The Cutting Room Floor 12.18.02: Good Artists Copy, Great Artists Kill A Lot Of People
Posted by Bill Doughty on 12.18.2002
People have died for their art throughout history; nothing new there. People dying for other people’s art… now that’s a story.
Hey folks. Welcome to The Cutting Room Floor, the column that discusses, disseminates and defends forgotten and forgettable bits of celluloid history. Well, okay, I do the actual discussing… the column just sits there on your screen. Let’s not get into this argument again. Can’t we just have a nice, quiet dinner without all the yelling for once?
As usual, I digress. On with the show…
Roger Corman has long been a topic of debate among movie lovers. On the one hand, he had an outstanding eye for talent. Many of today’s major Hollywood players were all given their first real breaks by Corman. If you’re a fan of Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, James Cameron, Jonathan Demme or Peter Bogdanovich (among countless others), you can thank Roger for kickstarting their careers.
But on the other hand, not all of his movies are very good. Some of them, especially his later producing efforts after retiring from directing, are pretty awful, truth be told. Sorry, Roger.
The fact remains, though, that the man has an unparalleled ability to finish a movie on time and under-budget, and turn a nice little profit to boot. In these days of overblown, would-be blockbusters that don’t even manage to break even, you have to respect that. To paraphrase the title of his autobiography, he’s made over 100 movies in Hollywood, and he’s never lost a dime.
Besides that, most of his movies (good and bad) are pretty fun. And one of the best by far is his 1959 effort, A Bucket of Blood.
Walter Paisley (Dick Miller) busses tables at The Yellow Door, a local beatnik watering hole. He wants two things out of life: to become an artist like the hipper-than-thou crowd he cleans up after; and the love of Carla (Barboura Morris), the artist girlfriend of his beret-wearing boss, Leonard (Antony Carbone). Unfortunately, poor Walter is too square to be hip to their jive (or something), so no one pays much attention to him.
Then one day Walter accidentally kills his landlady’s cat. Too scared of the consequences to confess or even attempt to hide the body, he decides to cover it in clay and present it to the gang at The Yellow Door as his new sculpture. Leonard agrees to put “Dead Cat” on display and Walter quickly becomes the hit of the art world. Beatniks sing his praise in rambling, nonsensical poems. Women awkwardly hit on him and offer him heroin. Carla even talks to him. Things couldn’t be going better for our boy Walter. Now if only he can create another masterpiece.
Enter Lou, the undercover vice cop (the late Bert Convy, occasional Burt Reynolds sidekick and host of Win, Lose or Draw), who thinks Walter may be linked to the local drug trade and tries to bust him for possession. Walter panics and kills him with a skillet. Bad luck for Lou, but good news for Walter, as his second sculpture, “Murdered Man,” further solidifies his reputation as a genius and a herald of a new movement in artistic realism (albeit one with a body count).
The death toll rises, more sculptures follow, and Walter’s reputation soars. Leonard acts as Walter’s art dealer and makes a killing of his own, financially speaking, but is conflicted when he accidentally discovers what makes this new realism so real. And then there’s Carla, who rejects Walter’s marriage proposal, but agrees to model for Walter’s next statue (da-da-DAAAA!!!). Hijinks and chases ensue.
This is one of the most beloved of all of Corman’s films, and rightly so. The atmosphere is fun, using all of the typical movie beatnik stereotypes to great effect, but it never gets too silly. The characters will never be mistaken for true Beats like Jack Kerouac or Allen Ginsberg, but they’re not all reduced to being goofy caricatures like Maynard G. Krebs or Shaggy, either (though admitted a few come close).
At the same time, there’s a dark undercurrent to everything that’s going on. The plot seems like it’s straight out of an old EC comic book. A few scenes even seem inspired by some of the more memorable EC cover images. Spare sets and minimal lighting are used to convey an almost noir-like effect, especially in the death scenes. Miller is able to progress from being awkward and nerdy to homicidal and then back again with an ease that’s almost frightening. If this movie were made today, he’d probably have some weird hang-up on his mom or his 3rd grade science teacher or something, but going to these lengths just be liked makes him a lot scarier in my book.
Critics call A Bucket of Blood a black comedy, but I think it’s more of a thriller that has a case of the giggles. Either way, it’s definitely worth a rental. While you’re at it, check out some of Corman’s many, many other films and decide for yourself if he’s a low-budget visionary or a peddler of crap movies.
That’s all for now. Next week, we’re talking Christmas because that’s what I celebrate. I’m sure there are decent movies out there for the other December holidays, but I haven’t seen them. Sorry. Anyway, it’ll be tinsel and presents and reindeer and drunken recriminations and all the other stuff that makes Christmas great. If your religion doesn’t allow you to celebrate, you can go hang out in the library while the rest of the class has its party.
