1950s American Horror Part Eight

THEM!

(1954)

Dir - Gordon Douglas

Overall: GOOD

 

Out of all of the nuclear-made, giant monster movies that the 1950's put out in gargantuan, (get it?), numbers, Them! from Warner Bros. is one of the best.  Credited with kicking off the "big bug" fad in this particular sci-fi sub-genre, it has a common, broad message of man's tampering with nature wielding unpredictable and in this case, dangerous results.  The maliciously over-sized ants here are initially found in the New Mexico desert where the first atom bomb test had been conducted.  There are a number of refreshing details present in Ted Sherdeman and Russell Hughes's screenplay, namely how the scientists, law officers, military, and politicians do not spend hardly any of their screen time arguing over the bug's existence or how to handle them.  By having the character's behave in a level-headed manner and with a sense of comradery with each other, it avoids taking a nihilistic approach where human nature inherently collapses into stubborn, fear-driven chaos.  Also, the threat of the title creatures is effectively tense.  Introducing flying queen ants that can lay thousands of eggs over fifteen or so years in any borrow that is large enough to house them, it certainly gives off some unwholesome vibes.  This may not have as sharp of a social commentary angle as other such movies from the era, but it is far more tightly directed and serious in presentation than it easily could have been.

THE DISEMBODIED

(1957)

Dir - Walter Grauman

Overall: MEH

A typical white-washed voodoo thriller, The Disembodied is the first theatrical film from prolific television director Walter Grauman.  Set exclusively in an undisclosed, tropical jungle, two of the tribes people with the most lines of dialog are of course played by Caucasian actors, as was the style at the time.  While it treats the natives in as primitive of a fashion as in any Hollywood production from the era that utilizes exotic mysticism as a source of terror, the true diabolical presence here is the sultry Allison Hayes.  As a conniving trophy wife, she essentially resorts to voodoo out of boredom from being cooped up in the middle of nowhere with her introverted, older husband.  So it is basically a case of the alluring, evil white lady taking advantage of scantily clad jungle people, with a square-jawed hero ultimately making the noble choice to save face.  Nothing that transpires is remotely frightening and it does not muster up much atmosphere besides some bamboo torches and tribal drums, but at a highly agreeable sixty-six minute running time, it goes through the motions in an engaging enough manner, plus Hayes makes for a sexy and wicked femme fatal.

THE ANGRY RED PLANET
(1959)
Dir - Ib Melchior
Overall: MEH

Both infamous and interesting for its poorly executed special effects, The Angry Red Planet, (Invasion of Mars, Journey to Planet Four), is actually no worse or better than any other tiny budgeted bit of science fiction fluff from the 1950s, particularly the ones regularly churned out by American International Pictures.  Producer/screenwriter Sidney W. Pink's script allows for plenty of chitter-chatter between the stock actors on screen, enough so that it is all too easy to tune-out of the proceedings the whole way through.  It takes longer than is agreeable to get to the angry red planet Mars of the title, but once there, the CineMagic effects take center stage which bathe everything in red and allow for the characters to interact with stagnant photographs of scenery, animation, and a giant mouse bat spider alien monster.  It looks ridiculous and dated, but it is also stylized in a way that sets the film apart from its black and white contemporaries.  Still, this cannot disguise the flat direction, uninspired story, cheap production values, and horrendous pacing, plus the whole thing ends on a whimper with more talking in lab coats and everyone listening to a quick, ominous message from our intergalactic neighbors without a final, climactic set piece.

