Misunderstood Masterpieces: Transylvania 6-5000

Posted by Will Helm on 10.28.2003

…or, I Know I Shouldn’t Like This, But I Do

All apologies and respect to Clarence “Frogman” Henry for that one.

Ah, the final edition of “Horror Movie-mania 2003” is upon us. Parting, as Shakespeare once wrote, is such sweet sorrow. But there is an upside to all of this: I don’t have to do horror films for a while! Yay! If you were here, you could see me dancing the mighty dance of joy . . . and then you’d probably call the police. Or at the very least the mental hospital. Horror films have a way of doing that to you. Making you go crazy, that is; not making you want to dance. Then again, I could be wrong. Or I could be rambling. Take your pick.

Now that the end has finally arrived, after all these weeks, it’s time to bring to you a film that I (and I know that some of you as well) have enjoyed ever since I was a wee little tyke. The fact that I’m watching movies like this at an impressionable age speaks volumes, doesn’t it? “Yes it does,” replies the creepy disembodied voice. Anyway, this film I speak of, Transylvania 6-5000, is another in a long line of horror-comedies. This hybrid genre of cinema can be traced back to, at the very least, the old Abbott and Costello Meet . . . films of the late ‘40s and early ‘50s. Another old film, which could be considered a horror-comedy of the era, is the big-screen adaptation of the play Arsenic and Old Lace. By far one of the weirdest and darkest classic films of the era, this is also the source of one of my favorite lines to use whenever anyone in my family does something not so good; I just repeat to myself “I’m not a Brewster! I’m not a Brewster!” over and over in a patrician accent. And, if you don’t think that Arsenic and Old Lace is a horror-comedy, I at least wanted to provide a plug for a great movie that stands the test of time (and is still remarkably funny). Anyway, for a while, these films disappeared from the cinematic landscape, but suddenly came back into vogue in the early ‘80s. Films like Ghostbusters and Fright Night knocked down the door holding these movies back, and Transylvania 6-5000 climbed out through the aperture. Of course, the door was promptly closed again, allowing only the cult classic Evil Dead 2 to sneak through until the Scream films were released in the mid-‘90s. And now we’re mired in a mess of horror films that can be considered comedies only because they’re laughably bad. What a sorry state of affairs!

But that’s where we are now . . . I’m taking you back to the mid-‘80s. And we’re going to have some fun, just like this guy (who looks uncannily like Adam West) in the home movie that is used to open the classic that is Transylvania 6-5000. He and his cameraman/friend goof around in front of an old abandoned chapel in the middle of the Transylvanian woods. After struggling to open the door, Fake Batman whines to the camera and then, all of a sudden, the door sprouts arms and molests the Artificial Adam! OK, not really . . . I’m just exaggerating; instead, someone’s arms broke through the door and entrapped Pseudo-Adam in an inverse bear hug. The two American dolts escape, but not before proclaiming that this man-beast is the living incarnation of Frankenstein. Alright, listen; I’m going to clear some things up. If this creature is the living embodiment of Frankenstein, then he would obviously be a loopy scientist dressed all in white. You see, Frankenstein was the DOCTOR, but the big green guy we know and love was the MONSTER. There’s a huge difference here, kids, and now you know. Yo, Joe!

You’re probably wondering just how we, the unwashed masses, are so privileged as to view this amazing videotape; well, we have none other than Norman Fell to thank for it. Yes, TV’s Mr. Roper soulfully portrays tabloid baron Mac Turner, patriarch of questionable journalism. OK, perhaps I’m blowing Mr. Fell’s performance up a bit. Alright, maybe a lot. But I just might be the first to say this . . . perhaps the only: Norman Fell Rocks! Damn that was silly. Sorry about that. Seriously, though, Mac uses the tape as an impetus to propose an on-location investigation into the origins and location of the mysterious monster. His two recruits for this mission of ill-repute: his dimwitted son Gil (Ed Begley, Jr.) and serious newsman Jack Harrison (Jeff Goldblum). Jack objects and has a breakdown, but Mac overrules his fears by reciting his paper’s philosophy, specifically that not only does he “want crap,” he “needs crap,” as it seems that “crap sells papers.” Sadly, since I have been, at one time or another, involved in the newspaper industry, this is truer than it should be. But my tears are for another time. Anyway, where does Mac send his two roving reporters to find all of this “crap”? “Over there someplace” . . . Transylvania, to be a little more specific. I guess they don’t have geography classes in J-school. Even though Jack continues his protests, Mac threatens termination if the duo return without the “crap.” So it’s off to Transylvania . . .

