(1941)
Overall: MEH
Regrettably, an innocent goof fest like King of the Zombies must be looked at as a "what could have been" movie since both Béla Lugosi and Peter Lorre were in line to play the mad island voodoo doctor bad guy who was instead portrayed by character actor Henry Victor at the eleventh hour. Though Victor does a credible job with a pretentious accent and is a physically more imposing figure than either Lugosi or Lorre, the latter two horror regulars had oodles more macabre charisma at their disposal. The first half amounts to Mantan Moreland getting gaslit by everyone who never believe that he keeps running into walking corpses in Victor's spacious mansion. This actually features a hefty amount of screen time for Moreland who single-handedly garnishes the movie's few intentional laughs, but the political incorrectness is as steadfast as ever. As soon as he arrives on the mysterious island, he is not only ordered to sleep in the kitchen with the other non-white servants, but also put to work washing dishes since what else was a rich white guy like Victor supposed to allow a black man to do besides chores in a house that he does not even work in?
(1946)
Overall: MEH
Universal sure liked to use the word "House" in their titles and the penultimate screen appearance of Rondo Hatton as "The Creeper" is in the misleadingly titled House of Horrors, yet another run of the mill B-picture for the studio. Both this and the same year's The Brute Man share the writer/director team of George Bricker and Jean Yarbrough respectfully, though each is a stand-alone entry with Hatton simply playing two versions of the same character. The story here revolves around uppity art critics, (one of whom is played in a deliciously pompous fashion by future Alfred Pennyworth Alien Napier), getting murdered by Hatton's neanderthal-like killer on the run. The latter forms an alliance with a starving sculptor played by German actor Martin Kosleck who is basically a less charismatic Peter Lorre. None of the other cast members are notable; just a stable of good looking men and women trading niceties with each other. Also, nothing remotely frightening takes place at any time and the "horror" element solely revolves around Hatton's startling acromegaly-induced features. Still, Yarbrough keeps up a fine pace for the rudimentary and borderline monotonous plot.
(1946)
Overall: MEH
If not for the fact that it is acted and directed in a competent manner, has some nice foggy scenery, and is done and over with in a mere sixty-one minutes, Universal's She-Wolf of London would be a top-to-bottom dud. It is still probably the lamest film that the studio ever produced under its "classic monster" umbrella, largely because it wholeheartedly does not belong there. The title is dishonest at best and the ending is certainly shocking alright, but in the most disappointing way imaginable. By the time that the film's villain randomly explains their cockamamie scheme, any possible tension that was built up evaporates into the ether and a fully-formed feeling of wasting one's time sets in. That we do not even get a single glimpse of any lycanthropian activities throughout is aggravating enough as it would have been delightful if Universal's mainstay make-up artist Jack Pierce had been allowed to come up with something ghastly for a female to wear for once. Instead, this is just a cheap yawn and a missed opportunity.
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