Happy Christmas from Ollie's Ghost

In the tradition of such great holiday podcasts as Florida Rocks Again! #33, Rock 'n' Roll Suicide #61, Savage Kick #23, and Killed by Porn #31, it's "A Mal Thursday Christmas" with special guests Yard Trauma, the Fleshtones, the Chesterfield Kings, the Reigning Sound, and the ghost of Oliver Reed. Presented in Living Monophonic Sound.

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Tommy (1975)

Ken Russell's 1975 film version of the Pete Townshend's rock opera Tommy is a study in excess, providing eye-popping visuals and grotesque tableaux to accompany the music. To label Russell's style of filmmaking "over the top" is putting it mildly. While some deride his work as vulgar and blasphemous, I believe Russell is one of cinema's true visionaries.

Roger Daltrey plays the title character, and having sung the role hundreds of times on stage, acquits himself admirably. Unfortunately, he would not fare as well with his future film roles.

Ann-Margaret plays his mother, and received an Academy Award nomination for her work. She emotes for the ages as she gets covered in baked beans, chocolate sauce, and soap bubbles while riding a massive phallic pillow. That's worth an Oscar nom any time...

Also in the cast are Keith Moon as Uncle Ernie, Elton John as the Pinball Wizard, Tina Turner as the Acid Queen, Jack Nicholson as the Doctor, and best of all, my main man Oliver Reed in full gargoyle mode as Frank, Tommy's stepfather.

When I first saw this movie as a 13 year old with a Who fixation, I hated Ollie for not being able to carry a tune in a bucket. Seeing it again 30 years later, I realized that he's the best thing in it, whether he's leering at Ann-Margaret, blowing cigar smoke in Jack Nicholson's face, or stomping on "Sally Simpson's" fingers.

We first meet Frank when Tommy and his mother go to a summer holiday camp, where Frank is a "greencoat." Ollie does some great physical comedy as he hosts a "lovely legs" competition ("Have you ever seen a lovelier pair?" he asks), won by Tommy's mum, of course. Soon, Frank's sleeping with her, and when Tommy's father, presumed dead, unexpectedly returns home, Frank caves in Daddy's skull, killing him for real. Tommy witnesses the crime, and is struck deaf, dumb, and blind by the trauma.

Reed's part got bigger and bigger as Keith Moon's got smaller and smaller, probably due to Ken Russell's familiarity with Oliver, and the fact that he could drink himself into stupor at night and show up on time and line-perfect in the morning, while Moonie remained stuporous. Nonetheless, Reed and Moon became bosom buddies, their carousing continuing after both relocated to Beverly Hills. I recently saw the blazer Reed sported in the holiday camp sequence on Ebay going for $2400 US. If I'd had the cash to spare, it would have been mine...

Tommy is not a total triumph: Townshend's score is heavy on the synthesizers and light on guitar crunch; the story is a bit nonsensical; and some elements of the film now seem dated in the extreme. However, Ken Russell's audacious direction is never dull, and as I mentioned, Oliver Reed is totally genius in it. No Pavarotti for sure, but unmistakably, undeniably Ollie.

Available on DVD from Sony Pictures Home Video. Get it online at The Oliver Reed Store.

A shorter version of this review was first published at Viewpoints.com, where you can read hundreds more of my write-ups, mostly film-related, as well as my reviews of books, local Austin places, various types of junk food, and some damn fine ales.

The Triple Echo a/k/a Soldier in Skirts (1972)

1972's The Triple Echo, also known as Soldier in Skirts, marked the directorial debut of documentarian Michael Apted (7 Up, 14 Up, et al.), as well as Oliver Reed's second of three collaborations with Glenda Jackson. It would have been the third of four, but Jackson allegedly turned down the Mother Superior role in Ken Russell's 1971 epic The Devils, opening the door for Vanessa Redgrave's brilliant portrayal.

Based on a story by H.E. Bates, the plot concerns a cowardly pretty boy named Barton (Brian Deacon), a private in the British army stationed in rural England during World War II. Barton takes a fancy to Alice (Jackson), a tough homesteader who is running a farm by herself while her husband, an RAF officer, is fighting for flag and country in faraway Burma. Eventually, they begin an affair, which leads to Barton deserting to live in sin with Alice. As a cover, Alice makes the deserter dress up as her sister, reasoning that the local villagers won't think twice about a female visitor, but would be suspicious of a healthy young male hanging around.

At first, Barton is repulsed and humiliated by the masquerade, but slowly gets used to it, and ultimately embraces it.


Enter Ollie as a brutish cokney sergeant who is initially attracted to Alice, gets shut down, then transfers his attentions to her "sister" Kate. There are some squirmingly funny scenes as the sergeant puts the moves on Barton, completely unaware that he is pursuing a man.

Things inevitably come to a head when Barton defies Alice and goes to a dance at the army base as the sergeant's date. Tragedy ensues, although not in the way one might expect.

The three leads are excellent, with Oliver putting his military experience to good use. One wonders if he based his character on a real person he may have encountered during his national service in the late '50s. While Apted's direction at times reveals his inexperience in dramatic films, he does capture some breathtakingly beautiful shots of the English countryside. He would later go on to direct such movies as Coal Miner's Daughter, Nell, and the James Bond flick The World is Not Enough.

