Corveth Ousterhouse, Actor

I won’t argue with studies that say we spend far too much time surfing the internet, but I also have to admit I’m the person for whom IMDb was invented. Within 10 minutes of viewing any cheesy movie of the distant past I find myself firing up the laptop to investigate one forgotten actor or another. I’m the guy who has to know what happened to the starlet who played Potiphar’s seventh daughter, and what her life was like after a series of roles of “Girl,” “Waitress,” and “Crying Jury Member” on early ‘60s detective shows dwindled. Was that acting career anything more than a whim for a pretty girl? Did she find some steady guy to take care of her and give her children in lieu of stardom? Was she left with any lingering regrets at surrendering her dream?  As the proverb has it, many are called but few are chosen. Never more so than in Hollywood, where Fame is the bitch goddess that casts down the multitudes into ignominy while elevating only the fortunate few.

            Still, an entry in IMDb, like a diamond, is forever. Whatever the subsequent career – real estate, personal trainer, chef – the evidence remains: Actor. And considering that the website allows one to write one’s own biography, the results can vary widely from barest facts to self-aggrandizing mythology. That self-funded, late-career comeback attempt can be presented as a triumph of determination over undeserved obscurity, without providing any evidence the film was ever seen. More often, the facts stand for themselves, and the mundane reality is that the actor transitioned in the industry to a behind the scenes role as costumer, producer, or casting director, taking advantage of inherent connections built while acting. Even in Hollywood, most of the jobs are jobs.

            Then there are the enigmas, the one-shot roles that led to nothing more, and left behind no trace of even wishing to be remembered. A person like Corveth Ousterhouse, for instance. Who, you ask? Let me start by reminding you of the career of Tommy Kirk. He was Disney’s all-American boy from the late ‘50s through the early ‘60s. Kids of my generation remember him in “Old Yeller,” “The Shaggy Dog,” “The Absent Minded Professor” and “Son of Flubber.” His boyish charm might have lasted into the ‘70s if he hadn’t been outed as gay and dropped like a steaming turd by Walt himself. From that point on Tommy “distinguished” himself in a series of forgettable beach party romps and monster pictures whose producers desired his name for instant cachet. I’m not saying he was a great actor, but the material and budgets were certainly a step down from the Disney empire.

One of those knock-offs, which featured perhaps the most ridiculous movie monster ever conceived was, It’s Alive,! from 1969. Kirk plays a cheerful paleontologist roaming the Ozarks who is charged with ending the psychotic reign of a crazed hillbilly who lures tourists to his ramshackle roadside attraction in order to feed the monster he keeps in a cave. In the cast is one, Corveth Ousterhouse, playing the snooty husband of a newlywed couple who reluctantly indulges his wife’s interest in the bucolic pleasures of country life. His disdain for simple folk, and genre necessity, marks him as an early casualty of the monster, but his role is substantial and competently delivered. I’ve seen many worse performances than this one. His IMDb bio consists of one sentence: “Corveth Ousterhouse is an actor, known for It’s Alive! (1969)”

Even granting that the transparent unlikelihood of the actor’s name may signal one big nom-de-goof designed to protect a reputation, Google provides no further amplification on the matter. Every single link loops back to the IMDb bio. Even the B-movie horror blogs, while freely expounding on the dreadfulness of the movie, accept the name at face value and offer no explanation for the singular performance. For now, we are left to wonder, whatever became of Corveth Ousterhouse, and more mysteriously, where did he come from?