Accompanied by some awful ‘80s synth-pop, pretty much like every other film from this era. Danny Elfman would be proud. Channeling Steve Martin and John Candy (almost), the pair take planes, trains, and . . . um . . . buses to reach their destination. Finally in whatever the major town in Transylvania is (actually, this was filmed in Yugoslavia), Gil and Jack make landfall and declare that it’s “cute.” Historic, centuries-old buildings and the best they can come up with is “cute”? I guess they didn’t have diction or vocabulary classes in J-school either. Jack, horny traveler that he is, orders Gil to go play with some tot named Laura (Sara Grdjan) so that he can make some time with the girl’s mother, Elizabeth (Theresa Ganzel). I don’t know what it is, but Ms. Ganzel reminds me of an older version of Britney Spears. The resemblance is uncanny, I tell you. Either that or it’s because it’s around 3 A.M. and I’m exhausted. Again, the two are not mutually exclusive. After Elizabeth coldly rejects Jack’s advances, the whimsical mayor Lepescu (Jeffery Jones) introduces himself to the American quartet whilst butchering the English language as only a Transylvanian can. Ah, foreigners.

Inside a quaint Transylvanian hotel, Jack impresses himself on Elizabeth a little more and then Gil asks a cuddly desk clerk about Frankenstein. The desk clerk, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone, finds this inquiry amusing and shares it with the rest of the group in the lobby. Hilarity ensues. Eh . . . no wonder Europeans can’t stand Americans; it only takes us about five minutes to make fools of ourselves when we’re on their soil. Jack, after returning (probably without Elizabeth’s digits), promptly has another breakdown. After quickly becoming the laughingstocks of the town, Jack and Gil retire to the creepy castle just outside of the sleepy hamlet . . . a castle that takes American Express. Shouldn’t it be “Transylvanian Express”? I’m just curious. After gently rapping on the front door, “token brute” Fejos (Michael Richards) answers, aided by a bizarre little puppet that looks like a baby Musketeer. I swear, nothing is funnier than insanity! After allowing the journalists inside, Fejos shows off the puppet’s naughty bits for no discernible reason and then seemingly flirts with Gil in Romanian. Such a beautiful language! Actually, I shouldn’t make fun, as Romanian comes from the same Latinate base as French, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian. See; I can be educational as well as entertaining. Then again, if I’m not entertaining, that blows that theory out of the water.

Inside the castle-cum-hotel, Gil and Jack meet up with the mayor, who also happens to be the hotel’s manager! He’s a true Renaissance man, even though the castle may have been built before that. The mayor/manager tells the two heroes that he intends for the business to be a “theme hotel”; so that’s where all of those casino moguls got the idea! I’ll be damned! Who knew this movie could be that influential? The newsmen also meet the hotel’s hunchbacked butler, Radu (John Byner), who is constantly badgered by his hunchbacked and undersexed wife Lupi (Carol Kane) while he prepares lunch for the guests. After Radu serves the yummy grapefruit, Fejos shoves various items into Gil’s face, specifically cream, sugar, the grapefruit half, a cup of coffee, and an ashtray. Methinks the bulk of that was totally improvised, judging by the look of sincere amusement on Jeff Goldblum’s face. Then again, can you blame him? It’s a damned funny, albeit utterly random, scene. The fun with table settings is interrupted by the phone, which rings to the tune of “Pennsylvania 6-5000.” Glenn Miller would be proud.

At the mysterious abandoned chapel in the woods, Gil actually does some investigative work, but the chief of police, Inspector Percek (Bozidar Smiljanic), rudely interrupts with the aid of a chandelier nearly falling on and killing Gil. Percek is unconcerned with the near death of Gil, as he is in cahoots with the mayor in an undisclosed sinister subplot. Ooh, intrigue! Back at the hotel, Gil busts in on Jack, who is still trying to get something going with Elizabeth, this time via phone. Jack orders Gil to go back outside of his room, knock on the door like a civilized individual, and wait to be acknowledged. Of course, Gil screws this up, much to Jack’s chagrin. Listen guys, when your buddies are on the phone with a lady, leave them alone. He could always hook you up with a friend of theirs . . . then again, this might mean that you’ll have to “fall on the grenade,” so to speak. On second thought, screw your friends; hit him with a chair and take the phone out of his unconscious hand. Yet another tip from me to you. After striking out yet again, Jack’s sexual frustrations bubble over and he bickers with Gil; Fejos interrupts with a message from a gypsy.

