From Beyond Television: Ultraman Episode #7

 
Episode 7: THE BLUE STONE OF BARAJI (BARAJI NO AOI ISHI) ****

Directed by Nagase Samaji

A meteorite crashes near a village close to Mt. Ararat in the Middle East. Strange occurrences are reported and the Science Patrol, along with Doctor Adam Jeffers, fly overseas to investigate. Upon nearing the area where the meteorite fell, the Science Patrol are forced to land after a strange beam of light interferes with the ship's controls. The team soon encounter a giant beetle monster that quickly destroys the VTOL. Now stranded, the patrol make their way to a nearby settlement lorded over by the telepathic Princess Chartham. The beautiful princess tells them a 5,000 year old story about this ancient monster being defeated by the God of Noa possessing a magical blue stone. Building a stone statue of their savior holding the stone in his palm, the effigy is strangely familiar to a certain interplanetary savior from M-78. 

The director of the composite-heavy episode 4 and the cocoa-craving creature of episode 6 returns for this vastly entertaining, serious segment that crams a feature-length worthy storyline into a 25 minute mini-epic.

In addition to a script marinated with an international flavor, director and co-writer Nagase Samaji swap out the all-too familiar cityscapes and water based sets for a desert location in the Middle East. It might seem like a bland setting, but the crew at Tsuburaya Productions bring it to life with a healthy dose of mythology and monsters.

One of the Ultra series' most popular monsters debuts here, the giant beetle-like ant-lion, Antlar. Another Ryosaku Takayama creation, Antlar is one of the more intricate designs of the prolific monster maker. With its seemingly impenetrable exo-skeleton, Antlar is able to repel Ultraman's death-dealing Specium Ray. His other weapons include a magnetic ray emitted from its enormous mandibles; and burrowing abilities that come in handy during the concluding battle with Ultraman.

The battle itself isn't too exciting, which is a shame since Antlar is, up to this point, the most exotic looking monster yet seen. The depiction of Ultraman as vulnerable, nearly beaten by his opponent likely riled up a lot of kids when it premiered. I remember being startled a handful of times by this series when I saw it as a small boy.

Teruo Arakaki is credited with being inside the Antlar suit, although Nakamura Harekichi (who played plant monster Green Mons in episode 5) is seen in pre-production photos (see above insert) wearing the costume for creature creator Ryosaku Takayama (far right in above insert). Antlar was one of the handful of monsters seen in ULTRAMAN EVE (THE BIRTH OF ULTRAMAN), a live special inside an auditorium designed to introduce the character and some of its antagonists that aired July 10th, 1966. On this occasion, suit actor Izumi Umenosuke was inside the Antlar costume.

The script (by director Nagase Samaji and Kinjo Tetsuo) goes into surprisingly profound territory. Giant monster movies had frequently displayed a fascination for native cultures who worshiped gods, but on this occasion the story contains glaring biblical elements. Both Samaji's and Tetsuo's screenplay tinker with the theories of ancient aliens visiting the Earth and being responsible for man's civilization, his culture, and his religion. This being a 25 minute monster show, the script writers find a way to link Ultraman with theology and the sort of conjecture popularized in Erich Von Daniken's 'Chariots of the Gods?' published in 1968.

The alien from M-78 is linked with those ancient astronauts in that another, or others like him had been to the Earth centuries before, destined to return again. Noa (or Noah), seen in the form of a stone statue within the city of Baraji, is supposed to be the oldest of the Ultra aliens. The character appears in later Ultra series's and has a pivotal role in the adult-oriented ULTRAMAN NEXUS (2004-2005). 

 
The blue stone gripped in the palm of the statue of Noa is what actually defeats the monster, putting a nice spin on a mythology still in its infancy. For a show aimed primarily at children and prone to nostalgic fits of joy for grownups, it's intriguing to find cerebral ideas, subtle as they are, sprinkled throughout the occasional program.

 
Elsewhere, there's a few (obvious) matte paintings that accentuate the location change. One of which is a nice painting of the Baraji city. The open set of the main castle was the same one seen in the same year's Toshiro Mifune action-fantasy, ADVENTURE IN KIGAN CASTLE (1966) directed by Senkichi Taniguchi.

'The Blue Stone of Baraji' was the fourth episode produced but the seventh to air, on August 28th, 1966.

One of the best, most fascinating episodes of this series, 'The Blue Stone of Baraji' gets bonus points for its epic feel and radical change of scenery. Within the span of 25 minutes, we get an exotic locale, primordial Ultra backstory, and a memorable monster that Ultraman doesn't defeat. 

Next time, ULTRAMAN ramps up the monster action and introduces one of the goofiest, but one of the most popular creatures that had been seen previously in Tsuburaya's monsterless SciFi series, ULTRA Q (1965-1966).

MONSTERS: Antlar
WEAPONS: Jet VTOL, Spider Shot, Super Gun

To be continued in Episode 8: THE LAWLESS MONSTER ZONE!!!

