The Monstrous Movie Photo Of The Day: A Lesson In Love

Written By: Ken Hulsey

Yes my friends there is love in every corner of the galaxy even in a place as remote as Altair 4.

Hey movie moshers it's time yet once again for yet another movie photo and today I have one from what could be legitimately argued as the best sci fi film of all-time "Forbidden Planet". Now as most of you already know this cinematic treasure features a mature plot, great special effects, one of filmland's most memorable monsters (Monster From The Id) and of course Robby the Robot. Also at the heart of the story of "Forbidden Planet" is a love story ... actually a love triangle to be precise, between the only female resident of planet Altair 4, Altaira who was played by the late Anne Francis and two intergalactic rocket jocks played by Jack Kelly and Leslie Nielson (yes, the funny old guy from the Naked Gun movies).

Here is your photo caption from the back of the image:

A LESSON IN LOVE ... Anne Francis, as the daughter of a scientist on the planet Altair 4, who had never met any man except her father, gets her first kiss when she meets Jack Kelly, as an officer of a space ship from Earth, in M-G-M's first science fiction thriller "Forbidden Planet".

"Forbidden Planet" stars Walter Pidgeon and Anne Francis with Leslie Nielson, Warren Stevens, Richard Andwerson, Earl Holliman, Jack Kelly and introduces Robby, the Robot. Nicholas Nayfack produced with Fred Wilcox directing from screen play by Cyril Hume.

This is an original 8x10 studio image on glossy paper serial numbered S-1671-66,67

The Monstrous Movie Photo Of The Day: "May I Get Your Cloak Miss Altaira?"

Written By: Ken Hulsey

Without a doubt Robbie the Robot is one of the most iconic figures in one of the most iconic films, "Forbidden Planet", of the post-war sci fi era. More people today may be familiar with R2D2 and C-3PO but to us classic sci fi movie nuts Robbie kicks em both to the curb.

No offense to you Mr. Lucas .... or any of your lawyer friends.

Anyway to publicise the release of "Forbidden Planet" MGM (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer) shot literally dozens of images with Robbie alongside the films stunning heroine Altaira played by the late Anne Francis.

What red-blooded male, or in this case, robot wouldn't want to help Anne with her garments?

Our Very Own Twilight Zone Marathon - Part 2

Written By: Ken Hulsey

I honestly had so much fun putting together yesterday's MIN Twilight Zone mini marathon that I wanted to jump right back into it this morning.

There are so many excellent episodes from this show that it was literally impossible to post them all in one article. Actually even with this follow up I will only be scratching the surface.

On side note I wanted to dedicate these articles to the late Anne Francis who passed away earlier this year. Anne was most noted for her roles as Altaira in "Forbidden Planet" and the title character in "Honey West" but she also starred in two wonderful episodes of "The Twilight Zone", "Jess-Belle", which I featured yesterday, and "The After Hours".

Here is what Anne Had to say about her roles in both those episodes:

"The After Hours"

"I loved it. My first impression was what fun it was going to be to play that role. The humor in the beginning. The spaciness of each little step that took place, sort of just a little bit off-center until the horror begins for this young woman who has absolutely no memory at all of who she is or why she's on the ninth floor. The progression of that character was a lot of fun.

And then about the episode "Jess-Belle":

"(In) This one, we were able to indulge more in the different characters. Like Jeanette Nolan as the witch was wonderful, and she had her great scenes. And Jimmy (Best) as the innocent young man who is tormented really with these two women - the darkness of Jess-Belle and the spell of Jess-Belle, and the other woman, the sweet woman that really should be his love. But every time Jess-Belle was around, her spirit invaded him. There was more time to play with these emotions (referring to the fact that the episode was an hour long) and characters, and sit back and see how all of them were tormented in their own way. Except for the witch. I've told Earl (Hammer) I want to play the witch in his musical version. and he said 'No, I want you to do Jess-Belle.' But I think that it would be such fun to play the witch. With all the little potions, and wear the wonderful crazy nose and put warts on and the wild hair..."

