At long last, I caught the Severin Films documentary/bio on Independent-International Pictures cult director, Al Adamson. The movie doesn't cover all aspects of his life and career (how could it, being under the two-hour mark?), but it's pretty comprehensive all the same and directed no less by David Gregory, the mastermind behind the excellent "Lost Soul: the Doomed Journey of Richard Stanley's Island of Dr. Moreau".
In truth, "Blood & Flesh: the Reel and Ghastly Death of Al Adamson" is a two-parter. With a little more than half of the film centering on Adamson's early years and subsequent work and the second half on later, more personal (and alas, dire) circumstances, though the two portions are cemented in an eerie, fated way.
To populate the first half, we're granted the company of Adamson's colleagues, with none other than his faithful pal and shrewd producer, Sam Sherman leading the charge, accompanied by John Carradine; Lon Chaney Jr; J. Carrol Naish; Angelo Rossitto; Forrest J Ackerman; Colonel Harland Sanders; Joe Franklin; the Ritz Brothers; Kent Taylor; Robert Dix; Georgina Spelvin; Anthony Eisley; Vicki Volante; Marilyn Joi; Jim Kelly; John Bloom (the Frankenstein Monster); Zandor Vorkov (Count Dracula); Tracey Robbins; Leslie McRay; Vilmos ("CE3K") Zsigmond; Laszlo "Easy Rider" Kovacs; Russ ("War of the Gargantuas") Tamblyn; and Charles Manson (though the latter by no means welcomed by Adamson as he filmed at the Spahn Ranch). And let's not forget Regina Carrol, the multi-talented, buxom love of Adamson's life. (Fred Olen Ray; Gary Graver; and Greydon Clark also grant the proceedings their prestigious presence and insights.)
There's also Adamson's famous, Australian cowboy-star father, Denver Dixon (aka Victor Adamson), who inspired his resourceful son to get into the business, even though initially as an actor and not a pivotal man behind the scenes.
In truth, Adamson's directorial ascent was more accidental than planned, but once it got rolling--abetted, that is, by trusty Sherman--it rolled with zest and fury, manifesting such pictures as "Psycho A-Go-Go"; "Satan's Sadists"; "Hell's Bloody Devils"; "Angels' Wild Women": "The Female Bunch"; "Blood of Dracula's Castle"; "Dracula vs Frankenstein"; "Brain of Blood"; "Blood of Ghastly Horror"; "Horror of the Blood Monsters": "Nurse Sherri"; "Cinderella 2000"; "Five Bloody Graves"; "Black Samurai"; "Girls for Rent"; "The Naughty Stewardesses"; "Blazing Stewardesses"; that quirky, family charmer, "Carnival Magic"; and more.
Every stunning, low-budget aspect is displayed and expressed in the grand body of Adamson's body of work, but as the film enters its second half (which more or less begins when dear Regina passes away), Adamson's life takes a sad, strange turn. It's during this period that he becomes impassioned about UFOs (the result of working on the alien-abduction docudrama, "Beyond This Earth", with Stevee Ashlock, his second wife) and befriends a homeless handyman, Fred Fulford, who was later charged with Adamson murder.
Some, however, insinuate that Adamson's deep, UFO probing (and an alleged meeting with a genuine extra-terrestrial) may have been the true cause of his death (a means of keeping him quiet about top-secret info, that is), but no matter what angle one embraces, Adamson's demise is a tragic one, for he was a filmmaker apt to return full-fledged to the exploitation arena as a new generation of fans discovered his garish gallery on cable, VHS and DVD.
It's also important to note that throughout the documentary, Adamson is portrayed as a man of clashing extremes: of stinginess and carefree spending, of stubbornness and warmth. He comes across as an average guy who so happened to favor musicals as his favorite genre and fell into a world of profiting weirdness more by accident than plan. Beyond the offbeat subjects he directed, he may have otherwise held a standard, nine-to-five job and as such was devoid of the eccentricities that characterize such comparable legends as Edward D. Wood Jr. and Ted V. Mikels. (If anything, the documentary paints him more in creative sync with Ray Dennis Steckler, as Adamson{per Sherman's marketing gusto}was apt to change content and marquee titles several times over before and after a film's release, but never once compromising its sideshow appeal.)
By the time the credits rolled, Gregory's production had left me with a sad, but far more so, a profound appreciation for the filmmaker. Despite his "ghastly death", Adamson's life was one well spent. The fruits of his lurid labor proves that a thousandfold and so does Gregory's affectionate expose.
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