1940s American Horror Part Five

THE INVISIBLE WOMAN
(1940)
Dir - A. Edward Sutherland
Overall: MEH

Released the same year as The Invisible Man Returns and featuring two gimmicks, (one in that the unseen "monster" this time is female and two in that this is a screwball comedy), The Invisible Woman can be looked at as the first dud in Universal's horror sequels.  Calling this a horror movie is quite inaccurate though as nothing the least bit horrific occurs, unless kicking an uppity model agency boss in the butt counts.  What does occur is a lot of groan-worthy attempts at humor including puns, people falling down, and the usual gag of characters thinking that some form of supernatural tomfoolery is afoot when in fact simply invisible tomfoolery is afoot.  To be fair, a select few of the jokes are harmlessly chuckle-worthy and the script has a goofy charm to it that is no more or less ridiculous than other movies of its kind.  Plus John Barrymore is a hoot as a quacky scientist and Shemp Howard shows up as a mob henchman, though the latter does not get to say or do all that much.  For the most part it is pretty lousy and forgettable though, yet the 180 change in approach was at least an admirable risk to take.

MAN-MADE MONSTER

(1941)

Dir - George Waggner

Overall: GOOD

 

Released under a barrage of different tittles, (Electric Man, The Mysterious Dr. R, The Atomic Monster), Man-Made Monster also served as Lon Chaney Jr's first horror film and the one that landed him a career-making contract for Universal.  Originally conceived as yet another vehicle for Boris Karloff and Béla Lugosi, the project was shelved for a number of years as it bared some similarities to The Invisible Ray which also paired the horror icons.  Bringing in the reliable Lionel Atwill to play yet another "mad" scientist with a cockamamie scheme, as well as having George Waggner behind the lens, (who would go on to work with Chaney again that year in their seminal follow-up The Wolfman), it is an effective if comparatively lesser known monster movie from the studio that produced the best lot of them.  While the premise and special effects work have a fun, dated charm to them, Chaney's naturally sympathetic performance helps sell the proceedings.  The actor was always at his best playing tragic, gentle giants and as a go-lucky guy full of electricity and somehow under the mindless control of Attwill's Dr. Rigas, he is as likeable as ever.

THE MAD GHOUL

(1943)

Dir - James Hogan
Overall: MEH

 

Launched into production to go along with Son of Dracula as a double feature, The Mad Ghoul was the final directorial effort from James Hogan who died just over a week before its release.  One of the rare Universal monster films during their golden era that did not star any of their major, hallmark players, (though B-movie scream queen Evelyn Ankers is at least on board), it has another familiar set up of a mad doctor controlling a poor sap to do his unsavory bidding, all in the name of science and for the betterment of mankind.  The flimsy, technical details are of minor importance as the plot focuses on three different men who are in love with a beautiful opera singer, with the malicious one being clear from the beginning.  As there is no mystery, no star power, and Jack Pierce's make-up effects are barely detectable, it hardly constitutes as one of the studio's most memorable efforts.  Still, it has a couple of ghoulish moments, (pun intended), and the weird pairing of grave robbing, monkey experiments, and hypnotized, quasi-zombies at least sounds wacky on paper.

1940s American Horror Part Four

SON OF DRACULA

(1943)

Dir - Robert Siodmak

Overall: MEH

With Frankenstein sequels and the double-billed, re-release of both the initial 1931 Dracula and Frankenstein in theaters in 1942 all proving to be lucrative, Universal dusted off their undead count again for Son of Dracula.  With this film, Lon Chaney Jr. became the first actor to portray all four of the studio's main monsters, though his performance here as Dracula's not-so-clever alias Count Alucard is one of the lesser regarded.  In Chaney's defense though, he is certainly adequate with the material, but the script from Curt Sidmak and Eric Taylor does not leave him much to do besides disappear for large chunks of screen time and stand around turning into a mist or a bat on occasion.  The plot is remarkably simple, perhaps too simple in fact and director Robert Sidmak fails to create a properly atmospheric mood.  Everything is played seriously and it is tightly structured, but there is still no denying the rather unremarkable nature of the entire production.  John Carradine would give the title role a go in the following House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula entries, but while certainly silly, each of those movies would at least provide an amusing monster-mash quality that sadly, this one is lacking.