So let's get things rolling with the appropriate intro:

You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension— a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone.

The Eye of the Beholder

It's pretty bad, isn't it? I know it's pretty bad. Ever since I can remember... ever since I was a little girl...people have turned away from me. The very first thing I can remember is a little child screaming when she looked at me. I never wanted to be beautiful. I never wanted to look like a painting. I never even wanted to be loved. I just wanted... I just wanted people not to scream when they looked at me.



I say to you now...I say to you now that there is no such thing as a permissive society, because such a society cannot exist! They will scream at you and rant and rave and conjure up some dead and decadent picture of an ancient time when they said that all men are created equal! But to them equality was an equality of opportunity, an equality of status, an equality of aspiration! And then, in what must surely be the pinnacle of insanity, the absolute in inconsistency, they would have had us believe that this equality did not apply to form, to creed. They permitted a polyglot, accident-bred, mongrel-like mass of diversification to blanket the earth, to infiltrate and weaken! Well, we know now that there must be a single purpose! A single norm! A single approach! A single entity of peoples! A single virtue! A single morality! A single frame of reference! A single philosophy of government! We cannot permit... we must not permit the encroaching sentimentality of a past age to weaken our resolve. We must cut out all that is different like a cancerous growth! It is essential in this society that we not only have a norm, but that we conform to that norm. Differences weaken us. Variations destroy us. An incredible permissiveness to deviation from this norm is what has ended nations and brought them to their knees. Conformity we must worship and hold sacred. Conformity is the key to survival.

Execution

Commonplace, if somewhat grim, unsocial event known as a necktie party. The guest of dishonor a cowboy named Joe Caswell, just a moment away from a rope, a short dance several feet off the ground, and then the dark eternity of all evil men. Mr. Joe Caswell, who, when the good Lord passed out a conscience, a heart, a feeling for fellow men, must have been out for a beer and missed out. Mr. Joe Caswell, in the last quiet moment of a violent life



This is November, 1880, the aftermath of a necktie party. The victim's name - Paul Johnson, a minor-league criminal and the taker of another human life. No comment on his death save this: justice can span years. Retribution is not subject to a calendar. Tonight's case in point in the Twilight Zone.

The After Hours

Express elevator to the ninth floor of a department store, carrying Miss Marsha White on a most prosaic, ordinary, run of the mill errand. Miss Marsha White on the ninth floor, specialties department, looking for a gold thimble. The odds are she'll find it, but there are even better odds that she'll find something else, because this isn't just a department store. This happens to be the Twilight Zone.



Marsha White in her normal and natural state…But it makes you wonder, doesn't it? Just how normal are we? Just who are the people we nod our hellos to as we pass on the street? A rather good question to ask, particularly in the Twilight Zone.

Mr. Dingle, the Strong

The uniquely American institution known as the neighborhood bar. Reading left to right are Mr. Anthony O'Toole, proprietor who waters his drinks like geraniums but who stands foursquare for peace and quiet and for booths for ladies. This is Mr. Joseph J. Callahan, an unregistered bookie, whose entire life is any sporting event with two sides and a set of odds. His idea of a meeting at the summit is any dialogue between a catcher and a pitcher with more than one man on base. And this animated citizen is every anonymous bettor who ever dropped rent money on a horse race, a prize fight, or a floating crap game, and who took out his frustrations and his insolvency on any vulnerable fellow barstool companion within arm's and fist's reach. And this is Mr. Luther Dingle, a vacuum-cleaner salesman whose volume of business is roughly that of a valet at a hobo convention. He's a consummate failure in almost everything but is a good listener and has a prominent jaw. And these two unseen gentlemen are visitors from outer space. They are about to alter the destiny of Luther Dingle by leaving him a legacy, the kind you can't hardly find no more. In just a moment, a sad-faced perennial punching bag who missed even the caboose of life's gravy train will take a short constitutional into that most unpredictable region that we refer to as the Twilight Zone.



