Celebrating Ray Bradbury's 90th Birthday: CFQ Post-Mortem Podcast 1:28.1

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August 22, 2010 represented fantasy author Ray Bradbury’s 90th birthday. In celebration of that event, this week’s Post-Mortem podcast examines his career, including the many film and television adaptations of his work: FARENHEIT 451, THE BEAST FROM 20000 FATHOMS, THE ILLUSTRATED MAN, THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES, SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES, etc. Plus, correspondent Lawrence French fills us in on the details of the celebration in Los Angeles, which declared August 22-28 to be “Ray Bradbury Week.”


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Melville Takes To The Sky In THE AGE OF THE DRAGONS

It seems you can’t throw a stick without hitting a new adaptation of Herman Melville’s MOBY DICK, the tale of Captain Ahab and his obsessive search for the great White Whale. From faithful films to under-the-radar modern updates, the titular sea monster has been everywhere and back again. Well…almost everywhere.
Enter THE AGE OF THE DRAGONS, the latest stab at this classic masterpiece. Set in a medieval time, we find the monster is no longer a white whale…but a white dragon.

In a medieval realm where Captain Ahab and crew hunt dragons for the vitriol that powers their world, Ishmael, a charismatic harpooner, joins their quest. Ahab’s adopted daughter Rachel, beautiful and tough, runs the hunting vessel. Ahab’s obsession to seek revenge on a great “White Dragon” that slaughtered his family when he was young and left his body scarred and mauled drives the crew deeper into the heart of darkness. In the White Dragon’s lair, Ahab’s secrets are revealed and Rachel must choose between following him on his dark quest or escaping to a new life with Ishmael.

It may not be classic literature, but it sure looks like it will pack a punch! No released date has been set, as the film is currently in post-production. More info to follow!
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Check Out 2010: MOBY DICK

Did SHARKTOPUS miss the mark? PIRANHA 3D left you wanting more? Fear not…Asylum Entertainment has brought back a classic to sate your sea-monster thirst! 2010: MOBY DICK is a Direct-To-Video production starring Barry Bostwick (ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW) as the obsessed Capt. Ahab. But the titular whale isn’t the only one getting a modern make-over in this film…it seems that Ahab’s obsession has led him to hunt the underwater beast in a submarine! The film won’t be coming out until November 23rd, but you can pass the time by checking out some stills from the production below!


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Ray Bradbury on Adapting Melville's Allegorical Sea Monster, Moby Dick

