Roger Corman - B Movie God!

THE DAY THE
WORLD ENDED (1955)
Directed by Roger Corman
Starring:
Richard Denning – Rick
Lori Nelson – Louise Maddison
Adele Jergens – Ruby
Touch (Mike) Connors – Tony Lamont
Paul Birch – Jim Maddison
Raymond Hatton – Pete
Paul Debov - Radek

Roger Corman, the director and producer of this gritty, after-the-bomb drama, is the fearless speed demon of the B-film – the slash and burn professional that whipped his actors to the rhythm of some grueling metronome that cared not for mortal frailty. A man who never, ever lost sight of the money.

According to IMDB, (Internet movie database, as if you didn’t know) the year he directed and produced this film, he also wrapped up four other films. In his first three years spent directing his own movies , 1955-57, he finished 17 movies, among them Beast with a Million Eyes, It Conquered the World, Not of This Earth, and Attack of the Crab People. By 1960, Corman had cut out what scant traces of fat did exist in his style: His “Puerto Rican Trilogy” shot in that year (The Last Woman on Earth – director, Creature From the Haunted Sea – director, and Battle of Blood Island – producer) was completed in five weeks. Little Shop of Horrors, also directed by Corman in 1960, had a shooting schedule of two days and a night. His cinematic world is one of horror and sex, shot fast and on the cheap -- designed to make investors and himself a tidy profit.

Sally Todd, ravishing star of Frankenstein’s Daughter, (Richard Cunha, 1958) and The Unearthly (Boris Petroff, 1957) talked about working with Corman on The Saga of the Viking Women and Their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Sea Serpent (1958) when interviewed by John O’Dowd for Videoscope Magazine (Winter, 2009). The actress describes Corman’s terrifying shooting pace that demonstrated little concern for actors’ safety. When asked if she could remember a specific incident when an actor was actually injured, Ms. Todd responded without a second’s hesitation, “Oh, sure – several,” and went on to describe vivid and various accounts of lacerations, brain concussions, and near fatal drowning. The former Miss Tucson comments also on Corman’s habit of promising future film work, none of which seemed to pan out. Todd summarizes: “The guy was a real slick talker, let me tell you. He was a smooth talker and always cool---always. And we were just kids, so what did we know?”

By the mid 1960s, Corman had squeezed the desired talents from many future major directors. Among those that cut their teeth at the Corman director factory are: Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese, Peter Bogdonavich, Jonathan Demme, Joe Dante, James Cameron, John Sayles, Monte Hellman, Nicolas Roeg, and Paul Bartell, and this list is by no means complete. Actors introduced by Corman include Jack Nicholson, Sylvester Stallone, Dennis Hopper, Bruce Dern, and Robert De Niro. So far, Corman was directed more than 50 films and produced more than 300, none of which have come within sniffing distance of an Oscar nomination. Corman’s 1998 autobiography puts his film making philosophy right in the title: "How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood and Never Lost a Dime."

All of which is to say that Roger Corman is an icon in the world of film, highly influential and revered. In the world of the B-film, wherein lies the anxious and paranoid solar system of Radiation Cinema, Corman is a god.

Corman seems to have hit the ground sprinting as a director. He knew where he was and what he wanted from his very first film, thus early Corman differs little from middle-period Corman (and doesn’t differ a whole hell of a lot from latter period Corman, for that matter). This film is early Corman, and it opens with apocalyptic canons blazing:

First comes a title card accompanied by the quavering pitch of a Theremin:

“What you are about to see may never happen . . . but to this anxious age in which we live, it presents a fearsome warning . . . Our story begins with . . . THE END!”

We see an atomic blast, most likely the blast at Bikini Atoll, and the title rolls upward across the screen. The credits roll, and next we are treated to a shot of the sky/heaven full of white clouds. A narrator’s voice, with appropriate reverb, offers some mood setting via the King James Bible, 2 Peter 3:10: – “and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up.”

