By
Ed Garea
We often
speak of B Movies on this site, as do many film fans. But there are still fans
out there unaware of the term or don’t exactly know what it means. Mention the
phrase “B Movie” to any filmgoer and the first thing that pops to mind is
“cheap,” which is usually equated with the term “lousy.” But, just as not all
“A” productions are good, not all “B productions” are bad.
The term
“B” really refers to the billing the movie received on the marquee. The more
costly with bigger stars “A” production was listed on top with the lesser cost
with either young rising or old fading stars listed on the bottom of the
marquee. But this does not denote the quality of the movies. In fact, several “B’s”
are just as good, if not better, than the “A’s” they were listed below. In fact,
as this column will show in the future, many readers’ favorite movies are of
the “B” variety.
The
roots of the B Movie go back to the late 1920s. By the end of the Silent Era
1927-29, the cost of a major Hollywood studio production might average from
$100,000 at, say Universal, to about $175,000 at Fox, and $275,000 at MGM.
Rising production costs hit local independent theaters hard, which led to the
formation of what later were called “Poverty Row” studios.
Studios such as
Tiffany, Mascot, Columbia (although it reorganized in 1924, it was still viewed
as a Poverty Row studio), and Film Booking Office of America (FBO, which later
morphed into major RKO), concentrated on productions costing usually no more
than $20,000. These were aimed at independent theaters, usually in small towns
or local neighborhoods in the city. A couple of these films enabled the smaller
theaters to avoid what was the standard programming of the time: a couple of
live acts followed by one or two shorts, and then the main feature.
Independent
theaters had to rely on what was known as “block booking,” in which the theater
had to buy a large amount of a studio’s film sight unseen. This system, which
was invented by Paramount in 1918, basically worked accordingly: If a theater
wanted a film with a bankable star, they had to acquire anywhere from 13 to 104
titles of differing quality. The star vehicles were available to be
pre-screened, but the others had to rented sight unseen. This became known as
“blind bidding.” The owner then received the star vehicles along with others of
lower cost and quality, usually starring a rising or fading star.
With the
establishment of sound in 1929, a new programming setup was established. The
night’s program would now begin with a newsreel, a short, and/or serial, a
cartoon, and then the double feature. The majors favored their affiliates over
the independents when it came to doling out the movies. Also, as the price of
block booking rose, many independent owners cut down on the number of films
they bought. Thus, the indies might be able to get the latest Garbo film from
MGM, but the film that usually went with it to the affiliates was not given to
the independents, so they filled the gap with cheaply-made films from the
lesser studios. Unlike the product from the majors, which was rented on
percentage, the lesser “B” pictures were available for a flat fee. These were
usually Westerns (which were also great for the Saturday and Sunday matinees,
when the place was packed with kids), Horror, Mysteries, and Melodramas.
For
their part, the Poverty Row studios also distributed independent productions
and foreign films. Lacking the necessary financial muscle to enforce block
booking, they depended on a plethora of regional distributors, called “States Rights”
organizations. These, in turn, peddled the blocks of product to the exhibitors
(usually about 10 or so featuring a known star that made more than one movie
for the studio, such as the five “Mr. Wong” films Boris Karloff made for Monogram plus The Ape, also for the studio,
making it a grand total of six) for a flat fee. If the theater was able to
advertise successfully, and if the star was a favorite, the theater made a good
sum from this scheme.
The main
moneymaker for the Poverty Row studios, and the B-units of many of the majors
as well, is a genre that has fallen into sorry neglect in recent times: the
Western. Westerns were cheap and easy to make on a large scale, and went over
well, especially with children at matinees. They also served as wonderful
opening feature attractions for the evening’s program. Republic made its money
with a plethora of Gene Autry Singing Westerns, and when Gene refused to work
unless he received more money, Republic began grinding out Roy Rogers Singing Westerns
without missing a pecuniary beat. Western series like the Texas Rangers for
PRC, the Trail Blazers for Monogram, and The Three Mesquiteers for Republic
were well-received by the public. We’ll examine this genre at length in future
columns.
