As we continue to await the “definitive” resultant outcome from the tsunami damage to those nuclear reactors in Japan, I thought I would peruse my film library and assemble the “Top 10 Nuclear Paranoia” titles for your consideration (just here to cheer you up, per usual). Think of it as a kind of “immunization” therapy…what’s the worst that could happen, right? After all, this sense of creeping dread about death by nuclear misadventure has been lurking in the collective unconscious of mankind since August of 1945; this universal anxiety certainly has not been missed by postwar filmmakers. I’m excluding movies dealing directly with nuclear warfare or Cold War intrigue, as I previously posted a Top 10 list with that theme. With that in mind, here ‘tis (in alphabetical order)…
The China Syndrome-More than any other film on this list, this nail-biting “conspiracy a-go-go” thriller, released over 30 years ago, could literally have been “ripped from today’s headlines”-as in, “turn on CNN right now”. Expertly directed by James Bridges (who co-scripted with Mike Gray and T.S. Cook), it centers on an ambitious reporter (Jane Fonda) who ends up in the “wrong place at the right time” while doing a routine interview at a nuclear power plant. Her cameraman (Michael Douglas, who produced) captures (at first accidently, then surreptitiously) potentially damning footage of what appears to be a serious radioactive containment issue and subsequent scramble by officials to cover it up. To their dismay, Fonda and Douglas discover that getting the truth out to the public might require moral compromises that they are loathe to make, not only with plant officials, but with the big brass back at the television station. Jack Lemmon is excellent as a plant manager who wrestles painfully with his conscience. It’s a dire warning about the inherent dangers of nuclear energy…and of an overly compliant MSM.
Class of Nuke ‘Em High-A genuine cult item from Troma Entertainment, the ultra-low budget NYC-based indie film house that seems to have adapted and post-modernized the business model pioneered by sci-fi/horror schlockmeister Roger Corman in the mid-50’s. One of the “better” (for lack of a better word) offerings from the production company that has graced us with such fine cinematic fare as The Toxic Avenger, Bloodsucking Freaks, Surf Nazis Must Die, and Surf Nazis Must Die, this 1986 entry plays like a cross between The China Syndrome and Rock ‘N’ Roll High School=. All is not well at Tromaville High, and it might have something to do with the proximity of the local nuclear power plant, which sits a scant ¼ mile from the school grounds. It certainly doesn’t help that the plant is run in a somewhat lackadaisical fashion (let’s just say that public safety doesn’t appear to be a priority). Something is definitely awry when the studious boys and girls of the school’s Honor Society suddenly transform into a gang of punked-out Neanderthals who rename themselves “The Cretins” and set about terrorizing their classmates. When the gang starts selling some “special” weed that is grown from the toxic waste on the nuclear facility’s grounds, all hell begins to break loose. The movie is somehow clever, stupid, repulsive and hilarious all at once (and not for the faint of heart). Best line: “Oh, Warren…FUCK the Fellini festival!” Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.
The Day the Earth Caught Fire– Written and directed by Val Guest, this cerebral mix of conspiracy a-go-go and sci-fi has always been a personal favorite of mine. Simultaneous nuclear testing by the U.S. and Soviets triggers an alarmingly rapid shift in the Earth’s climate. As London’s weather turns more tropical by the hour, a Daily Express reporter (Peter Stenning) begins to suspect that the British government is not being 100% forthcoming on the possible fate of the world. Along the way, Stenning has some steamy scenes with his love interest (sexy Janet Munro). The film is more noteworthy for its smart, snappy patter than its run-of-the-mill f/x, but still delivers a compelling narrative.
Desert Bloom-In case you’ve forgotten what a truly great actor Jon Voight can be, take a gander at this overlooked gem from 1986. Voight is an embittered, paranoid, alcoholic WW2 vet, making a living running a “last chance” gas station on the outskirts of Las Vegas in the early 1950s. He makes family life a nerve-wracking, day-to-day guessing-game for his long-suffering wife (JoBeth Williams) and three daughters. On a “good” day, you could say that Dad is an engaging, loving and even erudite fellow. But there are more “bad” days than good, and that’s when Mr. Hyde comes to visit. This is particularly stressful to his eldest daughter (whose character is actually the central protagonist of the story). Annabeth Gish makes an astonishing film debut in that role, holding her own against Voight in some very intense scenes. Ellen Barkin is outstanding as a free-spirited and empathetic aunt who comes to visit, setting off the emotional powder keg that has been brewing within this very dysfunctional family for some time. Director Eugene Corr and screenwriter Linda Remy draw insightful analogies between the fear and uncertainty of nuclear threat that permeated the country at the time (the story takes place on the eve of a nuclear test in the nearby desert, which figures significantly into the narrative) and the fear and uncertainly of growing up with an alcoholic parent. This is a unique, powerful and touching coming-of-age tale, beautifully made and splendidly acted by all.
Gojira-It’s no secret that “king of all monsters” was borne of fear; the fear of “the Bomb” as only the Japanese people could have truly understood it back in 1954 (especially when one considers it was released only 9 years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki). It’s also important to distinguish between this original Japanese cut of the film, and the relatively butchered version released in the U.S. in 1956 as Godzilla King of the Monsters. That is because the original Japanese cut not only has a more haunting and darkly atmospheric quality, but carries a strong anti-nuke message as well (it’s an American H-bomb test that awakens the long-slumbering beast from his deep-sea hibernation). The U.S. cut downplays this subtext (replacing cut footage with inserts featuring Raymond Burr). The 1954 version is the first and the best of what was to ultimately become a silly franchise.
