotal film is incredibly impressive and it’s a role that would shape his career for the rest of the ’60s.
SUBVERTING SEXUAL IDENTITY & SOCIAL CLASS IN BRITISH CINEMA
In The Servant James Fox stars as the handsome, carefree and hard-drinking British aristocrat Tony, who has just bought a new home in London and hires a man servant named Hugo (Dirk Bogarde) to care and cook for him. The relationship between Tony and Hugo becomes more and more complicated as the film progresses. There are class differences between the two men as well as an underlying sexual tension that threatens to surface throughout the entire film. Their blossoming friendship is tested when Tony’s ill-mannered girlfriend Susan (Wendy Craig) seems to become annoyed as well as jealous of Hugo, while Hugo seems equally annoyed and jealous of Susan. Susan finally asks Tony to get rid of Hugo but he refuses. Soon after Hugo hires his “sister” Vera (Sara Miles) to help clean and care for Tony. At first Tony seems extremely disinterested in Vera but Hugo finds various ways to force them together. When Tony finally decides to consummate his relationship with her and the audience is forced to wonder if Tony was only attracted to Vera because he thought she was Hugo’s sister? If Vera was just any girl, would he pay her much attention? After Tony discovers the truth about Vera he fires them both but soon afterward Tony hires Hugo again.
Together Hugo and Tony resume playing house together and act more like an old married couple than master and servant. This facade hides the fact that Hugo wants Tony’s privileges and wealth. And Tony seems to desperately want Hugo’s acceptance and companionship. Hugo begins using his powers of persuasion over Tony and soon Tony becomes a prisoner in his own home; trapped by Hugo’s domineering personality as well as his own reliance on alcohol. As their relationship becomes more and more codependent a simple game of hide & seek between the two men suddenly turns into something much more sinister and subversive. A complex struggle for power and class hierarchy, as well as sexual domination, seems to be taking place between them when Hugo taunts Tony with veiled threats of, “You’ve got a guilty secret!” while Tony hides like a petrified child terrified of incomprehensible demons he is unwilling to face.
James Fox is absolutely astonishing in the complex role of Tony and he brings a lot of depth to a role that could have easily become something mundane in another actor’s hands. His emotional performance makes Tony’s downfall at the end of the film all the more painful to watch. Fox received the 1964 BAFTA Award (British Academy of Film and Television Art) for Most Promising Newcomer to Leading Film Roles for his outstanding performance in The Servant.

After his demanding role in The Servant, James Fox showed his versatility once again by taking on the role of a British pilot in the fun filled action packed comedy Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines (1965), but later that same year he returned again to dramatic roles in director Bryan Forbes’s King Rat (1965), a hard-hitting prisoner of war story.
In King Rat James Fox plays a British Royal Air Force Officer named Peter Marlowe who’s trapped in a Malaysian prisoner-of-war camp run by the Japanese during WW2. In the film Peter or “Pete” is taken under the wing of an American Corporal called “King” (George Segal) after he spots Peter conversing with locals and speaking Malay. King thinks Peter could be useful to him so he gives him some cigarettes and a meal with the hope that he will join his motley crew of con-artists who are manipulating the prisoners under the watchful eyes of the Japanese military. Soon the handsome British Officer is being ordered around by the low ranking Corporal King. It’s easy to simply view King Rat as a brutal WW2 buddy movie or prison film about men trying to survive anyway they can in terrible circumstances, which it is. But underlying that is the complex relationship between Peter and King that is at the center of King Rat and seems to transform the film into something much more sublime.
James Fox gives a pitch-perfect performance as the educated British Officer Peter Marlowe. Peter easily stands out among the dirty prisoners with his good manners, easy-going attitude, bright blond hair and clean-shaven face as he wanders around the camp wearing a sarong-style skirt and sandals. The rest of the prisoners seem extremely rugged, desperate and plain ugly in comparison. Throughout the film Peter develops a relationship with King that is clearly much deeper than the relationships the two men share with the other prisoners. It’s obvious that Peter admires King’s bravado as well as his ability to survive and thrive under such dire circumstances. And King clearly admires Peter’s class and dignity in a situation that has turned other men into monsters or “rats.” Peter and King are an odd pair but their bond seems genuine until the war comes to an unexpected end. When they’re finally rescued from the prisoner-of-war camp Peter finds himself in a highly emotional and codependent relationship with King. He seems incapable of behaving like a free man in a free world. King on the other hand is upset about his sudden freedom because it means he will loose control of his “kingdom” and be forced to return to civilian life.
When Peter confronts King in a fit of desperation at the end of King Rat and asks, “Don’t you remember what we had?” it brings deeper meaning to the relationship between these two men of different backgrounds, class and rank. At the end of the film, Peter runs through the camp in a desperate attempt to see King one last time before he leaves with his American comrades but Peter never gets to say goodbye. The silent and stoic pain James Fox manages to manifest for his role after his character realizes that he won’t ever see King ever again is hard to watch. Peter’s identity, much like Tony’s in The Servant, seems to have been shaped by his own disregard of social class and within the confines of the prison camp as well as his deep emotional attachment to another man. At the end of King Rat James Fox is sent adrift once again, unsure of his place in the world and where he stands.