Exit Mr. Luther Dingle, formerly vacuum-cleaner salesman, strongest man on Earth, and now mental giant. These latter powers will very likely be eliminated before too long, but Mr. Dingle has an appeal to extraterrestrial note-takers as well as to frustrated and insolvent bet-losers. Offhand, I'd say that he was in for a great deal of extremely odd periods, simply because there are so many inhabited planets who send down observers, and also because, of course, Mr. Dingle lives his life with one foot in his mouth, and the other in the Twilight Zone.

Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up

Now before you faint dead away,I think I should tell you my name isn't really Ross and I wasn't really going to Boston. No, I was sent as sort of an advance scout. You know, these cigarettes, do you call them? They taste wonderful. We haven't got a thing like this on Mars. That's incidentally where I come from. We're beginning to colonize. My friends will be arriving shortly. I think they're going to like it here. It's a lovely area. So remote and off the beaten track. Just the perfect place to set up a colony, don't you think? Now while we're waiting, how about some of what you call music.



Oh I don't mind. You see, Mr Ross, my name isn't really Hayley. And I do agree with you, this is an extraordinary place to set up a colony. We folks on Venus had the same idea. We got it several years ago. And I think I should tell you now, your friends aren't coming. They've been intercepted. Oh, a colony is coming. But it's from Venus. And if you're still alive, I think you'll see how we differ. [We takes off his hat,revealing a third eye] And I agree with you about what they call music. Why don't you play some?

The Grave

Normally, the old man would be correct. This would be the end of the story. We've had the traditional shoot-out on the street and the badman will soon be dead. But some men of legend and folk tale have been known to continue having their way even after death. The outlaw and killer Pinto Sykes was such a person, and shortly we'll see how he introduces the town, and a man named Conny Miller in particular, to the Twilight Zone.



Final comment: you take this with a grain of salt or a shovelful of earth, as shadow or substance, we leave it up to you. And for any further research check under 'G' for ghosts in the Twilight Zone.

Nightmare at 20,000 Feet

Gremlins! Gremlins! I'm not imagining it, he's out there! Don't look, he's not out there now. He jumps away whenever anyone might see him, except me.



The flight of Mr. Wilson has ended now, a flight not only from point A to point B, but also from the fear of recurring mental breakdown. Mr. Wilson has that fear no longer, though, for the moment, he is, as he said, alone in this assurance. Happily, his conviction will not remain isolated too much longer, for happily, tangible manifestation is very often left as evidence of trespass, even from so intangible a quarter as the Twilight Zone.

See Also: Our Very Own Twilight Zone Marathon / SyFy To Once Again Air The Annual TWILIGHT ZONE Marathon July 4th / Comic Con Exclusive William Shatner Twilight Zone Doll / The Twilight Zone - Talky Tina Doll Replica / A Tribute To Anne Francis (1930 - 2011)/ / The Twilight Zone - Talky Tina & Willie Figures - Comic Con Exclusives! / The 100 Greatest Monsters From Movies And Television #81 - #90

Our Very Own Twilight Zone Marathon

Written By: Ken Hulsey

You can say what you will about the programing on the SyFy Channel, but there is one thing that they still do right and that one thing is their annual 4th of July Twilight Zone marathon.

The Twilight Zone is without a doubt the best Sci Fi anthology series to ever grace the air waves. Okay ... that little "Star Trek" show is pretty good too but nothing can touch "The Zone" when it comes to creative storytelling, plot twists and some damn fine performances from an "A" list of Hollywood actors.

Feeling in the mood to imitate this now time honoured holiday tradition that ranks right up there with watching the neighbor kids try to blow each other up this Independence Day I have concocted my own little Twilight Zone Marathon with the aide of Youtube.

Enjoy!

Oh, and we need to start things off with the appropriate intro:

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone.