And just so there can be absolutely no confusion, next comes some stock footage of destroyed buildings and deserted desert plains. The narrator simply tells us: “This is TD day – total destruction by nuclear war, and from this hour forward the world as we know it know longer exists.”

Oookay, then, anyone care for a Mentos?

We are given a ray of hope, however, sort of. We are told that God, “in his infinite wisdom, has spared a few.” It is a small collection of these few which our story is concerned; and judging by the few the Good Lord has “spared”, His sense of bitter irony, perhaps even retribution, is as infinite as his wisdom.

Our cursed and saved principals all make their way over the scorched and smoldering earth, through a “nuclear haze of death,” toward a small, sturdy house in a miraculously spared valley, owned by ex Navy captain, Jim Maddison, (Paul Birch) and his nubile but virginal daughter, Louise (Lori Nelson). Maddison has seen this day coming for some time and has saved himself and his daughter by building a small safe house cupped in a valley by mountains full of lead-bearing ore. He has all the essentials for survival: an elaborate ham radio (that does nothing but produce a high-pitched whine, confirming the extermination of life everywhere), several Geiger counters and the radiation lingo to use them, and just enough supplies for absolutely nobody else but his own.

First to show up knocking at the modest, Maddison fortress are gun-toting criminal, Tony (Touch Connors – later Mike Connors), and his stripper moll, Ruby (Adele Jergens). Maddison won’t let them in, but good girl, Louise, just has to let them in, she just has to, despite the fact that dad has explained, very sensibly, that there isn’t enough food for them; and despite the fact that Tony has already blasted a hole in the door with his .38. Tony comes in waving a gun around and the two men growl at each other for a bit. Finally, after some serious leering from Tony at the delectable and very young daughter, things settle down and the two newcomers exit the scene to burn their clothes (which must pain Ruby some as she has managed to escape through the nuclear holocaust wearing heels, a low-cut sequined dress, and a mink stole) and wash the radiation off themselves.

Before you know it, Maddison has a commune on his hands. Next to come walking in are a geologist, Rick (Richard Denning), carrying a badly scarred man named Radek, obviously dying of radiation poisoning; followed closely by a gold prospector, Pete (Raymond Hatton). Louise finally manages to put her foot down when Pete asks if his burro, Diablo, can come in, suggesting he leave it tied up in the yard.

So, we have our cast of seven, trying to survive on a food and water budget planned for three (Maddison had originally planned for Louise’s boyfriend, Tommy, to survive, but for reason’s largely unexplained, Tommy is dead before our story starts. Judging my Maddison’s contempt for the “fools” that didn’t believe his doomsday ratings, Tommy must have thought privately the old man was a bit dodgy and not made it to the lead-lined valley). Weeks pass, and tensions rise with Tony and Rick vying for Louise, Ruby feeling protective and resenting Louise at the same time, Captain Maddison struggling for control of the mess, and Pete fretting over his burro and making moonshine with sugar smuggled to him by Ruby.

One creepy development is that Radek, so near death he barely figures into Maddison’s calculations, doesn’t die like he’s supposed to. He has, in fact, seemed to gain an odd, unpleasant durability. In early scenes he calls for meat, nothing but red meat, despite it’s level of radiation contamination, and eventually doesn’t take any food or water offered by the group. More suspicious, he has taken to wondering out into the radiated woods nearby, beyond the protective ridge of the valley (as the movie progresses, the valley becomes a flawed Garden of Eden from which none of God’s chosen people can venture. Beyond the valley is something evil – a woodland of perverted nature; a radiated land of Nod). Radek should be dead, but isn’t. When Rick wonders about Radek’s sanity with concern, Maddison puts things more bluntly: “He’s a mutant, Rick. A freak of this new, atomic world of ours.” Later, after Radek has gone wondering off again, out into a world of contaminated animals and radiation, the ex captain puts things blunter still: “he’s dangerous, Rick. He should be destroyed.”

