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At last, Jeff Lieberman's cult masterpiece, BLUE SUNSHINE, has been remastered to its full glory on DVD. If you've never seen it, you've never had a better chance. Ever since I began this publication I have been wanting to write about Blue Sunshine. Now that it has been released on DVD by Synapse Films in a limited edition, double-disc set, there has never been a more perfect opportunity. This is the perfect movie for The Eclectic Screening Room; it is a film not many know, let alone heard of, yet those that have seen it usually think very highly of it. Still, although this movie purports to have a cult following, I have yet to meet anyone who has seen it (not including my cousin, as he only watched a few minutes of my badly-edited copy taped from TV). If you have never seen this truly unique film, then hopefully this article will intrigue you enough to seek it out.  Writer-director Jeff Lieberman's filmography may seem like a footnote in the history of the horror genre, but his work is no less
important, and is as deserving of a following accorded to any of his contemporaries. Seen today, his humble, intelligent, visually
innovative, slyly funny works still work their charms. Lieberman began his filmmaking career with an award-winning 1972 short film,
The Ringer (which is included on the DVD), a vicious satire on consumerism masquerading as a cautionary tale on drugs.
This 20-minute film already demonstrates his skill as a writer and a director. With inventive visual ideas, and an unusually ambitious
screenplay for such a small work (he effortlessly weaves several story threads in its scant running time), it is clear that this young man
was meant to go places. Indeed, his knack for writing was singled out by his NYU professor, director Ernest Pintoff, and the two men co-authored
the screenplay for Pintoff's 1973 crime thriller Blade (which Lieberman hated, but actually I think it's pretty good).
After holding a day job at Janus Films, Lieberman managed to afford to take some time off to write the screenplay for Squirm (1976), which he was also allowed to direct strictly on the strength of his script. AIP picked up this likeable horror film which featured worms going on the rampage once they are zapped by a felled wire during a storm. This hit film is best remembered today for its early makeup effects by a young Rick Baker (soon to win an Oscar for An American Werewolf in London). But seen in context with Lieberman's other films like Blue Sunshine and Remote Control, this is a subtle update-homage of 1950's science-fiction horror-- in this case, a gentler reading of the "giant bug movies" of that bygone era. Remember, this was before Joe Dante and other genre filmmakers of the 1980's began to do revisions of old 1950's forms. As much as the big monsters, flying saucers and blobs of that bygone era can be campy and outrageous, the horror in all of Lieberman actually seems plausible. This alone perhaps makes his mannered films even more terrifying.  His follow-up picture, Blue Sunshine, is certainly scary (no-one who sees the scene where the babysitter flips out forgets it),
but it is equally funny, and is truly original-- even while playing with accepted formulae in the horror genre. Updating
Invasion of the Body Snatchers to the "Me" generation, and for that matter, predating the popularity of David Cronenberg's "epidemic films"
(Rabid; Scanners), "Blue Sunshine" refers to a strain of fictitious strain of LSD which was taken by Stanford University students
in the 1960's. Ten years later, these people experience flashbacks of the deadliest kind-- first their hair falls out (we learn that the term
is "Alapecia Totalis"), and then they become homicidal zombie-like maniacs! Zalman King plays Jerry Zipkin, a perpetual loser who becomes implicated in the murders committed by a friend at the party who had become "one of them", and eludes the authorities while he investigates similar bizarre killings throughout the city.
