Was Vampira the model for Disney's Maleficent? Probably.

Maila Nurmi (aka Vampira) and her cat, Ratface, in 1956.

Back in 2014, R.H. Greene wrote a compelling argument in support of the rumor that Maila Nurmi (aka "Vampira") served as a model for the character of "Maleficent" in Disney's SLEEPING BEAUTY. It's one of those legends that we'd all love to believe, but always seemed too good to be true.

And Greene's evidence is pretty compelling. Nurmi's datebook suggests the actress knew something about the inner workings of Walt Disney Studios in 1956, specifically the name of SLEEPING BEAUTY's casting director. Sadly, Disney's secretive corporate habits mean that there's no records of Nurmi serving as a model for arguably its greatest villain.

And then there's the sticky problem of how Nurmi's datebook identifies another film she worked on that year: GRAVE ROBBERS FROM OUTER SPACE. The traditional history of that film, shot in Novemeber, 1956, says that the film was re-titled as PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE well after production ... but Nurmi mentions taking part in the production that month of a movie she slugs as "OUTER SPACE PLAN 9."

Green said there's a possibility that Nurmi, who had a habit of using a pencil to make revisions to her datebook, might have later altered the title of the film.

"I saw no evidence of erasures in any of the entries that were turned over to me but that doesn't mean a look at the physical documents might not reveal more about them," Greene said during a discussion about this discrepancy at the Classic Horror Film Board. "I mentioned erasures because it's a standard practice for datebook dedicatees to pencil in future events in case they have to be changed, and I saw evidence of this dual entry practice in Maila's entries (though nothing looked to have been erased as indeed all the bookings I saw came to pass)."

Just because this evidence might have been altered does not make it more credible, in my opinion. Greene said he shared photos of Nurmi's datebook with Salon as part of his 2014 story, but the magazine opted to publish a text transcript rather than scans of the pages. And what happened shortly after her work on PLAN 9 might lend more credibility to the SLEEPING BEAUTY legend, should those pages in her datebook ever be shared.

Maleficent in Disney's SLEEPING BEAUTY.

The Medford Mail Tribune: Dec. 23, 1956.

1956 was a not entirely pleasant year for Nurmi. In January that year she was the victim of sexual assault, something that newspapers at the time seemed to thing was funny. An asshole named Ellis Barber (aka "The Vamp") broke into her home and assaulted her for two hours, leading to "witty" headlines like "The Vamp Rips Off Clothes of Vampira." The year came to an end with a fire at her apartment near Christmas that caused superficial burns to her arms and hands.

You can see a photo at the top of this post of a bandaged Nurmi and her cat Ratface, who she credited with waking her during the fire. And here's where things get interesting.

The following week, a syndicated news account of the fire began to hit newspapers. These kinds of stories are generally considered filler by editors and are trimmed to fit "holes" on newspages. Some of these stories are trimmed more than others, but at least one version of the story mentioned that Nurmi was playing "a witch" in Disney's SLEEPING BEAUTY (see right). This information almost certainly came from Nurmi, whose datebook mentioned meetings with the studio the previous month.

Even better, SLEEPING BEAUTY wasn't released until three years later in 1959. If Nurmi was lying, why pick an unfinished, unreleased animated feature?

It appears that Nurmi was not among the fans of Maleficent's design, though. Her niece, Sandra Niemi, told Greene that she saw sketches made by her aunt that revised the character's iconic headdress.

“I was told Maila found work on a movie for Walt Disney,” Niemi said. “Then a letter came with a full sized sheet of drawings in pencil that Maila had made with what I know now to be Maleficent’s head, only Maila drew huge cat ears.”

Via: Salon 

Inside the PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE presskit

I've been vocal about my love for the so-called "worst movie ever made." PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE is the everything bagel of cinema, combining zombies, leftover Robin Hood costumes, a "real psychic," UFOs, crime films, stock footage of Bela Lugosi and an anti-war message to create one goddamn delicious fiasco.

Still, it's hard to believe anyone thought the movie needed a press kit. PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE was designed to be filler, scheduled to play after legitimate movies as a means to give theaters a few more hours to unload stale popcorn.

Which might explain why the movie's press kit is a modest four pages long. If you do the math, you'll note  that "four pages" actually means "one page." (It's a single sheet with printing on both sides, then folded in half.)  The flyer press kit also claims that Bela Lugosi died "shortly after production ended" on the movie. Lugosi actually died about three years before the film's release, and almost certainly before production on PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE even began.

