kevinolzak Reviews

The Witch's Mirror (1962)

Simply one of the best Mexican horrors from K. Gordon Murray

[7/10 · 27 May 2024]

Mexico's "The Witch's Mirror" (El Espejo de la Bruja) was that rare Abel Salazar production where he does not perform on screen, kicking off Nov. 14, 1960, with director Chano Urueta at the helm. Pretty blonde Helen Hanley (Dina de Marco) is dismayed to learn from godmother Sara (Isabela Corona) that her death has been preordained by the powers of darkness, and that her supposedly devoted surgeon husband Edward (Armando Calvo) will be the one responsible for her murder. The fateful moment arrives when he brings her a fatal glass of milk at bedtime, collapsing before her bedroom mirror; it's not long before the doctor returns with new bride Deborah (Rosita Arenas, herself just recently wed to producer Salazar), who wants to prove she's not jealous by visiting Helen's old room. The vengeful spirit makes its chilling presence felt, and when Edward breaks the mirror with a kerosene lamp, Deborah is the one encased in flames that disfigure her once lovely features. At this point the picture becomes a Mexican combination of "The Hands of Orlac" and Georges Franju's "Eyes Without a Face," the now quite mad surgeon obsessed with restoring the beauty of his loved one, an attempt at grave robbing resulting in a still living subject suffering from catalepsy, with perfect pianist hands. It may not be clear at first, but poor Deborah turns out to be entirely innocent of any wrongdoing, the villainous Edward coming off as such a cold fish that it's a mystery as to how he'd be such a babe magnet. The presence of a (mostly) benevolent witch is capably handled by Isabela Corona, never once suspected by her employer or his latest bride, unable to save her mistress but not holding back when exacting revenge. The scarred makeup does not disappoint, and the occasional bursts of gore (even in black and white), such as severed hands and stumps on arms, must have been shocking in its day (amazing how such similar titles all emerged at the same time from different countries: France, Mexico, and Spain's "The Awful Dr. Orlof"). Small details abound, such as flowers that wither and die in mere seconds, a piano that plays itself, and the observant owl watching things go badly in the surgery. Chano Urueta truly rises to the occasion in ways that he couldn't on the better known "The Brainiac," another triumph for producer Salazar, whose marriage to pretty Rosina Arenas endured until his 1995 passing at age 78.

El hombre y el monstruo (1959)

No classic but more ambitious than the usual Mexican fare

[5/10 · 26 May 2024]

"The Man and the Monster" (El Hombre y el Monstruo) was an Abel Salazar production from the prolific pen of his younger brother Alfredo, an ambitious exercise in musical proficiency that began shooting for director Rafael Baledon on June 23, 1958 (not released in Mexico for over a year). The producer once again takes the heroic lead role, his Dick Sandro coming upon the corpse of a female motorist who made the fatal mistake of crashing in front of 'Enchanted Ranch,' the home of Maestro Samuel Manning (Enrique Rambal) during a ritualistic nighttime recital watched over by his mother Cornelia (Ofelia Guilmain). The police blow off any suggestion of foul play, Manning carefully grooming young Laura (Martha Roth) as his new protégé, claiming to be unable to play piano anymore despite her assurances that his talent remains intact. The reason for his understandable reluctance is explained by the halfway point: watching his rival Alexandra (also played by Roth) earning accolades for her performance of an unpublished concerto, the envious Manning rashly calls upon Lucifer himself to make a Faustian deal in exchange for his soul, becoming the world's most accomplished pianist at the cost of his humanity, for every time he tinkles the ivories he transforms into a Mr. Hyde-like werewolf with bushy eyebrows and prominent proboscis (makeup by Armando Meyer). Once Dick discovers Alexandra's long missing corpse in a locked closet by the Maestro's piano, he starts to piece the mystery together but must rely on a brave Laura to unmask the monster that her benefactor has become during the climactic concerto. The most unbelievable aspect of the story is Laura's willingness to go on after being attacked multiple times by the Maestro/Monster, unaware that the devil made him do it! Gustavo Cesar Carrion deserves much of the film's success for his excellent musical score, several pieces of Tchaikovsky most familiar to anyone who has seen Edgar G. Ulmer's "The Black Cat." Perhaps the most heinous crime committed is the temptation to play for an aspiring child prodigy (Ana Laura Baledon), whose murder fortunately takes place off screen, lap dissolves similar to Universal's Wolf Man to effect each transformation from various difficult angles. Enrique Rambal's Maestro is no match for Lon Chaney's Larry Talbot, (both have no knowledge of what their bestial selves were up to during the night), though it appears that the powers of darkness set up Manning at poor Alexandra's expense (more deserving of audience empathy is his long suffering mother, initially cold and imperious). This was a rare horror title for lovely Martha Roth, who had previously worked opposite Chaney himself in 1954's "The Black Pirates," shot on location in El Salvador, where he was cast against type as a sympathetic priest.

La cabeza viviente (1963)

Final screen teaming of German "El Vampiro" Robles and producer Abel Salazar

[4/10 · 24 May 2024]

Mexico's "The Living Head" (La Cabeza Viviente) reunites director Chano Urueta and producer Abel Salazar from their just completed "The Brainiac," completed in March 1961 under the title "The Eye of Death." The elements are in place for another Aztec Mummy picture, as we begin in 1525 Mexico for the funeral procession of Acatl (Mauricio Garces), now reduced to a titular head, high priest Xiu (Guillermo Cramer) executing the traitor responsible for his demise (his heart removed with bloody panache, even in black and white), high priestess Xochiquetzal (Ana Luisa Peluffo) bearing the sacred 'Ring of Death' as she joins Xiu in being entombed with Acatl's masked cranium. As one might expect, a modern day expedition led by Professor Muller (German Robles) profanes the sacred tomb, the perfectly preserved body of the high priestess crumbling into dust at the reveal of a flashlight, Muller's daughter Martha (also Peluffo) soon revealed to be her exact duplicate. Only the head of Acatl and his still intact high priest Xiu are removed to be observed in the Muller home, Martha to wear the ring that will single out each despoiler to be sacrificed by the still living Xiu. The relatively small cast, overreliance on dialogue, and lack of incident mark this as a weak entry for Salazar, barely present as the do nothing police inspector who does very little investigating (only two murders, the first occurring off screen). It's a novelty to have the high priest stalking victims in a more active way than his Hollywood predecessors, and might at least rank higher than the Aztec Mummy trilogy of 1957, the final on screen teaming of Salazar and "El Vampiro" Robles. There was a 1975 episode of KOLCHAK: THE NIGHT STALKER that broached the same subject, "Legacy of Terror," in which Darren McGavin's intrepid reporter Carl Kolchak faces off against disciples of Aztec mummy Nanoutzin (Mickey Gilbert), who ritualistically cut out the hearts of each sacrifice until he walks again during the final moments (alas, not one of the better ones).