Right again, Cappy. In a later scene, Radek returns in the night and slinks into his bed. Rick, who shares a room in the cramped house with Radek, simply watches him in the faint light. The spider-web scars on Radek’s face practically glow.

“You followed me the other night.” says Radek finally, his voice deep and slurred, no longer sounding quite human. “I saw you.”

Rick props himself up on an elbow. “You went over the ridge,” he says, not taking his eyes off Radek.

“If you went up there, you’d die,” says Radek.

“I know.” Rick studies Radek, frowning in thought. “What do you do up there?” he asks finally.

Radek has his hands crossed behind his head, laying on his back, his eyes dark and nearly closed. “There’s wonderful things happen.” he says, his voice flat. Too flat.

“What kind of things?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you sometime.”

“Why not tell me now?” asks Rick.

Radek is staring at nothing. It seems he hasn’t heard Rick. “I like it out there,” he says finally. “I don’t like this house.” His voice is oddly agitated.

“Why do you come back here to sleep?” asks Rick.

“I have an enemy. He wants to kill me. So I come here when I’m tired.” Radek looks over at Rick, his eyes shining for just a second. “I will tell you something.”

“What?”

“In a little while all of you will be dead.” Radek laughs. “You think I’m crazy,” don’t you?”

After a moment, Rick says. “I don’t know.”

It turns out the wonderful things that are happening out there is a new species of man, of life, on earth. The radiation was caused man and beast to evolve into thick-skinned, horned ghouls that survive by eating each other, dead or alive; creatures that can survive; indeed, can only survive on radiated flesh, radiated water, radiated air.

It also becomes clear that Radek is at the bottom of the food chain in this new world, in danger nightly of being eaten himself by much stronger, fully evolved ghouls - beasts with three eyes, horns, and tiny vestigial arms that resemble the dewclaws of dogs or cats. The valley is the last bastion of human life, out beyond the valley, a new life is taking over. As if this weren’t enough, these new creatures also have the power of telepathy and start to lure Louise out at night (it seems correct that creatures should find her the most susceptible. Throughout the picture she has been highly desirable but awfully simple-minded. After the childlike Louise, the creatures may find Ruby a tougher nut to crack).

The flimsy social contract between the six remaining humans begins to unravel very quickly when Radek eats Pete’s beloved burro, Diablo (we see Radek walking him off into the woods). While searching for Diablo, Maddison and Rick come upon a dying mutant who tells them of the horrifying world beyond the ridge; various stages of mutants, some very strong, all eating each other in a battle for survival; it’s dog-eat-dog out there, quit literally. This mutant, who has huge claws and thick-taloned feet, is further along in the radiation-inspired evolution that Radek. “Radek must be phase I,” concludes Rick.

Pete decides he’s had enough after the loss of Diablo and decides to simply wonder off over the ridge, “prospecting for gold.” Maddison chases after him in an effort to stop his suicide, but the last we see of Pete, he is beyond the ridge enveloped in a fog of lethal radiation, pawing at the side of a hill with his bare hands. In pursuing Pete, Maddison has gone too far and given himself a lethal dose of radiation. Upon returning, he is a much reduced man and has marked himself for death and will spend the rest of the picture on the couch.

Tony figures the time is right to make his move on Louise, packing a kitchen knife along in case his natural charm doesn’t work. He marches her out into the nearby woods at knifepoint and begins a rather wordy rape effort (telling her how nothing every comes easy for him; how she is something new in his life - the kind of girl he has always wanted, etc., etc.). Ruby comes and saves Louise, but ends up knifed herself. In a rather shocking scene (made all the more brutal by Jergens’ sympathetic performance as stripper with a good heart) Tony tosses her body over a cliff, where it thumps heavily off rocks on the way down.

