Cult Movies (#1)

Camp movies, so-bad-they're-good movies, box office bombs, sexploitation cinema, out-of-the-mainstream movies, movies that are outright indescribable. They all fall under the umbrella of a film that appeals to the sensibilities of a specific set of filmgoers. I'm talking about cult movies. As a rule, cult movies are "gems" often rediscovered years after their original release, usually via word of mouth, midnight showings, revival houses, even YouTube and cable TV. Some eventually become hits, others bona-fide classics. If you believe wikipedia there are hundreds, if not thousands, of cult movies in existence. Don't believe wikipedia. I'm not certain exactly what their criteria is for defining a cult movie, but the large majority of films wikipedia has listed are most definitely NOT cult movies. Just so you know. Okay, so having given you some idea of what cult movies are, or may be, I've decided to briefly examine a few of these films to see what went right and what went wrong when they were released, and, maybe, discover what exactly it is we love about them. 

I'm starting off with Jack Hill's obscure Spider Baby, or The Maddest Story Ever Told, a piece I'd never heard of until someone mentioned it in a movie group a couple of years ago. Filmed in 1964 and not released until 1967--never a good sign--Spider Baby, stars horror icon Lon Chaney Jr. as Bruno, chauffeur and caretaker to a trio of young adults who, through generations of inbreeding, have regressed to a feral, childlike state. To escape the attention of nosy authorities who might come calling, Bruno promised the "children's" late father that he'd keep them hidden away from the rest of the world and raise them as his own. Hence, Bruno keeps the Merrye siblings under lock and key in a remote, decrepit mansion in the foothills of southern California. 

Certainly, Bruno has his hands full with these three. In fact, Spider Baby sets its tone with the opening scene. Starting out in a humorous vein featuring veteran African-American comic, Mantan Moreland (playing a deliveryman), the segment abruptly turns deadly. The rest of the movie unfolds pretty much exactly like that, with comedy comingling with demented carnage. It's actually not nearly as bad as it sounds. Think of a mashup of The Addams Family, Shirley Jackson's We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Dementia 13 and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. 

The Merrye Family includes: lithe, vampirish Virginia (Jill Banner), who keeps pet tarantulas, eats insects and plays a nasty little game called Spider (hence the title) in which she captures unsuspecting "bugs" in her homemade web and "stings" them to death with butcher knives; sinister sister Elizabeth (Beverly Washburn), who Bruno--mistakenly--believes to be the sanest of the bunch; and baby-man Ralph (Sid Haig), initially viewed sucking his thumb in a fetal position after Bruno opens the back door of the family's too cool Duesenberg limo. Once Bruno parks the car and coaxes Ralph out of the back floorboard, he turns towards the house and can't help noticing the dead body hanging halfway out of an open window. After scolding Virginia (for her lethal misbehavior) and Elizabeth (for being a negligent babysitter), Bruno proceeds to push the body down a chute off the kitchen. Afterwards, he goes in to have dinner with the fam. Just another typical day amongst the Merrye's and their hapless minder.

When scheming Aunt Emily (Carol Ohmart) decides to claim the Merrye estate and a considerable fortune for herself, she pays a little visit to her long-lost kinfolk. With her are her handsome--and dumb as a post--brother, Peter (Quinn Redecker), shyster Hitler-mustachioed lawyer, Schlocker (Karl Schanzer), and his ditzy blonde secretary, Ann (Mary Mitchel). Under the impression that the Merrye's  are harmless weirdoes in need of confinement, Emily and her crew descend on the mansion having no idea of what they're walking into. 

While Elizabeth takes an immediate aversion to Schlocker, Virginia sets her sights on good-looking Peter, who apparently exhibits high "bug" potential. For his part, carnival-geekish Ralph lusts after boobalicious Aunt Emily, that is when he's not surfing from floor to floor via the dumbwaiter. No dumb waiter, himself (har har), Bruno contrives to send Emily and Company running by having Ralph kill a cat to be served at dinner. Of course, Peter, thinking it's a rabbit, digs in, while everyone else (except Ann) seem repulsed by the fare. Yes, both Peter and Ann are fairly dim.

And yet, despite the ramshackle state of the mansion, the eccentric behavior of the inhabitants, and the revolting dinner prepared by their hosts, Emily and Schlocker elect to spend the night at the house. After sending Peter and Ann into town, Emily makes her intentions clear to Bruno, who hastens to his room to ponder the situation. Once good nights are said, Schlocker immediately gets to snooping around for any evidence that will add fuel to Emily's fire. So, off he goes through the old, dark house and Schlocker has already established himself as such a schmuck that we know things are not going to go well for him.