This gypsy, a Madam Morovia (Inge Apelt), appears to have been reincarnated from a raisin. A little moisturizer never hurt anyone, lady. Anyway, Mme. Morovia mumbles on about something or other, perhaps the “guardian stars of light and darkness,” perhaps not . . . but the meat of her spiel involves a werewolf terrorizing the town and that werewolf is her SON! (Cue “dum-dum-DUM” music.) Mrs. Morovia orders a hit on her accursed progeny and gives the contract to Jack and Gil to fulfill. That night, the pair stake out Lawrence Malbot’s house, waiting for him to exit his abode. After a few tense minutes, out of the door walks none other that the film’s writer and director, Rudy De Luca! Who knew that Captain Mucus was a lycanthrope? You learn a new thing every day. Jack and Gil give chase through the woods, where they find that the snarling Mr. Malbot isn’t a horrific shape-changer, but just getting some nookie with a local peasant girl. Eh, that can happen.

At the hotel, Jack once again argues with Gil and then goes out on a date with Elizabeth, who reveals that she has serious anger management issues. She also believes that Jack is crazy when he reveals to her the quarry of his assignment. That night, in Gil’s room, a scantly-clad vampire (Geena Davis) sneaks in while he sleeps soundly. The bloodsucker’s advances startle Gil enough that he must wake Jack and then have a breakdown. The next day, Lupi annoys Radu while he cleans and then Gil and Radu attempt to make great strides in the field of labor relations, specifically trying to ban the use of the word “master.” The motion fails, of course. I guess Radu will just have to go on strike next week and then blow up Gil’s car the next. Or not. Later, Gil meets with the mayor and then gets a lesson in slipping on banana peels from Fejos. Yeah, I don’t know why that’s in there either, but it still is funny. Oh, and it’s at this point that I wonder whether or not Fejos is actually secretly attracted to Gil. It can happen, I tell you! All the while Fejos hits on Gil, the mayor sneaks into Gil’s room and pilfers the tape; he later watches it on the only NTSC VCR in Transylvania. He’s clever like that, you know.

Gil, following a lead, goes to the local sanitarium for more information but the guard on duty at the front gate rebuffs him. Later, after receiving a damage control briefing from Lepescu and Percek, Jack and Gil follow them back to the sanitarium where the investigative team conspires to enter the facility. They do so by disguising Gil as a patient, who apparently have free reign of the campus. Of course, Gil’s ruse does not come without a price, as he is summarily whipped by a guard/dominatrix (Vida Jarman). After his punishment, Gil spies Lepescu and Percek in the main office talking with Dr. Vittorio Malavaqua (Joseph Bologna). It seems that a patient by the name of Kurt Hunyadi (Petar Buntic) may have escaped from the sanitarium, even though he is supposed to be dead! Isn’t that always the case, I ask you? These dead folk just think they have the right to get up and walk around wherever they please. The nerve of them! Upon hearing this, Gil decides that he has learned all he needs to know and he and Jack retreat back to the hotel.

Later, Jack sends Gil off to investigate matters further while he plans a picnic with Elizabeth and Laura. You know, for being the serious journalist, Jack really is a slacker. Meanwhile, the town elders (Lepescu and Percek specifically) discover the truth: that Hunyadi isn’t dead after all! Of course we already knew that, but we’re not characters in the movie, they are. That’s called “dramatic irony.” Just when Gil is about to make a breakthrough, Fejos distracts him yet again. Then, all of a sudden, Odette, the horny vampire, accosts Gil in the library. Gil, even though he is somewhat intrigued by the sexual undead, blows Odette off. Odette escapes behind Gil’s back and the only thing he finds in her wake is Fejos “meditating” on an electric kiddie-horse. Why yes, it doesn’t make any sense.

Under the castle, Radu, Lupi, and Dr. Malavaqua go to a secret lab. Sadly, there’s no sign of any little blonde kids with odd Russian accents. Although, in a very funny twist, within the confines of the laboratory, the normally staid and sedate doctor is MAD! Mad, mad, MAD I tell you! OK, maybe not . . . he is crazy while in there, though. And what is the reason behind the doctor’s madness? Well, if you’ve been reading “Misunderstood Masterpieces” and don’t know buy now, you haven’t been paying attention. Still don’t know? Alright . . . it’s VENGEANCE! It seems that the good doctor wishes to clear his dear father’s name, as he is now known as the man who “brought herpes to Sicily.” I hate it when that happens but, as you all know, it’s all about suppression. The doctor, after his solemn pledge, abuses Radu and Lupi when he discovers that Hunyadi and Odette are missing and some of the lab rats are dead! Luckily, the mummy in the laboratory is merely sore. I guess sometimes you have to take the bad with the good, and a sore mummy is definitely one for the “good” column.

