The Best of Mr. B.I.G.

BEGINNING OF THE END (1957)
Directed by Bert I. Gordon
Starring:
Peggy Castle – Audrey Aimes
Peter Graves – Dr. Ed Wainwright
Morris Ankrum – Gen. John Hanson
Thomas Browne Henry – Col. Tom Sturgeon

When considering the best of Bert I. Gordon, fans nearly always give the nod to his 1957 atomic age milestone, The Amazing Colossal Man. It is certainly the film for which he is best remembered, and it is impossible to think of that golden era of sci-fi film without picturing irradiated Lt. Col. Glenn Manning, hairless and 60 feet tall, striding through the streets of Las Vegas in his diaper sarong. I love the film myself and think it very good and have given my reasoning in an earlier post (see sidebar film list). While it is difficult to argue the supremacy in the Gordon canon of Colossal, I prefer his lesser known effort from the same year, Beginning of the End.

As reviewed in last weeks’ post, Gordon had a carnivorous hunger for ticket sales and didn’t concern himself much about his place in film history. For Gordon, and many other cinematic speed kings of the 1950s, the avenue to a profitable picture had three basic ingredients. The pictures needed to be made 1) quickly and 2) cheaply. Why? Simple. Quicker was better because the more product you had to sell, the higher was the profit potential for all concerned. Cheap was also very good because often the studios offered artists like Gordon a flat fee, say $80,000 for a finished picture. If the picture cost $65,000 to make, the result was a tidy fifteen large right into the old hip pocket. Sometimes film makers got some percentage off the back end, sometimes all their money came up front or C.O.D. as I’ve described, but whatever the financial model, fast and cheap was always a very good thing, provided folks still came to see the picture.

This sweet money train fell off the tracks in a hell of a hurry, though, without 3) high ticket sales. Obviously, poor ticket sales lost the studio money. For men like Gordon, this was worst case scenario. Lousy reviews? Who cares? At least we got some word of mouth, right? Some do-gooders complaining about excessive violence? Good. Bad publicity beats no publicity, am I right? But poor box office? Disaster. Pure disaster. If you were a film maker that lost the studio money, your name was suddenly pronounced in the hushed tones normally reserved for the sick and dying. Two flops and you might as well be dead.

I indulge myself with this rather dull digression because this desperate need for box office was what made those magic moments of “B” we fans cherish. The rabid pursuit of ticket sales often led directors to pure sensation or tumbling into scenes of downright surreal juxtaposition, such as the moment in Richard Cunha’s 1958 Frankenstein’s Daughter, when, in the midst of a monster’s killing rampage through a town, we suddenly find a principal, Don (Harold Loyd, Jr.) breaking into a swinging version of "Daddy Bird” with the Page Cavanaugh Trio at an impromptu pool party (there was plenty of twistin’ going on!). Lord knows Gordon was not shy when it came to such slavering moments of outright supplication for audience favor (many of which I discuss in last week’s post), but on one or two films all the stars aligned for Mr. B.I.G., and commercial pursuits balanced nicely with artistic quality. This leads me (finally) to this week’s offering, Beginning of the End.

The plot of Beginning is both classic and simple, which is always a winning combination as long as these qualities are strictly adhered to (Gordon does). It falls into the beloved “big-bug” genre, with grasshoppers (locusts) being the irradiated insect of choice. Reporter Audrey Aimes (Peggy Castle) investigations into the mysterious destruction of a small Illinois town, Ludlow, lead her to a team of scientists working for the Department of Agriculture. Dr. Ed Wainwright (Peter Graves) and Dr. Frank Johnson (Than Wyenn) feed their fruits and vegetables a food containing highly radioactive isotopes, which in turn produces a greenhouse full of tomatoes the size of medicine balls and footballs-sized strawberries. As you might expect, a bunch of locusts have gotten into a silo of radiation-rich wheat and grown big as school buses. They grow so big because the radioactive food produces a vastly increased growth cycle; a “sun that never sets.” This work is not without its hazards, as Dr. Wainwright’s sidekick, Dr. Johnson, as been rendered a deaf mute from his exposure to the isotopes (sadly, Dr. Johnson seems not to have learned by his mistakes, as the initial scenes set at the greenhouse have him working happily in the soil of the plants, dressed in only a lab coat).

