Category Archives: Cold War

On The Mole People (1956)

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Filmed and released in 1956 as a B movie, The Mole People, is one of the Saturday night camp films starring John Agar that is both good and bad at the same time. Production standards were card board cutouts and paper mâché boulders. As a movie goer you were required to suspend all of your disbelief regarding a plot line with more holes in it than a Swiss cheese. Even as a twelve year-old I thought this movie was awful, but perhaps even in its extreme awfulness one needs to contemplate the enslavement of the mole people. The plot is irrelevant, but the story is an old one, one group enslaves another, using force and violence to get another group to do all of their dirty work. The “mole” people are grotesque monsters, brutes and savages, and they are enslaved by more normal-looking humanoids, light-sensitive Sumerians as it turns out. The film is drenched is various levels of gratuitous violence and inexplicable adventures. The improbability of the storyline is only matched by the horrendous special effects, which turn out to be a flashlight. As a kid, we called this genre of film a “monster” movie in our own naive and simplistic way. Monsters were everywhere back in the 50’s and 60’s when this movie was made–middle of the Cold War, actually. We couldn’t defeat our monsters in real life, so we created troubling rubber-masked non-human monsters to populate the twilight zone of our subconscious. The weird light-fearing albinos and their slaves are thwarted, and the modern world of science and reason are re-established before the crowd walks back out into the real world of mutually ensured self-destruction of the nuclear age–slavery of another kind.

On the thing that came from another world

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This strange little film came out at a time when the world was wondering if it would have to duck and cover, and the world’s leaders were all caught up in dreams nuclear war, atom bombs, and anti-communist rhetoric. The whole world was Cold War obsessed, and the crazy senator from Wisconsin was carrying around lists of all the communists that worked in the State Department. Unsure of either the science or the ethics surrounding the nuclear age, people lived in fear that today might be their last day on earth if someone got crazy and punched the wrong button, sending nuclear weapons flying, helter-skelter, across the world and obliterating every living thing. So this archetypal ghost story comes with an interesting twist: one of our Cold War outposts in Alaska find a flying saucer in the ice near the North Pole, and they bring back, frozen in ice as if he were some wooly mammoth or something, an alien. This alien, played by Gun Smoke’s James Arness, is a rather blood-thirsty and violent creature who wants to wipe out the men and woman who are temporarily stranded in the Arctic wasteland. In the true spirit of American bootstrap initiatives, they fight back and (spoiler alert!) and defeat said creature. When I first saw this film back in the sixties, I was just a kid and it scared the heebie-jeebies out of me. Now I can listen to characters talk, understand their fear of the unknown, and experience their total blind panic in a very direct fashion. This film gives a strange vicarious thrill, but it is not cathartic, and the ending leaves one feeling both incomplete and nervous. This movie predates Alien by almost thirty years, but the story is there. There is a direct threat to the security and well-being of the people at the outpost, and those in command must do something to resolve the situation. What I found incredibly creepy about this film is this: the difference between life and death is very fine, and it doesn’t take much to move from one to the other. The intensity of the film, the nervous tension among the characters, the fear, and the violent nature of the human response drain the viewer of energy because the emotional response to this film is extreme. The fear of the unknown is strong, overwhelming, intimidating, reckless, chaotic, unpredictable, and powerful. People do crazy things when they must confront their fears, and unsurprisingly, most of the time they turn tale and run. This movie is a Cold War product because it reflected both the Cold War fears of the unknown and American bravery and ingenuity for dealing with an unknown and dangerous power. The movie shows these good intentioned, but violent, soldiers working for their country. They and their reaction to the situation is heroic and exemplary, even in the face of certain death in an isolated and inhospitable location thousands of miles from civilization. There’s even an embedded newspaper man with the troops to shout about the first amendment, free speech, and freedom of the press. Though the film is shot in glorious black and white, it’s really rather red, white, and blue.

