In commemoration of Tony Curtis' sad passing yesterday, I thought I would use it as a reason to visit one of my guilty pleasures.
The Manitou was a horror novel hacked out (not to put too fine a point on it) in the early 70s by horror pulp novelist Graham Masterton. The story concerns the girlfriend of a small-time stage magician and psychic con artist called Harry Erskine, who finds herself with a mysterious growth on her neck. The growth turns out to be the reincarnation of malevolent native American demonic shaman Misquemacus, who has bad things in mind. Harry, enlisting the aid of untried medicine man John Singing Rock, becomes reluctant hero and joins battle.
This sounds fairly daft (and is), but it works fairly well on the printed page. This film adaptation, with Curtis as Erskine, translates it fairly faithfully to the screen, at which point you realise what a load of preposterous old tosh it actually is. Having said that, it has moderate production values, and is played straight albeit with a twinkle in its eye, and is entertaining if you are prepared to crank up the suspension of disbelief (and, let's face it, if you've sat down to watch it then that's probably the case).
Curtis had five phases to his career. There was an introductory phase, where he got by on cheesecake good looks while learning his trade. Then the second phase saw him garnering respect in movies like Spartacus and Some Like It Hot. The third phase was a plateau which included critical successes like The Boston Strangler and crowd pleasers like The Great Race. The fourth phase was a slow and graceful decline, encompassing high profile TV series The Persuaders and low rent (but relatively high budget) potboilers like The Manitou. Finally, having retired to all intents and purposes, he popped up for the odd cameo here and there.
It was a successful and well structured career, the career of a man who entered it based solely on his looks, but who had sustained success in it based largely on his talent, skill, and ability to learn.
He will be missed.
The Manitou was a horror novel hacked out (not to put too fine a point on it) in the early 70s by horror pulp novelist Graham Masterton. The story concerns the girlfriend of a small-time stage magician and psychic con artist called Harry Erskine, who finds herself with a mysterious growth on her neck. The growth turns out to be the reincarnation of malevolent native American demonic shaman Misquemacus, who has bad things in mind. Harry, enlisting the aid of untried medicine man John Singing Rock, becomes reluctant hero and joins battle.
This sounds fairly daft (and is), but it works fairly well on the printed page. This film adaptation, with Curtis as Erskine, translates it fairly faithfully to the screen, at which point you realise what a load of preposterous old tosh it actually is. Having said that, it has moderate production values, and is played straight albeit with a twinkle in its eye, and is entertaining if you are prepared to crank up the suspension of disbelief (and, let's face it, if you've sat down to watch it then that's probably the case).
Curtis had five phases to his career. There was an introductory phase, where he got by on cheesecake good looks while learning his trade. Then the second phase saw him garnering respect in movies like Spartacus and Some Like It Hot. The third phase was a plateau which included critical successes like The Boston Strangler and crowd pleasers like The Great Race. The fourth phase was a slow and graceful decline, encompassing high profile TV series The Persuaders and low rent (but relatively high budget) potboilers like The Manitou. Finally, having retired to all intents and purposes, he popped up for the odd cameo here and there.
It was a successful and well structured career, the career of a man who entered it based solely on his looks, but who had sustained success in it based largely on his talent, skill, and ability to learn.
He will be missed.