The H-Man-Another ho-ho from Toho! Released the same year as The Blob (1958), this low-budget but enjoyable Toho Studio “monster movie” could be viewed as that film’s Japanese cousin; the main difference being that whereas the American production’s people-devouring, creeping slime creature dropped in from outer space, the “H-Men” are the spawn of U.S. nuclear tests in the Pacific. A strange mix of police procedural and sci-fi mystery, the story centers around a nightclub where we get to enjoy several gratuitous sequences of hilariously arrhythmic bikini-clad dancers lurching about the stage. After a singer who works at the club reports her drug-dealing boyfriend missing, the cops put her under surveillance. To the poor girl’s befuddlement, some of her boyfriend’s shady gangster pals begin to take a keen interest in her as well, but soon they too are mysteriously disappearing (quite literally…leaving behind naught but their clothes and shoes). After a hospitalized fisherman reports seeing one of his crew mates “disappear” in similar fashion, right in front of his eyes while their boat is enveloped in a mysterious mist out in the middle of the Pacific, the inevitable scientists get into the act, everyone puts 2+2 together, and the culprit slime creatures are “outed”. The final showdown occurs in the sewers under Tokyo (shades of The Third Man) and has to be seen to be believed.
I Live in Fear-This 1955 Akira Kurosawa film was the great director’s follow-up to Seven Samurai, and arguably one of his most overlooked efforts. It’s a melodrama concerning an aging foundry owner (Toshiro Mifune, disguised in exaggeratedly theatrical Coke-bottle glasses and silver-frosted crew cut) who literally “lives in fear” of the H-bomb, to the point of obsession. Convinced that the “safest” place on Earth from radioactive fallout is in South America, he tries to convince his wife and grown children to pull up stakes and resettle on a farm in Brazil. His children, who have families of their own and rely on their father’s factory for income, are not so hot on that idea. In fact, they take him to family court and have him declared incompetent. This sends Mifune’s character spiraling into madness. Or are his fears really so “crazy”? It is one of Mifune’s most powerful and moving performances. Kurosawa instills shades of Shakespeare’s “King Lear” into the narrative (a well he drew from again some 30 years later, in Ran).
Kiss Me Deadly-The versatile American director Robert Aldrich arguably peaked early in his prolific four decade-long career with this influential 1955 pulp noir, adapted for the screen by A.I. Bezzerides from Mickey Spillane’s novel. Ralph Meeker is the epitome of “cool” as hard-boiled private detective Mike Hammer, who gives a ride to a half-crazed (and half-naked) escapee from “the laughing house” (Cloris Leachman) one fateful evening after she flags him down on the highway, setting off a chain of events that quickly escalates from pushing matches with low-rent thugs to an embroilment with a complex conspiracy involving a government scientist and a stolen box of highly radioactive “whatsit” that is being coveted by any number of parties with dubious motivations. The sometimes confounding plot takes a back seat to the film’s stylized visuals and its “feel”, which are light years ahead of its time. The expressive and inventive camera angles, the striking black and white cinematography (by Ernest Laszlo), the shocking brutality of the violence, the existential nihilism of the characters-you would be hard pressed to find another American film of the mid-50s that comes close to this one. The film is purported to have been a major influence on the French New Wave (you can definitely see that link when you watch this back-to-back with Godard’s Breathless ). British director Alex Cox paid homage in his 1984 cult film, Repo Man(both films feature a crazed scientist driving around with a box full of deadly radioactive material in the trunk), and Tarantino had a scene with a mysterious box of “whatsit” in Pulp Fiction.
No Nukes-This 1980 documentary was compiled with highlights from a five-night Madison Square Garden concert series and one-off Battery Park rally organized the previous year by Musicians United for Safe Energy (“MUSE”), a collective of activists and Woodstock generation music icons aiming to raise awareness of non-nuclear energy alternatives in the wake of the Three-Mile Island plant incident. It’s a real 1970s “soft rock” time capsule: Jackson Browne, The Doobie Brothers, Bonnie Raitt, James Taylor, Carly Simon, and Crosby, Stills, & Nash are all here in their full glory. They’re all in fine form, but the “California mellow” contingent is roundly blown off the stage by a rousing and cacophonous 20-minute finale courtesy of Bruce Springsteen and his E Street Band-at the peak of their powers. It may not be the most dynamically produced concert film (don’t expect the cinematic artistry of The Last Waltz), but the performances are heartfelt, and the message is a positive call to action that is more timely now than ever.
Silkwood-The tagline for this 1983 film was intriguing: “On November 13th, 1974, Karen Silkwood, an employee of a nuclear facility, left to meet with a reporter from the New York Times. She never got there.” One might expect a riveting conspiracy thriller to ensue; however what director Mike Nichols and screenwriters Nora Ephron and Alice Arden do deliver is an absorbing character study of an ordinary working-class woman who performed an act of extraordinary courage which may (or may not) have led to her untimely demise. Meryl Streep gives a typically immersive portrayal of Silkwood, who worked as a chemical tech at an Oklahoma facility that manufactured plutonium pellets for nuclear reactor fuel rods. On behalf of her union (and based on her own observations) Silkwood testified before the AEC in 1974 about ongoing health and safety concerns at her plant. Shortly afterwards, she tested positive for an unusually high level of plutonium contamination. Silkwood alleged malicious payback from her employers, while they countered that she had engineered the scenario herself. Later that year, on the last night of her life, she was in fact on her way to meeting with a Times reporter, armed with documentation to back her claims, when she was killed after her car ran off the road. Nichols stays neutral on the conspiratorial whisperings; but still delivers the goods here, thanks in no small part to his exemplary cast, including Kurt Russell (as Silkwood’s husband), and Cher (who garnered critical raves and a Golden Globe) as their housemate.