To Serve Man

This is the way nightmares begin... or, perhaps, end. Very simple, direct, unadorned. Incredible, and yet so terribly real that even while they're happening we live with them, attest them, and assimilate them. And if it's 12 o'clock noon, that's what you preoccupy yourself with. You don't think about 12 o'clock noon on the next day or the day after that. But that's what we should have been thinking about - tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. We were preoccupied with hands on a clock... when we should have been checking off a calendar.



How about you? Are you still on Earth, or on the ship, with me? well, it doesn't make very much difference because sooner or later we'll, all of us, be on the menu. All of us.

The recollections of one Michael Chambers with appropriate flashbacks and soliloquy. Or more simply stated, the evolution of man. The cycle of going from dust to dessert. The metamorphosis from being the ruler of a planet to an ingredient in someone's soup. It's tonight's bill of fare from The Twilight Zone

Jess-Belle

The Twilight Zone has existed in many lands, in many times. It has its roots in history, in something that happened long, long ago and got told about and handed down from one generation of folk to the other. In the telling the story gets added to and embroidered on, so that what might have happened in the time of the Druids is told as if it took place yesterday in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Such stories are best told by an elderly grandfather on a cold winter's night by the fireside--in the southern hills of the Twilight Zone.



Fair was Elly Glover.
Dark was Jess-Belle.
Both they loved the same man.
And both they loved him well.

Time Enough At Last

Well, at least I still have my books. And the best thing is, there's time now... all the time I need.



The best laid plans of mice and men and Henry Bemis, the small man in the glasses who wanted nothing but time. Henry Bemis, now just a part of a smashed landscape, just a piece of the rubble, just a fragment of what man has deeded to himself. Mr. Henry Bemis in the Twilight Zone.

A Stop at Willoughby

This is Gart Williams, age thirty-eight, a man protected by a suit of armor all held together by one bolt. Just a moment ago, someone removed the bolt, and Mr. Williams's protection fell away from him and left him a naked target. He's been cannonaded this afternoon by all the enemies of his life. His insecurity has shelled him, his sensitivity has straddled him with humiliation, his deep-rooted disquiet about his own worth has zeroed in on him, landed on target, and blown him apart. Mr. Gart Williams, ad agency exec, who in just a moment will move into the Twilight Zone - in a desperate search for survival.



Willoughby? Maybe it's wishful thinking nestled in a hidden part of a man's mind, or maybe it's the last stop in the vast design of things, or perhaps, for a man like Mr. Gart Williams, who climbed on a world that went by too fast, it's a place around the bend where he could jump off. Willoughby? Whatever it is, it comes with sunlight and serenity, and is a part of the Twilight Zone.

Nick of Time

It's as if every superstitious feeling you ever had is wrapped up in that one machine. It doesn't matter whether it can foretell the future. What matters is whether you believe more in, in luck and in fortune than you do in yourself. Well, you can decide your own life. You have a mind, a wonderful mind. Don't destroy it trying to justify that cheap penny fortune machine to yourself.



Counterbalance in the little town of Ridgeview, Ohio. Two people permanently enslaved by the tyranny of fear and superstition, facing the future with a kind of helpless dread. Two others facing the future with confidence, having escaped one of the darker places of the Twilight Zone.

The Odyssey of Flight 33

You're riding on a jet airliner en route from London to New York. You're at 35,000 feet atop an overcast and roughly fifty-five minutes from Idlewild Airport. But what you've seen occur inside the cockpit of this plane is no reflection on the aircraft or the crew. It's a safe, well-engineered, perfectly designed machine, and the men you've just met are a trained, cool, highly efficient team. The problem is simply that the plane is going too fast and there is nothing within the realm of knowledge or at least logic to explain it. Unbeknownst to passenger and crew, this airplane is heading into an unchartered region well off the beaten track of commercial travelers. It's moving into the Twilight Zone. What you're about to see we call The Odyssey of Flight 33.