We are down to four survivors now (Radek has been devoured by a more powerful and uglier mutant a little earlier, just as he was finishing off Diablo); with Maddison weak and incapacitated on the couch, keeping himself in covers, listening to the one-note warble of his precious radio. He and Rick suspect Tony has killed Ruby, but can’t do anything to prove it. During the night, Louise gets seduced in her dreams by the monster’s thought beams, and finds herself walking away into the woods. Her father realizes she is gone and sends Rick out with an M1 Rifle, keeping Rick’s revolver for himself in case Tony tries anything on a helpless old man (he does). His final advice to Rick is: “if there is no other way out, use that gun on Louise.” Dang!

The creature has grabbed the semi-conscious Louise and is carrying her off, presumably to some lair where it can dine in peace. She struggles briefly, just enough so that the beast looses his grip, plopping her in a lake (and here it might be added that the creature is a bit on the smallish side, with very skinny legs. The actor playing the monster, Paul Blaisdell, must have been a very slim, small man as he is clearly struggling mightily when carrying Lori Nelson, who herself was petite. Blaisdell can count himself very fortunate that the monster was never called upon to abduct Adele Jergens, who was a good twenty pounds heaver and 3 or 4 inches taller than Nelson).

Louise notices the creatures is very frustrated and unable to reach her, and she realizes it is afraid of the water. Rick shows up and tears loose with the M1, but the creature swats at the bullets like annoying flies and gets a good death grip on Rick’s throat. “It’s afraid of the water!” shrieks Louise. “It’s afraid of the water!” Rick manages to tear loose from the grip just enough to leap into the lake next to Louise, and the creature paws at the air ineffectually. As the two stand wondering what could cause a creature that could walk through 30.’06 rifle fire to fear getting its feet wet, it begins to rain.

“Here comes your rain,” says Tony, back at the house, peering though a curtain. He has managed to swipe one revolver from the sick and dying Maddison (the captain has been predicting their final days would come with the rain, which would fall on them from radiation-saturated clouds). Tony has told Maddison that he plans to kill rick upon their return, if they return, and then complete his business with Louise.

Meanwhile, something strange is happening to the monster. The rain is having an awful effect, and the monster begins to stumble. It tries to run, but it’s coordination is lost and it falls over on its back. Its skin begins to hiss and steam. The water is killing it. It finally stops twitching and dies, which releases clouds of steam. Lori and rick stand nearby, drenched and staring at the thing, which is now steaming like a doused barbecue grill.

“I can’t hear it anymore,” says Lori, referring to the telepathic hold the beast had on her. “I’m free of him.” She stares a minute more. “I feel so sorry for him,” she says, looking down at what looks like a hissing pile of briquettes. “So strange I feel that way.” Strange indeed; considering the thing was about to eat her alive. But then, this is the same sweet, simple thing that had to steel herself to tell Pete he couldn’t bring the burro in the house. Rick fires a couple of shots into the air to signal that all is well, although it is difficult to grasp how shots fired into the air could signal safety when not five minutes before shots fired meant that Rick was about to get eaten.

Back at the house, though, Rick understands immediately, and grins back at the nearly dead Maddison. “They must be signaling they’re OK.” This means that he will get to kill Rick as the two return and then get to claim Louise. As the two return, Tony raises the pistol and squints down the barrel. Just a bit further. That’s right. Just a little more . . .

But Maddison pulls his second, hidden revolver from under the pillow and, after a perfunctory warning, drills the bastard in the back, then twice more for good measure as the first shot spins Tony around, his face nicely distorted in fear and pain (here Connors does a very nice death flop flat on his belly).

Maddison then quickly dies in his daughter’s arms, but not before the old man can explain that it was the rain that killed the radiated creatures. These horribly mutated creatures could only survive in a radiated world. They needed only radiated water and air as well. It was the pure rain water and rain-purified air that killed them.

“Man created it, but God destroyed it,” says Louise, giving the Little Golden Book summarization of her father’s rather scientific death speech. “He brought the pure rain and the fresh air.”

Yes, Dear, thank you. I couldn’t have put it any simpler myself. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to put the finishing touches on my final words, unless of course you have any more clarifying observations for the children in the audience.

