(1961)
Dir - Alfonso Corona Blake
Overall: GOOD
One of the rare Mexican horror films to have actually been shown in U.S. theaters for a short run in its original, non-dubbed and uncut version, El mundo de los vampiros, (The World of the Vampires), is more fantastic than it has any business to be. As quirky and ridiculous as any other Gothic, foreign horror export and loaded with cliches to the point of pure silliness, all of the interesting and bizarre elements enhance it. There are bat-like humanoids who wear capes and absurd, papier-mâché masks that are not meant to look like they are wearing either, the actual rubber bats on strings are straight out of a Z-grade production, the main vampire, (a dashing Guillermo Murray), constantly makes grandiose speeches to himself while trying his hardest to parody Béla Lugosi, and this only scratches the surface. Though many textbook undead motifs are present, it still finds time to tweak the mythos with certain music being deadly to vampires and their full transformation coming after being bitten and then sacrificed on an altar. If that last part is left out, they apparently start growing hair all over them and turn into the weird, creepy mask-wearing things. There are plenty of illogical moments, (why would a vampire of all things keep a huge pit of pointy spikes in his lair?), and the film is lit too brightly in most scenes to be properly atmospheric, but delivers the type of ghoulish fun that only the most knowingly campy genre films do.
(1968)
Dir - René Cardona
Overall: WOOF
As one could easily surmise, The Batwoman, (La mujer murcielago), is the non-union, female Mexican equivalent to Batman as well as another bit of luchador nonsense. Staring Maura Monti as the title crime-fighter who is basically Bruce Wayne minus the trauma and gadgetry, she is also a wrestler because movies are stupid. She is wealthy, glamorous, some men know her true identity and hang out with her casually for drinks at the beach, plus she occasionally gets in the ring while rocking the whole Adam West, tight-pajama ensemble while tossing a few other ladies around, (ladies who have little to no dialog mind you). Elsewhere, Monti is in a bikini and a cape because what self-respecting feminist super hero would not be wearing something like that when battling laughably one-note mad scientists and fish monsters? The script by Alfredo Salazar is pure zany camp, but only on paper since director René Cardona shoehorns in as many lackluster "sitting and talking" sequences as possible in order to make sure that it is an aggravatingly boring viewing experience first and foremost. It is all played straight with few intentional laughs to be had, but even as a sexy, kitschy, lame-brained comic book knock-off, it is as dull as they come and only recommended for the most patient of bad movie hounds.
(1969)
Dir - Carlos Enrique Taboada
Overall: MEH
Released the same year as the fun, spooky college girl romp Hasta el viento tiene miedo, writer/director Carlos Enrique Taboada's follow-up El Libro de piedra, (The Book of Stone), is a comparatively listless ordeal. There are some creepy ideas present even without the proper foreboding atmosphere necessary to enhance them, but at an hour and forty-minutes, the pacing is by far the biggest issue. Taboada's story concerns familiar, cliched elements centered around a borderline bratty child with a wealthy, neglectful father, a stepmother that she does not get along with, a concerned Governess at her side, and an "imaginary" friend. The results are neither unique or exciting as virtually nothing happens besides grown-ups talking, talking some more, and then talking a whole lot more followed by lots and lots of talking in other rooms. The very last handful of minutes introduce a few supernaturally chilling moments, but the finale would be much more unsettling and successful if the enormous bulk of the presentation was not so problematically sleepyheaded.
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