Harrison's Reports (1962)

106 HARRISON'S REPORTS July 14, 1962 "The Three Stooges in Orbit" with Moe, Larry, Curley-Joe (Columbia, July; 87 mins.) POOR. Whatever the critical reactions to these obnoxious films in what seems like an endless series, somewhere, somehow they must be making money for somebody. Else, we can't conceive Columbia sending all this good money after bad box office returns. For a long time the forgotten slapstick, pie-in-the face, prattfall exponents were allowed to take their fadeout from the films with the resignation that their work before the cameras has been done and they too have become "has-beens." But, The Three Stooges began sneaking into the homes via the little idiot boxes (Tv) and a new life opened up for them. Better still, a new (if young) audience was developed overnight. It was done with their old, old films. Like prickly thorns, they began sprouting with strange strength on the "vast wasteland" of Newton Minow's, meaning Tv, of course. and so, Columbia put them in competition with themselves on free Tv by making a series for the big screen. But, let's face it, this is fit for neither grown-up, ardent movie-goer nor fir telligent child. Instead of improving as they go along, they insist on getting worse. They go through the same antics of pie-throwing (face white-washing) belting each other on the noggins, overindulging in inane absurdities, hollering, screaming and otherwise living up to their strange reputation of being about the most boringly balmy so-called comics facing the cameras today. All of which adds up to about as much fun as a dead mackerel during the mating season. Well, briefly, here it is. The Three Stooges meet up with an eccentric scientist-inventor who has made a combination submarine-helicopter-tank. They give the Air Force a demonstration of this piece of wizardry and everything goes wrong. After a wild orbit or two, the boys get the machine down to earth. In between, some Martians get into the act with some strange double-talk (translated into English subtitles). They have a death-dealing ray gun. There's another test of this crazy three-way machine. This time Ogg and Zogg (get these names) the Martians are inside. The flight is on over land and water, but The Three Stooges are due at the studio (Tv of course) to do their show. Don't you think, when the lights blink "On the Air" the trio is in front of the mikes and cameras on time? They give out with more sappy inanities than a sugar maple, suddenly turned sour? Even the photography played stooge to the script. Produced by Norman Maurer; directed by Edward Bernds; screenplay by Elwood Ullman. - for the unsuspecting kids. "The Wild Westerners" with James Philbrook, Nancy Kovack, Guy Mitchell (Columbia, Current; 70 mins.) FAIR. This is another run-of-the-mill horse opera. Neither much imagination nor outstanding acting help a feeble fable of a west that was in the process of being tamed. That the western has long ago established itself as a staple article for many a box office, is not to be argued. This one, though weak in most of its departments, lacks any important names, which is bound to handicap it. Of course, few westerns are without their breathtaking panoramas of beauty. They leave the city yokel with that wanderlust look in his eyes clouded with granite images of another kind, the ugly, straight-up-and-down symbol of the mammoth megalopolis, the skyscraper, that doesn't leave much room for man to breathe. This, to be sure, is done in color giving Mother Nature a better chance to show off her wonderful endowments and scenic investiture. But, you need more than the lovely grandeur of all that outdoors to make it worthwhile to sit indoors, (in some theatre) and get a fairly reasonable measure of entertainment out of the offering. You don't, unfortuntely, get much out of this one. The kids of course, will go for it. But, that element of response is also beginning to be choosey, especially if the marquee names don't ring a bell with them. " and so, there arc several killings as a stage coach is held up. The U.S. Marshalls ride into town. They're on their way to solve a series of gold robberies. The head marshall (James Philbrook) has another piece of business to attend to, - get married. Disappointment awaits him via a letter from his girl. She refuses to come west. In the meantime, he has struck up an acquaintanceship with Nancy Kovack through the route of a woman's understanding sympathy. To make things look good for Philbrook, Miss Kovack marries him. This doesn't make him overly happy. The killings, the plundering and the stage hold-ups continue. So does the coldness between the married couple. Miss Kovack's beauty, however attracts the attention of the other men. Though her legally married husband has shown no love for her, she repels all of them. Finally, she leaves and rides away from it all in the company of a friendly squaw. One of the bad men kills the Indian girl and takes Miss Kovack prisoner. She is made the pawn in the next big shipment of gold. If Marshall Philbrook allows the gold to be moved without escort, his wife will come out of it alive. The marshall agrees to this arrangement. In the meantime, he is hatching a plan to outwit the bad men, fill the coach with explosives instead of the gold. This may mean Philbrook's life. But, all comes out well. The western hoodlums are outwitted and out-shot. Philbrook rescues Miss Kovack, the friendly Indians kill off the enemies of the people, as the apologetic marshall realizes he's very much in love with this former dance hall girl (Miss Kovack) . He wants to show it to everybody in Virginia City where they head for as the golden ball of fire slips broodingly out beyond the rolling hills. Produced by Sam Katzman; directed by Oscar Rudolph; written by Gerald Drayson Adams. General patronage. "Tales of Terror" with Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, Basil Rathbone, Debra Paget, Joyce Jameson (American'Int'l, Current; 90 mins.) POOR. Edgar Allan Poe has left quite a heritage of horror behind. The macabre story mill seems to be inexhaustible. - and, from American-International, the enterprising, growing indie (if only because it continues to keep its studios grinding away so that the exhibitor can have ever more releases, even if most may have to take their lower position on the program) has taken to the horror type tale in goodly number. In this one you have a trio of evilish "masters of the macabre" in a Poe-etic trilogy that is conceived