by Stephen Vagg
The Intruder (1962)
I’ve mentioned this film in other lists in this series but here it is again – Corman’s legendary race relations piece (sort of Elmer Gantry Joins the Klan) that was, he claimed, the first movie that he directed which lose money. I think white American audiences (like white Australian ones) generally prefer to confront racism either via allegory or through period pieces as opposed to stories set in the present day… This was too raw – even today, The Introducer contains the power to shock, particularly all the scenes with little old ladies flinging the “N” word around casually. Its commercial failure stung Corman, who recoiled from personal projects, although not entirely as we shall see…
The Trip (1967)
In the mid-sixties, Corman had something of a mid/quarter-life crisis. He’d risen to the top of the B film world but struggled to get work with major studios; all his contemporaries were settling down to raise families, but he was still single; he was an economic conservative and political liberal at a time of increasing radicalisation. So, he took acid with his mates and made a movie about it! And it was a hit! There was more to The Trip than that of course – Tim Lucas’ The Man with Kaleidoscope Eyes is the one to read (we interviewed him about that here) – but it’s often overlooked how experimental and autobiographical this movie was. It’s very bold visually, there’s about twenty minutes of story, it’s very sexy and pretty pro-drug. It proved to Corman that you could make personal movies as long as they had authenticity and naked women.
Gas! -Or- It Became Necessary to Destroy the World in Order to Save It (1970)
Lesser-known Corman, which returned him to the black comedy world of Little Shop of Horrors although here he had George Armitage instead of Chuck Griffith as writer. Gas is Corman completely off the leash, at the peak of his technical skill as a director, absolutely going for it without anyone reining him in. The film’s a mess, to be told, but often funny and fascinating for Corman watchers because it summarises so much of his career until that date: there’s references to Westerns, Edgar Allan Poe, the apocalypse, sex, progressive politics, bikers, race relations, rape. It’s full of affection towards young hippies, dislike of jocks and bikers, and filled with cautious hope for the future. (Sidebar: I think Corman hated jocks, they rarely come across well in his films. I think he disliked bikers too – even though he made a lot of money out of biker films, they always come across badly.) AIP cut the end which annoyed Corman and didn’t help the film a jot commercially. My theory – and this is just a guess but an educated one – is that it was the public and critical rejection of Gas, which was such a personal project (along with the deaths during shooting of Von Richthofen and Brown) is what really cured Corman of wanting to be a director. With Gas he bared his soul, and no one cared.
All those arty films that New World distributed
New World Pictures made most of its money in exploitation films, but famously it also distributed quite a stunning range of foreign films from the early ‘70s to early ‘80s – Cries and Whispers, Amarcord, The Tin Drum, The Romantic Englishwoman, The Harder They Come, The Story of Adele H, Small Change, Dersu Uzala, Autumn Sonata, The Green Room, Love on the Run, My American Uncle, Breaker Morant, Fitzcarraldo. That’s an incredible array, and Corman was deservedly praised for this. He stopped the policy in the early ‘80s – it was getting too hard to turn a buck on such films – which was one of several decisions around that time (along with focusing on the video market and working in his studio as opposed to location) that coincided with Corman’s artistic decline.
Cockfighter (1974)
Corman’s success with foreign arthouse films presumably contributed to his decision to finance this arty effort from long time protege Monte Hellman, the tale of a cockfighter in the south (played by Warren Oates). An interesting, offbeat movie, which never really manages to answer the question “why should we care about this guy?”, it was not natural New World material and flopped, despite some Corman-mandated sex and violence and several famous attempts to re-release it under different titles.
I Never Promised You a Rose Garden (1977)
Throughout the seventies, Corman was continually badgered (in interviews at least) to produce classier stuff, as opposed to just distributing it. The success of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975) prompted him to invest a fair amount of coin (for him) into this tale of a young woman battling schizophrenia. Anthony Page directed. The film got nice reviews, did alright at the box office and lead actor Kathleen Quinlan went on to have a healthy career… but I think down deep, Corman was hoping for Oscars, cash and/or for Quinlan to become a star. No one seems to talk about this movie these days, but it was another Corman attempt to go “legit”.
Saint Jack (1979)
Corman’s former protege Peter Bogdanovich made four great movies with his wife Polly Platt, three of them huge hits, then he made three flops without her, then he reunited with Corman to make this. It’s the sort of movie that sounds sleazy – the adventures of a pimp in Singapore – but is done with warmth, affection and verisimilitude, and proved that Bodganovich could make great movies without Polly, just not as frequently (as the rest of his career proved). Thing is though – and this always surprised me – Saint Jack didn’t make much money. A trashier version of this story – one directed by, say, Steve Carver (and I like Carver movies) – probably would have been more lucrative. I’ve never read Corman admitting that in an interview, but I bet he felt it. Still, a magnificent movie.
Love Letters (1983)
This has a charming “making of” story – Amy Holden Jones was desperate to direct, shot some test scenes to show she could direct, impressed Roger Corman who gave her Slumber Party Massacre to make, which became a hit, then she cashed in her chips with this character study about a woman (Jamie Lee Curtis, outstanding) who has an affair with a married man (James Keach, a little stiff). And Corman agreed to finance it. I think he was attracted to the fact that the film feels influenced by Ingmar Bergman, with its simple shots, and educated and cultured characters (Curtis works for public radio, Keach is a photographer), who are trying to deal with emotional issues on a rational level. (Apparently Jones was also influenced by Harold Pinter.) It’s the sort of story I could imagine Woody Allen trying to tell although he’d probably make the woman more crazy and there would be more analysis. Corman insisted on nudity and that does liven things up. It’s a good little film, the sort that makes you wish Holden had directed more features – but to have done that she probably would’ve have to have done versions of Love Letters where Curtis turns into a stalking killer.
Suburbia (1983)
There are exploitative elements in this film, but on the whole, this is a remarkably downbeat look at runaways squatting in downtown Los Angeles. It was from writer-director Penelope Spheeris and has the soul of a British kitchen sink drama but benefits from more American energy. It starts with a toddler being mauled to death by a dog! People who don’t get why Corman is so loved… it’s because he would invest in movies like this.
Nightfall (1988)
The overall quality of Corman’s output dropped off sharply in the early ‘80s when he sold New World, but he did occasionally try to do something different. This film was a passion project of Julie Corman, an adaptation of Isaac Asimov’s 1941 short story. It is hurt by its low budget and the fact that the writer director Paul Mayersberg fails to dramatise the story. Still, good on them for having s awing. If the Cormans had continued to make more swings like this, I think that their output from the ‘90s onwards would be better remembered. As Corman himself said, the problem with movies as a business is that it’s an art. And the problem with it as an art is it’s a business. Corman was always a fantastic businessman – but he could make great art himself, either as creator or as patron.