THE BLACK HOLE: Blu-ray (Walt Disney Pictures, 1979) Disney Club Exclusive

In the summer of 1979, the Disney empire stood at a precarious crossroads. Since Walt’s death in 1966 the entrusted executive body had relied on one simple edict to buoy their good fortunes – ‘would Walt approve?’ In this creative vein, the movies made after Walt’s passing carried on in the ‘best traditions’ of the old guard. Many who remained were stalwarts from Walt’s time, but seemingly, stuck in their own time warp. Too bad, the kindly sentiment toward family entertainment had suddenly, inexplicably, and quite alarmingly fallen out of fashion with the public. As the old Hollywood continued to erode all around them, Disney Inc. remained in a sort of hibernating cocoon of its own design, mounting animated projects that attempted to ‘stream-line’ the time-honored and arduous hand-drawn process without sacrificing story-telling genius, while investing rather heavily in a spate of live-action musicals and prepubescent comedies that, alas, failed to ignite the paying public’s fancy. Unfortunately, these latter ventures also strained the studio’s coffers, and, by the end of the decade, became the impetus for upper management to mark a very brief, but even more disastrous departure away from family entertainment…well, sort of. At the time of its release, director Gary Nelson’s The Black Hole (1979) was critically assessed as a shameless crack to either bottle or bastardize not only the magic, but decidedly the originality of George Lucas’ Star Wars (1977).

The final result could hardly be considered cutting edge, the company’s identity crisis working against its ‘grand risk’ on a space odyssey. By the time The Black Hole reached movie screens it had degenerated to creaky melodrama with a few action sequences indiscriminately folded into its fractured morality play about the perils of pure science, having digressed into cold-hearted tyranny, though without even an ounce of conviction woven into its $20 budget. The story – such as it is – remained a hokey-jokey claptrap at best, for which no amount of imaginative production design could conceal the plywood backing of its plot. Forty years on, and removed from its competition (also, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, released the same year as The Black Hole), the pall of this assessment rings even more ominously true; an abysmal and stubbornly bland effort with very few bright spots to charm. 1979 was an uneven year for sci-fi, capped off by Ridley Scott’s horror hybrid – Alien. In hindsight, Scott’s effort showed the slant sci-fi would more aggressively adopt in the advancing decade. Much trumpeted as Disney’s big Christmas release, primed and pitched to youngsters and teens alike for its similarly themed intergalactic fantasy adventure, The Black Hole was instead, at least for Disney, an uncharacteristically sinister, oft maze-like incubus in outer space. Thanks to heavy-handed marketing hype, opening weekend box office receipts were good – if not great. But the word-of-mouth that spread quickly thereafter from these nameless attendees was not. Nor were the critics ready to fall over themselves in high praise for the studio’s most expensive picture to date.

In retrospect, The Black Hole’s failure seems preordained. It is, rather feebly, a kid-friendly knockoff of Star Wars – the name recognition of ‘Disney’ as a bastion for original family fare, decidedly at odds with Nelson’s glacial direction, the film’s fractured cosmology, and, of course, its intermittently flummoxed plot, culminating with its newly amalgamated human hybrid/robot-cyclops villain cast into the fiery pits of an intergalactic netherworld. To state that The Black Hole had a more foreboding appeal than was necessary – or even acceptable for the tiny tot sect (at which virtually all of its merchandise and marketing campaigns had been lobbed) is an understatement. The picture is neither attractive, nor even appropriate for its target audience, and yet, much too tame for the more sophisticated teen and twenty-somethings who had already embraced Star Wars as their new super-colossus in sci-fi cinema. Yet, until its final moments, when the audience absolutely knew it was not going to get any better, The Black Hole had a good deal to offer; its virtues, including Peter Ellenshaw’s costly production design, capped by the positively terrifying Maximilian – an intimidating blood-red metal cyclops with whirling propellers and Wolverine-like blades of destruction, and, Frank V. Phillips’ superb cinematography, outweighed – if not outclassed – and disadvantaged by a meandering screenplay and ham acting from Maximilian Schell (as the Forbidden Planet-esque Doc Morbius, rechristened with a Nazi-streak - Dr. Hans Reinhardt), Anthony Perkins (Dr. Alex Durant), and, particularly, Ernest Borgnine’s reporter, Harry Booth.  