Moby Dick is not an obvious choice of material for adaptation to the screen. Nor is Ray Bradbury the obvious choice to have collaborated with famed director John Huston on a sea-going adventure that had little appeal to Hollywood studio chiefs. The science fiction author’s prose work, filled with different combinations of nostalgia, atmosphere and a sense of wonder, has often defied adaptation to the screen; and more often than not, his subject has been the future rather than the past—unless that past involved dinosaurs. Nevertheless, Bradbury somehow found common ground with Herman Melville’s tale. For all the novel’s allegorical ambitions, the white whale Moby Dick evokes a terrifying sense of awe; he is a beast bigger than any dinosaur, a behemoth as powerful as any sea monster. And much more than that, he is an enigma, a symbol of the mystery of the universe, a literal embodiment (if Captain Ahab is correct) of evil.
How did Bradbury come, in the middle of the 20th century, to be scripting a 19-century story about a mad captain’s hunt for a white whale of almost mythical proportions?
“Years ago,” Bradbury recalls, “people said, ‘When are you going to write a screenplay?’ I said, ‘When John Huston asks me.’ I knew exactly who I wanted to work for, because I’d seen his films, and I loved The Maltese Falcon; I saw it fifteen times. I finally had the chance to meet him: I had dinner with him one night in 1951, and I gave him all my books. I said, ‘If you like these books half as much as I like your films, someday hire me.’ He wrote me from Africa, where he was filming African Queen, and said, ‘We’ll work together. I don’t know on what, but we’ll work on something someday.’ In August of 1953,I was down in Long Beach looking for dinosaur books with my friend Ray Harryhausen, and when I came home that night, my wife said, ‘John Huston called; he wants to see you.’ The next day I went to John Huston’s hotel; he put a drink in my hand; he sat me down, stood over me, and said, ‘Well, kid, what are you doing during the next year?’ I said, ‘Not much, Mr. Huston.’ He said, ‘How would you like to come to Ireland and write the screenplay for Moby Dick?’ I said, ‘Well gee, I’ve never been able to read that damn thing!’ He said, ‘Why don’t you go home tonight, read as much as you can; then come back tomorrow and tell me if you’ll help me kill the White Whale.’ I went home and said to my wife, ‘Pray for me.’ She asked why, and I said, ‘Because I have to read a book tonight and do a book report tomorrow!’ I read through the book, as much as I could, and saw the metaphors and discovered that I am essentially a 19th Century author, loving metaphors. I went the next day and took the job.”
What had Huston seen in Bradbury’s work that convinced him to hire the young writer? The author credits a single short story for getting him the job.
The 1954 film THE BEAST FROM 20,000 FATHOMS was inspired by Bradbury's story 'The Foghorn,' which convinced John Huston to hire the author to adapt MOBY DICK.“I lived in Venice, California back in 1950,” Bradbury recalls, adding that he and his wife “walked along the shore one night and came upon the ruins of the old Venice peer, which had just been torn down; and the ruins of the roller-coaster were lying there in the sand, being covered by the wind and the water. I looked at the bones of the roller coaster and said to my wife, ‘I wonder what that dinosaur is doing lying here?’ My wife was very careful not to answer. The next night, I heard a sound and woke in the night. I looked out the window, and for ten miles down the coast there was nothing but wind and rain and sand. But a voice way out in the Santa Monica Bay called me; it was a foghorn, blowing over, and over, and over again. I said, ‘That’s it. The dinosaur is lying on the beach because it heard another dinosaur calling from a billion years, and it swam for an encounter with this other beast and discovered it was only a light house and a damn fog horn, and it tore the whole thing down and died of a broken heart. So I sat down and wrote ‘The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms,’ which became ‘The Foghorn,’ which I gave to John Huston in a book. He read my description of the melancholy sound of the foghorn, and based on that one story, he gave me the job of writing MOBY DICK.” (NOTE: Bradbury’s short story is now usually anthologized under the title “The Foghorn,” to distinguish it from the feature film THE BEAST FROM 20,000 FATHOMS, with special effects by Ray Harryhausen, which features a brief scene of the titular beast attacking a lighthouse—the only element the film and the story share in common.)
Bradbury moved his family to Ireland, where Huston lived at the time, and worked on the script for eight months. With 135 chapters, plus an Etymology, Epilogue and several pages of “Extracts,” Herman Melville’s novel was far from an ideal fit for a screenplay. Simply shoe-horning the narrative into a two-hour running time demanded the sacrifice of over three-quarters of the original text. Bradbury eliminated characters, combined elements of different chapters into single scenes, added new material, and changed many of the details. His first big decision was to eliminate Fedallah, Ahab’s Parsee confidant—a sort of Mephistophelean figure with no real characterization, whose function in the novel is almost totally symbolic.
“When we started, I said to John Huston two things: First, Can we throw Fedallah overboard? If you’ve read the book, you know Fedallah is a bore; he gets in the way. All the stuff that he does should be done by Ahab. John said, ‘Heave him overboard.’ So I threw him out. The second thing was, I said, ‘You must remember, during the screenplay and the film, to do the Shakespearean asides. This is the flesh of Melville; it’s very important. We’re doing a film of metaphor, so we have to have those moments of truth, which will speak to the audience, so they’ll know what’s going on from the soul’s midnight. I tried to find things in Melville to use constantly. We had to use the language as much as possible, to keep the Shakespearean flavor of Melville.”
Bradbury later wrote of his experiences in his episodic novel Green Shadows, White Whale (which is being republished this year). As Peter Viertel had previously done with White Hunter, Black Hear (written after working with Huston on The African Queen), Bradbury used his fictionalized version of reality to his relationship with director John Huston, who comes across as brilliant and talented, but sometimes cruel and abusive. Looking back on the experience today, Bradbury says that the relationship was not at all stormy or adversarial.
“We were both ignorant,” he says of grappling with the subject matter. “We were struggling against ourselves, not against each other, and when revelations came, it was wonderful. I must say, he was very patient with me. When I finished the first fifty-five pages, I gave them to John Huston and said, ‘Here’s the script so far. If you don’t like it, today is my last day of employment, because I don’t want to take money under false pretenses. If you don’t like it, fire me.’ He said, ‘Go upstairs and take a nap while I read it.’ So I went upstairs and took a nap—like hell I did! I lay in the bed sweating, waiting for some word from down stairs. At the end of an hour, I heard a voice calling up the stairs. I went and looked down at Huston, and he said, ‘Ray, come down and finished the screenplay.’ Well, I came down the stairs crying. I loved the project so much; it was such a relief to know that I was going to be able to finish.”
However, this was far from the last hurdle that the writer would have to leap. The film was something of a gamble for Huston, who had struggled for three years to get a Hollywood studio to back a film without a love interest or even a major female lead. “Eight weeks into writing the script, I was with Huston one afternoon when a telegram came from Warner Brothers in Hollywood,” Bradbury recalls. “It said, ‘Dear John, Insist that a woman’s part be written into the screenplay, or we cannot proceed with the productions. Jack Warner.’ I took this telegram, threw it on the ground; I jumped on it and called it all sorts of horrible names that I can’t repeat. In the middle of my jumping on the telegram, I looked up. Huston was rolling on the floor with laughter—he had sent the telegram himself!”


