Information
| Year: | 1959 |
| Rating: | 6.8(1838) |
| Listed in: | Comedy, Horror |
| Directed by: | Roger Corman |
| Actors: | Dick Miller Antony Carbone Julian Burton Ed Nelson John Brinkley Barboura Morris |
| "Will YOU join his human museum?" | |
Cast
| Directed by | |
|---|---|
| Roger Corman | |
| Actors | |
| Dick Miller | as Walter Paisley |
| Antony Carbone | as Leonard de Santis |
| Julian Burton | as Maxwell H. Brock |
| Ed Nelson | as Art Lacroix |
| John Brinkley | as Will |
| John Herman Shaner | as Oscar |
| Bert Convy | as Lou Raby |
| Bruno VeSota | as Art Collector |
| Alex Hassilev | as Guitar Player |
| Paul Horn | as Beatnik Saxophonist |
| Kenner G. Kemp | as Art Exhibit Patron |
| Jeffrey Sayre | as Art Exhibit Patron |
| Actresses | |
| Barboura Morris | as Carla |
| Judy Bamber | as Alice |
| Myrtle Vail | as Mrs. Swickert |
| Jhean Burton | as Naolia |
| Lynn Storey | as Sylvia |
Movie info
| Languages: | English |
| Budget: | USD 25,000 |
| Plot: | Walter Paisley is a bit of a square and he very much envies the hip beatniks he sees at the club where he works as a busboy. Walter has dreams of being an artist but has no talent. He tries sculpture but has little success until he finds a unique way of capturing vivid images of a dead cat, a dying man and a sexy model. His employer soon figures out exactly what Walter is up to but when his work becomes a hit, would rather have the money. |
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Original Soundtracks
| "The Ballad of Tim Evans" ("Go Down, You Murderer") Music & Lyrics by Ewan MacColl |
Goofs
|
Revealing mistakes: Right before Walter punches the hole in the wall, the outline of where the hole is going to be can be seen before he breaks it open. Continuity: As Walter holds the frying pan, his hand and arm positions change repeatedly between shots. Continuity: When we see Walter's dish rack in the background, there is no pan for the blood. In the next shot, there is a big pan on the dish rack that Walter uses for Lou's dripping blood. Continuity: When the club owner knocks over the cat statue he notices the fur sticking out on the side. When he picks up the cat again the fur is gone. Continuity: When Carla and Walter and the others are sitting at the table Carla's hands and arms repeatedly change position between shots. Continuity: Walter stabs the knife into the wall and it is at his chest height. In the next shot, it's up by his nose. Continuity: The man using the saw has a cigarette behind his ear. In the next shot, the cigarette disappears. BOOM: When Walter and Carla are walking to the Art show, the shadow of a boom mic is visible on the bushes behind them. Continuity: Walter accidentally kills a cat in a wall with a knife, but when he takes it out of the wall, it is stiff, as if it has been dead at least an hour. Revealing mistakes: When Walter stabs the wall, the knife bends. |
Quotes
|
Oscar: I saw a statue once. It was called, "the third time Phyllis saw me, she exploded." Will: Man, what kind of statue was that? Oscar: I dunno, it was made out of driftwood and dipped in fluoric acid. Very wild. Walter Paisley: I didn't mean to hurt you, Lou. But if you'd have shot me, you'd be moppin' up my blood now. Maxwell H. Brock: Life is an obscure hobo, bumming a ride on the omnibus of art. Maxwell H. Brock: Where are John, Joe, Jake, Jim, jerk? Dead, dead, dead! They were not born, before they were born, they were not born. Where are Leonardo, Rembrandt, Ludwig? Alive! Alive! Alive! They were born! Alice: You could use a little more heat around this place...! Walter Paisley: It's bad for the clay! You'll get used to it! Maxwell H. Brock: Ring rubber bells! Beat cotton gongs! Strike silken cymbals! Maxwell H. Brock: I will not wish you good luck. Walter Paisley: Why not? Maxwell H. Brock: It would imply you could not succeed on your own. Maxwell H. Brock: I refuse to say anything twice. Repetition is death... When you repeat something, you are reliving a moment, wasting it, severing it from the other end of your life. I believe only in new impressions, new stimuli, new life! Maxwell H. Brock: To be uncreative you might as well be in your grave... or in the Army. Walter Paisley: [Looking slightly puzzled, and amused] They tried to draft me once. I couldn't pass the test. Maxwell H. Brock: Walter has a clear mind. One day something will enter it, feel lonely... and leave again. Maxwell H. Brock: [Addressing the patrons of The Yellow Door] Attention. Attention, everyone! As you passed through these yellow portals I'm sure you noticed on your right a small clay figure and assumed this transfixed effigy to be the work of a master sculptor. And indeed, so it is. That master sculptor is in our midst. He's none other that Walter Paisley, our very own busboy, whose hands of genius have been carrying away the empty cups of your frustration. Mark well this lad. His is the silent voice of creation. But in the dark, rich soil of humility, he blossoms as the hope of our nearly sterile century! Maxwell H. Brock: [Crowd breaks into applause as Maxwell finishes his speech] Bring me an espresso, Walter. Carla: [Admiring Walter's rather bizarre statue, "Murdered Man."] Walter, it's a masterpiece. I've never seen anything like it before... And I hope I never see anything like it again. Walter Paisley: Neither do I. Walter Paisley: [Entering The Yellow Door, dressed in a rather absurd-looking artist's costume] Sylvia, didn't you see me wave my zen stick? Sylvia: [Surprised, not recognizing him at first] Why, it's Walter Paisley! Walter Paisley: Bring me a cappuccino, and a piece of papaya cheesecake... and, uh, and a bottle of Yugoslavian white wine. Sylvia: Yes sir, Mr. Paisley! Alice: [Unimpressed with Walter and his new-found fame as a sculptor] Oh, let's change the subject. I'm sick of hearing about sculptors. Nobody knows how to do that anymore, much less the busboy from The Yellow Door. Walter Paisley: [Offended] Who do you think you're talkin' about? Alice: Don't shout at me! Walter Paisley: I don't like you... Alice: [Mocking laughter] Nobody asked your opinion, Walter! You're just a simple farm boy, and the rest of us are sophisticated beatniks. Leonard de Santis: I was just suggesting to Walter that he try his hand at free-form. Maxwell H. Brock: Why do you suggest anything to Walter? Are you the spokesman for society come to put your stifling finger in his eye? Will: Have some breakfast, man. Walter Paisley: What're ya' having? Maxwell H. Brock: Some soy and wheat germ pancakes, organic guava nectar, calcium lactate and tomato juice, and garbanzo omelettes sprinkled with smoked yeast. Join us? Walter Paisley: No thanks... Sounds great, though! |
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