By Erin Free
In this regular column, we drag forgotten made-for-TV movies out of the vault and into the light. This week: the 1972 horror flick Gargoyles starring Cornel Wilde, Jennifer Salt, Scott Glenn and Grayson Hall.
Computer Generated Imagery – or CGI, per the contemporary parlance – has done a lot for the world of cinema, allowing filmmakers to craft extraordinary worlds and characters that never would have been possible decades ago. Many would argue, however, that CGI has also ushered in an era of unavoidable soullessness that often comes with hi-tech chicanery in all its forms. In the face of this, “old school” cinematic special effects now have a charm and warmth often achingly absent from today’s cinematic landscape. So, while a man dressed in a Godzilla suit stamping on built-to-scale models of buildings and automobiles might look “fake”, it can also potentially hook audiences in a way that a big budget CGI extravaganza can’t. All of which brings us to the 1972 telemovie Gargoyles, a wonderfully entertaining horror flick that exists on its own loopy terms solely through the use of ingenious practical special effects. This is “old school” horror all the way, and it’s all the better for it.
Directed by highly eclectic Unsung Auteur Bill Norton (and coming wedged between his superb 1971 debut Cisco Pike and his highly original 1974 sequel More American Graffiti) and written by prolific husband and wife team Stephen & Elinor Karpf (who penned excellent telemovies like 1972’s Rolling Man, 1978’s Devil Dog: The Hound Of Hell, 1980’s The Jayne Mansfield Story and more), Gargoyles is almost something of a stand-alone in the horror genre, and at times plays out like a twisted fever dream, beginning with its unforgettable prologue. With show-stopping portentous narration by noted voice actor Vic Perrin booming over a montage of bizarre ancient artwork and artefacts, we learn about the gargoyles, those creatures often seen creepily adorning the facades of gothic urban buildings. More than just freaky design elements, gargoyles are indeed revealed as cohorts of The Devil himself, supplanted on Earth to rise in 500-year cycles to wipe out humankind and take over the planet. This striking and very unusual prologue is a perfect indicator of the idiosyncratic joys that lie ahead.
Gargoyles is led by the unlikely figure of Cornel Wilde, the director and leading man of a highly unusual collection of action themed films including the nightmare inducing 1965 jungle survival flick The Naked Prey (any kid who happened upon this on TV in the 1970s will attest to its shocking, memory-searing imagery) and the cerebral 1967 war movie Beach Red. Wilde also directed, but didn’t appear in, the 1970 post-apocalyptic thriller No Blade Of Grass, another film jammed with violent and horrific scenes, and something of a precursor to Mad Max and its futurist-anarchistic brethren. Though he had a long history in TV (even appearing on The Love Boat and Murder She Wrote), Cornel Wilde is not a typical early 1970s TV movie star, and his mere presence gives Gargoyles an off-kilter vibe right from the outset.
Wilde stars as the coolly named Dr. Mercer Boley, an anthropologist-type with an interest in demonology, who travels into the American desert heartland with his beautiful daughter Diana, played by the delightful Jennifer Salt, another Hollywood figure with an interesting pedigree. The daughter of blacklisted screenwriter Waldo Salt (who would emerge from the 1950s Red Scare era to pen essential works like Midnight Cowboy, Serpico and Coming Home), Jennifer Salt was a burgeoning star of the 1960s and 1970s who featured in films by era-defining talents like Brian De Palma (The Wedding Party, Hi, Mom!, Sisters), Robert Altman (Brewster McLeod) and writer Woody Allen (Play It Again, Sam), as well as the groundbreaking TV comedy Soap, before becoming a writer herself, working on the screenplay for the 2010 Julia Roberts starrer Eat Pray Love, along with Ryan Murphy TV productions including Nip/Tuck, Ratched and American Horror Story.
Dr. Boley and Diana are out in the middle of nowhere on the invitation of Uncle Willie (Woody Chambliss), an old coot with a curio shop who claims to have discovered the skeleton of a bizarre creature in the desert. Upon seeing said skeleton, Dr. Boley laughs it off as an amalgam of various animal bones patched together by the loopy, attention-seeking Uncle Willie, but just as his pithily dismissive hypothesis is hurled forward, the shed in which the trio stands is suddenly attacked from above by mysterious creatures swooping down from the dark desert sky.
After a series of violent confrontations, and the introduction of various offbeat supporting characters – a lip-smacking cougar motel owner (The Night Of The Iguana Oscar nominee and Dark Shadows star Grayson Hall); a cool, swaggering dirt-bike rider (future star Scott Glenn gives the film a welcome dose of counterculture flair); and a surprisingly accepting police chief (William Stevens) – the creatures are indeed identified as gargoyles. Hidden away in caves under the desert, the group is led by, well, The Gargoyle (commanding African-American actor Bernie Casey), and waiting on a huge cache of eggs to hatch (yes, the future Alien series comes to mind instantly) so they can rise up in greater numbers and destroy their human nemeses. With an apocalyptic catastrophe about to unfold, Dr. Boley and his various unlikely new allies spring into action to save humankind from the gargoyles.
Beginning with its wonderfully garish, green-splattered credit titles, Gargoyles has an enjoyably “hand-made” feel. Much of the film is shot on location, and the special effects are more imaginative than they are slick. Tellingly, the film represents the first credited work of master craftsman Stan Winston, who would go on to do the make-up and special effects on big screen classics like Terminator 2: Judgment Day and Edward Scissorhands. Winston was one of the crew who created the film’s unforgettable gargoyle costumes.
Though essentially rubber suits that admittedly bear some similarity to the Sleestak from the 1974-76 kids’ TV show Land Of The Lost, the gargoyle costumes are still supremely cool, and come complete with splaying wings, piercing eyes, and fierce beaks. Upping the fascination factor, when seen running and moving through the night, the gargoyles are shot in slow motion, and when they speak, their voices are electronically treated to create a further sense of eerie remove. The manner in which the gargoyles are positioned narratively by director Bill Norton is also intriguing, with the creatures presented in a far from unsympathetic light, and boasting a clearly defined culture and sense of purpose.
Right from its portentous opening through to its memorable special effects “money shot” finale, Gargoyles has moments of quirky humour (mostly courtesy of the hilariously shrill Grayson Hall), but is played completely and unassailably straight. Admirably, there is no winking at the audience, no self-reflexivity, and no displayed acceptance that what is unfolding on-screen is completely off-the-wall. That never-say-die seriousness is all part of the eerie charm of Gargoyles, a winningly creepy monster movie that plays like a direct descendant of classics like 1954’s Creature From The Black Lagoon and 1933’s King Kong. Wonderfully entertaining for every second of its economic 74-minute running time, Gargoyles has amassed a small but dedicated cult following over the years, and also stands as a perfect signifier of how peculiar the small screen telemovie could indeed be, despite its unearned reputation for middle-of-the-road blandness. Gargoyles is a truly freaky delight.
Availability: Released on DVD at various times since its broadcast, Gargoyles is also currently and very happily available in a slick, crystal clear presentation via YouTube Movies, which you can enjoy “free with ads.”
If you enjoyed this review, check out our other vintage telemovies Short Walk To Daylight, Trapped, Hotline, Killdozer, The Jericho Mile, Death Car On The Freeway, Mongo’s Back In Town, Tribes and And The Band Played On.