Jokes aside, there was plenty of hard work that went into the script. “It took seven months of reading and re-reading this book,” explains Bradbury. “You can’t intellectualize about adapting anything. You’ve got to really absorb it into your bloodstream. Then you begin to dream about it and think on a deeper level. After seven months of excruciating agony—there were times I wanted to kill myself, I didn’t know a damn thing about Melville when we started, and I discovered John Huston didn’t know anything, either—at the end of seven months, I got out of bed one morning and said, ‘I am Herman Melville.’ I ran to my typewriter and in eight hours of passionate typing, I finished the screenplay in one day—thirty-five pages, the whole ending of the film. I ran across Dublin with the screenplay and threw it in John Huston’s lap. I said, ‘There, I think it’s finished.’ He read it and said, ‘My god, I think it is; let’s roll the cameras. What happened?’ I said, ‘Behold, Herman Melville stands before you. But hurry up, because he’s leaving in five minutes.’ So that’s the way you write a screenplay of a book like this. I would like to think that if the ghost of Melville had seen this, he would find some of these [changes] okay. I don’t believe in running amok on people’s work; I try to find the essence.”
Inevitably, what emerged in 1956 was not a transcription but a condensation of Melville. And yet, despite the liberties taken with what many consider to be the closest thing to the proverbial “Great American Novel,” the film somehow manages to stand on its own feet (although, considering the subject matter, the metaphor should perhaps read “swim with its own flukes”). If there were any doubts that Huston and Bradbury made the right choices, these were put to rest by the 1998 television adaptation, starring Patrick Stewart as Captain Ahab. With a running time of 180 minutes, writers Anton Diether and Franc Roddam (who also directed) could retain more of Melville, and yet what emerged was curiously lifeless—like the well-preserved subject of an embalming, it captured the appearance but not the soul of its subject. Seen from this perspective, Huston’s MOBY DICK stands alongside Stanley Kubrick’s LOLITA as an example of a film that honors its source material with far greater artistic merit than the subsequent attempt at a “faithful” adaptation.

Captain Ahab (Gregory Peck) grapples with his mortal enemy.

Just what is that mysterious essence of Moby Dick that Bradbury captured? What is the secret that lies behind “The Whiteness of the Whale” (as Melville titled one chapter)? “How many interpretations do you want?” Bradbury jokes. “We’re endowed with the gift of life. It’s a total mystery, and we try to make sense of it. We wake at night and say to ourselves, ‘This is incredible. We’re living on this world, and we don’t know how we got here.’ Scientists haven’t figured it out; they have theories, but they don’t know. The very existence of life is impossible. All the great religions have this mystery at their center, and Moby Dick is that mystery, and Ahab chooses to interpret that mystery in his way, and it’s not necessarily true. The mystery is not evil; it just is. And we are a mystery to ourselves. I feel this every day of my life. Moby Dick helped open this up to me.”
RELATED ARTICLES: Sons of Moby Dick – How the White Whale Spawned a School of Sea Monsters

