(1962)
Dir - Roger Kay
Overall: MEH
A misguided, American "remake" in title only of Robert Weine's German Expressionist masterpiece, The Cabinet of Caligari is an overly talky bore that pulls a ridiculous psychological plot twist in its final moments. The first of only three theatrically released films from television director Roger Kay and written by Robert Bloch who would soon go on to collaborate with William Castle and then Amicus Productions in England, it settles into its monotonous structure quickly where Glynis Johns arrives at a posh, isolated abode after her car breaks down, only to quickly realize that she is not allowed to leave. The audience will grow frustrated by the predictable, repetitive turn of events in the same manner that Johns' character does with everyone being surface-level polite to her as she desperately tries to manipulate her way out of being manipulated herself. Dan O'Herlihy exhibits the type of annoyingly indirect, smuggish persona that is fitting for the sinister psychologist who has all the patience in the world at his disposal, plus familiar character actor Estelle Winwood steals her minimal amount of scenes with some piss and vinegar. Still, there is nothing here to hold one's interest and the last couple of minutes have the clashing effect of finally livening up the proceedings while delivering a lackluster gasp.
(1965)
Dir - William Grefé
Overall: WOOF
Regional movie-maker William Grefé's first foray into horror with Sting of Death finds him utilizing roughly no money in and around the Everglades of Florida and delivering the type of Z-grade results that are common with such tripe. To be fair, the acting by no-name, local performers is not as jarringly awful as one would expect. Valerie Hawkins is fine as the distressed heroine and John Vella effectively plays a disfigured putz that constantly sneaks up on people while pouting about everybody making fun of him. The compliments stop there though as everything else is a consistent combination of laughable production qualities, (including an embarrassing monster costume that needs to be seen to be believed), and most of all, comatose-level pacing that sinks the entire ship from the get go. Sometimes oddities like this that were made far outside the confines of conventional Hollywood have the quirky potential to be interesting watches if anything else, but it is all too frequent that they simple serve as the equivalent of watching a tortoise race a sloth, except nowhere near as exciting. The movie never once picks up any steam with horrendous detours like white people shimmying to beach party music and actors flatly delivering their poorly-miked lines, all of which makes up the bulk of the experience.
(1969)
Dir - Al Adamson/Jean Hewitt
Overall: MEH
John Carradine gets top billing for once in one of Al Adamson's early schock-fests Blood of Dracula's Castle. Yet anyone hoping that the former Dracula actor would don the cape and fangs once more will be somewhat disappointed that he is a mere butler here. Still, Carradine and several other performers get to deliver illogically campy dialog for eighty-odd minutes in a clearly tongue-in-cheek effort written by Rex Carlton which has enough ridiculous, arbitrarily ghoulish details to keep one amused. Alexander D'Arcy and Paul Raymond play two mild-mannered members of the undead who live an isolated yet bourgeois lifestyle, keeping bikini-clad babes in a dungeon and drinking their blood from wine glasses. There is also a mute hunchback, (because what self-respecting vampire aristocrats would be without one of those), a serial killer werewolf, a charisma-lacking couple, and all of the bad guys worshiping a god that they have to set a woman on fire for. There are hilarious, lazy plot maneuvers left and right and the intended humor is played dry enough to only work half of the time, but Adamson and co-director Jean Hewitt utilize their inadequate budget better than would be expected for some minor, macabre atmosphere here or there. Of course the film is far too talky and lackadaisically paced to recommend, but forgiving viewers can still admire its stupidity.
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