On the thing that came from another world

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This strange little film came out at a time when the world was wondering if it would have to duck and cover, and the world’s leaders were all caught up in dreams nuclear war, atom bombs, and anti-communist rhetoric. The whole world was Cold War obsessed, and the crazy senator from Wisconsin was carrying around lists of all the communists that worked in the State Department. Unsure of either the science or the ethics surrounding the nuclear age, people lived in fear that today might be their last day on earth if someone got crazy and punched the wrong button, sending nuclear weapons flying, helter-skelter, across the world and obliterating every living thing. So this archetypal ghost story comes with an interesting twist: one of our Cold War outposts in Alaska find a flying saucer in the ice near the North Pole, and they bring back, frozen in ice as if he were some wooly mammoth or something, an alien. This alien, played by Gun Smoke’s James Arness, is a rather blood-thirsty and violent creature who wants to wipe out the men and woman who are temporarily stranded in the Arctic wasteland. In the true spirit of American bootstrap initiatives, they fight back and (spoiler alert!) and defeat said creature. When I first saw this film back in the sixties, I was just a kid and it scared the heebie-jeebies out of me. Now I can listen to characters talk, understand their fear of the unknown, and experience their total blind panic in a very direct fashion. This film gives a strange vicarious thrill, but it is not cathartic, and the ending leaves one feeling both incomplete and nervous. This movie predates Alien by almost thirty years, but the story is there. There is a direct threat to the security and well-being of the people at the outpost, and those in command must do something to resolve the situation. What I found incredibly creepy about this film is this: the difference between life and death is very fine, and it doesn’t take much to move from one to the other. The intensity of the film, the nervous tension among the characters, the fear, and the violent nature of the human response drain the viewer of energy because the emotional response to this film is extreme. The fear of the unknown is strong, overwhelming, intimidating, reckless, chaotic, unpredictable, and powerful. People do crazy things when they must confront their fears, and unsurprisingly, most of the time they turn tale and run. This movie is a Cold War product because it reflected both the Cold War fears of the unknown and American bravery and ingenuity for dealing with an unknown and dangerous power. The movie shows these good intentioned, but violent, soldiers working for their country. They and their reaction to the situation is heroic and exemplary, even in the face of certain death in an isolated and inhospitable location thousands of miles from civilization. There’s even an embedded newspaper man with the troops to shout about the first amendment, free speech, and freedom of the press. Though the film is shot in glorious black and white, it’s really rather red, white, and blue.

On Perry Mason

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This television show, a black and white gem of the late fifties starring Raymond Burr, was a brilliant tour-de-force in the detective-noir genre of the mid-twentieth century. The show predates color television by about five years, and it was filmed in a glorious black and white and a million shades of gray, not just fifty. The plots are the same plots that crowd television today: jealousy, greed, evil, passion, sloth, ire, hate, and shame. The human creature is capable of almost anything driven by poor thinking, loose morals, and confused ethics. Into the middle of the chaos strides Perry Mason, ready to defend the innocent, pursue the guilty, and bring justice to all. The ever enigmatic Raymond Burr played Mason with a sly smile on his lips, but his eyes never gave away what he was thinking. Burr’s Mason was utterly and completely cerebral, always considering all of the possibilities while putting the pieces together and solving the crime. Sorting out who was lying from who was telling the truth was Mason’s strength, supported by the ever loyal Della Street and his energetic side-kick and investigator, Paul Drake. The conventions of the show–crime, innocent suspect, trial, confessing criminal, happy ending–were well-known to everyone. The show rarely varied from its well-established formula. Even so, the show was comforting because it was about establishing justice, resolving a mystery, and returning everything back to normal: the killer is caught and incarcerated, the innocent go free, and the ethical and moral social structure has been re-established, much to the relief of everyone. The weekly mystery always presented a world undone, tipped over, out of sorts. The police and other authorities always seemed, however, to get it wrong, and it was Mason’s job to set things right. In the Cold War world of the fifties, moral ambiguity was beginning to flower, and the moral certainty of the world which had been so clear right after World War II was beginning to wane. All of the problems which would explode in the sixties with drug use, the sexual revolution, civil rights, women’s liberation, and the Vietnam War, all existed in nascent form in the fifties and are reflected in the problems that all of the characters face. Mason, however, is a monolithic figure who never becomes very emotional or excited. We never get to see him outside of his personae as lawyer, never see him date or kick his shoes off at home. His black suit and white shirt are his armor and chain mail, and one would never see him out of that costume. Some questions, such as his true relationship to Della Street, are never meant to be answered–they add to the mystique. Larger than life, Mason was a big man with an imposing presence who could go toe-to-toe with any prosecutor, any law enforcement official, any lying witness, any stern judge, and come out on top. The show is still better than 99% of the crap that is on television today. He knew what was right and wrong, and he didn’t have to worry about moral relativism. If only things were that simple today.