 This film was initially planned as a $3 million project, yet due to the untimely death of his father, Jeff Lieberman was anxious to get back to
work, and therefore production had began with just the $500,000 they had on hand. To accommodate the reduced budget, the film was drastically
re-written. Whole subplots were thrown away (including all of the scenes featuring the would-be "Blue Sunshine" recipients at college in the
1960's), and most tellingly, the setting of Blue Sunshine moved from Lieberman's native New York to sunny California. This was both a
serendipitous and an unfortunate move. The original screenplay was reliant upon the New York transit system to enable Jerry Zipkin in dodging
the police and investigate the strange killings motivated by "Blue Sunshine", and to secretly rendezvous with his girlfriend Alicia Sweeney, who helps dig up some clues in his detective work. If you ever find the paperback movie tie-in, it is actually closer to the original treatment than the finished product. To be certain, the abbreviated screenplay of Blue Sunshine does appear hackneyed in precisely those very spots. Instead of New York's subway system, Jerry is now running around the LA freeway in a Bronco truck-- and he seems to be able to meet Alicia at certain points with great ease (this was made before cellular phones). But for these moments, Blue Sunshine nonetheless remains a literate, intricate piece of work.
 First, there are those marvellous opening scenes. We first meet Dr. Blume (played by Robert Walden, best remembered for "Lou Grant"), checking on a terminally ill patient. Suddenly, we cut to a jagged close-up of his eyes, as he has another of his strange headaches. Then, we gaze in on Wendy Flemming, who is babysitting her friend's two kids. Her ex-husband Ed Flemming appears on TV in an ad for his congress campaign. Wendy is reading "Rapunzel" to the kids (cute), and the little girl acts out the story, managing to dislodge a huge strand of Wendy's hair! Cut to a generic suburban home. Richie Grosso is having coffee in the kitchen of his neighbour, Barbara O'Malley, and she is complaining of her husband John's strange behaviour. Suddenly, John appears in the doorway, and Richie sheepishly leaves. Cut to a jagged close-up of John's eyes. In a device worthy of Altman, these moments are unified with an interesting device. Each segment ends with a pan upwards, fading into a pan up and down a full moon, fading into pan down into the first image of the next scene. This image of the full moon was meant as one of the film's many tongue-in-cheek visual puns about baldness, but it actually alludes to much more than that. The universal archetype of the full moon is a device which harkens back to the days of The Wolfman-- it is indicative of the dark side of human nature, which will soon be revealed.
 Finally, we witness a house party which Jerry and Alicia attend. Frannie Scott (played by Richard Crystal, brother of Billy) suddenly loses his hair, freaks out and leaves. People decide to go out and look for him. Meanwhile he returns to the party and kills three women. Jerry returns and witnesses the gruesome murders, and then Frannie tries to kill him. In a struggle which continues outdoors, Jerry finally manages to push Frannie in front of a truck. Zipkin is thus implicated in the murders of the three women and Frannie's death. Detective Clay (played by Charles Siebert) follows Jerry into the city, as Zipkin tries to unravel the mystery behind this incident and other similar crimes which occur. His trail leads him to a drug connection in Stanford University, in which the manufacturing and selling of "Blue Sunshine" involves Jerry's friend Dr. Blume, as well as congressman-to-be Ed Flemming (played with gravelly used-car salesman slime by Mark Goddard).
The move to make Blue Sunshine in California is actually advantageous, for the film becomes a valuable portrait of life among the boomers who had cut their hair, settled down in their groovy apartments, wore flashy bell-bottoms and discussed new age popcorn by way of Cosmopolitan magazine. Today, this film emerges as one of the most striking looks at life in the 1970's, which was actually made during that decade. Blue Sunshine is set in post-Watergate America, when Uncle Sam was giving the finger to the public (as evidenced by a photograph hanging in Frannie's studio), hedonism is just beginning to take charge thanks to this new music called disco, and when divorce is on high, yet it is still not as traumatic as The Beatles breaking up (to paraphrase a line uttered by one of the characters). The decision to put a skeleton into the closet of politician Ed Flemming is not a surprising device today, certainly, but in the mid-1970's, post-Watergate, this was a very brave idea. Lieberman's horror films remain plausible, not only because the people in his films are characters instead of caricatures (look at how much development he gives to all of the cast in the opening sequences!), but also the fantastic moments seem rather logical thanks to the worlds which he creates in his movies. Because Blue Sunshine is set during an age of disillusionment and alienation, it only seems natural that the bald killers in the movie are just as dehumanized as the society in which they dwell. Further, although the term "Blue Sunshine" is fictitious, it does sound suspiciously like other terms given to LSD at the time: "Blue Cheer", "Owsley Purple".  But still, like most of his films as a director, Blue Sunshine still belongs somewhat in the 1950's. To be certain, there is a whisper
of the 1956 classic Invasion of the Body Snatchers in the plot. But further, Zipkin, Alicia and Dr. Blume form the classic triumvirate
of "the man, the woman and the scientist", which is prevalent in many science-fiction films of that bygone era. Dr. Blume fills "the scientist"
role by supplying Jerry with a concoction which will help him stun one of the Blue Sunshine killers so he can prove his innocence.
