Back in late 2022 and early 2023, Ponty and I did a series of posts about our favorite films. I ranked 1980’s The Empire Strikes Back as my number one pick. If we redid the lists, I doubt it would rank that high, but it would certainly be in the top five.
At the time, I noted that Empire was the first film I ever reviewed for what would become Monday Morning Movie Reviews. At the time, I just called it Monday Movie Review, perhaps knowing there’d be days I’d miss the “morning” deadline. Regardless, the review of that film marked something of a turning point for The Portly Politico, moving away from primarily political topics and moving more decisively towards cultural ones.
One of the flicks on my mental “to view” list for some time now was today’s feature, The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971; that’s an Amazon Affiliate link; I receive a portion of any purchases made through that link, at no additional cost to you). It’s been wickedly hard to track down online, although I’ve seen its sequel, Dr. Phibes Rises Again (same affiliate link as above) available on a number of platforms. For whatever reason, I never cared enough to find the DVD (ibid.)—or to even consider looking for it!
So when the sequel popped up on YouTube a couple of weeks ago, I decided to hunt down the original. Surely YouTube would have it as one of their free (with ads) flicks, yes?
Well, no. But someone—or two someones—had uploaded it to YouTube. I can’t vouch for how legit it is that they’ve done so, but they’ve head the film uploaded for seven years, so I imagine American International Pictures or the copyright holders of the various Great American Songbook tunes in the film don’t care or don’t know about the upload (hopefully I’m not outing them with this review). Regardless, two gentlemen in New Castle, Pennsylvania, have a little horror show called New Castle After Dark (website) in which they dress in the kind of tuxedos nerds wear to the prom. They also smoke lots of cigarettes and drink dark beer while they make some general comments about the flick.
It’s a charming setup, and I appreciated that they didn’t cut into the film too frequently. From what I recall, they do an intro, then host a segment midway through the film, and finally close with some concluding remarks. It’s just the right about of interstitial commentary, and I think it’s super cool that they’re trying to capture the spirit (no pun intended) of late-night horror hosts.
Here’s the flick with their commentary if you want to check it out yourself:
The premise for Dr. Phibes is insanely fun and campy: the titular doctor, who holds dual doctorates in music and theology, seeks revenge on the surgeons who he believes botched his wife’s surgery some years earlier. He methodically murders each doctor according to the Ten Plagues of Egypt from Exodus.
Phibes himself is a gruesome character. While his wife was going into surgery, he attempted to rush back to England from Switzerland. In the process he crashed his car, sustaining injuries that made it impossible for him to talk. To do so, he used his knowledge of music and acoustics to create a voice box (through which he comically drinks some champagne at one point). He also has a full, automaton band that plays jazz and pop standards from the 1920s (the setting of the film) and, anachronistically, the 1930s and 1940s.
Vincent Price portrays the devilishly ingenious doctor, so imagine Price’s stentorian voice filtered through an old landline telephone wire. It’s so goofy and awesome.
Yours portly doesn’t have any new music or covers this week, although I have arranged a delightful rendition of the theme from Agatha Christie’s Poirot and hope to record that soon (thanks to Ponty for that recommendation). Here’s the theme song itself, which is a killer sax solo:
The one thing that has forestalled my practicing and recording of my arrangement of the piece is my printer. I purchased an Epson printer some years ago because I’ve had good experience with other Epson products (we use their projectors frequently at school). The printer was, as most printers are, always a bit finicky, but it worked well enough for my needs, and it’s typically rare for me to need to print anything at home.
Then one fateful day I made the mistake of updating the firmware. Suddenly, the perfectly serviceable third-party ink cartridges I used weren’t good enough for my printer, which demanded only the finest (and overpriced) Epson ink. That took me down a rabbit hole of cheapskatery in an attempt to locate an earlier version of the firmware online.
I started writing this review Sunday evening and decided to spend time with Dr. Wife, who is now done with residency and living here in our South Carolina house permanently! This morning was full of errands, including taking Nugget to the vet for her annual visit and taking care of things around the house. Ergo, I’m finally getting around to finishing up this review. —TPP
Also, this post includes some Amazon Affiliate links (the book and movie titles). I receive a portion of any purchases made through these links at no additional cost to you. —TPP
On Saturday I wrote about Richard Matheson’s novellaI Am Legend, which I enjoyed reading over the past week. What prompted me to purchase the book was re-watching its 1964 film adaptation, The Last Man on Earth. The film stars Vincent Price is the role of Robert Neville, the titular last man on Earth not to succumb to a terrible plague that turns people into vampires.
My Boomer-esque journey into the glory of free movies (with ads) on YouTube continues with the 1978 remake Invasion of the Body Snatchers, the classic featuring the likes of Donald Sutherland, Brooke Adams, and Jeff Goldblum. At the time of writing, the film is available for digital rental or purchase on YouTube, but it was available for free last week:
Regardless, it’s been a couple of years or so since I last saw this classic, and watching from the relative intimacy of my office computer—up close, largely focused, with a clear view a foot or so from my face—I appreciated Invasion of the Body Snatchers more than ever.