A Global jet airliner, en route from London to New York on an uneventful afternoon in the year 1961, but now reported overdue and missing, and by now searched for on land, sea, and air by anguished human beings fearful of what they'll find. But you and I know where she is, you and I know what's happened. So if some moment, any moment, you hear the sound of jet engines flying atop the overcast, engines that sound searching and lost, engines that sound desperate, shoot up a flare or do something. That would be Global 33 trying to get home from the Twilight Zone.

It's A Good Life

Tonight's story on The Twilight Zone is somewhat unique and calls for a different kind of introduction. This, as you may recognize, is a map of the United States, and there's a little town there called Peaksville. On a given morning not too long ago, the rest of the world disappeared and Peaksville was left all alone. Its inhabitants were never sure whether the world was destroyed and only Peaksville left untouched or whether the village had somehow been taken away. They were, on the other hand, sure of one thing: the cause. A monster had arrived in the village. Just by using his mind, he took away the automobiles, the electricity, the machines - because they displeased him - and he moved an entire community back into the dark ages - just by using his mind. Now I'd like to introduce you to some of the people in Peaksville, Ohio. This is Mr. Fremont. It's in his farmhouse that the monster resides. This is Mrs. Fremont. And this is Aunt Amy, who probably had more control over the monster in the beginning than almost anyone. But one day she forgot. She began to sing aloud. Now, the monster doesn't like singing, so his mind snapped at her, turned her into the smiling, vacant thing you're looking at now. She sings no more. And you'll note that the people in Peaksville, Ohio, have to smile. They have to think happy thoughts and say happy things because once displeased, the monster can wish them into a cornfield or change them into a grotesque, walking horror. This particular monster can read minds, you see. He knows every thought, he can feel every emotion. Oh yes, I did forget something, didn't I? I forgot to introduce you to the monster. This is the monster. His name is Anthony Fremont. He's six years old, with a cute little-boy face and blue, guileless eyes. But when those eyes look at you, you'd better start thinking happy thoughts, because the mind behind them is absolutely in charge. This is the Twilight Zone.



No kids came to play with me today, not a single one, and I wanted someone to play with!

Living Doll

My name is Talky Tina and I'm beginning to hate you.



Of course, we all know dolls can't really talk, and they certainly can't commit murder. But to a child caught in the middle of turmoil and conflict, a doll can become many things: friend, defender, guardian. Especially a doll like Talky Tina who did talk and did commit murder, in the misty region of the Twilight Zone.

Deaths-Head Revisited

Mr. Schmidt, recently arrived in a small Bavarian village which lies eight miles northwest of Munich, a picturesque, delightful little spot onetime known for its scenery but more recently related to other events having to do with some of the less positive pursuits of man: human slaughter, torture, misery and anguish. Mr. Schmidt, as we will soon perceive, has a vested interest in the ruins of a concentration camp - for once, some seventeen years ago, his name was Gunther Lutze. He held the rank of a captain in the S.S. He was a black-uniformed strutting animal whose function in life was to give pain, and like his colleagues of the time he shared the one affliction most common amongst that breed known as Nazis: he walked the Earth without a heart. And now former S.S. Captain Lutze will revisit his old haunts, satisfied perhaps that all that is awaiting him in the ruins on the hill is an element of nostalgia. What he does not know, of course, is that a place like Dachau cannot exist only in Bavaria. By its nature, by its very nature, it must be one of the populated areas of the Twilight Zone.



All the Dachaus must remain standing. The Dachaus, the Belsens, the Buchenwalds, the Auschwitzes-all of them. They must remain standing because they are a monument to a moment in time when some men decided to turn the Earth into a graveyard. Into it they shoveled all of their reason, their logic, their knowledge, but worst of all, their conscience. And the moment we forget this, the moment we cease to be haunted by this remembrance, then we become gravediggers. Something to dwell on and remember, not only in the Twilight Zone but wherever men walk God's Earth.