Alicia helps Jerry in his plight, but the woman role traditionally works in a limited capacity. He in turn rescues her from one of the bald
maniacs. In other words, science and the love of a good woman are supportive, yet saving the day comes down to good old fashioned Braun.
Additionally, Jerry's character mirrors the classic outsider role in so much 1950's science fiction. From Kevin McCarthy in Body Snatchers, to Steve McQueen in The Blob, the hero role in these films usually has to go through great lengths to prove to the status quo (often succeeding at the last minute) the menace that he has seen lurking all along.
Also, amusingly, Jerry borrows one of Blume's suits early in the film, presumably to discourage whatever clothing description the police may have, but also it evoke countless representative images of the "executive suite" period it seemed that EVERY adult male work suits and ties in 50's movies! Even in the lava-lamp 70's of Lieberman's world, the 50's is still very much alive. In one slight example, one character makes a reference to Rodan (1957). But it is also amusing that the real villain of the piece, the shady Ed Flemming is played by a co-star of the "Lost In Space" TV show (although produced in the 60's, the program is still very 50's). Charles Gross' interesting music score also seems out of time. The curious electronic music in the opening credits evokes memories of the Theremin (a staple in 1950's shock sequences), and further, the liberal use of vibraphones and brass-like sounds remind one more of orchestrations coming out of the era of space age pop than anything out o the Swinging 70's. (Included in the DVD package is a CD of Gross' previously unreleased soundtrack. Heard on its own, the album makes for very rich mood music.) All of this praise might do a bit of disservice to Blue Sunshine. It is intricately written, yet it is not pompous. There is much theorizing to be had, but it is not heady. But for all the intelligence to be had on paper, this film is equally thoughtful visually. What makes this film so much more enjoyable are the countless little visual touches. On the DVD's director's commentary, Lieberman joked that there is so much camera work in this film to make up for all the static shots in Squirm.  I love how a 360 degree pan joins two different places in time (the moment when Jerry flees the cabin, to the police questioning Alicia). Scenes sometimes begin with a dolly move, and there are countless moments where the camera glides across the canvas in long shot. They succeed in making the movie a little dream-like. But nowhere is the camerawork more wonderful than in the spellbinding finale where Jerry pursues a Blue Sunshine killer through a department store. The breathtaking dollies, whip pans, and pull focuses are testament to a superb build of suspense.