Bring Me the Vampire (1963)

K. Gordon Murray scrapes the bottom of the barrel

[2/10 · 21 May 2024]

1961's "Bring Me the Vampire" (Enchenme al Vampiro or Take Me to the Vampire) sadly serves as a reminder that not everything K. Gordon Murray uncovered south of the border was an unsung gem, a fairly routine storyline that when played for laughs absolutely fails to deliver any. The demise of millionaire Henry McDermott forces his heirs to spend an entire month in his gloomy mansion or forfeit their share, and one after another the cast is bumped off in unusual fashion: one is decapitated, one is found hung, another drowns in the bathtub, yet another drinks a glass of warm milk and simply vanishes inside his clothes. These interchangeable characters are an undistinguished lot, only identified by some specific talent, the constant mugging making these 80 minutes seem like the full 30 days. Sadly, the title is a complete misnomer, as our would-be vampire (Yerye Beirute) is only the crazed butler, dressed in a cape and sleeping in a coffin, though there is the millionaire's talkative ghost, a skeleton, and a mummy for what little they add. Director Alfredo B. Crevenna does bring a bit of style to the proceedings, but the cataclysmic climax is just another letdown, and one that most audiences will see coming a mile away. There were numerous Abbott and Costello knockoffs during this period, when even German Robles spoofed his vampire fame in 1957's "El Castillo de los Monstruos," so perhaps the sheer volume of such titles took its toll after a while, though the various spooks do make one long for a more serious take on such shopworn material (incredibly, a sequel would follow one year later, "La Casa de los Espantos"). Worst of all is the total absence of a legitimate bloodsucker, apart from the necessity of having an attorney present! The one recognizable cast member is the sinister looking Beirute, previously a body snatcher opposite Robles in "The Vampire's Coffin" and a mad scientist who brings Lon Chaney back to life in "La Casa del Terror" (prior to his premature death at age 46 in Dec. 1972, he made an impression in two Boris Karloff vehicles, "Fear Chamber" and "Incredible Invasion").

The Curse of the Crying Woman (1963)

First shown on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater in 1966

[8/10 · 18 May 2024]

1961's "The Curse of the Crying Woman" (La Maldicion de la Llorona) was simply one of the best Mexican imports from K. Gordon Murray, more a triumph for Abel Salazar the producer rather than Salazar the actor, back in heroic mode after his outlandish villainy of "The Brainiac," from a screenplay concocted by Fernando Galiana and director Rafael Baledon. The legend of La Llorona aka 'The Crying Woman,' also referred to here as 'The Wailing Witch,' is unique to Mexico and indeed Central America and dates back to the 1500s, the story of a distraught mother who drowned her children in a fit of rage over a faithless husband and is forever destined to haunt bodies of water to bemoan her tragedy, dire misfortune befalling those who hear her cries. This is no origin story but set during a later period, a forbidding castle known to belong to witch Selma (Rita Macedo) and her clubfooted, disfigured servant Fred (Carlos Lopez Moctezuma), awaiting the return of pretty young niece Emily (top billed Rosita Arenas, back from her Aztec Mummy adventures), whose 23rd birthday coincides with the time that their blood drinking ancestor Marian Lane, 'The Wailing Witch,' is ready for her revival. A strong opening finds three fearful coach passengers meeting their doom in the fog shrouded forest near the castle, Selma standing with black holes in place of eyes, a trio of Great Danes ready to pounce while the knife wielding Fred dispatches the driver before cruelly forcing the horses over the screaming body of the sole female victim (Macedo's real life daughter Julissa), each corpse completely drained of blood. Emily soon arrives with new spouse Herbert (Abel Salazar) in tow, an unexpected surprise for her aunt but not one that will deter her from a lifelong desire for power so great that her supposedly dead husband Daniel (Enrique Lucero) is alive though decidedly unwell, a hirsute and insane captive in the bell tower. One cannot help but feel empathy for poor Daniel, especially the moment when he sees his own handsome portrait on the staircase wall, driven to destroy it in a fit of despair while his sexy wife bewitches her niece's husband under hypnotic suggestion. Marian's desiccated remains are still chained in the cobwebbed crypt, the fatal lance still piercing her heart, until the stroke of midnight when only the last born Emily will be able to pull it out. All this exposition is dispatched by the midway mark, time growing short as Emily tries to resist a thirst for blood, plenty of surprises forthcoming, Rita Macedo and daughter Julissa here reunited following Benito Alazraki's "Spiritism," while Rosita Arenas was coming off a starring role in Chano Urueta's "The Witch's Mirror." Carlos Lopez Moctezuma, as the disfigured manservant rescued from the gallows, had previously appeared in a different story on the same subject, Rene Cardona's 1960 "La Llorona," though the earliest screen treatment dated back to 1933.

