Chilling Classics Cthursday: A BUCKET OF BLOOD (1959)

If you're still wigged out over the black-n-white beatnik-n-bongos stylings of previous Chilling Classic The Bloody Brood, well you're about to blow your jets, daddy-o, because today we're heading back to the café and diving into A Bucket of Blood. 

There ain't much to this li'l black comedy, to be honest, what, with its scant 64-minute runtime. But hey, those 64 minutes come courtesy of Roger Corman in the director's seat and feature Dick Miller in the leading role--so what kind of John Joe Jim Jerk wouldn't want to check it out? I don't want to know!

Miller stars as Walter Paisley, a simple and affable busboy in a beatnik café. He soaks up every saxophone toot and line of poetry, parroting their beat ethos and trying his darndest to become an artist himself so's to earn a little respect and, hopefully, win the heart of pretty patron Carla (Barboura Morris). Unfortunately for Walter, his artistic abilities add up to precisely zilch.

But all is not lost! When he accidentally kills his landlady's cat, inspiration strikes and soon Paisley presents café patrons with his first successful sculpture, simply called "Dead Cat."

As you probably anticipated, it's a hit and there's more demand for Paisley's "genius." When a wacky heroin mixup with an undercover cop sees Walter lashing out in self-defense, he's got a new sculpture to unveil: "Murdered Man."

Side note, it always trips me up when heroin is mentioned in films from anytime before...oh, let's say 1992. Heroin just feels like a 90s invention to me, even if I know it ain't.

And on and on. Walter must go to more and more extremes to keep up the charade, even as he basks in his newfound elevation from busboy to king of the café. I wonder if he had the duds, a beret, and a cigarette holder already, anticipating the day he'd become a "real artist," or if he went and purchased them with his "Dead Cat" earnings. Either way, I delight in it.

Look, are you going to be "sick, sick, sick from LAUGHING" as the film's poster claims? Personally I was not, but even my dour ass found A Bucket of Blood smile-worthy. Anything that takes the piss out of snooty artist types (especially those who don't simply own their snootiness) is fine by moi, and Corman and Co have a good time doing it. The implied violence is actually a wee bit brutal, the cast is winsome, and the beatnik vibes are an undeniable gas. Miller--already a Corman mainstay by 1959--is terrific as Walter Paisley, a nebbish you can't help but root for even with his misplaced ideals and flashes of serious creepiness. 

Yet again, I got my kicks with a real cookin' Chilling Classic. Thinking about covering this one in clay and calling it "Fun Movie."