Below are some highlights (and lowlights) from the film's 1958 presskit.

Monster Serial: PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE (1959)

By WALLACE McBRIDE

Yeah, PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE. I know, I know … it’s a wretched piece of film by anyone’s standards, and this is supposed to be a book dedicated to beloved horror and science fiction movies. I’m not here to sway you into believing it’s a better movie than it is, and I’ve got no authoritative insight into the movie’s troubled history, either.

Instead, this is a confession.

Despite my better instincts, I love PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE. There are few films I’ve seen more than Edward D. Wood’s magnum opus, even though logic demands the hours I’ve wasted with this movie were probably better spent doing anything else. My love for PLAN 9 is my least malignant character flaw, so there’s been no sense of urgency to be rid of it. If we were talking about a methamphetamine addiction, there would be physical and social pressures on me to change my ways. A meth habit might even be preferable, because junkies are sometimes forced into social interaction with people of similar interests. For better or worse, a drug habit is a very real, very physical experience, while my love for PLAN 9 usually leaves me naval gazing in a darkened room.

But that’s not to discount the transcendental nature of watching a terrible movie. And by “terrible movie,” I don’t mean the slick, expensive commercial products made by guys like Michael Bay. Those kinds of films get put through so many corporate filters that it’s impossible for them to hit theaters without some semblance of competent storytelling, and it’s hard to think of them as “film” as much as feature-length commercials for tie-in products. They might suck, but the competence and craftsmanship on display are undeniably impressive.

The same can’t be said for an Ed Wood film. As much as I love the Tim Burton’s film about “the world’s worst filmmaker,” it’s almost entirely a work of fiction. Wood might have wanted to make movies, but he wasn’t some wide-eyed “Andy Hardy” character innocently pursuing his dream. Wood was a hustler that naturally gravitated to a level of filmmaking that tolerated his misguided sense of aesthetics. His distributors didn’t care about the quality of his films as long as they came in on budget and were edited to a manageable running time. They were B-movie filler and existed only to fool ticket buyers into thinking they were getting more for their money.

Because he was left more-or-less unattended, Wood’s movies feel like Id run wild (at least, as wild as budgets and prudish standards of the times would allow.) Wood’s movies are the children of his juvenile imagination, but this imagination charges his stories with the kind of energy that makes up for the nonsense he tried to pass off as “scripts.” Say what you want about Wood’s movies, but they’re not boring.

More to the point, his movies are terrible in a way that’s impossible to replicate. Any filmmaker is capable of making a great movie. The people who directed POINT BREAK, NATURAL BORN KILLERS and EVERY WHICH WAY BUT LOOSE have all made legitimately great movies at some point in their careers, and have even won Academy awards for their work. Making movies is hard, but talent will occasionally prevail.

But nobody can fake the kind of anti-genius of Ed Wood, though.  It’s a natural gift that is probably inversely aggravated by how much talent and money you throw at it. Give Ed Wood $100 million budget and you’ll still get something that feels like PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE. The on-set chemistry that produces gloriously bad movies simply can’t be faked. When filmmakers have tried (DEATH PROOF, THE LOST SKELETON OF CADABRA, etc.) the final products have had a saccharine flavor to them.
All of this would be harmless fun if not for PLAN 9’s disgraceful pedigree. I think most of us would laugh comfortably at the film if not for the presence of Bela Lugosi.  Wood’s decision to exploit Lugosi’s corpse one final time is a cautionary tale of Hollywood’s unforgiving nature. Lugosi began his film career with DRACULA, a movie so popular that it’s still being discussed almost a century later. His career ended, though, with a 79-minute bit of celluloid filler with all the artistic merit of bubble wrap.

This column is among those featured in
 BRIDE OF MONSTER SERIAL, a collection of 
horror essays written by contributors to 
THE COLLINSPORT HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
Buy it today on Amazon!

Even though Wood’s films were made for no other reason than to pad out a double bill, there’s still something innocent about them. Bubbling under the surface of Wood’s movies is a very distinct imagination that tries to pair horror and science fiction in a way reminiscent of James Whale, but the ideas are half baked (to be generous.) The actors seem like they give a shit, and the whole product feels more like an actual movie to me than something like TRANSFORMERS 2 or Burton’s own DARK SHADOWS.

That’s why I frequently return to PLAN 9. For better or worse, it’s a genuine movie experience.


(Wallace McBride is the editor of THE COLLINSPORT HISTORICAL SOCIETY.)