The Living Coffin (1959)

First seen on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater in 1967

[6/10 · 17 May 2024]

1958's "The Living Coffin" (El Grito de la Muerte or The Cry of Death) was a sequel of sorts to the previous year's "The Swamp of the Lost Monsters," again scripted by the prolific Ramon Obon and starring the Western duo of Gaston Santos and Pedro de Aguillon. Doing a superior job at the helm than Rafael Baledon was "El Vampiro" director Fernando Mendez, breezing through Old West cliches to highlight the horror in living color, right from the precredits sequence where a dying man collapses next to some skeletal remains. A pair of carved idols puts Gaston and his trusty horse Rayo de Plata on the scent of the sculptor, a recently deceased mother who channeled her grief over losing both sons to the fearsome swamp into their creation. Now her weeping ghost is said to haunt the ranch as 'La Llorona' (The Crying Woman), and indeed reappears to claw a few unsuspecting victims to death, such as the doctor who owned the second idol, his corpse found hanging above the roaring fireplace. This would indicate a more corporeal threat at work, and with villainous Quintin Bulnes among the henchmen, the solution may come off as routine, but careful camera setups coupled with light and shadow manage to overcome script limitations to deliver genuinely atmospheric chills. Bulnes would soon essay his best known genre role as the zombie master in Benito Alazraki's "The Curse of the Doll People," going on to work opposite Boris Karloff in both "Snake People" and "House of Evil," while splendid leading lady Maria Duval balanced a popular singing career with acting in various low budget projects, from early Santo to John Carradine in starring vehicles for Mil Mascaras, "Las Vampiras" and "Enigma de Muerte." Her character initially comes off curt and a little suspicious, but soon sets the action in motion by the removal of a knife held in place to signify the death of her spectral aunt, elements of Poe's "Premature Burial" in place to maintain a level of tension once a second coffin vanishes from the crypt despite its constantly ringing bell to signify catalepsy. The ghastly makeup on the ghost is simple but effective, the attack scenes granting this the edge over its earlier companion piece. Of course there's a barroom brawl where no punch seems to actually land, and a curiously impassive Gaston Santos is easily outshone by his gallant steed, rescuing his master from quicksand after fooling the villains into believing a hidden posse is shooting at them (the less said about the comic relief the better). Rafael Baledon himself would tackle the legend of La Llorona with 1963's "The Curse of the Crying Woman," while Ramon Obon's 1964 "100 Cries of Terror" played off this film's original Mexican title.

Swamp of the Lost Souls (1957)

Mexico's answer to Roy Rogers and Smiley Burnette

[2/10 · 14 May 2024]

1957's "The Swamp of the Lost Monsters" (El Pantano de las Animas or Swamp of Lost Souls) was a hybrid horror-Western like the previous year's "The Beast of Hollow Mountain," only its small scale plotline echoed the Poverty Row brand of 1930s Hollywood, lacking only the cowboy hero bursting into song. Here we have Gaston Santos, first introduced at the 15 minute mark atop his Lusitanian steed Rayo de Plata (translated as Silver Ray), hired to investigate the disappearance of a corpse, supposedly done by denizens of a 'haunted swamp,' which turns out to be an insurance scam spearheaded by the deceased himself to fool his blind widow, now disguised as a cheap knockoff of the 'Creature from the Black Lagoon' to ward off prying eyes. Literally saddled with a comic sidekick (Pedro de Aguillon), the pair work as a Latino equivalent of Roy Rogers and Smiley Burnette, with very little action, a ton of slow paced dialogue, and a sorry excuse for a monster that might compare favorably to Universal's "Curucu, Beast of the Amazon." This poor facsimile of the Gill Man can't frighten anyone but the comic relief, the titular swamp merely an ordinary shallow river, hardly giving this cumbersome creature any room to perform underwater despite a knife fight with Gaston, who calmly denies seeing anything down below afterwards! For a minor change of pace, the young heroine comes off weak compared to her plucky elders, using a multitude of vases to keep their captors on ice, Gaston's horse leading the final charge toward a broadly comic encounter where all the villains are easily rounded up in a strategically placed hayloft one by one (each and every gunshot missing by a mile), the monster finally unveiled as the least likely culprit. Gaston and Pedro would be teamed again the following year in "The Living Coffin," while Santos alone would assume a stoic role in the superior "Black Pit of Dr. M."

The Brainiac (1962)

First shown on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater in 1966

[4/10 · 11 May 2024]

1961's "The Brainiac" (El Baron del Terror), finds Mexico's "El Vampiro" producer Abel Salazar taking the lead with smaller roles for previous costars German Robles and Ariadne Welter, screenwriter Federico Curiel doubling as a comic sidekick on screen for director Chano Urueta. Salazar's Baron Vitelius D'Estera is the titular 'Baron of Terror,' executed for sorcery and necromancy by the high tribunal in 1661 Mexico, hitching a ride on a comet set to return in 300 years, a rather awkward landing which sees his modern appearance a sight to behold: a head doubled in size, sporting a pointed beak with a forked tongue used for extracting the brains of his victims for sustenance! Being that all his intended targets are members of high society, he assumes the role of genial host by inviting one and all to a social gathering before avenging himself upon them one by one. Were it not for the bizarre nature of its central monster the film would likely have been long forgotten due to its routine handling of dreary dialogue scenes where characters typically repeat themselves for the edification of those who arrived late for the screening. The nature of the Baron's crimes are necessarily glossed over (similar to Vincent Price's Joseph Curwen in Roger Corman's "The Haunted Palace"), his modern incarnation living it up while excusing himself to partake of a secret stash of hidden brains for medicinal purposes only. The repetitive nature of the predictable narrative forces director Chanu Urueta to vary the attack scenes, from the doomed motorist who discovers the comet to Ariadne Welter's sexy barmaid seemingly entranced by the enigmatic stranger until she's put off by his silent nature (a second 'loose woman' immediately proceeds to suck face before having her cranium sucked out). Salazar's periodic transformations are prefaced by illuminating lights, clearly relishing the mesmeric seduction of every comely female victim, one a wife, another a daughter, obviously no limitations for a creature who moonlights as a babe magnet! The perfunctory police investigation is often buttressed by hilarious lines from the Chief ("a maniac with a lot of knowledge is a threat") and his sidekick, complaining about the gruesome nature of the killings during dessert ("I was really enjoying this sweet roll!"). Imagine the creature landing in Washington D. C. in an attempt to survive, only to starve to death for lack of brains!