After a small but memorable role in the interesting dramatic film The Chase (1966), James Fox returned to lighthearted roles in comedies like Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967) and Arabella (1967), until taking on the role of Chas in Performance (filmed in 1968, but not released until 1970) where Fox would once again play a man struggling with his social conditioning as well as his sexual identity.
THE END OF A DECADE
As the 1960s were coming to a close, James Fox was becoming a major British film star. He was also indulging in the excesses of the decade such as alcohol and drugs, long before he took the role of Chas Devlin in Performance (1968/1970).
Fox had met Performance co-director Donald Cammell on the set of the crime film Duffy (1968), which they both worked on. James Fox had also become friendly with Mick Jagger who he had met backstage at a Rolling Stones concert in Rome in 1967. Fox’s budding friendships with Cammel & Jagger seem to be the initial reason why he was considered for the role of Chas in Performance.
Before making Performance Fox had mostly played refined upper class British gentlemen but it’s also obvious that in previous roles Fox had portrayed characters who were in some ways redefining class roles in British society as well as questioning their sexual identity. I think Donald Cammell probably saw a little of these qualities in Fox’s previous film’s too, which would have made James Fox rather perfect for the complex role of Chas Devlin in Performance even if it’s been reported that Marlon Brando was the director’s first choice for the role.
To prepare for his role Fox moved to South London and immersed himself in British gangster life for 2-3 months before filming started. He also worked directly with the dialogue coach David Litvinoff who had come in contact with British criminals and knew the notorious Kray twins firsthand. Litvinoff offered Fox an insider’s look into the British gangster lifestyle that would lend his character, as well as the film, a grittiness that previous British crime films often lacked.
In Performance Fox plays the sadistic British gangster Chas Devlin who “performs” violent acts of terror for his boss Harry Flowers. When Chas finds himself on the run after killing a childhood friend and fellow criminal, he ends up hiding out at the home of an androgynous and reclusive rock star named Turner (Mick Jagger) and Turner’s lovers, the beautiful and fun-loving Pherber (Anita Pallenberg) and the boyishly cute Lucy (Michèle Breton). Turner’s home is a little too bohemian for the seemingly conservative Chas but he manages to forget about his hang-ups when Pherber feeds him some psychedelic mushrooms. While Chas tries to figure out why he’s suddenly feeling so odd, Turner and Pherber have fun playing mind games with him. In the process Chas finds himself questioning his sexual identity and the role he has carved out for himself in the brutal crime world he inhabits outside of Turner’s home. As the film comes to its violent conclusion, Chas’ feelings for Turner take a complex turn and he seems to loose himself completely as he and Turner merge into one “performer.” Much like his character Tony in The Servant as well as Peter in King Rat, at the end of the film Fox’s character is left with his identity in tatters but this time his transformation is so complete that the audience no longer recognizes him.
Fox is utterly brilliant as Chas. He brings so many subtle character quirks to his role that they’re hard to notice at first glance but Fox knows that a simple twitch of the eye or a bite of the lip can bring a character to life in ways that are barely noticeable but extremely powerful. James Fox becomes Chas Devlin so completely that it’s hard to know where his own performance begins and ends.

Unfortunately for film audiences, Performance would be the last movie James Fox would make until his return to acting in the late 1970s. After the filming of Performance ended Fox suffered a breakdown brought on by the sad death of his father and his heavy drug use. When Fox finally recovered he didn’t want anything to do with acting anymore and devoted himself entirely to religious studies for 10 years.
It’s been rumored that his breakdown was caused by his experiences on the set of Performance but Fox had started to use drugs before shooting the movie and he had also openly expressed interest in studying scripture before filming began. It seems he was going through a lot of personal turbulence in the late sixties and in his biography Comeback: An Actor’s Direction (1983) Fox writes that before filming Performance he was, “Not only in a guilty muddle about drugs, but my sexual imagination was also in complete turmoil.” It’s no wonder that he brought so much realism to characters such as Chas.
Thankfully James Fox seems to have sorted himself out after his 10 year sabbatical and he returned to acting regularly in the ’80s. Within the past 25 years he’s shown that he’s still capable of taking on complex roles in films that examine sexual identity and class structure. Some interesting examples of this include his role as the gay British spy Anthony Blunt in A Question of Attribution (1992) and his role as the British aristocrat Lord Darlington in The Remains of the Day (1993). Hopefully we’ll continue to see more interesting and daring performances from James Fox in the future.