Life at
many independently owned theaters went somewhat like this: It’s 1939, and on
Monday, the “A” feature is a film that had finished its first-run at the
theaters owned by the major studios, let’s say Holiday with Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn in 1938. For the
second feature, the theater runs the new Karloff “Mr. Wong” movie. On
Wednesday, the bill now consisted of 1939’s Love
Affair with Irene Dunne, which had just ended its run at the Paramount
theaters. Paired with that is Hitler-Beast
of Berlin, a cheapie with a young Alan Ladd that was produced by Producer’s
Distributing Corporation. (This studio later became Producer’s Releasing
Corporation, or PRC.) On weekends, two Westerns from Monogram play around the
clock on the matinee and, during the evening, another major studio production
that finished its run is paired with yet another Poverty Row film. Many small
town theaters never even saw an “A” film, instead getting their product
exclusively from States Rights distributors.
However,
two events occurred that changed the fortunes of the B Movie, and by extension,
that of independent theaters.
The
Regina Theater (at Wilshire and LaCienega) in Los Angeles was trying to stave
off bankruptcy. So on Thursday, Aug. 5, 1938, the theater began running a
triple-bill of Dracula, Frankenstein, and The Son of Kong, films long out of release and practically
forgotten by their studios, Universal and RKO. The theater soon was doing a
booming business, running the films continuously 21 hours a day to sellout
crowds. Patrons that wanted to see the film formed lines around the blocks,
causing the police to be called for crowd control. Universal realized that they
had smash hits on their hands, and ran 500 more prints of each movie, renting
them to independent theaters around the country.
Furthermore,
Universal, which had given up the horror film in 1936, now began to see the
profit potential these films represented and immediately put Son of Frankenstein into production. The
lesson learned by the financially-plagued studio was that it was far more
profitable to make cheaper films than trying to compete with MGM, Paramount, 20th
Century Fox, RKO and Columbia in making “A” products.
The
other event was on the legal level. In 1940, under pressure from the courts,
the major studios agreed to limit block booking to about five film packages.
Not only was this a boon to the Poverty Row studios, but it also encouraged
some of the smaller majors, such as Universal, Columbia, and RKO to increase
their “B” output. One of RKO’s most profitable series was the cheaply-made Val
Lewton horror films. They also made profits with the Mexican Spitfire series
and the Saint (and later Falcon) thrillers.
Columbia
countered with the Boston Blackie and the Lone Wolf series. And Universal had
two of the biggest box office stars in the 40s: Abbott and Costello, in
addition to the immensely-profitable Sherlock Holmes series with Basil Rathbone
and Nigel Bruce. In addition, Universal still cranked out the popular horror
films, each of which did well at the wartime box office. Fox also got into the
act with its highly-profitable Charlie Chan series, which actually began in the
‘30s.
This
placed pressure on the Poverty Row studios to come up with unique films of
their own. They began exploring other exploitable issues, such as populated Pre-Code
films of the early ‘30s, and gave them a social spin to avoid censorship. Among
the subjects explored were juvenile delinquency (Monogram may have been the
first with Where Are Your Children? in
1943.), women’s prison movies (Again, Monogram’s Women in Bondage, 1943), teenage-oriented musicals (Edgar G.
Ulmer’s Jive Junction, PRC, 1943),
and teenagers/hot rods/death films (PRC’s The
Devil of Wheels, 1947).
With the
1948 Supreme Court decision outlawing block booking and the practice of the
studios owning their own theaters, some of the Poverty Row studios began
expanding into the realm of “A” pictures. Monogram created its Allied Artists
subsidiary for just that purpose, while Republic, which was beginning to
experiment with “A” productions during the war years, moved ahead with even
more, peaking with John Ford’s The Quiet
Man in 1952. PRC, on the other hand, read the handwriting on the wall, and
sold out to Eagle-Lion, who wanted the studio to produce B-movies to be linked
to their British releases. In 1951, United Artists took over the studio in a
corporate deal.