Crypt of the Vampire (1964)

Le Fanu adaptation starring Euro favorite Christopher Lee

[6/10 · 4 May 2024]

1963's "Terror in the Crypt" (La Cripta e L'Incubo), better known today as "Crypt of the Vampire," proved another Italian-Spanish Euro horror for fan favorite Christopher Lee, that rare foreign import where he was thankfully allowed to dub his own voice. Location shooting at Avezzano's Castello di Balsorano assures authentic atmosphere, but the lackluster direction from comedy specialist Camillo Mastrocinque permits the picture to proceed at a snail's pace with very little actually happening. Ernesto Gastaldi, Italy's most prolific purveyor of Gothic terror, here adapts J. Sheridan Le Fanu's 1872 short story "Carmilla," Lee an imposing figure as Count Ludwig Karnstein, fearing that daughter Laura (Adriana Ambesi) may be the reincarnation of a feared ancestor from 200 years earlier, Sira placing a curse upon her executioners that has resulted in the nearby town of Karnstein falling into complete ruin, the ringing of the tower bell a persistently ominous sign (is it just the wind?). The Count calls upon a noted historian to establish Sira's countenance and hopefully prove that Laura is no lookalike destined for the same terrifying fate despite her being plagued by nightmares depicting the deaths of numerous family members. Into this gloomy tableau arrives Ljuba (Pier Ana Quaglia), a temporary guest who swiftly captivates Laura's attention to an increasingly disturbing degree, noted by the all knowing blonde maid Annette (Vera Valmont), with whom the Count is having a passionate affair. Those who have seen Hammer's 1970 "The Vampire Lovers" will easily determine where this is going, but the script's attempts at misdirection do succeed until the revealing climax, no on screen credit for Le Fanu's source material. Lee must have appreciated a more sympathetic role for a change, yet his social status dominates his sexual relationship with the frustrated Annette, dismissing marriage by declaring himself old enough to be her father, to which she implies that he should then adopt her! This grounds his performance in believable fashion, and though he often fades into the background to focus on the intense relationship between Laura and newcomer Ljuba, he takes center stage for the finale, actual vampirism afoot in the cobwebbed catacombs. Potent shock effects include the fate of a prophesying hunchback who knows all, and a mysterious splotch of blood in Laura's bed after a particularly harrowing nightmare. This doesn't hold a black and white candle to Hammer's opulent version starring Peter Cushing, but manages to be an improvement over Roger Vadim's listless "Blood and Roses" from 1960. The current restoration on Blu-Ray only differs from the original AIP-TV cut (never distributed theatrically in the US) by showing the credits at the beginning rather than the end, director Camillo Mastrocinque still billed under the pseudonym 'Thomas Miller' (his only other genre film the 1966 "An Angel for Satan," a vehicle for Barbara Steele).

The Castle of the Living Dead (1964)

First shown on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater in 1967

[6/10 · 1 May 2024]

1964's "The Castle of the Living Dead" (Il Castello dei Morti Vivi) was an Italian-French coproduction kicked off by a pair of expatriate Americans, director/screenwriter Warren Kiefer and producer Paul M. Maslansky, location work done in Lazio at the Castello Orsini-Odescalchi, a 15th century abode on Lake Bracciano. A Gothic story set during the violent aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815), a troupe of theatrical performers hired to repeat their hangman's act for the edification of Lee's mysterious Count Drago, where they are doomed to become subjects in his experiments on embalming, aided by manservant Sandro (Mirko Valentin). By the time we reach the castle the group has already discovered evidence of the Count's obsession, traveling to the total absence of wildlife save for what they assume is a stuffed raven, the result of their host's secret elixir that preserves the body at the exact moment of death to serve as another creation in his elaborate 'Eternal Theatre.' Lee's eyes are accentuated by dark makeup to give them that hollow look, coupled with a goatee and, happily, the sound of his own dubbed voice (amusingly, the kind of host who makes apologies to his guests because he was busy in his laboratory!). There are of course no flesh eating ghouls to be found, but there is the welcome sight of 29 year old Canadian Donald Sutherland among the international cast, first seen as a police sergeant wondering how a hanging trick is successfully carried off every night without the participant winding up dead. More intriguing is seeing him made up as a wizened old crone prone to rhyming prophecy, soon revealed to be the unlucky recipient of a botched early experiment. Sutherland's investigator is not the sharpest blade in the drawer, eager to assist the Count until the witch climatically confirms Drago's guilt (only then does the sergeant change his tune: "my suspicions about the Count were confirmed!"). The best part of this sequence is seeing Sutherland's sergeant reach out to help up Sutherland's witch, a successful bit of dual casting that helps make this film stand out among Lee's often variable Euro horrors of the period (both would soon be reunited for the debut Amicus feature DR. TERROR'S HOUSE OF HORRORS, before Hammer beckoned Sutherland for DIE! DIE! MY DARLING!). Herbert Wise (the pseudonym for Luciano Ricci) may have been credited but the actual director was Warren Kiefer, whose career only encompassed three more (very obscure) assignments prior to his 1995 death: NEXT OF KIN, JULIETTE DE SADE, and SCACCO ALLA MAFIA (he made such an impression on Donald Sutherland that he named his newborn son Kiefer after him). Also working as assistant director was 19 year old Michael Reeves, handling second unit chores and additional material, likely the finale that saw the dynamic dwarf emerge the hero, to the chagrin of Lee's Count Drago (he may also have contributed to the script's brutality, one demise by scythe, another through the eye). The Gardens of Bomarzo, also known as the Park of the Monsters, provided the perfect backdrop for Reeves' contributions, symbolized by suitably grotesque images carved out during the 16th century, the one called Orcus identified by its ominous facial expression and wide open mouth (this was a time when restoration had begun after decades of neglect).

