This essay is Thrilling Days of Yesteryear’s contribution to the Roger Corman Blogathon, which is being sponsored by and is currently underway at Nathanael Hood’s Forgotten Classics of Yesteryear from June 17-19.
When writer-director-producer Roger Corman—known to film buffs and fanatics as “The Pope of Pop Cinema”—was paid tribute with honorary recognition at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Governor’s Awards in November 2009, I’m sure I was but one of many who was thrilled that the legendary B-movie filmmaker was finally getting his due. Roger was a master of making entertaining (and very, very profitable) movies on the skimpiest of budgets—it was once joked that “Corman could negotiate the production of a film on a pay phone, shoot the film in the booth, and finance it with the money in the change slot.”
I remember at the time of the announcement that there were a few dissenters in the crowd—one critic acknowledged that while Corman played a significant role in furthering the careers of filmmakers like Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese and Peter Bogdanovich, it didn’t excuse the fact that Rog made “lousy movies.” This individual, who was not only wrong but wrong at the top of his lungs, glossed over the fact that Corman was chiefly responsible for bringing to the U.S. a lot of the artsy-fartsy foreign films the critic no doubt rhapsodized over through the distribution arm of Corman’s New World Pictures. The man who helmed drive-in fare like Attack of the Crab Monsters (1957) and Creature from the Haunted Sea (1961) never harbored any delusions that he was making great art, but many of the entries in his catalog—in particular the horror films loosely based on the works of Edgar Allan Poe he helmed in the 1960s—are every bit as good as those “serious” filmmakers.
As a budding couch potato, it was not uncommon for me to while away my carefree youthful hours staring at Chiller Theater on Saturday nights (particularly when the ‘rents were out for the evening) where I caught many a Corman flick, notably favorites like Day the World Ended (1955), The Undead (1957) and The Wasp Woman (1959). A particular standout in Rog’s voluminous cinematic oeuvre is A Bucket of Blood (1959), a film that has attained cult status among cineastes and is infamously known for its miniscule budget ($50,000) and lightning-quick shooting schedule (five days…and Corman was soon to make movies even faster than this). Roger says in his autobiography (How I Made a Hundred Movies in Hollywood and Never Lost a Dime) that with Blood he invented the genre known as “black comedy”…and while this is certainly a bit of an exaggeration (productions like Arsenic and Old Lace and Murder, He Says predate it by about fifteen years) it’s nevertheless a splendid example of successfully blending horror elements with deadpan comedy.
Lowly busboy Walter Paisley (Dick Miller) works at a coffeehouse known as The Yellow Door, and though he’s a likable little nebbish his main function (aside from bussing tables and serving up espresso) seems to be that of doormat to the Door’s Bohemian patrons and especially its proprietor, Leonard de Santis (Antony Carbone). Walter has aspirations of becoming a sculptor, and after being inspired by the verse of beatnik poet Maxwell H. Brock (Julian Burton), he returns to his squalid apartment to attempt fashioning a clay likeness of the Yellow Door’s hostess Carla (Barboura Morris), the only individual who treats him with kindness and respect. Frustrated by the fact that he has no talent or aptitude for art, he hears his landlady’s cat meowing plaintively within his apartment wall…and using a knife to cut through the plaster and rescue the feline (Warning—you cat devotees in the audience might want to go out to the kitchen for a snack…)…
“Dead Cat” proves to be a hit with the café’s clientele, and Walter soon finds himself the object of admiration…even acquiring a groupie named Naolia (Jhean Burton), who bestows upon him a vial of heroin as a tribute to his genius. Unfortunately for Mr. Paisley, that tribute is also a felony in the state where he resides…and an undercover cop named Lou Raby (future game host Bert Convy, billed as “Burt”), having witnessed the transaction, is prepared to book poor Walt for possession. In a moment of panic, and terrified that Raby has pulled a gun on him, Walter cleaves Lou’s cranium with a gi-normous frying pan and stashes the corpse in the rafters when landlady Mrs. Swickert (Myrtle Vail), channeling her inner Gladys Kravitz, pays Walter a surprise visit and scolds him about the state of his living quarters…
Tooling around the coffeehouse, boss de Santis carelessly knocks over “Dead Cat” from its stand and upon picking it up from the floor discovers…
…that Walter took a few shortcuts in fashioning his masterpiece. So when Walter invites de Santis and Carla back to his place to see his latest creation in clay, “Murdered Man”:
…de Santis starts to get a little ill. (Personally, I think he should have titled the piece “Elegy for a Tattletale.” Get it? Bert was a narc but he was also the host of…well, it was funny in the first draft, anyway…) De Santis wants to do the right thing and inform the authorities that Walter’s gone psycho, but when an art collector (Bruno VeSota) offers $500 for “Dead Cat” de Santis figures “What’s the worse that could happen?”