But also, the film is as fragmented as it is languid. Lieberman superbly captures the feeling of dementia with jagged close-ups of his glaring, sweaty killers, But also, because we see most of the film through Jerry's eyes, we are often treated to cut-ins of images or flashbacks (no pun intended) which show us what is on Jerry's mind. Sometimes these moments are played for laughs (Lieberman masterfully balances suspense and subtle humour). One scene cuts from a Frank Sinatra puppet singing "Just in Time", to Frannie singing the same song at a party, cuts back to Jerry's reaction shot, then to a wild shot of Frannie as a singing puppet! Plus there are always amusing cutaways to bald extras to accentuate Zipkin's dissolving mind. This is perhaps no better shown than in a freaky fantasy sequence where he visits the O'Malley crime scene and imagines himself at the residence right when the murders occurred. In the insightful commentary, Lieberman remarked that his greatest mistake was his direction of Zalman King. His intention was to suggest that perhaps Jerry was one of the "Blue Sunshine"rs, and he is gradually becoming as demented as the people he is tracking down. That is why King's acting is so over the top. All right, perhaps it is a bit much, but he is a very likeable personality, and you care for this guy (the perfect 70's underachiever) and his strange plight. Whenever King gets sick of producing soft-core fantasies, I'd like to see him in front of the camera again. Perhaps another facet of the film's believability is precisely that it does not have A-list stars, but partially recognizable character players. Cute, spunky Deborah Winters (who plays Alicia) is perhaps best remembered from Kotch. Mark Goddard is a staple at conventions for his "Lost in Space" role. And the actor doing Rodan is none other than future bad guy Brion James. Otherwise, the cast is peopled by personable actors who could be your next door neighbour. The film's marvellous ending fades with a title card stating that 225 doses of Blue Sunshine still have yet to be accounted for. This is a sly move to keep the film's element of believability, but also, it leaves the door open for one or two sequels which did not materialize. Too bad—this is the rare horror film made in the past 30 years where you actually want a sequel!! But this missing element is also testament to the history of Blue Sunshine as being the classic underdog cult movie. It is made by and with people who are not household names, and even though the movie is a true winner, it is the kind of film that needs stronger word of mouth. Although Blue Sunshine played to huge acclaim at film festivals in Europe, it barely got released in North America, as its production company, Ellanby Films, went out of business. Surely, the greatest casualty of this misfortune was the career of writer-director Jeff Lieberman. On the DVD, he recalls a subsequent dinner with John Carpenter. The latter mentioned that the role of the better-known director could easily have been reversed. His career always flirted with the mainstream (interesting trivia notes: a young Jeff Goldblum read for the Blume role; in the mid-1970's Lieberman tried to pitch a Flash Gordon style space opera, but got turned down just like the guy before him with a similar idea-- George Lucas!) Alas, the projects that Lieberman deserved came few and far between. He followed up in 1980 with Dr. Franken, a made-for-TV effort, and Just Before Dawn, his entry into the teen-slasher sweepstakes of the day. Dawn (which is his favourite of his own films) quickly faded away, but like Blue Sunshine, it too had a second life on video and late-night television. Although this was easily missed in the glut of slasher films of the day, Just Before Dawn is an extremely creepy experience. His command of atmosphere transcends what seems to be a workmanlike plot. Further, the people in the film are characters instead of one-dimensional food for slaughter. The VHS labels that carried this film have an awful transfer. Hopefully someone will follow suit and also give this Lieberman effort its just due on DVD, restoring it as the truly beautiful film it is. And when they do, I will devote a full article of "Midnite Movies" to that movie, also. It is that good. In 1988, he followed up with Remote Control, which does have an ingenious idea. A campy 1950's science fiction movie causes whomever rents it to kill! This time, 50's sci-fi is the villain, not just the template. This is a sly satire on the "Video made me do it" paranoia in the Rambo era, but somehow it got away. Lieberman himself considers this to be the most unhappiest film experience he's had. This was a direct-to-video release, made to fill store shelves due to the phenomenon of home video. It was a little depressing seeing this great artist being relegated to the direct-to-video graveyard, but one hoped that at least more projects would result. Other than his screenplay for The Neverending Story III, we were not blessed with any more of his work. But these past few months hopefully suggest a long overdue rebirth. In the wake of the DVD release of Blue Sunshine, at long last, Jeff Lieberman got behind the director's chair for Satan's Little Helper, which is to be released in 2004. I had also read that there were talks for Squirm 2! Whatever the case, Mr. Lieberman is long overdue for re-appraisal. Blue Sunshine is a splendid entry point into his career- this is the perfect movie waiting for (re)discovery.  (Special thanks to Nathaniel Thompson and George Reis for the images.) |