In the woods, Jack and Elizabeth enjoy a fine picnic until Gil rudely interrupts again. Finally, Jack has his final breakdown and tries to strangle Gil to death. That’s one serious case of sexual frustration Jack has pent up. Elsewhere, Laura the preschool plot device discovers Hunyadi; her mother, suspicious, goes to the scuffling Jack and Gil for help. Gil, during the search, finds Hunyadi leaning against a tree and summarily freaks out. To add insult to injury, Gil wades into a nearby lake and gets goosed by a mysterious hand coming out of the surface of the water. Meanwhile, Jack finds the wolfman (Donald Gibb) and freaks out as well. Gil tracks down his partner, jumps on the wolfman’s back, and rides the hairy beast back to the secret lab. There, Gil is sedated while the rest of the freak show congregates. In the midst of all this, Percek arrests Jack for some reason or another, but Elizabeth later breaks Jack out of jail . . . which means it’s a JAILBREAK! Sadly, there’s still no sign of AC/DC (or even Judas Priest for that matter). Elizabeth plans on taking justice into her own hands, just without the skull-motif tee-shirt, while Jack goes off to see the gypsy yet again, where he learns the location of the secret lab! Finally, everything’s starting to come together!

In some secluded barn, Laura and Hunyadi play poker until Radu and Lupi attempt to capture the fugitive patient. After minutes of hijinks and hilarity involving Hunyadi abusing Radu, Lupi somewhat successfully immobilizes Hunyadi and they bring him and Laura back to the lab. Now that everyone except Jack is in the lab, who should show up but Jack! It makes sense, doesn’t it? He finds Gil prone on the table and suspects the worst, but Malavaqua does not allow him a chance to check on his friend, as he orders Radu to attack! After some slapstick-fueled scuffling, Jack learns the origins of the doctor’s insanity: the horrors of caffeine addiction. It appears that immediately after offering anyone some espresso, Malavaqua goes mad. That must be some fine java to cause that type of reaction. After the TENSION subsides, Hunyadi escapes and kidnaps Laura on his way out. Everyone else gives chase back into town.

In town, there’s a festive Wine Festival going on; isn’t that nice? Elizabeth, enraged to the breaking point, threatens Lepescu and Percek and nearly gets arrested for her troubles. Luckily, everyone is distracted from her tantrums by Hunyadi’s timely arrival, carrying Laura’s limp body. I guess that’d be fairly shocking, since in some cultures they could very well be married. All is (somewhat) well, as Laura merely sleeps; the crowd, however, is still enraged by Hunyadi’s appearance, so they get out their trusty torches and set up for a good old-fashioned burning! I guess this Wine Festival is pretty festive; no one builds bonfires anymore, even ones fueled by human flesh. Fortunately for all involved, Malavaqua, Jack, Gil, and Elizabeth jump to the rescue. It turns out that the whole commotion stems from the fact that the local Transylvanian government is less-than-accepting of Malavaqua the radical plastic surgeon. Bit by bit, the truth about the town is revealed: the elders are actually embezzling crooks, the wolfman actually has a skin ailment and is going through electrolysis treatments, under the mummy’s bandages is a HOT CHICK, and Radu and Lupi have surprisingly good posture. Good for them. Everyone rejoices, save Odette, who, we learn adopted the whole “horny vampire”-shtick as a way of getting attention because she’s self-conscious about her nose. Unbeknownst to her psyche, Dr. Malavaqua gave her a nose job, so Gil teaches her that she has nothing to be ashamed about. And everyone, perhaps except for Lepescu and Percek, live happily ever after. Yay! Oh, by the way, Mac got his crap.

And there you have it, folks. The final entry in “Horror Movie-mania 2003.” I’m kind of tearing up now, honestly; but that might be from the fact I just closed a desk drawer on my hand. Seriously, though, this is such a bizarrely entertaining film, mainly for one reason: Michael Richards, yet again, brings it. He OWNED UHF and he owns it here too. Nearly every time he’s on camera, you can’t watch anything else that’s going on onscreen. He’s like a comedic magnet and your eyes are made of iron. Eew, that’s a bit of a visceral analogy. Fitting for this time of year, I suppose. Perhaps sometime I ought to collect the entire Michael Richards oeuvre; he’s just that good. Not necessarily good at choosing scripts, but good nonetheless. So, in the immortal words of many reviewers far more famous than I, this film is highly recommended. Oh, wait . . . I don’t recommend films here. Forget everything I just said.

Join me next week, dear friends, as I do something; I haven’t quite decided what it is yet, but rest assured it will assuredly be a “Misunderstood Masterpiece.” Ugh . . . damn I feel dirty for doing that.