“There was a voice on the radio,” continues Maddison, just managing to get the words all out before dying, “while you were gone. There are others out there. There’s a future out there, for you two. You’ve got to go and find it.” Maddison’s eyes close and his face relaxes, and Louise holds him a last time, sobbing.

The final shot is of Louise and Rick, happy and confident now, a blonde and beautiful Adam and Eve searching for other Adam and Eves, backpacking up the ridge, beyond that dreaded border, and out of the valley. The word “The Beginning” is spelled across the screen in huge typeface over the end theme music, and we fade to black.

I have watched this film now perhaps a half-dozen times, and I have found it stands up to that many viewings quite well. It took me at least two viewings to notice a few small but very nice directorial touches; for instance, throughout the film, wherever Louise is, there is often a framed shot of herself and her boyfriend, Tommy, who didn’t make it through the initial bombing. In fact, the first shot we see of Louise, she is staring at it. “it’s no use, Louise,” says Dad with his customary succinctness, turning for a moment from his ham Radio, “I’m afraid you’ll never see him again.” Louise doesn’t say anything and after a moment firms her jaw and sets the photograph lovingly back on the table. The picture remains close to her through the rest of the picture.

When she begins to sense the telepathic communication of the monster, she brings the photo into her bedroom, as though this artifact of her love will keep her safe. She places it carefully on her nightstand, in the supreme place of devotion. It will appear subtly in many shots, never far from Louise but not so noticeable it begs attention. Her grief for her lost love is made poignant and very private by Lori Nelson’s performance as Louise. She never cries and doesn’t ever speak of her pain; nor does she ever mention Tommy by name. The physical closeness of the object is all the comfort Louise will seek. Finally, as Louise and Rick are leaving the house, backpacking out into the freshly cleansed world, Louise looks at the photo one last time, lays it face down on her nightstand, and leaves it behind.

Corman also frames several nice shots, which, imagining the lightening pace of his work, must have appeared to him suddenly, on the fly. My favorite is the shot which has Ruby, after an impromptu mock striptease, dissolving into pain and tears at the lustful life she has lost. The wall near her is decorated with the thespian masks of tragedy and comedy. Corman comes in for a near close-up, and Ruby’s face, next to comedy, has become a classic mask of tragedy.

The outside shooting is very minimal, with Corman getting a great deal of mileage out of “the ridge” over which humans many not pass. Yet with very little to work with, Corman manages to really convey a feeling of distance – of burned and desolate earth, still smoking and smoldering in radioactive heat.

The character of Jim Madison, patriarch and Biblical Moses of the film, also seems to gain in dimension with repeated viewings. At first we may see in him only that Tony the thug sees: an ex-military hard ass, accustomed to barking orders and being obeyed; but after a viewing or two he gains dimension, becoming a old-testament prophet, guiding and shaping a new civilization by the force of his will (this picture was one of the first to imagine a world and civilization after nuclear destruction).

He has foreseen the coming of the end of man; has, in fact, been spoken to by God by way of signs: In is former life in the Nave, Captain Maddison had been in charge of toting animals in and out of atomic test sites for the government. In this work, he had seen some of the animals mutated, changed so radically as to be a new and terrifying species. He has kept some sketches he made of the new creatures, all of which died very quickly after mutation (the government, of course, allowed no picture taking). Maddison has kept these sketches over the years as signs and symbols of the evil that will befall the earth. Thus, he has been chosen and prepared for survival and accepts his role as guide. He controls how much food they eat, how much water they drink, what course of action they take; and most importantly, he pushes his daughter into the arms of Rick, the only eligible man left in the world, with the blunt mission of having children.

The performances throughout are very good: Mike Connors is effectively brutal and soulless, Lori Nelson manages innocent without sentiment, and Raymond Hatton had “western character” patented by this time in his career.