Worst of all, The Black Hole takes a 30-minute premise and manages to drag it through 98-minutes of abject tedium - glossy, though nevertheless jejune. Having effectively crafted a villain of considerable merit, Cyril Hume’s screenplay, based on a story by Irving Block and Allen Adler (who basically pilfered their inspiration from Shakespeare), is awash in vignettes devoted to the generally bemused crew of the USS Palomino - a giant space station, stumbled across the vessel, Cygnus, presumed to have gone missing decades earlier. Only now, inexplicably – and even more improbably – the Cygnus is docked right next to a black hole without succumbing to its gravitational pull. As realism is hardly the order of the day, Reinhardt is a mad scientist if ever one existed, who has since enslaved his crew mates with truly diabolical plans to harness the energies of the black hole to suit his own evil purposes. Too bad, right after this initial set-up, the plot devolves into an interminable series of cloistered conversations – intellectual debates – to culminate in a brief battle for salvation near the end, pitting human against human, humans against robots, and even, robots against themselves.  Thus, exhausted on this rock ‘em, sock ‘em limited appeal, the villains are predictably vanquished in the ‘all’s well that ends…’ with far less satisfaction upon repeat viewing.  

It ought to have been a better movie, initially pitched in the late summer of 1973 to Disney producer, Ron Miller by writers, Bob Barbash and Richard Landau as a space-themed disaster flick, under the working title, Space Station 1. In one of those alternative histories that never fails to enthrall, one may indeed chose to ponder what The Black Hole might have been had it preceded Star Wars by a full four years with virtually nothing to compare it to except, perhaps 1956’s Forbidden Planet – not even Kubrick’s masterpiece, 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). Alas, The Black Hole’s incubation period would be anything but smooth, Miller, intrigued but still having his doubts, assigning producer, Winston Hibler to finesse Barabash and Landau’s concept. It was Hibler who came up with the idea of making ‘the black hole’ – then, a relatively ‘new’ phenomenon (or, at least, newly confirmed by scientists) - the centerpiece of the tale. Yet, even after 11 months of prelim, and, in consultation with scientific space experts, Hibler was still gravely dissatisfied with the results, necessitating William Wood coming on board to rework the script. With Hibler’s retirement, the project was effectively shelved until the fall of 1975, when it was dusted off, revamped and re-titled Space Probe 1.  Still, the project stubbornly refused to come together. So, Hibler was brought out of retirement for counsel and advice, encouraging Miller to hire conceptual artist, Robert McCall to create pre-production visuals that would inspire, as well as crystalize the focus of the story.

Hibler also hired matte designer, Peter Ellenshaw (also retired) to work on miniatures and matte paintings.  Briefly, director, John Hough, who had just had a hit for Disney with Escape to Witch Mountain (1975) was announced to helm the project. But Hough disliked the screenplay for The Black Hole so much he declined even the studio’s most lucrative offer. So, Hibler hired Sumner Arthur Long for additional rewrites. Before a single frame of film had been exposed, The Black Hole was already shaping up to be one of the longest projects in development, eating away at badly needed funds with no viable end product in sight. Worse, the popular zeitgeist for disaster movies, and for which The Black Hole had initially been conceived had already run its course with audiences. Hibler’s death in 1976 did not delay further work on the movie; Miller, taking over and hiring Ed Coffey for yet another draft of the screenplay. By 1977, another writer, Jeb Rosebrook had altered the movie’s focus on a contingent of astronauts encountering the eponymous black hole. At this juncture, Hough abruptly quit the project and Miller turned to Gary Nelson to direct. Only Nelson was as unimpressed as Hough with the work already completed. Coaxed in his waning admiration by a visit to the studio, where Ellenshaw showed off his miniatures and matte paintings, Nelson reluctantly signed on; Rosebrook, handing in his final draft of the screenplay in March 1978, only to be heavily reworked yet again - this time, by Gerry Day.

By then, even for those who continued to discount sci-fi as anything better than fluff and nonsense, Lucas’ Star Wars was on everyone’s lips. While Star Wars revolutionized the use of computerized motion control miniature effects, and, had won an Oscar for its technical innovation, The Black Hole employed both traditional in-camera techniques and newly developed computer-controlled camera technology. Disney had hoped to tap into Lucas’ Industrial Light and Magic for these post-production SFX. But these plans were kyboshed, first – as the equipment proved ‘conveniently’ to be unavailable, and then, was offered to the studio, but at a truly prohibitive cost. Undaunted, the studio came to rely on its own craftsman who, in the past, had led by example. The result was A.C.E.S., an automated camera effects system that allowed for double exposures of miniatures as the camera effortlessly maneuvered across matte paintings. The process also permitted actors to seamlessly appear within the matte; the camera tracks painted out in post-production. The Mattescan system could then composite this live-action footage onto a single painting. For The Black Hole, Peter Ellenshaw had created more than150 mattes, of which less than 13 were actually used in the final cut, supervised by Ellenshaw’s son, Harrison.