Horror Castle (1963)

Modern Italian Gothic sadly a waste of Christopher Lee

[6/10 · 27 April 2024]

1963 was a busy year in Italian horror for Christopher Lee, kicking off in high style with Mario Bava's "The Whip and the Body," followed in rapid succession by the little seen "Katarsis," Antonio Margheriti's "Horror Castle," and finally the Le Fanu adaptation "Terror in the Crypt." Margheriti had made a name for himself on science fiction titles like "Assignment: Outer Space" and "Battle of the Worlds," but with "Horror Castle" entered the field of Gothic terror with a modern day storyline in splendid color that still reeks of 19th century atmosphere with the American bride of a German nobleman making inquiries on the elaborate torture chamber kept in pristine condition under the care of chauffeur Erich (Lee), a symbolic relic of a notorious 17th century ancestor known as 'The Punisher.' The picture opens with her discovery of a young woman's corpse inside the iron maiden, or "The Virgin of Nuremberg," the title bestowed upon most European prints, though her husband is eager to convince her she was only dreaming. Rosanna Podesta's wife is a stubborn young woman who refuses to abide by any rules and persists in exploring every avenue inside the foreboding castle, which later pays off when she rescues another innocent maiden whose face was gnawed by a hungry rat in the most grueling sequence. Lee's character is mostly a shadowy red herring figure granted less than 10 minutes screen time, but does feature prominently in the climactic conflagration (reuniting with Mirko Valentin in 1964's "The Castle of the Living Dead" to close out this period of Euro horror). As the suspicious behaving husband, Georges Riviere would soon follow with a second Margheriti Gothic, "Castle of Terror," a more traditional black and white entry opposite Barbara Steele.

Scream of the Wolf (1974 TV Movie)

Weakest collaboration between Dan Curtis and Richard Matheson

[3/10 · 20 April 2024]

The 1972 ABC-TV movie "Moon of the Wolf" delivers a genuine werewolf, while its 1974 counterpart, "Scream of the Wolf" (telecast Jan. 16, 1974), fails in nearly every way despite its pedigree as another collaboration between director Dan Curtis and screenwriter Richard Matheson (previously responsible for "The Night Stalker," "The Night Strangler," and the Jack Palance "Dracula"). A series of gruesome murders appear to be the work of a wild beast that can obliterate its own tracks and leave no trace, the sheriff (Philip Carey) securing assistance from author and hunting expert John Wetherby (Peter Graves). Weatherby's more experienced associate Byron (Clint Walker) has a lifelong obsession with the thrill of the chase, believing that every animal is most alive at the moment of death, yet is curiously reluctant to join forces in confronting this new fiend. Curtis tries to build atmosphere by using point of view shots of the unseen creature as it chases down its terrified victims, but the final revelation simply makes little sense though the culprit is easy to spot. In a small role as Byron's servant is burly Don Megowan, remembered as the sheriff in Columbia's 1956 "The Werewolf," more effective in delivering chills than this soggy noodle. Peter Graves simply cannot deliver any emotional investment, unlike costar Clint Walker, who relishes every opportunity to taunt his old friend with the knowledge that the prey will always do the unexpected. Youngsters at the time must have been disappointed by the outcome, but the director's next ABC offering, "Trilogy of Terror," would prove to be unforgettable with its iconic Zuni doll.

Moon of the Wolf (1972 TV Movie)

Less a werewolf film than a bland murder mystery

[4/10 · 20 April 2024]

"Moon of the Wolf" was an ABC-TV movie broadcast Sept 26, 1972, less an actual werewolf film than a common murder mystery with ubiquitous David Janssen heading up the investigation as Sheriff Aaron Whitaker. Actual Louisiana locations like Burnside and Clinton lend authenticity to the bayou atmosphere, as the mangled corpse of a pregnant girl is found in the swamp, her irate brother (Geoffrey Lewis) targeting the local coroner (John Beradino) as the culprit. Suspicion also falls upon the wealthy Rodanthe siblings, sister Louise (Barbara Rush) a former school crush of the sheriff, brother Andrew (Bradford Dillman) suffering occasional bouts of malaria. The promised thrills never truly materialize, apart from a nicely done stalking in a jail cell, the poor lawman always absent when things happen, even at the climax when he's off on a false trail while the monster makes his last stand. Despite the brief running time, the final reveal just isn't worth the wait, likely a quickie makeup job for William Tuttle, more paste than yak hair; one suspects that youngsters at the time might have proven susceptible to narcolepsy long before the end.

Running Wild (I) (1927)

Wonderful surviving example of W.C. Fields at his silent best

[7/10 · 29 March 2024]

For W. C. Fields, only three silent features are available for home viewing (So's Your Old Man" exists but has remained stubbornly elusive), and 1927's "Running Wild" must be considered the best on an unfortunately short list. 1925's "Sally of the Sawdust" must be considered a curio, as director D. W. Griffith shifted the focus away from Fields toward current muse Carol Dempster, making the 1936 remake "Poppy" a far more faithful rendition. "It's the Old Army Game" is the one other silent that compares favorably with "Running Wild," but at 105 minutes runs on a tad long (Louise Brooks, still a luminous teenager, takes too much footage away from Fields). "Running Wild" co-stars Mary Brian as Fields' loving daughter, a role she would repeat in the 1935 classic "Man on the Flying Trapeze," sometimes identified as a remake but proving decidedly different. This probably represents Fields at his most downtrodden, henpecked by a shrewish wife still pining for her first husband, browbeaten by a loafing invalid stepson crying for his mother whenever he wants to get his father's goat (even the family dog doesn't like him). Employed by the same toy company for 20 years (too meek to ask for a raise), he ends up with the courage to fight back after being unwittingly hypnotized by a stage magician, convinced he is now 'a lion!' Even before the benefit of sound, this film proves that W. C. Fields was in total control of his own work, with most of the comic business unique to this one production.

Peter Cushing: Perspectives (2021)

"We are pleased to serve and serve to please"

[9/10 · 9 March 2024]

This half hour PERSPECTIVES proves to be a breezy series of chats about the studious, exceedingly well prepared Peter Cushing, from a handful of costars and varied filmmakers who thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to watch a master craftsman plying his trade for the benefit of his audience: "we are pleased to serve and serve to please." Derek Fowlds discusses his six weeks of filming "Frankenstein Created Woman," Madeline Smith shares her story on "Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell," Judy Matheson tells of the actor's transformation before the camera from avuncular friend to terrifying fiend on "Twins of Evil." Occasionally there are snatches of dialogue from the man himself, recorded in May 1986 to publicize his final feature "Biggles," the highlight being how he came to star in 1957's "The Curse of Frankenstein," knowing of Hammer's interest in him as a hugely popular television actor who just might bring audiences back into the cinema, and ringing his agent to offer his services on their new version of Mary Shelley's 19th century classic. From his meticulous way of handling props without missing a beat, to his gentle, supportive nature toward his fellow performers, the legend of Peter Cushing continues to delight and fascinate viewers of all ages today, we are all the sadder to never see his like on the screen again.

