Watched: Agar Ugly Again, Invite to Ranch Party, and Muni's Angel Does His Killing
HAND OF DEATH (1962) --- Fun of fundamental science-fiction is observing
the experiment, waiting on it to somehow go wrong, then aboard for whatever monster results from the failed venture. Cheapness does not
deter, in fact it enhances, like with Hand of Death where John Agar develops a
sort of nerve gas to ease burden of war by subduing the enemy remotely, then going in to pick up pieces. That Agar will be a first victim is foregone
conclusion, wanted as much as expected. Ritual is science-fiction’s friend, accepted
wait to reveal a monster or whatever untoward event will threaten the world. Low budget confine concern to an Agar swathed by mask or make-up, the
actor’s ordeal as burdensome as that of the character he plays. Penny thrilling
by 1962 was rare and becoming obsolete. Even children tired of what in any case was turning up on television, many barely out of theatres, sometimes staying under roof or stars to compete for dates
with “new” product which could hardly be distinguished from the old. Science-fiction
having taken nosedive with the sixties saw major companies fed up with it, cheaper
outfits having also had their fill. Hand of Death was made by a Twentieth-Fox
subsidiary and distributed on a bill with Cabinet of Caligari, a B/W
combination at a time when B/W combinations were oldest hat and hardly wanted. Hand
of Death had a negative cost of $116,000, took $130,000 in domestic rentals,
with $62,000 foreign. Eventual loss of $28,000 probably surprised nobody. What
did surprise fans was Fox releasing an
“On-Demand” DVD, a passable transfer in scope as intended. Happy day when something
long elusive turns up, even so minor a piece as Hand of Death.
9 Comments:
Well, that was pretty great. I fire up the pc this morning and my sleep fogged eyes are confronted with the image of John "Hand of Death" Agar. Blaaarggh!!! On reflection, though, I liked the trench coat and fedora added to the vegetable fae ensemble, but couldn't quite believe that anyone, even a man with a brain warped by some unholy serum, would think that that would be enough to finesse the situation. And yet there is a guy in the background who is apparently indifferent to the appearance of this monstrosity. Probably someone who's seen enough weird stuff in the city to take notice of yet another oddity.
Anybody besides myself notice how much John Agar's "monster" in HAND OF DEATH nails Ben Grimm 'The Thing" in Marvel's THE FANTASTIC FOUR (Nov. 1961)? Another great post.
Always suspected "Angel on My Shoulder" was inspired by "Here Comes Mister Jordan", the main difference being the hero was dealing with the opposite organization.
Sat down with Ann once to see "Here Comes Mister Jordan," but no soap (for her at least), so we turned it off. Have not tried to finish since.
Edward Everett Horton and James Gleason alone should make Mr. Jordan palatable. I liked it, did not love it, when I watched it again a few months ago. Does not make a lot of sense though...
I noticed it immediately, though the resemblance is greater in the poster, which gives the monster orange skin, than in the film, where it's black.
Apparently, others have spotted it as well. Wikipedia: "The monster in the film also closely resembles the character of Ben Grimm (aka The Thing) from the best selling Marvel Comics magazine The Fantastic Four, right down to the hat and trenchcoat the character used to hide himself from the public in the comic book stories. The comic book series premiered in September 1961, and may well have served as the template for Agar's makeup in the film."
Dan Mercer considers HAND OF DEATH and sci-fi that played to him as a child:
It’s interesting that “Hand of Death” should have come out just as science fiction had lost its appeal. There were several such pictures made during the fifties and early sixties, all for a price and with the niche it would fill so calculated that it couldn’t help but make money, at least for a time. They were like series westerns made by Poverty Row studios a decade or two earlier. So, there were movies like actor Robert Clark’s “The Hideous Sun Demon,” the offerings of Edward D. Wood, Jr., regional features such as “The Giant Gila Monster” and “The Killer Shrews,” the programs of Howco International and American Releasing Corp., the latter enjoying more success as American International Pictures, and oddities like industrial film maker Herk Harvey’s “Carnival of Souls,” which he made the mistake of selling to Hertz-Lion International not long before it foundered financially.
Not all of these were science fiction as such, but more of the weird or astounding variety. None of them, however, ever came to the Fox Theater in Levittown, New Jersey, where I usually spent my Saturday afternoons as a boy. Its program usually consisted of science fiction films that had been general releases of major studios, such as “War of the Worlds,” “It Came from Outer Space,” and “The Time Machine,” a smattering of westerns like “Yellowstone Kelly” and “Tonka,” and such features for the evening show that would be suitable for a kiddie matinee, like “The Alamo,” “Spartacus,” and “Billy Rose’s Jumbo.” There were also Japanese films of a very low quality, like one where a superhero landed on the horizontal stabilizer of an airliner during a storm. The rain was falling straight down and the stabilizer bent under the weight of its occupant, which was not a convincing effect even for an audience such as ours. I’m sure, though, that the rental of the picture was most reasonable.
I wonder how many followers of this site saw “Hand of Death” theatrically or any like pictures? I think that the ones from Hammer Films will probably receive more of a response. That studio mined its niche much more deeply, with better productions and actors, filmed in color, and exploiting the erotic allure of sex and violence. Of course, such fare was arguably not suitable for children—certainly my mother would have taken that position—but as has also been argued, young boys also need raw meat in a healthy diet.
I recall being put off by Robert Montgomery's roughneck boxer with his unaccustomed accent. Maybe I should have waited for Claude Rains to show up. Chances are he would have gotten me the rest of the way through it.
The Liberty served much raw meat. I can't think of a Hammer or AIP they skipped.
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