Sons of Moby Dick: Melville's White Whale has spawned a school of sea monsters

Moby Dick may seem an odd choice for inclusion in Cinefantastique. After all, if one were to categorize the novel, the obvious label would be Adventure – specifically, a high-seas adventure about whale hunting. However,  Herman Melville’s tale is awash with allegory and symbolism, much of it relevant to the horror genre. The book is too vast in its implications to be fully analyzed here; for our purposes it is enough to point out that its chief mystery is whether the White Whale is simply a dumb beast acting from instinct or, as Captain Ahab believes, an intelligent being acting from malevolence. In effect, Ahab’s quest for vengeance is propelled by the conviction that he is pursuing an evil monster, and one question raised by the book is: does evil actually exist, or do human beings mistakenly perceive evil when random events bring about misfortune? This question underlies many horror films, most notably THE EXORCIST. In that case, the debate is weighted in favor of the existence of evil because the phenomenon is preternatural; Moby-Dick, on the other hand, can be seen as the prototype for countless films wherein natural phenomena appear to act with deliberate malice (witness THE BIRDS or the opening of TWISTER, in which a tornado seems almost like an angry god plucking away a family’s helpless father for no good reason). More specifically, the White Whale has spawned a school of sea monsters that have bedeviled ocean-going humans almost since the beginning of cinema.
Unfortunately, most of these descendants occupy a low rung on the pop-culture ladder, borrowing little of Melville’s metaphysics and reducing what is borrowed to the level of a simple plot device. To wit: no matter how fearsome and threatening a large animal may be to a lone victim, an organized group with the right weapons would have no problem exterminating the beast, unless it were somehow capable of avoiding their modern firepower; therefore, tales of monstrous sharks, orcas, and even snakes almost inevitably imbue the animals with at least a rudimentary intelligence that enables them to outwit their human opponents. The philosophical implications of this are seldom explored; it is enough that intelligence makes the beasts more threatening and therefore more in need of being destroyed.


The first two on-screen descendants of Moby-Dick were loose adaptations starring John Barrymore: both THE SEA BEAST (1926) and its sound remake MOBY DICK (1930) abandoned much of the novel in favor of adding a love story. Over two decades later, John Huston directed a more faithful, though still condensed, version. His MOBY DICK (1956) is notable for trying to use the visual medium, especially color, to convey the essence of Melville; but Gregory Pecks performance as Ahab has come under fire, even from the actor, who considered himself miscast (he thought Huston should have cast him as Starbuck and played Ahab himself).
Meanwhile, the science-fiction genre was getting into the act in the early ‘50s. Prior to Huston’s adaptation, two Ray Harryhausen films featured sea monsters dredged up from the depths by atomic bomb testing. In both THE BEAST FROM 20,000 FATHOMS (1953) and IT CAME FROM BENEATH THE SEA (1954), complex considerations of the problem of evil are abandoned in favor of a simple metaphor: the monsters are living embodiments of the dangers of nuclear power. Still, BEAST gave credit for its inspiration to Ray Bradbury’s short story “The Fog Horn,” and something about the prehistoric reptile rising from the depths was evocative enough for John Huston to have Bradbury collaborate with him on the script for MOBY DICK.
One possible (albeit a simple) interpretation of Melville’s novel is that Moby Dick is not a monster at all but simply an innocent animal relentlessly pursued by a madman projecting his own mania onto a living tabula rasa. In fact, before the Pequod encounters the White Whale, previous accounts of Moby Dick have him swimming with others of his kind, implying that his previous “attacks” on whaling vessels may have actually been attempts to defend his species against human aggressors. This sympathetic interpretation of nature, versus the wickedness of humanity, is not pushed very far in the Harryhausen films: whatever set them off in the first place, the rhedosaur and the octopus are lone beasts that inspire little or no sympathy. That changed with GORGO (1960).

The materanl sea beast rises from the waves to seek her off-spring.