The Indian Fighter (1955)

Kirk Douglas and Lon Chaney

[8/10 · 4 March 2024]

1955's "The Indian Fighter" was a star vehicle for Kirk Douglas made by his own Bryna production company, its first feature film since forming in 1949, with Andre de Toth as director and Italian newcomer Elsa Martinelli literally making a splash as female lead. Shooting took place on location in Bend, Oregon, a lavish Western in which Kirk's Johnny Hawks is the titular character, a free spirit and former Confederate roaming the wilderness following the Civil War, acting as guide for a wagon train destined for (where else?) Oregon, where Sioux Chief Red Cloud (Eduard Franz) has declared death as punishment for any member of his tribe who reveals the location of hidden gold. Hawks has greater reason to keep peace with his red brothers now that the chief's daughter Onahti (Elsa Martinelli) has grown into beautiful womanhood, catching his eye during a nude swim on his way back to the fort of Captain Trask (Walter Abel). Walter Matthau (in only his second screen role) and Lon Chaney instigate all the trouble as gold seekers using 'fire water' to entice weak willed Indians, leading to a thrilling attack on the fort where a massacre is certain without the timely intervention of Hawks, accused of deserting his post just to see Onahti. An early effort to depict sympathetic Indians with a code of ethics to match their white counterparts, one can see how easily both sides can be deceived in the pursuit of justice, a magnificent film all around with its CinemaScope photography and realistic characterizations. Lon Chaney hasn't much chance to outshine legendary scene stealer Matthau, but among his few moments in particular (a bit of Lennie-like contemplation) is his inept attempt to trail Johnny Hawks, who won't be denied the opportunity to slip away and see his new lady friend. While Matthau's Wes Todd is a slippery snake capable of talking his way out of trouble, Chaney's Chivington is like a bull in a china shop, unable to escape the penalty of his numerous lies, such as claiming that his captured partner was scalped and killed (Walter Abel's fort captain makes the fatal error of allowing the pair to leave with the wagon train, resulting in yet greater harm). Douglas would continue to prosper with Bryna over the years, later earning the rights to "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" as a vehicle for himself, ultimately winning a Best Picture Oscar for his son Michael as acting producer in 1975, Jack Nicholson replacing Kirk in the lead.

Famous Monster: Forrest J Ackerman (2007)

A cinematic valentine to Uncle Forry

[8/10 · 14 February 2024]

2007's "Famous Monster: Forrest J Ackerman" was a brief 48 minute celebration of 'Uncle Forry,' longtime editor of Famous Monsters of Filmland (lasting from 1958-1982), who became an avid horror fan from a very young age, thanks to his maternal grandparents taking him to see as many as 7 films a day. It was Lon Chaney's "The Phantom of the Opera" that truly started him on the road to the Ackermansion, where his vast collection of movie memorabilia was stored to allow easy access to fellow buffs eager to see them. From the early days befriending Ray Harryhausen and Ray Bradbury to the 1950s, when Forry coined the term 'Sci Fi,' to the 60s, when Christopher Lee's reprise of Dracula included Bela Lugosi's signature Dracula ring bestowed upon him by Ackerman. Those were the days when 'Horrorwood, Karloffornia' was the place to be, when the SHOCK! Television package proved so popular that publisher Jim Warren cashed in on the growing 'Monster Kid' craze by hiring the biggest kid of all to be his editor-in-chief. Future directors weaned on the magazine included John Landis, Fred Olen Ray, and Joe Dante, whose initial letter detailing the worst horror films he had seen wound up being published as an article (collectors would read each issue from back to front in search of every item they could afford). Among numerous Forry anecdotes is meeting a 4 year old girl who knew about Dracula and Frankenstein but not Abraham Lincoln. When he showed her his picture on the front of a penny, she recognized him straight away: "Vincent Price!" The best thing about this cinematic valentine to an unapologetic acolyte of screen terror is that it was released just before Ackerman's inevitable passing in 2008 at the ripe old age of 92.

Five Dolls for an August Moon (1970)

Mediocre Bava but hardly his worst

[4/10 · 11 February 2024]

1970's "5 Dolls for an August Moon" ("5 Bambole per la Luna d'Agosto") was regarded by director Mario Bava as his worst film, for a number of valid reasons, chiefly a lackluster script with interchangeable characters that are doomed right from the start of this knockoff of Agatha Christie's "Ten Little Indians." Another is that he accepted the offer to begin shooting two days after signing on, with little time to work out its many inherent weaknesses, leaving the audience to decide on the merits of the events (or lack thereof) displayed on screen. We have three couples gathered together at the island retreat of industrialist George Stark (Teodoro Corra) and his wife Jill (Edith Meloni), not so much for a weekend getaway as to make a play for a new resin formula created by Professor Gerry Farrell (William Berger), accompanied by wife Trudy (Ira von Furstenberg). Nick Chaney (Maurice Poli) would like nothing better than for his young bride Marie (Edwige Fenech) to use her feminine wiles to achieve his goals, while Jack Davidson (Howard Ross) also covets the formula, each of the three men signing a check for a cool $1 million as incentive for an unwilling and secretive Professor. Also on the island is the young gamekeeper's daughter Isabel (Justine Gall), living away from the main house and often seen spying upon the filthy rich. Unlike previous Bava entries such as "Blood and Black Lace," there are no stalking sequences to build suspense, nearly all the victims found quite dead and no means of escape as they await the arrival of another launch, storing the corpses in a giant walk-in freezer. Perhaps the experience of making a silk purse out of this sow's ear inspired the director to do his own take on the same material, since 1971's "Twitch of the Death Nerve" served up multiple murderers and corpses in a ballet of blood that proved to be one of his very best.

