Nursing a scotch in the flickering candlelight, he looks like a guy who shoots first and asks questions later. A craggy-faced character who could pass as a mob enforcer, a “pally” who’s seen one too many fights in one too many joints.
I knew him as a lovable local, a novelist and regular at my favorite watering hole. To me, he was Paul Mantee from the bar at Guido’s. But to millions around the globe, he’s Commander Christopher “Kit” Draper-man on Mars.
This is, I am ashamed to say, a recent discovery. I had no idea that a bona fide sci-fi cult hero was in our midst-a man who would soon preside over his very own film festival.
It all started after a recent Guido’s get-together starring the usual suspects. Afterward, an out-of-town friend whispered in awe, “You know your buddy-that’s Paul Mantee.”
“Right,” I replied. “Paul Mantee from Guido’s.”
“No,” he insisted. “It’s the Paul Mantee.”
“Yeah,” I repeated for emphasis, “the Paul Mantee from Guido’s.”
My friend looked at me as if I had just emerged from an igloo and suggested I check out American Movie Classics the following week.
I did, and there he was-a young, studly Paul Mantee roaming through a 1960s Martian landscape-a stranger in a strange land, a man and his monkey struggling to survive in a hostile environment. The movie is called “Robinson Crusoe on Mars” and Mantee is the star.
In this pre-“E.T.” decade, Mantee had to make do without technical wizardry and elaborate gear. No shiny aluminum space duds here. Nope, Mantee’s low-tech ensemble looked more like a wet suit, motorcycle helmet and a vacuum cleaner hose. The red planet was really Death Valley, the oxygen pills were M&Ms and the life-sustaining alien plant forms were Italian sausages. At its core, however, is a sweet story that celebrates survival and the human spirit.
Intrigued, I looked up Mantee’s bio on imdb.com (International Movie Database). Turns out my pal had quite a career. His credits included everything from “The Great Santini” to “They Shoot Horses Don’t They?” He also appeared in dozens of television shows playing Chris Tomas in “The A-Team,” Hank Yankowski in “Kojak” and Cornell in an episode of “Batman” called “Catwoman Goes to College.”
Before Crusoe, he played the tough guy.
“Until then, most of my lines were like ‘Come out or the dame gets it,’ ” he told me over cocktails, explaining how he went on to land the role of a lifetime-a role that would take him from heavy to hero and on to stardom.
It was a Paramount sci-fi fantasy called “Robinson Crusoe on Mars.” So what if he hated the name, it was a major role with massive mug time. Although Vic Lundin appears later as a runaway slave, it is essentially a one-man, one-monkey movie.
“I was in every scene,” Mantee recalled with delight. “What actor ever gets that? I thought my career was in the bag.”
But Paramount changed hands and the Commander got lost in the shuffle. Crusoe was tacked on to the back end of a Jerry Lewis double bill.
“It got a terrible response,” he recalls. “It was just devastating.”
But a strange thing happened on the way to the celluloid cemetery. The film started to develop a following. It took off with a new generation of young sci-fi buffs. To them, the film was a classic and Mantee was the man.
In case there is any doubt, there are 452 Mantee sites on Yahoo in several languages including Japanese, Portuguese and German. There are 1,120 sites for “Robinson Crusoe on Mars.” The San Diego chapter of the Mars Society screened the film on New Year’s Eve. There are posters, conventions and fan clubs. For $382, you can get the Paul Mantee action figure complete with survival kit, communicator and monkey companion.
Which leads me to the Paul Mantee film festival. When I confronted him about his secret, he said, “Yeah, they’re having a film festival at the Egyptian Theater. They want me to come and do a Q and A., but nahhh … I’m not going. What if nobody shows?”
At my absolute insistence and a promise to bring the neighborhood, he gave in and went. It was the first time he would see the movie since 1966.
Any doubts about attendance disappeared the moment we walked in the door at Musso and Frank’s on Hollywood Boulevard. Within seconds, adoring fans approached him.
“Oh Mr. Mantee! Mr. Mantee!” they gushed. “You’re the reason we’re here.”
Across the street at the Egyptian, several hundred Mantee fans lined up. The film received enthusiastic applause, whistles of approval, a chorus of cheers and there were more questions than time for answers.
The tough cookie was clearly touched.
“You know,” he admitted afterward, “something like this, well, it just makes your whole day. I guess after all these years, they must really like me.”
Aye, Aye Captain. Over and out!