On Perry Mason

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This television show, a black and white gem of the late fifties starring Raymond Burr, was a brilliant tour-de-force in the detective-noir genre of the mid-twentieth century. The show predates color television by about five years, and it was filmed in a glorious black and white and a million shades of gray, not just fifty. The plots are the same plots that crowd television today: jealousy, greed, evil, passion, sloth, ire, hate, and shame. The human creature is capable of almost anything driven by poor thinking, loose morals, and confused ethics. Into the middle of the chaos strides Perry Mason, ready to defend the innocent, pursue the guilty, and bring justice to all. The ever enigmatic Raymond Burr played Mason with a sly smile on his lips, but his eyes never gave away what he was thinking. Burr’s Mason was utterly and completely cerebral, always considering all of the possibilities while putting the pieces together and solving the crime. Sorting out who was lying from who was telling the truth was Mason’s strength, supported by the ever loyal Della Street and his energetic side-kick and investigator, Paul Drake. The conventions of the show–crime, innocent suspect, trial, confessing criminal, happy ending–were well-known to everyone. The show rarely varied from its well-established formula. Even so, the show was comforting because it was about establishing justice, resolving a mystery, and returning everything back to normal: the killer is caught and incarcerated, the innocent go free, and the ethical and moral social structure has been re-established, much to the relief of everyone. The weekly mystery always presented a world undone, tipped over, out of sorts. The police and other authorities always seemed, however, to get it wrong, and it was Mason’s job to set things right. In the Cold War world of the fifties, moral ambiguity was beginning to flower, and the moral certainty of the world which had been so clear right after World War II was beginning to wane. All of the problems which would explode in the sixties with drug use, the sexual revolution, civil rights, women’s liberation, and the Vietnam War, all existed in nascent form in the fifties and are reflected in the problems that all of the characters face. Mason, however, is a monolithic figure who never becomes very emotional or excited. We never get to see him outside of his personae as lawyer, never see him date or kick his shoes off at home. His black suit and white shirt are his armor and chain mail, and one would never see him out of that costume. Some questions, such as his true relationship to Della Street, are never meant to be answered–they add to the mystique. Larger than life, Mason was a big man with an imposing presence who could go toe-to-toe with any prosecutor, any law enforcement official, any lying witness, any stern judge, and come out on top. The show is still better than 99% of the crap that is on television today. He knew what was right and wrong, and he didn’t have to worry about moral relativism. If only things were that simple today.

On Yossarian (Catch-22)

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He claimed he was crazy so he wouldn’t have to go on any more bombing missions, but his self-proclaimed insanity is a sign of self-preservation and mental health, so he had to keep on flying the bombing missions. That’s Catch-22. That’s the best there is. I totally empathize with both sides: Yossarian is afraid of dying, so he claims to be insane. The doctor recognizes this as the work of a rational brain, so he sends him back to fly more missions. The logic is inscrutable, but the irony is diabolic. I guess the problem is war and how pointless most wars are. People have fought wars for most of the history of mankind, but after the blood has dried and the dead buried, the only thing that has really changed are the increases in widows and a decrease in sons. Politics, ideologies, economics, geo-political domino theories are all washed downstream so that something new may take its place–a new religious fanaticism, other ethnic rivalries, extreme political infighting, fratricide. The reasons for sending Yossarian back up in his plane so he can bomb people without ever really seeing them are almost always irrelevant, or perhaps even trivial, perhaps non-existent. Revenge, hate, conflict, jealousy, irrelevant meta-narratives, petty thinking have always driven conflict to the extreme of killing. This is an old song for humanity, but the problem has never been a lack of new verses. Yossarian understands the pointlessness of what he is doing. He understands that you can bomb, and bomb, and bomb, and you change nothing except the number of dead. War is an insanity that cures no evils, solves no problems, does not increase the standard of living for anyone, does not prevent the sowing of new evils, new ire, new hatreds, new violence, and so the wheel turns but nothing changes. Peace can only exist as a state of mind when all sides decide that there are no sides, that humanity must stand together and accept the “other” as brother and sister and not as foe. When color and religion and gender and age and politics and sexual orientation cease to define who we are, then war does not stand a chance. Peace cannot be dictated by peace accords, or summed up in a treaty, it is not compromise to disagree. Peace exists when humans can get past their differences and find their commonalities. Yossarian is not less patriotic because he doesn’t want to kill anonymously, he is more human because the killing is entirely senseless. The war against Hitler and his ilk seemed to have a point–destroy Hitler–but in the end, it was a war of attrition that killed millions and solved none of the problems that Hitler developed and kindled. Hitler was inevitably destroyed because he engendered war, and there would be no other outcome. What is entirely tragic is the idea that a good man such as Yossarian had to do what they did–kill–to bring him down.