Pretty Maids All in a Row (1971)

Could only be made in the 70s...

[7/10 · 27 January 2024]

1971's "Pretty Maids All in a Row" is indeed a curious item from MGM, Gene Roddenberry's only feature film production apart from his six STAR TREK franchise entries, adapted by Roddenberry at the behest of former Desilu executive Herb Solow from Francis Pollini's forgotten 1968 novel about high school teachers seducing willing students with a serial killer on the loose. With his legendary glorification of the opposite sex, and William Ware Theiss back on board as costume designer, the producer also secured the sadly brief services of James Doohan and William Campbell as sidekicks to investigator Sam Surcher, played by Telly Savalas two years before his star making turn as television's KOJAK. Future POLICE WOMAN Angie Dickinson undoubtedly turned masculine heads as substitute teacher Miss Smith, the object of desire for frustrated student Ponce (John David Carson), understandably obsessed as he is by such close proximity to braless, nubile pubescence before, during, and after class (male viewers can only wonder at the camera's eagle eyed ogling of every comely female form in sight). Surcher's prime suspect is football coach and guidance counselor Tiger McDrew, with his accomplished background in psychology and a Purple Heart from the Korean War, a definite change of pace for top billed Rock Hudson, only 12 years removed from Doris Day and "Pillow Talk," and likely a surrogate for producer Roddenberry himself in his frequent seductions and pontifications, all with a beautiful wife and young daughter at home (he too would soon find a home on the small screen in McMILLAN AND WIFE). Roddy McDowall's frazzled principal Proffer is only concerned about the bad publicity, quick to overlook Tiger's randy ruminations so long as his team performs on the football field, and private 'testing' sessions behind locked doors with naked students a daily occurrence. Nothing seems quite right about this high school, remaining open for football and class despite the growing number of undressed corpses, and Keenan Wynn's comic relief sheriff eventually paying for his prying eyes with his life too. Everything looks perfect for low budget Roger Corman sexploitation, requiring perhaps a minor change from high school to college, yet somehow as a major studio release it failed miserably at the box office. In the director's chair was Frenchman Roger Vadim, making his Hollywood debut, clearly exulting in young, healthy pulchritude in the wake of his divorce from Jane Fonda, though no apparent Brigitte Bardots are among the selected 'Pretty Maids.' Angie Dickinson, at a stunning 38, makes her ample presence felt to a charming degree as she helps to cure Ponce of his shyness, the kind of hands on approach that adolescent males always yearned for but never got. The soundtrack features a theme song that appears in two different versions, Lalo Schifrin's "Chilly Winds" (lyrics by Mike Curb) rendered by The Osmonds as a soft ballad during the opening credits (issued as the B-side of "Double Lovin'" from their album HOMEMADE), a more rocking take with 13 year old Donny more prominent for the closing credits. What an eclectic collection of talent, and a genuine oddity that Quentin Tarantino continues to hold in high regard.

Dillinger (1973)

Warren Oates a perfect match for John Dillinger

[8/10 · 21 January 2024]

1973's "Dillinger" wasn't the first biopic of the 30s most infamous bank robber (that would be Lawrence Tierney's 1945 Monogram feature sporting the same title), but as the directorial debut of acclaimed screenwriter John Milius, it carried forth the blood red stain of death exemplified by the 1967 "Bonnie and Clyde," without turning its gangsters into romanticized folk heroes. Apart from his tight staging of action packed shootouts, the best thing about this version is its exemplary cast, with Warren Oates such a dead ringer for the charismatic title character that he was seemingly born to play John Dillinger (Milius was always drawn to such strong performers anyway). Opposing him is Oscar winner Ben Johnson (for 1971's "The Last Picture Show") as FBI Agent Melvin Purvis, determined to smoke one prized Cuban cigar over the corpse of every criminal on his Most Wanted list. What a Rogue's Gallery of capable confederates: Harry Dean Stanton, Geoffrey Lewis, Richard Dreyfuss (as Baby Face Nelson), John Ryan, Steve Kanaly (as Pretty Boy Floyd), and Frank McRae, with Michelle Phillips playing Dillinger's love interest, and another Oscar winner (for the same 1971 film!), Cloris Leachman popping up at the very end as 'The Lady in Red.' Although it's about as factual as the 1939 "Jesse James," the pacing never flags and the filmmakers truly bring the Depression-era to vivid life, an unbeatable entertainment for those with strong stomachs.

Roger Corman, le pape du pop cinéma (2021)

Hollywood's long lasting independent maverick

[8/10 · 20 January 2024]

2021's "Roger Corman: The Pope of Pop Cinema" was a French documentary that examines the vast and still ongoing output of maverick producer/director Roger Corman, which began as a story editor and screenwriter at 20th Century-Fox before venturing out on his own as an independent (still going deep into his 90s). 1953's "Monster from the Ocean Floor" was touted as his first genuine production, and since he wasn't impressed with his director, decided to save money by tackling the job himself on a color Western, "Five Guns West." Talent before the camera like Dick Miller or Jonathan Haze are bypassed for those behind the camera, such acclaimed filmmakers as Peter Bogdanovich, Joe Dante, Allan Arkush, and Ron Howard, who was savvy enough to accept the sequel to "Eat My Dust!" at the same acting rate if he could double as director for free (this film would be "Grand Theft Auto"). At 54 minutes there just isn't time to cover much more than the basics that most informed buffs already know, and from the 70s his New World Pictures achieved new heights of glory with delightful entries like "Caged Heat," "Death Race 2000," and "Piranha." Ron Howard sums it up best by quoting his mentor: "Ron, you are doing a good job on this picture, and if you continue to do a good job you'll never have to work for me again!"

