Castle, a B-movie director and producer during the '50s and '60s, gets the tribute treatment, in separate interviews, from family members, former associates and present-day directors who explain why his shlock stock continues to rise. Described as a “poor-man’s Alfred Hitchcock,” Castle learned showbiz from the ground up, taking his first movie job as Bela Lugosi's assistant on the set of Dracula. As he moved up the ladder, Castle learned how to manipulate the press, then the public, in promoting his movies. “He enjoyed promoting them as much as he enjoyed making them,” said his daughter Terry. Several of his delightful film promos are included, and he’s heard in voiceover narration discussing episodes of his career.Castle worked with Orson Welles (The Lady from Shanghai) in 1947, whose advice to his friend was “to make sure your name is all over” any future projects. Those projects turned out to be “B” horror flicks that came with gimmicks providing cheap thrills and chills: House on Haunted Hill in 1959 had “Emergo,” where ghosts and skeletons emerged from the screen to hover over audiences, guided by a flimsy wire; also made in ’59, The Tingler, starring Vincent Price and called by John Waters “the best movie ever made” (surely, he jests), used “Percepto,” basically a buzzer that was planted in theater seats to shock the living daylights out of frightened filmgoers; then there was 13 Ghosts in 1960, which utilized “Illusiono,” effects from 3D-type cardboard glasses called “Ghost Viewers” that allowed anyone to see the spooky spirits on screen or make them disappear.He eventually graduated to “A” productions, buying the rights to Rosemary’s Baby. “I wanted to prove to the industry, my fellow peers, that I could so something really brilliant,” he said.Mile High Five or Dive?
The doc-shlock value of Spine Tingler resonates more for this child of the '60s than the Count’s smooth jazz sounds. Maybe it’s because those memories of watching The Tingler on TV and listening to the Beatles and Beach Boys on the stereo remain crystal clear. But Schwarz’s film did give a more intimate look at the devoted family man who became king of his Castle, delving deeper into his past (he was an orphan by the age of 11) on his way to becoming the P.T. Barnum of the horror movie industry. “William Castle successfully branded himself,” said heralded B-keeper Roger Corman, “like Betty Crocker and Walt Disney.”
And while it took some work for Keys, left, and company (including Columbia University) to track down the historical footage and make it look presentable, the interviews didn’t shed much new light on William James Basie’s life, either before be became the “Count” or after the music stopped. Enjoyable as they were, some of the former band members seemed more inclined to talk about themselves. It also was somewhat sad to see Keys, after a quick Q&A, standing at the foot of the stage and hawking DVD copies of his film for $20 each. Extras
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