Did anybody ever order those X-ray specs advertising in comic books back in the day? Obviously, they weren’t something that worked, but I just wondered how they convinced the gullible consumers of the product that they had not been duped. My guess is the spiel was something akin to the trick P.T. Barnum played on customers at least once, and that is letting them feel superior by helping to rope in other rubes.
1963’s X has a scientist played by Ray Milland succeed in seeing the other 90% of the wave spectrum that is outside of that normally visible to humans. Friend and optometrist Harol J. Stone warns him that “only the gods see everything.” Um, Dr. Stone, could I possibly see your credentials? Also, I should mention the title of the movie is that sole letter, but it is more widely known by the extended text in the advertising materials, making it X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes.
At first, the eyedrops developed by Milland enable him to see just through a sheet of paper to the one below it and the shirt behind Stone’s lab coat. At a party, he discovers he can suddenly see the bare bodies under everybody’s clothes. Eventually, he is at cheating slot machines and the blackjack tables. I found it bizarre he could do either. We weren’t previously aware of him having any knowledge of the mechanics of slot machines, so I wondered how he could tell one was about to pay off. Then there’s the playing cards of which he can see the face on the opposite side. I know this is pure science fiction, but I was baffled as to how he wouldn’t just see through the card entirely.
Naturally, he goes crazy once he is unable to stop seeing through things. Such activities as driving become preposterously difficult, and for a reason similar to how I always wondered if anybody who could see into the future would always be dodging things that aren’t there yet. By the end, what he has seen is described in ways that are almost Lovecraftian, as he describes a giant eye in the center of the universe which sees all.
What we see from his perspective is nowhere near as interesting, though many of the visuals are effective. For the most part, crossfades are used for the illusion of seeing one object behind another. When his condition is at its worst, everything he sees is through a prism filter on the camera. The effect doesn’t quite work, but it does sell the idea that the cityscape he is seeing is “as if it was unborn, rising into the sky with fingers of metal. Limbs without flesh. Girders without stone. Signs hanging without support. Wires dipping and swaying without poles. A city unborn, its flesh dissolved in an acid of light. A city of the dead.” If only what we saw was as cool as that, but the imagery and his voiceover combine to convey something unfamiliar and a bit unnerving.
That is some more flowery language than I would normally expect from a feature helmed by Roger Corman. Some of the ideas here, and how they are presented, gives this the feel of a production with a larger budget. Basically, this is more ambitious than many films of this pay grade.
I also liked how female lead Diane van der Vlis refuses to be just eye candy (well, initially, at least). Early on, she chastises Milland for patronizing her: “I’m a doctor. I won’t be talked to like I’m a child in kindergarten.” Alas, typical of that era’s “Can’t I be a scientist a woman, too?” mentality, she will be receptive to him seeing her in the altogether during that party scene when he can suddenly see through clothes. He winkingly says, “One could really say I’m seeing you for the first time”, a statement which makes him imminently punchable. Also, that party scene has something about it which makes it ripe for being a bit in an Austin Powers movie without any necessitating any revisions.
And there is a fair amount of wackiness here. I especially liked the test he gives a monkey after administering those eyedrops to it. His test subject will pull a lever for each color it sees, but Milland has the cards with those colors one behind the other. The monkey passes the test, flipping the switches for white, red and blue. I like to think it was just fucking with him and it had memorized the order to flip the switches. Regardless, the choice of colors for this experiment are so curiously patriotic as to have me hoping “The Star-Spangled Banner” would start blaring when the test is completed successfully.
Somehow, it feels appropriate that this Corman production would eventually end up at a seedy carnival sideshow where Milland baffles audiences and fellow performers alike with this ability to see through anything. What he doesn’t foresee is carnival barker Don Rickles, who can see through Milland in a non-literal way and finds a means to exploit that gift for his personal gain. It is interesting to see the comedian in a serious role, and especially as a very nasty individual. While Milland had hoped to use his power to see into the human body to better determine the root cause of an illness, Rickles only aspires to see “all the undressed women my poor eyes can stand.” That’s a great line, and I thought for the longest time it was original to a Sam & Max comic by Steve Purcell.
X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes is a thoroughly enjoyable film, whether as camp or taken on its own terms. Personally, I regard it as a mix of both. It will even stick the landing with a final image that is shockingly gruesome in concept and laughably daft in execution. This weird, trippy film from 1963 foreshadows gorier fare just around the corner, as well as the eventual psychedelic movement. Hey, given some of visuals Milland has been seeing, I think all he has been doing is putting LSD in his eyes.
Dir: Roger Corman
Starring Ray Milland, Diana van der Vlis, Harold J. Stone, John Hoyt, Don Rickles
Watched on Kino Lorber blu-ray