Review by Ben Bussey
What makes a rebel? The dictionary definition is “1. a person who refuses allegiance to, resists, or rises in arms against the government or ruler of his or her country; 2. a person who resists any authority, control or tradition.” Presumably we’re safe to disregard the first definition in relation to Roger Corman, given that at no point does Alex Stapleton’s engrossing documentary mention the prolific filmmaker ever having been involved first-hand in an armed uprising. We might even poke holes in whether the second definition fully applies, as over the decades Corman’s films have tended to pay close attention to that which was popular among filmgoers at the time, and sought to meet that demand as cheaply and quickly as possible; such deliberate pandering to existing cultural trends could hardly be described as the acts of someone resisting tradition. Ah, but then there are those other two factors to which the rebel is resistant: authority and control. It’s here that Corman really earns his rebel stripes. As Corman’s World details, from the very beginning he’s been driven by a determination to make his own films in his own way, and to grant similar freedom to those he has taken under his wing; a great many of whom have, of course, gone on to become the most successful filmmakers in Hollywood.
The list of his one-time protégés, most of whom show up in this film at one point or another, reads like a Who’s Who of Tinseltown for the last forty-odd years: Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorcese, Robert De Niro, Jack Nicholson, Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper, Jonathan Demme, Ron Howard, Joe Dante… we could go on. It is this sense that Corman is the unsung (perhaps illegitimate?) father of post-70s Hollywood that is the cornerstone of the Roger Corman legend, and quite rightly so. But this film emphasises just how great a role Corman played in what came to be classed as the counterculture, not simply as a developer of new talents but as a filmmaker in his own right; how throughout it all he resolutely refused to play the game, even when it would surely have been easy and profitable to do so.
For the most part avoiding the in-depth character study approach many such documentaries tend to follow, Alex Stapleton keeps the focus squarely on Corman’s film career. We’re told of how Corman first moved into independent producing and directing after getting stung by the studio system, leading him to work with American International Pictures, and how down the line his frustration with interference from above saw him break away further and found New World. Given how little he has directed in recent history, it’s easy to forget just how prolific and varied a director he was before retreating largely to producing from the 70s onwards. And his output was nothing if not varied, from his Ed Wood-ish creature features, to car chase movies, to rock ‘n’ roll teen pics, to pseudo-historical fantasy adventures, and ultimately the celebrated Edgar Allen Poe movies with Vincent Price.
The sad part is, Corman seems to have stepped back from directing just when he was becoming really interesting. As well as the Poe films, the 60s saw him direct a number of contemporary-set films that really tapped into what was going on at the time in the US, notably The Intruder, The Wild Angels (whose dialogue quoted here will be familiar to anyone who’s ever heard Primal Scream’s Loaded), and The Trip. Of these, 1962’s The Intruder – an anti-racial segregation drama with an early turn from William Shatner as a hateful white supremacist – seems to have been the most heartfelt for Corman. Sadly, it received a hostile reaction from audiences not yet ready for such a message, which seems to have dissuaded Corman from ever going into such serious and topical territory again. This might explain why, by the 70s, his productions grew progressively trashier; for which, I suppose, we can at once be sad for what might have been, and yet also intensely grateful for what is.
Given this is an officially sanctioned documentary, it’s certainly not the most unbiased account of Corman’s career, and might be accused of seeing things through slightly rose-tinted spectacles at times. AIP’s Sam Arkoff and Jim Nicholson tend to be portrayed as the villains of the piece, which might not sit well with some; after all, their contribution to exploitation cinema is a significant story in its own right. Also, framing the account of Corman’s career progression is footage from the set of one of his latest productions, Dinoshark; this is presented as though it is a worthy addition to his oeuvre, which, as anyone who’s seen those recent SyFy Channel productions should be able to tell you, simply isn’t the case. Yes, it’s great that despite being well over retirement age he’s still driven to keep making movies after all these years, but I can’t be the only one wishing he could be a tad more discerning in his project choices; for, as this documentary demonstrates, Corman actually does have taste as well as business acumen. It’s fascinating to witness how, at the same time that he was churning out women in prison movies and the like for the drive-in market, he was also handling the US distribution of films from the likes of Bergman, Fellini, Antonioni and Kurosawa.
That said, when questions of taste and quality arise in Corman’s World they are generally cast aside with little aplomb. As quoted on the poster, Scorcese declares that those under Corman’s wing understood that “taste was out of the question,” whilst Jack Nicholson notes, in that unmistakeably Jack Nicholson fashion, “by mistake he actually made a good picture once in a while; I was never in it…” (Be on the lookout, however, for a moment of uncharacteristic tenderness from old Jack.) Much is also made of Corman’s penny-pinching ways, from refusing Ron Howard his desired number of extras, to not providing water on desert shoots, to not telephoning his bride-to-be from the Philippines because it would have been a long distance call. On the flipside of this, though, Corman’s insistence on staying in the low-budget field is demonstrated to be (at least in part) ethical; an interview from the 80s shows him quite rightly complaining that the tens of millions blown on Hollywood productions could and should be put to much better use in this troubled world of ours. That’s surely even truer today, when budgets upwards of $150 million are alarmingly commonplace.
Of course, from a film fan perspective the issue is not whether Corman’s World really gets to the heart of the enigma that is Roger Corman; we’re far more likely to be concerned with whether our favourite films are given enough coverage. Alas, at only just over 90 minutes and with a great deal of ground to cover, a lot of stuff inevitably falls through the cracks. I for one would have loved to have seen a bit more on the Poe films, his role in bringing The Wicker Man into cult status, and some of my personal favourites which are barely touched on: the WiPs, Piranha, Rock ‘n’ Roll High School, Humanoids from the Deep and Barbarian Queen to name but a few. Francis Ford Coppola is also conspicuous by his absence, given that the bulk of (as Bruce Dern puts it) Corman University’s most notable alumni get a look in. One can’t help but wonder just how much material may have hit the cutting room floor – it certainly didn’t hit the deleted scenes, as this disc doesn’t have any – for the documentary has clearly been in production for some time; contributions from the long-since deceased David Carradine and Irvin Kershner are evidence of that. Having recently seen and thoroughly enjoyed Scorcese’s 3 hour + documentary on George Harrison, I certainly feel Corman’s career warrants similar treatment. But even so, there can be little doubt that Stapleton has emphasised the chapters that really deserved emphasis; she’s done a great job conveying the legacy of Roger Corman and the debt he is owed by contemporary cinema, particularly here in our beloved realm of cult film.
Oh, and one last thing about Corman’s World: the original soundtrack by Air is boss.
Corman’s World: Exploits of a Hollywood Rebel is out on DVD and Blu-Ray on 26th March, from Anchor Bay Entertainment.