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(1903–1971). American actor.
The conventions of film references require that the man
be called an "actor"—but of course, he was actually no such thing, never
revealing in any of his appearances anything resembling acting talent. A better
way to describe him would be as a Presence, a strikingly large, bald man who
inevitably commanded your attention and added a certain strange ambience to the
films that chose to focus on him for more than a few seconds. And in this way,
he could make very, very bad films a little bit better.
After immigrating from Sweden, Johnson worked for many
years as a professional wrestler, in an era where these men were underpaid and
mostly invisible. He drifted into films with a series of tiny parts, usually
uncredited, as a strongman in a circus or carnival. That might have been the
end of the story, but in the 1950s he encountered a director named Edward D.
WOOD, Jr., who would (in
certain odd circles) briefly make him famous before recurring heart problems
forced him into retirement. Wood first cast him as Bela
LUGOSI's henchman in the
risible Bride of the Monster, where (as in all his films) he moved
stiffly, recited his lines badly, and somehow seemed fascinating nevertheless.
Similarly suspect performances followed in similarly awful films: The Black
Sheep, The Unearthly, and Wood's own Night of the Ghouls.
But two films stand out as Johnson's masterpieces, if
one can sanely apply that term to any of his films. As a police captain
transformed by aliens into a mindless zombie, he is the true star of the
notorious Plan Nine from Outer Space; you may try very hard to forget
everything about that film, but you will forever recall watching him slowly
stagger across the screen, arms held stiffly in front of him, a figure genuinely
frightening but also a poignant embodiment of the zombie's tragic plight. Then
there is the film that actually cast him as its star, The Beast of Yucca
Flats, best described as what would happen if someone attempted to film The
Incredible Hulk with a total budget of seventeen dollars. In an
astonishingly abominable film that even lacked a soundtrack, John was
predictably unpersuasive as a scientist transformed by radiation into a sort of
monster. Yet, over the years, many people have watched this film attentively
and appreciatively—for to them, it is something genuinely important: it is a
Tor Johnson film.
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