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In Love with the Twonky

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Tony Randall as the Medusa in 7 Faces of Dr Lao (1964)

Oh, God, what is he on about now? Twonky? What is twonky?

You well know that there are films that you love but to which you cannot ascribe a high level of artistic excellence. I refer to them as twonky films. For me, a perfect example is George Pal’s 7 Faces of Dr Lao, produced at MGM. In it, Tony Randall actually plays eight roles: the inscrutable Dr Lao (pronounced LOH) himself, the magician Merlin, the god Pan, the Talking Serpent, Medusa, Apollonius of Tyana, the Abominable Snowman, and (uncredited) himself as a seated member of the audience.

In the last seven years, I have seen 7 Faces of Dr Lao four times and I’m still not tired of it. I will continue to see it and enjoy it whenever I can. I even read the book it was based on: Charles G. Finney’s The Circus of Dr Lao. (As a matter of fact, I think I’ll probably re-read the book pretty soon.)

Now where does this term twonky come from? In 1953, Arch Oboler directed a science fiction film entitled The Twonky starring Hans Conried. According to the Internet Movie Database (IMDB), the plot concerns a “Tweedy college professor [who] discovers his new TV set is animate, apparently possessed by something from the future, and militantly intent on regulating his daily life.”

I have not seen the film but it sounds pretty twonky to me.

There are many other films (and, dare I say it, books) that I would consider to be twonky. I’m thinking of Ed Wood’s Plan 9 from Outer Space, Showgirls, Popeye cartoons, and virtually the entire filmography of Roger Corman and William Castle.

Interestingly, there is a generation gap between the bad films I like and the bad films a Gen Z’er would like. That’s understandable because young people were raised to love a different kind of bad film. Even my younger brother (by six years) grew up loving Clutch Cargo and Huckleberry Hound cartoons, which I considered too unsophisticated for my tastes.

Everything Changes

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Try to Get Your Kids Interested in This!

This year for the first time in many years I have not attended the films at Cinecon. I did, however, go with Martine to the memorabilia dealers’ rooms. In the past, when my friend Norman Witty was alive, Martine enjoyed acting as his assistant; and she made a number of friendships with the other dealers. So while she chatted with her old friends and acquaintances, I found a comfortable chair and read a book. Also I devoted some time to thinking about what was happening to the dealers and members of Cinecon.

In short, they were getting older and passing on. I saw few people under the age of sixty at the dealers’ tables.

Why did I not go to the movies this year? Simply put, I remain an auteurist; and there were few films this year made by the directors whose work I follow. I am not interested in the films of William Seiter, Norman Panama, Archie Mayo, George Archainbaud, Alan Crosland, Alfred L. Werker, and any number of studio hacks who never signed their names to a great film. They were for the most part competent film makers whose work was light and entertaining; but I was after bigger game.

Then I thought,“Wait a sec! How many auteurists are around these days?” The answer is: damned few, and fewer every year. Instead people go to see superhero films intended for very young males, starring powerful guys and gals who like to wear their Underoos over their street clothes. Then there are the numerous independent productions, about the problems of young people who are altogether too full of themselves. What do I care about Hipster man with his man-bun and immaculately trimmed beard and all his digital toys?

Many of my posts have not been kind to the younger generation—mostly because the things they value are nothing to me, and the things I value, nothing to them. For how long will Cinecon be around to commemorate films of the 1920s and 1930s? I mean, people, we are talking about films that are not even in color!

After my generation leaves the scene, many whole worlds will disappear as if in a puff of cosmic dust.