De Santis gives Walter a little walking-around money (to scotch Carla’s idea of giving the aspiring artist a “show” to display his unorthodox works) and Paisley starts to become the picture of sophistication as many of the Yellow Door’s patrons (particularly poet Brock) begin to treat him with fervent awe and respect (“Bring me a cappuccino, and a piece of papaya cheesecake... and, uh, and a bottle of Yugoslavian white wine…” commands a beret-wearing, “Zen stick”-carrying Walter to a Yellow Door waitress.). When a snooty model named Alice (Judy Bamber) responds to Walter’s newly-acquired self-esteem with scorn and derision, Walter actively seeks her out at her apartment and asks her to pose for a statue he’s making. (A poor career move on her part, as we will soon discover to our horror.) At Casa del Paisley,
looks at the clay on Walter’s table and observes: “That doesn’t look like very much clay.” “Oh, it’s enough,” Walter responds, as he wraps a scarf around his hands and… Alice
…oh, such delicious irony…because
was a real pain in the neck. (Testing…is this thing on?) The next morning, Walter turns up at Brock’s digs, wanting to show off his latest work…which is, of course, the clay-covered corpse of the unfortunate Alice . Walter’s stature among the coffeehouse’s creative element begins to grow by leaps and bounds, with Brock throwing him a party in his honor and composing a poem as tribute (“Alley cats and garbage cans and steaming pavements and you and I and the nude descending the staircase and all such things with souls—we know that Walter Paisley’s born!”). Drunk with both wine and the adulation/acceptance of his peers, Paisley staggers homeward and an encounter with a furniture factory worker… Alice
…leads to another genuine
…she hauls ass and elbows out of the Yellow Door, Walter hot on her trail.
Paisley then finds himself distracted by the disembodied voices of Lou and and returns to his apartment…where the results of his successful suicide by hanging is witnessed by Carla, de Santis, Brock and the police. Brock proclaims that Walter’s hanging could be “his greatest work.” Alice
American International Pictures—the movie production company founded by James H. Nicholson and Samuel Z. Arkoff that specialized in cheap, profitable drive-in fodder—approached Roger Corman in mid-1959 about making a movie for them but could only offer Rog $50,000 and a five-day shooting schedule. So Corman, in collaboration with scriptwriter Charles B. Griffith, decided to create a horror film that would also satirize the beatnik culture movement prevalent in California at that time. Corman and Griffith borrowed many elements from the 1933 horror classic Mystery of the Wax Museum and its 1953 remake House of Wax for A Bucket of Blood’s plot, filling in the necessary background of the “beat” atmosphere by conducting research at various coffeehouses located along the Sunset Strip.
The collaboration between Corman and Griffith was a good one; Blood is considered one of Roger’s best films and the two men would re-team on a movie that Corman filmed in even faster time (two-and-a-half days) and on a tinier shoestring budget ($30,000): The Little Shop of Horrors (1960). (Even though Blood did very well at the box office, Corman had to be persuaded into doing another comedy-horror film.)
One of the reasons I’ve never been part of the Little Shop of Horrors cult is that while I admire the wit and performances in the picture, the low-budget really hurts the movie…particularly at the end when “Audrey, Jr.” blooms. Dick Miller, the star of Bucket of Blood (he’s also in Horrors, as the guy on the flower diet), has expressed a similar disappointment with Blood because the tight shooting schedule and depleted budget hurt the movie in a couple of areas—they had to use mannequins for Walter’s “statues,” for example. I actually think the mannequins work because there’s a sort of abstractness to them; the picture only really suffers in the final shot where we find Walter (bad pun alert) at the end of his rope because he was originally supposed to be encased in clay (like his sculptures) and they cheaped out by using gray makeup instead. (Though I suppose if you stopped to think about it—how could Walter both hang himself and preserve the moment in clay all by his lonesome?)