Paul Birch, who was one of Corman’s key talents until a falling out during the filming of Not of This Earth (1957), is right on the money as Jim Maddison, a part that called not only for solid acting chops but a resonant physical presence (something Birch had in spades). I was thoroughly creeped out by Paul Debov as Radek – with his strange bowl haircut and dark eyes, Debov is fevered and unearthly, very effective in his gradual transformation into something no longer human; lusting for only toxic flesh.

The standouts, though, are Richard Denning as Rick and Adele Jergens as Ruby. Denning’s excellent performance will come as no surprise to fans of B movies. He was the best leading man in Bs, working solidly for two decades prior to this film. He was forty-one when he played Rick and looked just fine pairing up with the twenty-two year old Lori Nelson. He didn’t look bad, either, lugging Radek around over rough ground in a fireman’s carry in the beginning of the film (if you think that’s easy, grab a buddy about your own size and give it a whirl walking downhill over rocky terrain). Denning never turned in a bad performance, but this thoughtful, measured take on Rick is one of his best (I also loved Denning in his last film work, where he played Gov. Paul Jameson in over seventy episodes of Hawaii Five-O during the late 1960s, 70s, and 80s –still looking vigorous).

No matter how many times I watch this movie, I keep waiting for one of the males, maybe even Captain Maddison, to recognize what a great hunk of woman Ruby is. No one ever does, though, except for maybe doomed prospector Pete, who only considers her a good egg because she brings him stolen sugar for his moonshine. Ruby is a stripper at the least, maybe even a hooker, but she is about as unapologetic as can be imagined. Hell, the major problem with the bomb from her perspective is that it keeps her from stripping before live crowds. She loves dancing and stripping, spends a nice hunk of the picture dreaming up new routines or reliving old ones - her hips and arms in a virtual perpetual motion to the various jazz records that have survived the blast - and just can’t wait for things to return to normal so she can start taking her clothes off again for money. She is, in short, a great big burst of positive in a bleak, negative world. How could you not love this woman?

Adele Jergens, an ex showgirl (she was, in fact, named “number one showgirl of New York City") and Radio City Rockette, radiated Brooklyn sexy tough with a warm heart. She is given the best scene in the movie, which she lovingly wallops out of the park; a mock strip in front of all the survivors that even puts a grin on dirt bag Tony’s face. During this great bump and grind, done to some slinky jazz, she treats us as well to the best dialogue in the film:

“When I came out they’d start shouting and whistling,” she says, her eyes lit by memory, her face radiant, her body big and full of grace and rhythm, “and after awhile all you could hear was their breathing. Mmmm, it used to scare me the way they breathed.” Continuing her dance, she places her hand over the phallic handle of a nearby Geiger counter and asks Rick, “What’s my Roentgen count? Read me, daddy!” (Rick just smiles, but I would like to respond in his stead, if I may. Her radioactive count is high. What’s the highest count on a Geiger counter? It’s that one).

Ruby concludes her dance saying, “about here I’d start to peel –“ she positions herself near a corner of a wall, grasping it with both hands, “— and as I get near the wings, they’d give me a blue spot, and I’d start to give them the clincher.” She has timed her breathy, educational demonstration to perfectly sync with the climax of the song; and as a single horn shrieks, we are treated to Ruby giving us “the clincher” – a well-simulated climax of a different sort, her body sliding slightly down the corner of the wall.

For her efforts she is given a lone, drunken handclap from Pete (aside from my enthusiastic applause from the passive side of the screen). This hollow slapping of a single pair of hands brings Ruby back to the horrible reality of her future, one devoid of the thrills she so loves, and she dissolves into post-orgasmic sobbing.

What a goddamn great scene. One I can only hope Ms. Jergens remained proud of until her last breath (she died in 2002).

A great movie whether you are a Corman fan or not; a must-see if you admire the great director’s work. Worth seeing for the Ruby’s grind down memory lane all by itself. Heck, during that scene, I even stopped eating popcorn. WATCH THE TRAILER BELOW – Radiation Cinema