Back in her bedroom, Emily sheds her conservative attire and reveals that she is--incongruously-- wearing a black bra and garter belt underneath the frilly blouse and church-lady skirt. Completing her ensemble with a filmy black negligee, Emily prances in front of her mirror, not realizing that an unseen presence is watching her performance. Eventually, however, she discovers the Peeping Tom and a mad chase ensues. Meanwhile, Schlocker's nosiness (and noisiness) has gotten him into rather a spot of bother in the basement. 

Later, unable to find a hotel room, a drunken Peter and Ann stumble in to find the suspiciously sweet Merrye sisters waiting for them. Elsewhere in the house, a frantic Bruno has hatched a plan to ensure that he and the Merrye Family will never be separated. However, the Merrye clan turns out to be larger than we first thought. Cannibalistic cellar dwellers Uncle Ned, Aunt Clara and Aunt Martha live in a pit in the basement and are fed their vittles via the aforementioned chute off the kitchen. 

Aside from the movie being absolutely bonkers, the performances are all-over-the-board. With his long career in decline, Lon Chaney Jr. agreed to play the role of Bruno for $2,500 and gave, perhaps, the best performance of his career. Taking his role very seriously, Chaney exhibits a tender, moving sweetness that seems like it belongs in a different movie. It doesn't really gel well with the deranged wackiness of the project. Chaney is actually too good for this material (and looking back at his filmography, that's saying something). Sexy Carol Ohmart (best remembered as Vincent Price's ill-fated wife in House on Haunted Hill) is quite fun as the conniving Emily. Once considered a first-rate actress and successor to Marilyn Monroe, Ohmart has a great time playing the villain of the piece. The sisters, Jill Banner and Beverly Washburn, are, in equal measures, amusing and deeply disturbing; watching them, I couldn't help being reminded of old TV footage of the Manson girls. (Incidentally, Banner would wind up in a lengthy relationship with Marlon Brando that lasted until her death in 1982.) Sid Haig (Captain Spaulding in Rob Zombie's House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil's Rejects) has a strong, unsettling physical presence that underscores his credibility as the mostly mute Ralph. Oh, and despite all signs to the contrary, Ralph is revealed to be a sexually insatiable stud with an eye for the ladies--whether they like it or not. Political correctness was not this movie's strong suit. Quinn Redecker (later of daytime drama renown) is charmingly scatty as Peter, and Mary Mitchel (from Francis Ford Coppola's Dementia 13) is primarily decorative playing the functional role of the woman-in-peril/love interest. I have to admit that I was dismayed when Mantan Moreland--who I recognized from watching too many old movies on the late, late show when I was a kid--was offed in the movie's first 5 minutes. Even so, he's funny and his quick demise came as a complete shock. 

Today, Spider Baby feels very much of its time and--like any good cult movie--is distinctly at odds with the delicate sensibilities of today. 

Given the low budget of the film ($65,000) and brief shooting schedule (12 days), Jack Hill directed Spider Baby with a great deal of skill and flair. With his camp sensibility, he's a progenitor of John Waters, who was almost certainly influenced by this movie. Although filmed in 1964, Spider Baby's producers filed for bankruptcy, delaying the movie's release by three years. When it did, finally, come out, Spider Baby appeared as part of a double bill at drive-in movie theaters during its short run. As for Hill, he practically invented the women-in-prison genre of movies, including cult favorites The Big Doll House and The Big Bird Cage, as well as Foxy Brown, The Swinging Cheerleaders, and Switchblade Sisters. Due to the strength of his female characters in these later movies, Hill was sometimes referred to as a feminist and the King of Cult Movies. They're also sexploitation pictures so I'm not sure that feminist is the term I'd use to describe him. 

More jet-black comedy than all-out horror, Spider Baby delivers as many laughs as it does scares. Much has been written about this film since its rediscovery, and it boasts a 94% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Some of the more highfalutin' modern reassessments have compared Spider Baby to the Greek myths featuring Medea and Arachne but these modern scribes are taking the movie way too seriously: it certainly doesn't pretend to be high art or a meditation on Greek mythology. Surprisingly (or not), Spider Baby was once named the worst film of all time. Go figure. For me, Spider Baby is way better than it has any right to be. As always, keep this in mind: one man's trash is another man's treasure.