In this film, the sea beast comes to represent an archetypal force guaranteed to evoke human sympathy: mother love. The point is emphasized by the fact that there are no important female characters in the story (outside of the mammoth maternal monster that destroys half of London to save her offspring). The humans, like the crew of the Pequod, are men apparently cut off from the society of women. Interestingly, the lead character (played by Bill Travers) unofficially adopts an orphaned boy, much as Ahab took Pip under his wing. Assuming this feminine role of surrogate mother ultimately redeems the character when he abandons his greedy, masculine hopes of exploiting the beast for profit and instead risks his life to rescue the boy. (The maternal instinct of prehistoric monsters was later exploited by Steven Spielberg in THE LOST WORLD: JURASSIC PARK, but the effect was considerably diminished.)
The theme of the giant sea beast that represents nature’s revenge was developed further in the Godzilla films. The series started off fairly closely modeled after BEAST FROM 20,000 FATHOMS, before mutating into juvenile camp. However, when the franchise re-booted in 1985, the sequels re-imagined the conception, changing Godzilla from a malevolent monster (as in his 1954 debut) to something resembling an implacable natural disaster. There was a twist, however, because Godzilla, unlike Moby Dick, is not a force of nature per se; rather, he once was a natural animal, but now he has been mutated by human science. Therefore,  it makes little sense to adopt an Ahab-like vendetta against the creature, who is, ultimately, a living embodiment of man-made catastrophe, like the Exxon Valdez or Chernobyl.
Beginning with GODZILLA 1985, several films delt with this theme, featuring revenge-crazed characters seeking retribution against the radioactive reptile in response to the death of a friend or a comrade in arms: GODZILLA VS. SPACE GODZILLA (1994), GODZILLA VS. MEGAGUIRAS (2001), and GODZILLA VS. MECHAGODZILLA (2002). Like Ahab, the humans tended to fail in their attempts to destroy the beast, but they sometimes learned the error of their ways, realizing that personal vengeance was pointless when mankind was ultimately to blame for Godzilla. As interesting as the concept is, it was seldom if ever developed to its full potential. Godzilla is certain awesome and mysterious enough to fill in for Moby Dick, but none of the human characters attained anything close to the stature of a Captain Ahab.
Sticking a little closer to Melville, Peter Benchley launched a whole subgenre with the publication of Jaws, which led to the blockbuster film and countless rip-offs (TENTACLES, CLAWS, GREAT WHITE, etc). Steven Spielberg’s JAWS (1975) is clearly intended as a pop riff on Moby Dick (with a little of An Enemy of the People thrown in). The Melville connection is even clearer in the book, wherein shark hunter Quint is dragged to his death, like Ahab, by a harpoon line attached to the swimming menace, but in both book and film the shark’s predations defy the instinctive behavior expected from the species, leaving one to wonder if something more than an unconscious killing machine is at work.

The White Shark rises from the depths.

This idea is taken a step further (to amusing but ridiculous extremes) in JAWS IV: THE REVENGE (1987), in which a new Great White seems to be taking personal revenge against the family of the man who killed the sharks in the first two films. The revenge theme was also present in ORCA (1977), although here the implication is that the Richard Harris character may deserve to be persecuted by the mate of a killer whale he harpooned. It is interesting to note that both JAWS IV and ORCA reverse the MOBY DICK formula, casting the sea creature as the instrument of vengeance.

