Color, 1963, 79 mins. Directed by Roger Corman
Starring Ray Milland, Diana Van der Vlis, Harold Stone, John Hoyt, Don Rickles / Music by Les Baxter / Cinematography by Floyd Crosby
Format: DVD - MGM (MSRP $14.95)
Letterboxed (1.85:1) (16x9 enhanced) / Dolby Digital 2.0 Mono
In 1959, Russ Meyer revolutionized the adult film industry with his softcore opus, The Immoral Mr. Teas, about a man with the ability to see through women's clothing. Four years later, Roger Corman took a serious, philosophical spin on the same subject with X - The Man with X-Ray Eyes, a haunting and unforgettable blend of science fiction and morality play.
Coming hot off his underrated turn in Corman's The Premature Burial, Ray Milland has one of his best latter day roles as Dr. James Xavier, a doctor who pioneers a new kind of eyedrops rendering the human eye capable of seeing through solid matter. Xavier's superiors at the hospital refuse to support his research, but he tests out his new discovery and uses it to save the life of a young girl. Unfortunately he immediately loses his job, a nasty turn of events immediately followed by the accidental death of a colleague which leaves Xavier on the run, fearing a murder rap. Now he's free to continue his addictive use of the eyedrops until he can see through much more than clothing, playing cards, and solid metal. While the talent comes in handy when he earns some cash as a mindreader at a carnival sideshow, he fearfully comes to realize that he can see well past the realm of normal perception, into something far more ghastly and dangerous than he could have imagined.
Though skimpy on traditional character development and elaborate plotting, X boasts a grand performance from Milland and stands as one of the best acid head movies before such a thing even existed. The see-through gimmick is exploited well by Corman, who uses a canny mixture of scientific jargon, comic relief, suspenseful chases, and ultimately Grand Guignol horror to demonstrate the numerous possibilities of such a hideous gift. The usual Corman collaborators are all here and working overtime, including composer Les Baxter (providing one of his oddest scores), cinematographer Floyd Crosby (working colorful wonders with an impoverished budget), and a supporting cast peppered with such familiar faces as Don Rickles and Dick Miller.
If any Roger Corman film demanded a commentary, this would be the one - and thankfully MGM didn't disappoint. The director turned B-movie mogul shares a number of recollections about the film, including his experience with Milland who was in the middle of a triple threat whammy at AIP (counting his self-directed apcalypse favorite, Panic in Year Zero). The film experienced something of a resurgence of fan interest in the wake of Stephen King's 1981 critical horror study, Danse Macabre, which also kicked off a rumor that Corman originally had Milland utter one chilling, final line that was ultimately cut from the film. Corman offers an explanation for this cinematic yarn, though you'll have to listen to find out the whole story. The transfer itself is a real eye popper (so to speak), with those swirling purples during the opening credits kicking off what turns into a riot of rainbow hues throughout the film. The souce material is in excellent shape and looks much crisper than those awful cropped Warner videotapes and even the letterboxed but slightly soft Orion widescreen laserdisc. The disc also includes the psychedelic theatrical trailer; too bad AIP didn't bother giving this one a big reissue around the same time Fantasia was luring in the "alternative consciousness" crowd. It could have caused some real damage.