The Triple Echo is not entirely successful, but lingers in the viewer's mind long after the shocking twist at the end of the film.

At the time of his death, Ollie had just signed on for the title role in My Uncle Silas, another adaptation of the short stories of H.E. Bates. The BBC production was eventually filmed with Albert Finney in the part.

Currently unavailable on DVD, The Triple Echo was released on VHS in the '80s, and can be found relatively cheap on Ebay and elsewhere.

Ollie-Bama!

The Ransom a/k/a Maniac a/k/a Assault on Paradise a/k/a The Town That Cried Terror (1977)

Released by American International Pictures in 1977, and reissued under several titles over the next few years, this turgid potboiler features ridiculous action sequences, a dopey script, and a cast of veteran actors picking up a quick paycheck. Namely Oliver Reed, sporting an exaggerated American tough guy accent, a sweaty and hungover looking Stuart Whitman, an equally sweaty John Ireland, and the laconic Jim Mitchum, son of Robert. The female lead is played by Deborah Raffin, who followed her early success in The Dove and Once is Not Enough with roles in made-for-television movies and B-flicks. This movie falls into the latter category, even if director Richard Compton gives the film the flat, cheap look of a '70s TV series.

The ludicrous plot concerns a series of murders by crossbow in a corrupt Arizona resort town, with the killer (Paul Koslo, who you may recall from his awful performance in Tomorrow Never Comes) demanding a ransom from the wealthy businessmen who run the town. Trying to keep a lid on things, Whitman hires world-weary mercenary Nick McCormick (Reed) and his faithful bald companion Wolf (Paul Lussier) to terminate the blackmailer with extreme prejudice.

A series of absurd set-pieces ensue, while the wealthy are picked off one by one, and Reed reaches the boiling point after Wolf gets an arrow in the back.

Reed is photographed to emphasize his short stature, while his scenes with Raffin are particularly incredulous. She's a TV reporter, he's a soldier of fortune. He steals her microphone, she confronts him, he pulls a gun on her, she sleeps with him.

It's totally '70s.

Originally entitled The Ransom, the film was rechristened Maniac in the fall of '77, with a lurid ad campaign created to tie it in with the Son of Sam killings. It later showed up at drive-ins and grindhouses, and on TV under the titles Assault on Paradise and The Town That Cried Terror.

Yeah, this movie is a piece of shit, but it has its moments.

Originally published in BLOG! by JM Dobies 16 May 2008.

Though currently unavailable on DVD, the VHS can be found cheap under the titles Maniac and The Ransom.

The Assassination Bureau (1969)

Today's entry in The Oliver Reed Film Festival is 1969's The Assassination Bureau, an old-fashioned romp about murder most foul starring two of Britain's finest: Ollie and Mrs. Peel!

Reed, still sporting the epic mutton chops from his role as Bill Sykes in Oliver!, is Ivan Dragamilov, the head of the super-secret organization of the title; Diana Rigg, never more beautiful, and fresh off of her run as Emma Peel on TV's "The Avengers," is Miss Winter, aspiring journalist and proto-feminist. Reed and Rigg's undeniable chemistry and sexual tension give the film an added kick.

The droll screenplay is by Michael Relph (additional dialogue by Peter Sellers's favorite script doctor, Wolf Mankowitz) with old pro Basil Dearden (League of Gentlemen, The Mind Benders) providing solid, if somewhat zoom-happy, direction. The plot concerns Rigg's hiring of the bureau to kill Reed, its chairman, and the episodic farce is then played out in various European locales. It's slapstick comedy, but a very dark form of slapstick comedy, with many of the principles dying violently.

The international cast includes veteran character actors Curt Jergens, Clive Revill, and Phillipe Noiret, all mugging shamelessly as members of the bureau. Telly Savalas plays Lord Bostwick, the vice chariman, with a Brooklynese British accent. Savalas and Dame Diana would appear together again later that year in the James Bond movie On Her Majesty's Secret Service with George Lazenby as 007, who was cast in the role over Oliver Reed, because of Ollie's reputation as a boozer and womanizer. Which is ironic, considering Bond's fondness for booze and women.

God knows Reed would have made a great Bond, a damn sight better than Lazenby or Roger Moore. I'm a fan of the latest Bond, Daniel Craig, whom one might say has a bit of Ollie in him.

The print quality and transfer on the DVD release are not the sharpest by any stretch, but most of the original color is still intact, and it is presented in widescreen.

The Assassination Bureau is a chance to see two of my favorite actors in their prime, showing intense charisma in a sly and dry bit bit of filmed entertainment.

30 year later, Reed and Rigg would both appear in Michael Winner's 1998 comedy dud Parting Shots, but not in the same scene, and the less said about that one, the better.

Cheers!

The DVD from Paramount Home Video is now out of print, so shop around for a decent price.

A shorter version of this review was first published at Viewpoints.com, where you can read hundreds more of my write-ups, mostly film-related, as well as my reviews of books, local Austin places, various types of junk food, and some damn fine ales.

The Oliver Reed Film Festival Video: The Director's Cut!

Here's the director's cut of the little promotional video I made for The Oliver Reed Film Festival blog, with musical accompaniment by British punk band Menace. It's also on You Tube, but this is the definitive edit.

Cheers!