A rather silly but well-photographed TV movie emerged in 1978, THE BERMUDA DEPTHS. The telefilm bares a passing resemblance to Moby Dick, in its tale of a humongous sea turtle responsible for the mysterious shipwrecks in the so-called “Bermuda Triangle.” The whole thing is boring as hell, but the Gamera-wannabe is a hoot, and Carl Weathers winds up dragged to his death, tangled in a harpoon line, just like Ahab and Quint before him. (This seems to be the only film to use the death described by Melville: Quint is swallowed by the shark in the JAWS film; and both Huston’s adaptation and the recent USA Cable mini-series of MOBY DICK have Ahab meeting his demise while lashed to the side of the whale.)
From turtles to snakes: SPASMS (1983) and ANACONDA (1997) may not seem related to Moby Dick, but there is a connection. Both feature serpents that are big, but neither one is so unnaturally large as to be a “monster.” So the question is: why cannot the characters just capture the damned thing and put it in a zoo? This is where the Moby-Dick syndrome comes in: to make them more threatening, the snakes are portrayed as if capable of strategizing, and there is a lot of supernatural hooey about their serpent gods. In the end both are dispatched by conventional means such as guns and explosives (although that was not enough to prevent a sequel title ANACONDAS, which seemed to overlook that the first film had already contained more than one anaconda).
Benchley returned to sea monsters with Beast and White Shark, which were adapted into mini-series entitled THE BEAST (1996) and CREATURE (1998). Interestingly, these works refute the apparent evil of the shark in JAWS, which is dismissed as an inaccurate piece of Hollywood nonsense. In THE BEAST, Will Dalton (William Petersen) argues that people have no right to hunt the giant squid, because it is the fishing industry’s depopulation of the seas that has driven the Beast from its usual hunting grounds and into contact with humans. White Shark, meanwhile, contains a Great White that is presented as a dangerous but endangered species that out to be preserved, not hunted to extinction.
This sub-genre came full circle with the 1998 TV version of MOBY DICK. What perhaps is most interesting about this mini-series is how easy it is to view the White Whale sympathetically today. Metaphysical implications take a backseat to the very real slaughter perpetrated against these animals; in this context, Moby Dick is less a symbol of a random universe that may only appear malevolent, than of poetic (perhaps even divine) vengeance against heartless harpooners pursuing a magnificent species nearly to extinction – an interpretation emphasized by Patrick Stewart’s public service announcements, at the end of each episode, on behalf of saving the whale. It’s less deeply disturbing than the ideas conjured up by the novel, but it does follow the course swum by many of Moby Dick’s descendants.
RELATED ARTICLES: Science-Fiction Author Ray Bradbury on Adapting “Moby Dick.”

Moby Dick (1998) – TV Review

moby-dick-tv-1998.jpgBy Frederick C. Szebin

[EDITOR’S NOTE: I am posting this review by Fred Szebin, which originally appeared in Cinefantastique magazine. Because of the way the website works, the person who posts an article shows up as an author. To avoid any confusion, I wanted to state clearly that the authorship belongs solely to Szebin.]
It is usually a difficult task to pinpoint a specific element of inspiration that has influenced everything that came after it, but in the case of Moby Dick, it’s a simple matter. Calling the plot a “monster story” is not quite a stretch, and it has influenced many creature features over the past century: everything from the gallantry of STAR TREK to the giant turtle epic, THE BERMUDA DEPTHS, and even an unauthorized remake, the silly ORCA. In this adaptation of Melville’s epic tale of Ahab’s struggle to the death not only with the whale that took his leg but also with his own obsessions and growing madness, uneven effects do not prevent director Roddam from handling the material with a masterful assuredness that brings Melville’s pages to a full and lusty life.
Stewart is remarkable as Ahab, offering a multi-leveled portrayal of a man over the edge, unable to stop himself even as he looks into the abyss. It’s obvious how much he enjoys his role, which makes him that much more fun to watch. Another revelation is Henry Thomas, handsome and capable 16 years after E.T. As Ishmael, he shows sensitivity and appealing naivete. while Piripi Waretini is wonderful as the over-the-top Queequeg, the pagan harpooner who is an unlikely mentor to the more refined Ishmael. And as the only island of sanity aboard the Pequod, Ted Levine is perfectly cast as Starbuck, the opposing force to Ahab’s empty-hearted lunacy.
A most difficult accomplishment must have been to make Melville’s Shakespearean dialogue sound like natural speech, but the actors all serve their words admirably. This is one monster movie that doesn’t just lay there in wait of its star creature’s appearance. Instead, there is much happening with the characters, and even the most unappealing of these swabbies is certainly never dull. The special effects are quite good, although some remain obvious. Old Moby himself is nicely realized with CGI for full shots and mechanical parts for close-ups. Roddam is wisely careful how he uses these implements, and once added to Christopher Gordon’s swelling score and David Connell’s snappy editing, the whale sequences, particularly when Moby lays waste to the Pequod, are exciting and effective.
It is a particularly thankless job to create an epic for television, a disposable medium whose very slap-dash nature works against anyone trying to create anything of real value. But executive producers Francis Ford Coppola and Fred Fuchs have done it twice: previously with THE ODYSSEY, and now with MOBY DICK, two productions that bear the odds against them and stand on their own as the best that television can offer.
MOBY DICK (TV Mini-series, 4 hours, w/commercials, TV-PG, 1998). Director. Franc Roddam. Screenplay: Anton Diether and Roddam, from the novel by Herman Melville. With: Patrick Stewart, Ted Levine, Henry Thomas, Gregory Peck.
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