Miller was a member of Roger Corman’s “stock company,” having appeared in such earlier Corman opuses as It Conquered the World (1956) and Rock All Night (1957)…but Bucket of Blood marks one of the very few occasions that Miller received top billing. His Walter Paisley is a sympathetic little dweeb—you can’t help but feel sorry for him in the movie’s opening scenes when he’s pretty much the guy on which everyone wipes their feet…but later in the film, when he’s finally getting some long overdue respect, the audience is torn between sympathy for Walter’s desperate clinging to fame (particularly his interaction with Alice, who is obnoxious to the extreme) and revulsion over his burgeoning career as a serial killer. The name “Walter Paisley” would later be adopted as the handle for many of the characters Miller would play in future movies, notably Hollywood Boulevard (1976) but also including The Howling (1981), Twilight Zone: The Movie (1983) and Chopping Mall (1986). (He also plays “Officer Paisley” in the 1994 remake of Shake, Rattle and Rock.) Dick is, of course, a longtime TDOY fave and he’s got some really funny moments in Blood…my favorite being when he arrives at Brock’s apartment with the sculpture of
and he’s asked if he’d like some breakfast: Alice
BROCK: Some soy and wheat germ pancakes…organic guava nectar…calcium lactate and tomato juice…and garbanzo omelettes sprinkled with smoked yeast…join us?
Another rib-tickler occurs during a conversation with narc Convy, who’s stopped by the House of Paisley after seeing Walter’s groupie slip him a vial of heroin:
PAISLEY: I was just makin’ some pancakes…you can have some if you like…did you see my cat?
RABY: Yeah, I saw your cat… (Holding up the vial) I also saw that chick lay these on you…
PAISLEY: Oh, that was Naolia…she’s a nice girl…she’s kinda strange, though… (Raby is sniffing the vial’s contents) I guess she figures I get headaches or somethin’…
RABY: Okay, Walter—who’s your connection?
RABY: Yeah, connection…who do you score from? Where do you buy your horse?
RABY: Horse…junk…white stuff…heroin…
PAISLEY: Is that what that is? I never seen any of that stuff before…I always thought it was expensive…
RABY: Yeah, Walter…it can be real expensive…
Miller and Convy are probably the two most recognizable personages in Bucket of Blood, unless you count character actor veteran Ed Nelson (and I will)…who was in scads of films and episodes of TV series but is probably best known for his long-running gig as Michael Rossi on TV’s Peyton Place (he also did time as Senator Mark Denning on CBS’ daytime soaper Capitol). For the record, I do not know why Ed is dressed as a pimp for most of this movie…
…but he’s supposed to be working undercover in the same capacity as Convy’s character, and I guess he thought that coffeehouses were a hanging place for working-class macks and the women in their employ. Ed does have a funny response when Miller asks him if he’s seen his cat (sculpture): “Whatsa matter, did you lose him?”
As much a fan I am of Corman’s movies, I should probably touch upon a theme that has been discussed in other essays offered up in the blogathon…and that is, to be honest, the female characters in Rog’s films aren’t the most inspiring of role models. Most of the time, as in the case of Barbara Steele in Pit and the Pendulum (1961) or Hazel Court in The Raven (1963), they’re just pure dagnasty evil. Here in Blood, you have the main character of Carla, who’s fairly bland and just seems to exist so Walter has someone to set his sights on, and the minor character of Naolia, who comes across as a bit of a nympho. And then there’s the luckless
, whose dialogue is written in fluent bitch-ese and though she’s supposed to be a model she makes certain to introduce herself to Mr. Paisley by saying: “I only charge $25 an hour…would you like to do me?” I think Corman’s attitude on women can be summed up in this movie by a telling exchange between Walter and his landlady; she opines that what he needs is female companionship: “She doesn’t have to be pretty—just as long as she takes good care of you.” Alice
Bucket of Blood is pretty much Dick Miller’s show the whole way…the only person who comes close to stealing the film from him is Julian Burton, who has some rich moments as the imperious, full-of-himself poet Maxwell Brock (“I am proud to say my poetry is only understood by that minority which is aware”). The story goes that
wrote his own poetry in a parody of beat verse, notably the stirring sentiments that are recited over the film’s opening credits: “Life is an obscure hobo bumming a ride on the omnibus of art…” Burton
Because A Bucket of Blood has slipped into the public domain, it has been released by a number of companies in various home video forms (VHS, DVD, etc.) even though MGM/UA put out an official DVD release in 2000 (having acquired the Orion catalog, which included many of the feature films released by AIP). This disc, however, contained a pan-and-scan version of the film…but a widescreen version was made available seven years later with the release of The Roger Corman Collection. (Most of the screen captures used in this essay came from last Halloween’s showing on TCM, since I only have the p&s DVD.).