TV Movie Terror: A Cold Night's Death (1973) review

A COLD NIGHT'S DEATH 1973 aka THE CHILL FACTOR

Robert Culp (Robert Jones), Eli Wallach (Frank Enari), Michael C. Gwynne (Val Adams)

Directed by Jerrold Freedman

The Short Version: This chilling slice of isolation horror is among the best examples of TV terror and, unfortunately, one that is buried in obscurity. Two scientists are alone at a remote polar outpost where space exploratory experiments are conducted on chimps; only there's something else inside the station with them. The suspense and impending dread mounts as quickly as the piles of snow dumped by a merciless blizzard. Meticulously paced and possessing an ice-cold sting in the tail, the less you know about this one going in the better.

After losing contact with Dr. Vogel at an isolated animal research facility in the Arctic, two scientists, doctors Jones and Enari, are flown out to the Tower Mountain Research Station to replace Vogel. Upon their arrival they find the facility in a shambles, windows open and Vogel frozen to death. Bringing with them a new monkey for testing, the two doctors continue Vogel's experiments on stress studies for astronauts during space exploration. However, it isn't long before the scientists discover that someone or something is inside the polar station with them.

Frost-biting fear is felt by both the audience and two fine actors stuck in an isolated research outpost with a bunch of monkey's that become increasingly rattled by an unseen entity. Everything in Jerrold Freedman's 74 minute shiver-fest is top-notch; unraveling in methodical fashion, enabling the viewer to wonder if the two men will end up killing each other or if something else will.

Masterfully made by a cadre of NIGHT GALLERY alumni, the chilly atmosphere of A COLD NIGHT'S DEATH is amplified by the photography of Leonard J. South (HANG'EM HIGH [1968]) and the editing skills of David Berlatsky (PAT GARRETT & BILLY THE KID [1973]). South's slow pans and tracking shots frequently crank up the sense of unease while Berlatsky complements it with his cutting techniques in crucial scenes. For example, a simple camera motion gives clues as to the horror awaiting our protagonists; while rapid cutting creates an unsettling mood during one of the more potentially harrowing moments. The film is so polished, you almost forget you're watching a TV movie. The writing is another area where this modest movie excels.

Christopher Knopf's script is rife with good dialog, giving actors Culp and Wallach numerous opportunities to shine as they become increasingly disenchanted, and ultimately distrustful of one another. Are they losing their minds? Or is it something supernatural? Or maybe something else? Engaging from start to finish, it's only in the last few minutes that the horrifying reality is unveiled leading to a shocker final shot. At 74 minutes long, and with a limited cast, the scenario is perfect for the small screen medium and often feels like an extended episode for either THE TWILIGHT ZONE or the aforementioned NIGHT GALLERY.

Another factor that benefits this night of cold death are the performances. We get to spend less than 80 minutes with them, but to their credit, it seems like months. As the film progresses, both Robert Culp (I SPY [1965-1968]) and Eli Wallach (THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN [1960], THE GOOD, THE BAD & THE UGLY [1966]) make you believe that one of them could in fact be going crazy from the isolation; their familiar, safer surroundings of home having been replaced by the biting cold and howling wind. This air of confinement, of remoteness, is conveyed in the increasingly argumentative, even hostile conversations between the two men; while the passage of time is evident through their growing fatigue and facial hair.

Prior to helming this tale of horror 20 degrees below zero, Jerrold Freedman directed several NIGHT GALLERY shows; then on to the Raquel Welch Roller Derby drama KANSAS CITY BOMBER (1972); and later the Charles Bronson picture BORDERLINE (1980). Freedman ran the genre gamut, but one wonders what he might of done had he entered horror's theatrical realm considering how good of a job he did within the confines of Made For TV terror.

If Richard Einhorn's skin-crawling cues for SHOCK WAVES (1976) gave you the creeps, you'll get your goosebump fix out of Gil Melle's electronic sounds of frozen doom. Primarily a TV Movie composer, some of his works include NIGHT GALLERY and KOLCHAK, THE NIGHT STALKER episodes; the cult favorite KILLDOZER (1974) and A VACATION IN HELL (1979); and theatrical features like THE ANDROMEDA STRAIN (1971), THE ULTIMATE WARRIOR (1975), THE SENTINEL (1977) and BLOOD BEACH (1981). 

A COLD NIGHT'S DEATH premiered January 30th, 1973 as ABC's Tuesday Movie of the Week. Like a lot of American TV productions, it did get theatrical play in overseas markets. That same year saw other memorable and obscure television horror pictures like the classic DON'T BE AFRAID OF THE DARK, THE DEVIL'S DAUGHTER (directed by Jeannot Szwarc), Dan Curtis's creepy THE NORLISS TAPES, and SATAN'S SCHOOL FOR GIRLS to name a few.

A blizzard of great performances and ideas, Freedman's compact and claustrophobic quasi-SciFi Horror deserves rediscovery. A cross between Colin Eggelston's eco-goosebumper LONG WEEKEND (1978) and John Carpenter's THE THING (1982), if you're a fan of bleak, slow-burn horror, than you'll likely warm up to A COLD NIGHT'S DEATH.