These black clouds of giant locusts unleash a biblical plague of destruction across the state; finally threatening the Windy City (this midwest setting was rare in sci-fi in the atomic age and quite the breath of fresh air. Normally the desert was the local of first choice). Despite Dr. Wainwright and the lovely Ms. Aimes’ best efforts to convince the military of the world-destroying power of the locusts, our armed forces are a bit slow to treat the threat seriously. Once they become convinced, though, the Army releases all the hounds in a dizzying display of 1950s military hardware (and some WWII vintage stuff as well thanks to some ubiquitous stock footage). Naturally, nothing does the trick as the bugs advance toward the shores of Lake Michigan. The giant locusts have left such a trail of scorched earth in their wake, the Army’s last-ditch efforts include dropping the A-bomb on the city of Chicago, sacrificing the entire city in an effort to squash the threat once and for all. The persistent research of Dr. Wainwright finally pays off, though, as our entomologist discovers a way to defeat the bugs at the 11th hour.

Beginning is the tightest picture that Gordon ever made. It tells its tale with a lean, linear efficiency; with no superfluous scenes of hip-cat singing or dancing, no token teenage characters spouting crazy jive, and no hubba-hubba romance - despite the spectacular loveliness of lead actress, Peggy Castle. It is this taught briskness that gives it the edge over Colossal, which stumbles ever so slightly with some excessively dippy science. Gordon also lined up his finest troupe of actors for Beginning: In character support we have Morris Ankrum (Gen. John Hanson) and Thomas Browne Henry (Col. Tom Sturgeon). Both Brown and Ankrum were solid, upright B actors who always hit the mark on time without any need for 2nd takes. Ankrum in particular made a living at this stuff, always playing senior military men or head scientists, and his well-lined face, so full of dignified authority, can be seen in Zombies of Mora Tau, Kronos, Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, The Giant Claw, Giant From the Unknown, and many more. No movie, anywhere, contains a bad Morris Ankrum performance. They really don’t make character actors like Ankrum anymore for a variety of reasons, and we are all the poorer for it. As Dr. Ed Wainwright, Peter Graves is also very good. Graves’ sci-fi B-movie credentials are first rate, having comported himself well in Red Planet Mars (1952), and It Conquered the World (1956). Graves, who is best known for his seven season run as Mr. Phelps in the television classic, Mission Impossible, brings a certain gravity and steadiness to the role of Dr. Wainwright that fits the part like a glove. Graves' natural sense of focus and earnestness in front of the camera not only makes the science of the movie sound creditable (or at least as credible as possible); it also pays dividends with regard to the adult romance that gradually develops (but never fully flowers so as to present a distraction) between the photojournalist and the scientist. Then there is Peggy Castle. With regard to Ms. Castle, we may as well head right into the Good Stuff.

Good Stuff: The Photojournalist Dressed in White

What makes this picture so unique in the large body of work from Mr. B.I.G. is not only the well-defined character of journalist Audrey Aimes; but the warm, intelligent portrayal of the character by Peggy Castle into the bargain.

No character in a Gordon film was ever given as much development, back story, or was so rooted in a tangible reality, as was photojournalist Audrey Aimes (So well defined is her character, one can't help but wonder if Audrey Aimes might be modeled on the World War II photojournalist, Margaret Burke-White, who was very popular during the atomic age). From the moment of her arrival on scene, asking for permission to pass a military roadblock, Castle beams with a smart confidence that nearly radiates light (it doesn’t hurt that Gordon dressed Castle, a very tall blonde, in a brilliant white dress through the early going, creating an impression that nearly requires sunglasses). She is instantly the film’s heroine, and we realize the moment she speaks that this is the character we are going to follow to the truth. As she makes her way through the hierarchy of the military, trying to receive the clearance she needs to cover her story, she never once appears bouncy or cute, never flirtatious. There is something strong and willful about her, and it took me a second watch-through to catch it: Her dialogue through all these early scenes, as she is dealing with soldier after soldier moving steadily up the food-chain, is the exact same dialogue that would have been written for a male reporter.

This couldn’t have been an accident, and if you don’t think that this treatment of a female character was a rare thing for this era of B-movie film making, you simply haven’t watched enough B-movies from the atomic age (don’t worry, life is long). One only has to witness the endless line of saucy-girl dialogue and flirty grins Mara Corday was forced to give the boys in Tarantula (1955) or The Black Scorpion (1957); or watch Joyce Meadows in high heels serving John Agar and buddies trays of burgers and beer out on the patio in The Brain From Planet Arous, to get the gist of the norm. These women had no history, and their characters could be summed up, usually, with words like “perky” or “feisty” never “brilliant” or “noble” or, God forbid, “troubled” (this was particularly unfortunate in the case of Corday, whose natural power and heart shinned through even the most clichéd of parts). There were exceptions, of course (see my post for Alligator People and Beverly Garland), but by and large women were either ravishing lab assistants or did a lot of foot stamping with hands placed on hips.