Quatermass 2 (1957)

First Hammer sequel never lets up

[8/10 · 14 January 2024]

1956's "Quatermass 2" was Hammer's sequel to "The Quatermass Xperiment," both adapted from popular BBC series scripted by Nigel Kneale, whose exclusive contract forbade him from writing the first feature but not its follow up. Unhappy with Hollywood import Brian Donlevy as a steely, determined Quatermass, plus the streamlining performed by director Val Guest, Kneale himself did the honors this time around, as instead of a single human astronaut slowly transformed into something completely alien, there is now a full blown conspiracy involving the British government being taken over by cosmic invaders inside tiny cylinders covering the ground near the desolate village of Winnerden Flats. After encountering a distressed couple on the road, Quatermass decides to inspect the area with assistant Marsh (Bryan Forbes), where an unbroken cylinder infects the latter, forcibly left behind once the scientist sees for himself the actual recreation of his lifelong dream of a moon based community under gigantic domes. A reunion with Inspector Lomax (John Longden) finds the project identified as a means to produce synthetic food, but it's already clear that the armed soldiers are truly out for blood, one unlucky government official meeting his doom in horrific fashion, while a courageous reporter is gunned down for his trouble. The terror is more wide open this time, and the eerie feeling that it's already too late keeps the intensity as high as its original counterpart. Much of the Hammer stock company came together for "X the Unknown" (made in between the Quatermass features), and it's a pleasure to see such familiar faces as Michael Ripper, William Franklyn, John Van Eyssen, and Percy Herbert on hand to lend it that studio touch, despite shooting on location at an Essex refinery (James Bernard again delivering a nerve jangling score that admirably punctuates the horror). Taking notice of the audience's preference for horror over black and white science fiction, Hammer made their next title a color feast of bloody mayhem with a homegrown television star ready for the big screen, Peter Cushing taking the lead in "The Curse of Frankenstein."

Boris Karloff: The Man Behind the Monster (2021)

The best of Boris Karloff in a comprehensive documentary

[10/10 · 11 January 2024]

2021's "Boris Karloff: The Man Behind the Monster" is among the first truly comprehensive documentaries about the actor known for his indelible portrayal of The Monster in James Whale's 1931 "Frankenstein," yet one wonders why it took so long for such a film to be made, just over 50 years after his 1969 passing at age 81 (better this than a biopic!). Kicking things off with The Monster was clearly the right way to start, continuing with "The Old Dark House" and "The Mummy" before delving into his early life, the youngest son in a diplomatic family, whose dark complexion made him stand out in school as well as silent bit parts. A chance encounter with Lon Chaney was most encouraging, but it wasn't until his 1930 performance as convict Galloway in Howard Hawks' "The Criminal Code" that studios and audiences began to really take notice of him. Karloff always believed that any actor worth his salt could have played The Monster and reaped its rewards, proving himself again and again in worthy vehicles like "The Black Cat," "The Invisible Ray," and one for Columbia, "The Black Room" offering him dual roles as twins, one good, the other evil, plus a magical third performance as the bad one impersonating his murdered brother. The 40s were a bonanza for Broadway success in "Arsenic and Old Lace," then a three picture collaboration with RKO producer Val Lewton in "The Body Snatcher," "Isle of the Dead," and "Bedlam." His final decade brought television acclaim as host and occasional star on NBC's THRILLER, the Wurdulak in Mario Bava's "Black Sabbath" (the family that slays together, stays together!), his memorable narration of Dr. Seuss' "The Grich That Stole Christmas," and a final bow as an aging monster actor in Peter Bogdanovich's "Targets." A trip down memory lane for enthusiasts, or a wonderful introduction for the uninitiated, you can't go wrong either way.

Discovering Film: Peter Lorre (2015) Season 8, Episode 4

Examining the most indelible Peter Lorre performances

[8/10 · 14 December 2023]

Unlike A&E's 1996 biography of Peter Lorre, this equally short 2016 documentary focuses more on the actor's most indelible screen portrayals, kicking off with 1931's "M," Fritz Lang's psychological thriller about a compulsive child murderer who must explain himself to the Berlin underworld or be subjected to vigilante justice. There would be two roles for Alfred Hitchcock ("The Man Who Knew Too Much" and "Secret Agent"), before Hollywood stardom as globetrotting Japanese detective Mr. Moto, moving on to his most prolific period during World War 2, a frequent costar with Humphrey Bogart in such classics as "The Maltese Falcon," "Casablanca," and "Passage to Marseilles." His comeback, spurred on by Bogart's "Beat the Devil," would feature smaller yet unforgettable performances in "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" and "Around the World in Eighty Days," climaxed by Vincent Price vehicles "Tales of Terror" and "The Raven," grateful to be doing comedy again. No mention is made of his three marriages, and only a brief discussion of his morphine addiction following a botched appendectomy. Clearly an actor who deserves more in depth coverage than a 44 minute dissertation.

Biography: Peter Lorre: The Master of Menace (1996) Season 8, Episode 82

The first in depth coverage of actor Peter Lorre

[8/10 · 14 December 2023]

This Halloween 1996 edition of A&E's Biography pays tribute to Peter Lorre, the first in depth video biography of the actor since his 1964 death at age 59 from a fatal heart attack, abetted by Stephen D. Youngkin, coauthor of the 1982 publication "The Films of Peter Lorre." Aspiring to the stage from a young age, his disapproving martinet father soon relented once he saw how dedicated his eldest offspring was, relocating to 1920s Berlin for a bohemian lifestyle that earned plaudits from his debut. Playwright Bertolt Brecht made him a household name in Germany, while director Fritz Lang's 1931 feature "M" achieved international success that soon saw Lorre making the rounds in Hollywood, first under contract at Columbia ("Crime and Punishment") then 20th Century-Fox, where the Mr. Moto series established his versatility as a mysterious globetrotting figure who could take out enemies with his prowess at judo. His happiest years were spent at Warners opposite good friends Humphrey Bogart and Sidney Greenstreet, all gathered together under first time director John Huston for 1941's "The Maltese Falcon," but by decade's end personal and financial setbacks forced him to accept just about anything, his once lauded skills now reduced to self parody as simply 'making faces.' Lorre felt that the best actors had to be adept psychologists to achieve the utmost in characterization, and remained on good terms with his first two wives, Celia Lovsky best remembered as Vulcan matriarch T'Pau in STAR TREK's "Amok Time" (she died in 1979).