If only more care had been paid to the actual story, The Black Hole might have indeed been one for the ages – straddling the chasm between traditional and – then – cutting edge visual wizardry. Regrettably, the foggy ontological finale, preceded by 90+ minutes of intellectual garble, only served to illustrate Miller’s initial desire to hew a space-age 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea from this pseudo-Hitlerian morality play was too lofty and experimental an ambition to succeed as a popular entertainment.  Worse, the movie borrowed heavily from the endearing clichés of its rivals, right down to the hoity-toity relationship between a pair of robots; V.I.N.C.E.N.T, voiced by Roddy McDowall, and B.O.B. (Slim Pickens) – the R2D2/C3PO of this affair, with Tony Perkins’ Dr. Durant – a sort of Spock-like sage, minus the pointy ears. For the rest, the characters populating this probe became a waxworks of nondescripts: Yvette Mimieux's Dr. Kate McCrae - a telepathic scientist and genteel counterpoint to Durant’s empirical nature; Joseph Bottoms, as the impulsive Lieutenant Charles Pizer; Ernest Borgnine’s crusty reporter, and finally, Robert Forster’s stoic Captain Dan Holland – the guts of the mission.

The Black Hole was one of the last features to open with an overture, followed by a main title. We begin as the crew of the USS Palomino near the end of another lengthy mission in outer space. Alas, the discovery of a black hole, with a large spaceship lingering on the edge of its abyss is cause for grave alarm; especially after the mystery vessel is revealed to be the long-lost USS Cygnus, on whom McCrae's father had served. Deciding to investigate, Capt. Holland is ill-prepared for the hole’s intense gravitational pull; the Palomino damaged, but otherwise spared in its wounded ability to successfully dock with the Cygnus, which appears to be immune to the hole’s effects. A cursory overview of the vessel suggests it is abandoned. Soon, however, Palomino’s crew cross paths with Dr. Hans Reinhardt, a brilliant, but as demented scientist. Reinhardt’s explanation of his implausible survival placates Holland’s query. Nearly 20 years before, the Cygnus was mortally wounded in a meteor field; Reinhardt, ordering the remaining crew to abandon ship in escape pods and return to earth. Only Kate’s father elected to remain behind, eventually dying – presumably, of old age – leaving Reinhardt stranded in deep space.  Aided by his motley crew of faceless, black-robed drones, and, the ominous-looking Maximilian, Reinhardt explains to Holland how he intends to fly the Cygnus through the black hole; a foolhardy expedition, only Durant believes is possible, enthusiastically offering to accompany Reinhardt on this trip.

McCrae becomes suspicious of Reinhardt’s faceless drones after they exhibit uncanny human behaviors. Gradually, she unearths the truth from V.I.N.C.E.N.T. The Cygnus was bound for earth when Reinhardt took over the ship, systematically lobotomizing its crew and ‘reprogramming’ them as his minions. McCrae's father, who led a failed rebellion against Reinhardt, paid for his defiance with his life. After Kate reveals this to Durant, he removes the reflective faceplate from one of the drones, revealing the zombie-like ‘reprogrammed’ crew member beneath. Appalled, Durant’s attempt to flee from the bridge and warn Holland is thwarted by Maximilian, who murders him. Reinhardt takes McCrae prisoner, ordering his sentries to prepare her for a lobotomy. With only moments to spare, Capt. Holland comes to her aid, nobly assisted by V.I.N.C.E.N.T and B.O.B. Now, Booth tries to get back to the Palomino. But Reinhardt orders the craft shot down. Alas, the Palomino crashes into the Cygnus, destroying its anti-gravity generator. As the Cygnus begins to break apart under the black hole's gravitational pull, Reinhardt and the remaining Palomino survivors separately plan to board a tiny probe previously used to study the black hole.

Reinhardt orders Maximilian to prepare for their hasty departure. Inadvertently, one of the oversized view screens is dislodged from its wall mount, pinning Reinhardt to the floor. Unable to free himself, Reinhardt observes as his lobotomized drones presides motionless over him. Maximilian confronts Holland and Kate, fatally damaging B.O.B. before V.I.N.C.E.N.T intervenes. Maximilian is then sucked from a gaping wound in the ship’s hull and into the black hole’s abyss, while Holland, Pizer, McCrae and V.I.N.C.E.N.T retreat to the probe and launch themselves into space, only to discover the controls have been previously programmed to take them straight into the black hole. On their hellish journey beyond these farthest reaches, Holland and his team witness Reinhardt’s molecular structure merge with Maximilian, the inferno populated by dark-robed specters and an ethereal figure, passing through a cathedral-like crystal tunnel. Reinhardt is destroyed. But the probe, with Holland, Pizer, McCrae and V.I.N.C.E.N.T emerges from the ‘other side’ of the hole, presumably to relative safety, last seen orbiting a planet, presumed to be earth, situated near a shiny white star.

