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HU-MAN (1975) - After playing a few festivals, HU-MAN seemed to drop off the face of the earth making it one of the most sought after 'lost films' of the 70s. Mark Cousins aired some excerpts in 1998 and a 25 minute version was shown at the British Film Institute in 2013, but it wasn't until 2015 that a full 86 minute version showed up on the internet unannounced in its original (and un-subtitled) French. A few years later, a benevolent angel provided English language subtitles (viewable on YouTube and elsewhere).

Backstory aside, the good news is that HU-MAN was more or less worth the wait. It's no lost classic by any means, but, it is worthy of rediscovery. It's a time-travel tale, but of a very European arthouse variety - don't expect an elaborate metal contraption or hairy greenish-blue beasties with glowing eyes. Terence Stamp plays a famed actor named.... Terence Stamp. Jeanne Moreau is Terence's ex who is working with a scientific research group that wants to use Stamp to prove their time travel concept -- and broadcast it on TV. More precisely, the experiment involves using Stamp's "energy" to launch him on his voyage across time.

Using the word "precisely" is tricky here for there is very little in the way of genuine explanation. One could call it his life force. Co-Writer-Director Jerôme Laperrousaz and his collaborators are more interested in tapping into Stamp's inner mind - his soul. There is a lot of floating camerawork and sound editing full of montages creating a free flow of sights and sounds. Significantly, the visions that Stamp's character experiences involve the basic elements of planet: earth, fire, water and air. Stamp is given very little dialogue, but still delivers an emotive performance. Moreau seems to have been cast just to lend some gravitas to the proceedings. Unsurprisingly, the film ends on an elliptical note.

Much of the film has echoes of other pictures of the era including Alain Resnais' superior time fantasy JE T'AIME, JE T'AIME, Kubrick's 2001 as well as Nicolas Roeg's THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH (which was released just a few months later). Richard Matheson's novel Bid Time Return (filmed as SOMEWHERE IN TIME) came out the same year and also employed a 'will power' means of temporal displacement (and a very similar catch). Finally getting to see the movie after all of these decades also can't help recognize the similarities with the later THE TRUMAN SHOW and, especially, BEING JOHN MALKOVICH.

HU-MAN isn't a fully successful film, but, as a bit of ethereal filmmaking it's certainly fascinating. Laperrousaz had a background in Documentaries and his use of landscapes here is fascinating. The sound was even nominated for a French 'Oscar' (Cesar). It contributes mightily to the mood. Songs are layered on the soundtrack (including ones penned by The Animals' Brian Chatton), while somewhat effective, they do become intrusive at times.

All that said, HU-MAN is in dire need of a proper restoration. The extant print is washed out and the soundtrack more than a bit muffled. No definitive explanation has ever been given as to why the film became "lost" for several decades - especially considering the international fame of Stamp and Moreau. The most common one may be that it wasn't commercial or good enough, but there are many many lesser films in circulation. A more crucial one may be song and music rights (or other financial entanglements) that have prevented many productions from home video. Regardless, here's to hoping that it gets restored one way or the other. HU-MAN merits one.

EEPHUS (2025) Like the pitch it's named after, Carson Lund's EEPHUS is a slow erratic curveball that sneaks up on you. Two baseball teams gather to play an organized pick-up game one afternoon. An old man sets up a card table to keep score. An even older gentleman takes his seat - pretty much alone with the sparse "crowd". A grumpy for-hire umpire reluctantly takes the field. A food vendor hawks pizza by the slice. The teams are made up by a motley crew of middle-aged townies and a few younger players some of whom may still harbor thoughts of semi-pro ball.

They are gathered in a rundown park, Soldiers Field, that has seen better days. The waning rays of the autumn sun fall on the colorful foliage as Halloween beckons in this small New England town. It's the last game to be played there as the stadium will be torn down to make way for a new school. The nearest similar playground is a half-hour drive away.

The narrator is legendary Documentary filmmaker Frederick Wiseman who drops pithy quotes from the legends of the game such as Babe Ruth and Yogi Berra. Wiseman's participation is approapriate for Lund takes a semi-documentary approach, favoring observation over narrative. The film never leaves the park. One simply watches the twenty or so men go through their paces, dropping in for snatches of conversation here and there. Like the sport itself, the movie can be slow - and dare one say it? - a bit dull. Of course, as any true fan of the game will tell you, monotony is part of the game, too - as it is in life itself.

None of the actors are particularly famous, but a few such as Keith William Richards and Paul Kandarian may be somewhat recognizeable. They all feel genuine. Red Sox announcer Joe Castiglione plays the vendor. The best cameo is an extended one by Boston baseball legend Bill 'Spaceman' Lee who shows up and disappears like a ghost pitching one inning (Lee threw the most infamous Eephus pitch in history at the 1975 World Series giving up a homer to Tony Perez even though he'd been strenuosly warned not to do so).

As the game drags on, people start to go home. It gets dark, but the core men soldier on. It's the last game after all. Plus, the score is tied. There HAS to be a result. They NEED to see it through. At this point, they are literally playing for the Love Of The Game as the old saying goes. It ends not with a huge epiphany (would be inappriate for a low key production such as this) - although there is a fittingly puny fireworks display planned.

EEPHUS is an elegiac look at the true meaning of baseball. Perhaps not a 'Field of Dreams' as much as a way of life for the diehard faithful who may have little else they can still cling to.

DARK STAR (1975) One of the great cult sci-fi films. Famously begun as a USC student film in 1970 by filmmakers John Carpenter and Dan O'Bannon, it was expanded into feature length with money from veteran producer Jack Harris in 1973.

Carpenter and O'Bannon collaborated on the screenplay with Carpenter directing and O'Bannon production designed, edited, supervised the SFX and played Pinback. Pinback and the crew of the spaceship are on a endless mission to blow up 'unstable planets' (would Earth today be on the hit list??). The creaky ship does the four man crew no favors, nor do their 'pet' aliens. Things come to a head when a sentient AI bomb threatens to blow THEM up.

Carpenter does an excellent job showing the tedium of such a long journey in space. 2001 was certainly a hallmark, and one can also see the influence of SILENT RUNNING. The script has some witty passages, in particular a discussion with their 'dead' commander and the superb set-piece trying to convince the bomb not to explode. O'Bannon's visuals are very solid on a non-existent budget and the grungy 16mm photography by Douglass Knapp perfectly captures the mood set by Carpenter's electronic score which is assured for an 'amateur' production. The ending is one of the most poetic in all of the science fiction film genre.

After a rousing premiere at L. A.'s film festival Filmex in early 1974, Jack Harris turned over the actual release to notorious distributor Bryanston (a mob front who laundered their DEEP THROAT earnings until being criminally charged and going bankrupt; the company screwed the TEXAS CHAINSAW filmmakers out of millions, too.) O'Bannon and Carpenter told stories of attending theatrical screenings in 1975 in nearly empty cinemas. It was only after ALIEN and HALLOWEEN that the film was pried from Bryanston and re-released to acclaim. It's cult only grew with revival screenings and home video.

I have to admit I wasn't overly impressed with the film when I saw it in early 1979, but a re-viewing in college a year or two later turned me around. It's an endearing triumph that proves the lie that bigger is always better. In many ways, it's still my favorite film that either Carpenter or O'Bannon were ever part of.