It is much different here with Peggy Castle. In Beginning, she is a journalist and photographer, seasoned by the horrors of war. Some very nice moments of script occur when several of the high-ranking military men upon meeting her, compliment her book about the Korean War. She is given immediate entry into this world of men not because of her looks, sense of humor, or “pluckiness.” Nope. The men, none of them sensitive types by a far cry, give her respect for her professional accomplishments alone. She has paid her dues, done good work, and she gets respect. Simple as that.

Finally, because of her reputation for integrity, Aimes is allowed a military escort into Ludlow, the town mysteriously destroyed. We see some stock film here, a combination of flood or hurricane footage - flat, hard landscapes devoid of trees, buildings squashed flat and spread like matchsticks over the earth – with Castle’s image superimposed over the wreckage taking pictures with her camera. “I’ve had enough,” she says finally, her face reflecting a grim weariness.

“Some people use calendars to count age. I could use ruins to count mine,” she says to Capt. Barton (James Seay) as she drives them back to the base, “I was twenty-five when I went through Seoul after it was shelled. I was twenty when I took my camera into Cologne and Berlin after World War II.”

“I guess you must be used to it,” says Barton.

“Captain, there are some things you never get used to,” she says gently, watching the road over her steering wheel (and yes, she is the one driving).

Once back at the base, our Captain decides to make his move the moment Castle pulls the car to a stop and pulls up the parking brake.

“How about a drink to wipe away the memories? Good way to get ride of the jitters” he says, leaning forward a bit and chancing a smile. “I know a little place that –“

“How do a hundred and fifty people vanish into thin air?” she asks, looking straight ahead, chopping him off at the knees. Actually, it’s worse. She hasn’t even heard him, and she is about as far removed from a “case of the jitters” as a woman can get.

To his credit, the Captain understands this instantly, displays only a flash of disappointment, and responds to her question briskly. And with that, in this crisp, easily missed moment, we have the most mature scene Mr. B.I.G. ever committed to film.

Sadly, nearly tragically, once Peter Graves enters the picture, we see the film’s center begin to shift in a grinding, earnest way, until at some point Dr. Wainwright becomes our hero. Little by little, Wainwright gets the speeches and the close-ups. There is a moment when Aimes and the two scientists are investigating a destroyed wheat silo, when Dr. Johnson is killed by a giant locust. “Get in the car!” orders Dr. Wainwright, as he jumps behind the wheel and Aimes, for the first time, rides as a passenger. As the film progresses, we find the reporter leaning more and more toward the scientist in times of distress, until the final scenes she is simply burying her face in his chest to shield herself from the horror. Graves is the one that will shoulder all the weapons while Castle is set to the side, her hand increasingly covering her mouth. There is something about Graves’ complete lack of smarm and dead-set intensity that makes this at least palatable, but still it is a goddamn, crying shame.

Imagine something different.

Imagine only a slightly different film done by Gordon - perhaps with a bigger budget, done in Technicolor, taking a slightly different path. We have a scene of complete Locust carnage, the military is responding with all it’s got, but still the sheer numbers of the bugs are taking the day, their balloon eyes showing no pity, their jaws snapping like garden sheers, dripping blood. Suddenly Dr. Wainwright has been knocked to the ground! A locust swivels on its hind legs, seeing him. It advances quickly, and all the doctor can do is scream and raise his hands before his face.

Instantly Audrey Aimes jumps up into the back of an army flatbed truck, pushes a soldier’s dead body to the side, and grabs the handles of the rear-mounted machine gun in both her hands. Posting her legs wide, she stands there in her glowing white dress, only slightly splattered with red blood. With teeth bared and her green eyes alight with pure ecstasy, she sprays the horrid insect with lead as empty brass rainbows off to the side. Hunks of meat and gristle fly from the thing as it grinds its hind legs in a hideous shrill of death.

If such had been the case, we would be discussing a great film instead of merely a very good one; and we would be calling this Gordon’s masterpiece instead of simply his best.

Lets watch Peggy deal with the fellas in the following scene. - Radiation Cinema!