Then
came television. While on one hand television had an insatiable appetite for
old movies, it also caused many former theatergoers to stay home. This forced
the major studios to invent gimmick after gimmick to attract audiences. 3-D and
Cinerama were representative of the gimmickry the studios tried to give
audiences an experience they couldn’t match on television. The impact of
television was such that Allied Artists retired the Monogram logo and went 99%
to B-movies, with only a rare “A” feature, like Friendly Persuasion (1956) and Love
in the Afternoon (1957), both starring Gary Cooper.
Republic
scaled back its production, concentrating on its film laboratory before
throwing in the towel in 1958. RKO also died around that time after being
horribly mismanaged by Howard Hughes. But there was a new kid on the block:
American International Pictures, which specialized in drive-in fare for
teenagers. With the boom in personal autos during the ‘50s, the drive-in
theater enjoyed what could be called its golden age. Drive-ins attracted
teenagers like honey attracts flies, and AIP realized early on in the game that
if they tailored their product to that market segment, they could be a very
profitable operation, especially with what they were spending per film. Cashing in on sci-fi, rock ‘n’ roll, JD, and
later, Beach Party movies and Roger Corman’s Poe Horror films, AIP became a
small but noticeable force in the industry. Meanwhile, other studios didn’t
stand by idly. Universal fought back with William Alland produced sci-fi films,
and Columbia with William Castle gimmick-laden horror pictures.
The 60s
saw the birth of the “splatter film.” Because the censors still cracked down on
nudity, independent producers began looking for other ways to be outrageous and
get away with it. Herschell Gordon Lewis, a producer of “nudies,” became tired
of the low profits and extremely restricted venues for his films. That, plus
the fact the police could raid the theater at any time and confiscate his
product. In 1963, he conceived of new excess, not of sex, but of blood, and so Blood Feast made its debut in
independent theaters and drive-ins. While the authorities went crazy at the
sight of a bare breast, they has no problem with a woman having her tongue cut
out, and Lewis went on to make a series of profitable splatter features.
Even
Russ Meyer, king of the Nudies, went the violent route with Motor Psycho and Faster Pussycat, Kill, Kill, marketing them to Middle America and
proving, in a strange way, radical H. Rap Brown’s pronouncement that violence
is as American as apple pie.
The
replacement of the Production Code with the Ratings System in 1968 opened the
doors to nudity in film, and with it came the “sexploitation” film, commonly
known as the “T & A” film. B-movie making veterans such as Roger Corman
began not only making these sorts of movies, but also incorporating the more
racy theme into his other horror and sci-fi films.
The premiere of Easy Rider (1969) brought with it a load of
copycat biker films, and Shaft (1971) opened the doors for a new kind of movie, Blaxploitation, aimed at the
African-American audience. Again, these are categories that will be explored in
depth in future columns.
With the
‘80s came financial consolidation, with many of the independent producers being
swallowed up by the corporate giants. Directors John Carpenter and Sean
Cunningham, who previously made their films on a shoestring, were now backed by
Paramount and Universal. (By the ’90s the average cost of a film was over $25
million.) The ‘80s also saw the advent of what could be called the “A/B” film:
a film with an “A” budget, but “B” in subject matter. Die Hard, Total Recall, Terminator 2, and Tim Burton’s Batman are prime examples of this new
category.
If Batman, Dick Tracy, and Raiders of the Lost Ark had been made in
the late ‘60s to early ‘70s, they would have been much cheaper B productions.
And what
does the future hold? With the cost of the average film approaching the $60
million mark, producers have become very conservative. Of the top grossing
films in 2011, six were animated features and the box office champion was based
on a children’s book. As the box office for 2012 is shaping up, out of the top
10 grossing films so far, three are animated, three are sequels of comic book
adventures, three are franchise sequels and one is an adaptation of a
children’s book. In other words, it’s all “B” material.
The serious and cheaper
“B” movies can still be found, however, if not at the theatre, then certainly
on DVD. And they are out there. All we need do is intensify our search. But
then, film mavens have been intensively searching for interesting movies since
they first became hooked on the medium.