Arguably, there was a better picture skating on the peripheries of what ultimately became The Black Hole. But at a scant 98-minutes there is hardly enough time to explore it.  The vast cosmic vistas depicted are impressive. But the action is second-rate, and the drama that precedes it, woefully B-grade fluff and nonsense with no depth of characterization to make us care about what happens one way or the other. So, in the end we are left with a lifeless, frequently beautiful, but mostly leaden and dull experience, filling the anamorphic frame with cycloramas best suited to an indoor pavilion at Disney’s Tomorrowland. Director, Gary Nelson is sincerely out of his depth, having forgotten that any movie – much less one supposedly taking place among the stars – must have something else going for it beyond such devastatingly handsome visual effects. Those who have condemned The Black Hole merely for its fanciful affront to carefully-studied astrophysics would do wise to reconsider Star Wars and Star Trek have not exactly been shining examples of fact-based interstellar exploration either. Nor, I presume, was this ever Nelson’s intent. But at least, he might have opted for a good yarn. Instead, The Black Hole cannot make up its mind whether to indulge sci-fi junkies with its clever techno-babble, or pander to those who would prefer it set a course, full throttle, into Gothic horror.  As this is, after all, a Disney flick, the horror derived herein is more atmospheric than motivated by gore.  

The cast are entirely forgettable. But the stand-out performance goes to Maximilian Schell’s exophthalmic Reinhardt – a wonderfully overwrought baddie we are not supposed to be rooting for, but in the absence of any genuinely virtuous character, as well-delineated on the other side, we have no choice but to invest in as our Master of Ceremonies through this ghoulish excursion. Schell’s schizophrenic performance is so awful, it can only be accepted as pure pulp. As here is a mad scientist, who looks as though he were dressed for a Louis XVII court ball in Moses’ drag, in one particular scene, slapping himself as though to pay homage to The Three Stooges and, in another, as thoroughly commanding as any deranged scientist from the classic Universal cycle in horror could be, as he prepares to part the constellations with a blast from his flaring nostrils. Schell is a great actor, but you would never guess if from this performance. Still, it is a lot of fun to watch – in a sort of ‘so bad it’s good’ – way. Alas, unable to decide whether they are making a sci-fi movie for adults or a cartoony ‘haunted house’ caper in outer space for the kiddies, Disney’s efforts on The Black Hole vainly bestride ‘two chairs’, with the upper-crust V.I.N.C.E.N.T remaining patronizing, pompous, and categorically painful to watch. The philosophic finale is a sophomoric effort at best with meaningless cues to suggest evil vanquished on a preordained moment of truth riding shotgun with blind faith. Interestingly, with all its flaws, The Black Hole is rarely dull, if thoroughly abortive and an agonizingly hollow experience to wade through.  Despite the studio’s best efforts, The Black Hole never envelopes the viewer into its alternate universe. It merely digresses from one vacuous account of these outer realms to the next, showing off the Disney artisans’ techno-craft, best showcased elsewhere.    

I have sincerely given up on trying to figure out the executive logic behind the Mouse House’s ‘exclusive’ Blu-ray releases, as they continue to be bare bones offerings where a plethora of extra content already exists to create comprehensive collector’s editions in hi-def.  But The Black Hole’s ‘anniversary edition’ is particularly depressing; not so much for the company’s continued shortsightedness where extra features are concerned, or even, their idiotic ‘limited edition’ status via the Disney Club, but for this lack-luster 1080p presentation.  Not only does The Black Hole appear to have been sourced from older digital files, but the interspersed macro-blocking, oddly to favor the left-hand side of the screen – also, to rear its ugly digitization during the harshly red-tinted finale, renders this presentation well below par for Blu-ray standards circa 2019.  Colors are mostly rich and bold, although process shots are a queer amalgam of less than convincing densities, with weaker than anticipated black levels. Aliasing abounds in instrumentation panels aboard the Palomino, while matte seams around virtually all special effects are glaringly obvious. Blu-ray’s improved resolution also reveals the wire work done to simulate weightlessness.

Despite maintaining its pseudo-film-like appearance, grain structure is unevenly represented and opticals look thick and faded by direct comparison. A new 4K scan ought to have been performed from the original camera negative, digitally massaged with today’s home video mastering wizardry to finesse the image and conceal its age-related flaws. We get none of that here. Better news for the audio: the DTS 5.1 lossless is solid, if represented at a less than optimal listening level – so, turn up your volume.  Surround SFX are used sparingly, though effectively.  John Barry's score is superb. *Please note: the overture to The Black Hole, that accompanied its theatrical release and, also, the long-defunct, but superior DVD from Anchor Bay, is missing on the Blu-ray. Dumb decision – one of many Disney Inc. continues to make with regards to their film legacy on home video.  Bottom line: The Black Hole is not a terribly prepossessing movie. If you saw it as a prepubescent devotee of Disney back in 1979, but have not seen it since, your childhood recollections are in for a very rude awakening. This Blu-ray, correctly framed in 2.35:1 widescreen, while offering superior visuals over Disney’s own pan-and-scan DVD from some years back, not unlike the movie itself, is a colossal let down. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

0