Dr. Wife and I took a trip to the theater on Saturday to see the horror/psychological thriller/black comedy Obsession (2025-2026). Dr. Wife had seen it on social media, and Critical Drinker’s positive review clinched it.
The film is based on a familiar premise: be careful what you wish for. It’s essentially a “The Monkey’s Paw” with one wish instead of three. Naturally, the one wish goes horribly awry.
The protagonist, Bear, is deeply in love—obsessed—with his friend and co-worker Nikki. After a night out with their fellow co-workers Ian and Sandy, Bear drives Nikki home, and she pointedly asks Bear if he likes her, saying, “now’s the time to tell me.” Bear, who is a rather cowardly young man, sheepishly denies it.
Frustrated with his own spinelessness, he uses a “One-Wish Willow”—a novelty toy he purchased at a New Age shop as a gag—to wish that Nikki love him more than anything else in the world.
Well, it wouldn’t be a movie if the wish didn’t come true; it does, and what starts as a giddy romance quickly devolves into an obsessive, dangerously co-dependent relationship, amid which the “real” Nikki briefly “breaks through.” These episodes of lucidity show a woman desperately fighting to reassert herself against Bear’s wish, which has robbed her of her free will.
Summertime is upon us, and yours portly is all but done with the academic year. That means it’s time for video games.
Civilization VII dropped its huge update, which brings some major changes to the game; I’m hoping to sink some hours into that again soon. I’m also hoping to get back into Old World, which devoured so much of my time back in April with its deep gameplay.
Of course, I still have my lovable Zelda Game & Watch by Nintendo (that link is an Amazon Affiliate link, which means I receive a portion of any purchases made through that link, at no additional cost to you). I haven’t played it in awhile, but it still keeps time like a tiny Hyrulean champ.
Yours portly is a sucker for old-school sword and sorcery stories: loin-cloth-clad barbarians; pseudo-Sumerian cults; wicked witches; feisty damsels; ferrets. 1982’s The Beastmaster has them all (that’s an Amazon Affiliate link; I receive a portion of any purchases made through that link, at no additional cost to you).
This film was on cable all the time when I was a kid, although I think its heyday was passing by the early 1990s. According to the film’s Wikipedia entry, HBO played it so frequently that people joked that “HBO” stood for “Hey, Beastmaster’s On.” We didn’t have HBO (except for those free weekends they would do sometimes, and then we were forbidden from watching it), but the same entry notes that TBS played it enough to be called “The Beastmaster Station.” That’s probably where I first saw the flick.
Regardless, the film made an impression. Coming of age with He-Man action figures, I couldn’t help but equate He-Man with Dar, the titular Beastmaster himself. They look and dress the same; both have a scantily-clad girlfriend; and both have a pet panther that aids them in battle.
More importantly, the essential elements of what I would come to recognize as “low” fantasy, pulpy sword-and-sorcery were all there. The trope of a free and wild rustic using only his sword, his wits, and his animal companions against an entrenched and powerful wizard turns up frequently in low fantasy, notably in the classic Conan stories. The early 1980s was awash in celluloid adaptations of these stories, which meant that late-1980s and early-1990s cable showed them frequently.
So, what of The Beastmaster itself? It’s a great film, not for any deep artistic merit or innovative camera work, but because it’s fun while also creating a clear sense of dread (which is probably why it is currently on Shudder, where I watched it).
Note: this post contains several Amazon Affiliate links. I receive a portion of any purchases made through these links, at no additional cost to you.
My students and I are back at the SCISA Music Festival this morning, and yours portly has a saxophone gig tonight. As such, it seemed like a good time to look back at my “Short Sax Starter Pack Recommendation” post from 12 March 2025—one year ago today!
The thrust of last year’s post was that, for under $400, you can purchase a decent—not great, but serviceable—alto saxophone. Indeed, I’m playing at this very same saxophone tonight:
Here are the updated prices for the items I listed last year; remarkably, the price is lower than a year ago; however, Slade seems to be phasing out the horn, as there is only one sax available at the time of writing:
Slade alto saxophone – $216.69 (down $43.21 from a typical price of $259.90 in 2025); only gold is still available
Dr. Wife and I went to see Emerald Fennell’s adaptation/reinterpretation of Wuthering Heights (2026) the other weekend after a long day of lugging our stuff to our new home. The director’s name—which sounds like a extremely colorful spice—should give some insight into what the film was like. I’ve never read Emily Brontë novel—yes, literature girls, you can sacrifice me to Emily Dickinson—but Dr. Wife had, so she filled me in some of the details.
The original novel is the bleak tale of a doomed romance denied by the strictures of propriety, social class, and cash. The movie is an excessively plodding first act that culminates in twenty minutes of sexual depravity followed by a tragic death.
The film is gaining notoriety because it’s smut. My wife kept calling it “Wuthering Glutes,” and we had fun making jokes involving the word “wuthering” and other anatomical features. The popular consensus is correct: it is basically an excuse for a swarthy heartthrob to assert his will over Margot Robbie while women swoon lustily.