 

THE UNINVITED

(1944)

Dir - Lewis Allen

Overall: GOOD

One of the most popular and enduring supernatural horror films from Hollywood's Golden Age was an adaptation of Dorothy Macardle's novel Uneasy Freehold, which was released as The Uninvited in the US as its cinematic version likewise was.  Originally offered to Alfred Hitchcock, it was eventually taken on by Lewis Allen who stages a small handful of expertly spooky scenes.  The overall tone is far too sensationalized to viscerally connect with an audience as Victor Young's romantic musical score plays almost persistently throughout.  Also, various whimsical attempts at humor are made and the primary focus is on uncovering the ever-widening mystery.  Thankfully though, said mystery is quite compelling and even though women are prone to fainting and being offered sedatives to calm their nerves, the usual cliche of skeptical characters talking down to people is at least nowhere to be found.  Instead, the supernatural occurrences are taken seriously by all parties involved, with benevolent curiosity driving everyone to ultimately tell the mean ghost to go away, which it rather undrerwhelmingly does.  Still, it is a pretty classy production from top to bottom and provides a nice, more lighthearted alternative to such macabre material.

STRANGLER OF THE SWAMP
(1946)

Dir - Frank Wisbar
Overall: MEH

 

Frank Wisbar's remake of his own 1936 German film Fährmann Maria was this low-budget entry from Producers Releasing Corporation, one of the many Poverty Row studios operating in Hollywood at the time.  Here titled Strangler of the Swamp and still co-written by Wisbar, nearly every detail of the script is changed from the original.  The ferrywoman is called Maria once again, yet she falls in love with a completely different character and the ghostly stranger of the title is not an anonymous spectre as it was before.  Running just under an hour, no complaints can be lodged at the movie's pacing and overall, Wisbar maintains a snappy control over the material.  As far as fog-ridden scenery goes, it is piled on liberally thick here with characters completely disappearing in it during numerous scenes.  The film's horror elements are remarkably tame even for the era and as is also unfortunately common, it does not help that Alexander Steinert's stock, lush musical score hardly lets a single scene play out to natural silence.  It mostly gets by on its dated limitations though and is a more conventional improvement over its German counterpart at least.

1940s Bela Lugosi Part Four

FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLF MAN

(1943)

Dir - Roy William Niell

Overall: MEH

Though it has a fine performance from Lon Chaney Jr. reprising his role as Lawrence Talbot, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man marks the moment where Universal's monster movie sequels finally stretched themselves to a breaking point.  As a direct follow-up to The Wolf Man and the fifth Frankenstein film, Lionel Atwill shows up playing another character for the third time in a row, Evelyn Ankers is recast as she played two different characters in each franchise before, and in his last credited screen performance, Dwight Fry even pops in as a nameless villager.  This would mark the only time that Béla Lugosi put on the Frankenstein monster makeup yet infamously, all of his dialog was removed in editing and his stumbling performance with his arms outstretched made the actor primarily look preposterous as any mention of the creature being blind was left for movie patrons who remembered that last minute plot detail from The Ghost of Frankenstein to understand.  The script from Curt Siodmak, (also returning from The Wolf Man), combines two timelines that are decades apart and allows for a "sane" doctor to randomly decide that he must see the monster's full power before willingly blowing up a dam that will surely destroy the entire village below it.  Meanwhile, nobody thinks to destroy Frankenstein's diary or any of his lab equipment and characters miraculously cross paths with each other as if the entire continent of Europe exists within a few blocks from each other.

