Evening folks,
I found another forgotten horror gem, A Bucket of Blood (1959) unsurprisingly, from Roger Corman, perhaps the most prolific exploitation producer of all time. And a damn good one, to boot.
Set in the heart of The Beat, a literary and film genre of the mid-fifties, this was atypical drive-in movie fair in an age of Teen Rebellion and Noir films. It is without question an outlier of Film Noir, by dint of lighting and particularly the "No Way Out" narrative structure.
The film opens with a poem that cannot be overstated... True recognition of Glory...
I can say with authority, that the character of Walter Paisley is without question autistic. Everything about his behaviour screams it.. his obsession.. his eidetic memory, his psychosis-tinged stimming.. This man is my brother...
Isolated...
And overwhelmed by a world he cannot understand, which has no mercy upon him. He is exploited at every turn, by many folks who should have known better. They chose cowardice and self-aggrandizement... But they did not know precisely -WHAT- they were dealing with... A simple creature, pure of heart but weak of will.. That might catalyze into an engine of destruction.
Only those he loved most did not profit from him... Yet even they, most unknowingly, contributed to his eventual doom. But thems, at least, would be the most likely to bear him, to understand their part in it all... to carry his aspiration. Nobody wins here... some few, just lost more than most.
At 44.30, Walter achieves monstrosity...
At 57.30: Absolute Corruption... full blown Hockey-Mask-Time... The artistic obsession has overcome the Artist.
Forever lost...
The rest of the film plays out as expected.
It is not right, what happened to Walter Paisley. A number of folks could have stepped-in, primarily his alcoholic employer. I cannot fault his final decision, as it was best for everyone, especially the artist. His life's work, summed up as only America would have it.
Peace to the Peaceful,
Silas Danois