ZOMBIES ON BROADWAY

(1945)

Dir - Gordon Douglas

Overall: MEH

 

While Boris Karloff got to work with A-listers Bud Abbott and Lou Costello in two different films for Universal Pictures, poor, poor Béla Lugosi got stuck with RKO's lame-brained imitations Alan Carney and Wally Brown.  The first of their pairings Zombies on Broadway, (Loonies on Broadway), also has the odd distinction of being an unofficial sequel to producer Val Lewton's I Walked with a Zombie as it takes place on the same island and features calypso singer Sir Lancelot reprising his role.  Basically, if you were to imagine Abbot and Costello without any of their comedic timing or charisma, then Carney and Brown would be the result.  On paper, the script from Robert Kent and Lawrence Kimble goes through the usual hi-jinks, except all of the jokes and anything remotely clever are removed.  Lugosi of course plays another mad scientist and of course is barely on screen.  He does get to goof around with a monkey though for whatever that is worth.  There is generally nothing worse than a comedy that is not funny and look no further than exhibit A right here for proof.

SCARED TO DEATH

(1947)

Dir - Christy Cabanne

Overall: MEH

Though it is historically notable as the only color film in which Béla Lugosi received a staring role, Scared to Death is one of a handful of dopey comedy thrillers that the actor appeared in merely to pay the bills. An uninspired whodunit based off of Murder on the Operating Table by Frank Orsino, the film has one obnoxiously unfunny, ham-fisted character after the other, several of whom fumble their lines in a way that makes Lugosi look both overqualified and sad to be a part of such tripe.  Hack-meister Christy Cabanne directed about nine-hundred and eighty-seven forgettable movies going back to the early silent days and this was one of his last.  Honestly, anyone could be behind the lens though as it is just a series of characters walking into one room and talking before walking into the next room and talking some more.  Meanwhile, a mask appears in a window, interrupting said talking scenes over and over again while the soundtrack loudly blares an ominous trumpet noise.  This is also one of a handful of times that dwarf actor Angelo Rossitto and Lugosi worked together, the former basically playing a human version of a pet monkey which is as "charming" as it sounds.

1940s Bela Lugosi Part Three

THE BLACK CAT

(1941)

Dir - Albert S. Rogell

Overall: MEH

 

Universal's sub-par, unofficial version of Paramount's The Cat and the Canary remake from two years prior The Black Cat hits all of the well-worn "old dark house" gags to rather yawn-inducing effects.  Baring the same title as the remarkably different and remarkably superior 1934 film which also stared Béla Lugosi, the only other thing that the two have in common is that neither of them have anything whatsoever to do with their Edgar Allan Poe-authored "source material".  As far as what movies it does have something in common with, that would be every other film regularly produced at the time that was ridden with "stuffy, desperate people going after a rich relative's will" and whodunit cliches.  The movie's lack of originality is one problem, the other is that the comedy elements around Hugh Herbert's character fall regularly flat.  Why anyone thought it would be funny instead of annoying to watch him ruin furniture and antiques while saying that they will be worth more that way only several hundred times is anybody's guess.  Lugosi is wasted as a red herring groundskeeper, but Basil Rathbone is ideally cast enough as a sleazy, back-stabbing husband at least.

THE GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN

(1942)

Dir - Erle C. Kenton

Overall: GOOD

 

The minor yet noticeable quality slip continues with The Ghost of Frankenstein, the fourth straight sequel and last before Universal would start adopting its much more ham-fisted, monster-mash policy.  Boris Karloff retired from the role that made him famous, with the studio's new leading horror man Lon Chaney Jr. admirably stepping in.  Béla Lugosi is once again in top form as the fiendish cripple Ygor, who miraculously survived the previous Son of Frankenstein with no explanation bothered to be given.  The script in general is honestly pretty lazy, recycling the last film with yet ANOTHER brilliant doctor who is yet ANOTHER offspring of the initial monster-making Frankenstein.  I guess these guys never decide to to into anthropology or something and they just never bothered to mention him before.  Though the movie suffers a bit from its re-trotted plot, (a plot that has a number of holes present for the audience to forgive), it is still a classy presentation with sincere performances all around.  B-director Erle C. Kenton, (who would go on to do House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula), is hardly an auteur, but he does deliver a tightly-paced final product that manages to go through the motions in an entertaining enough way to be memorable.

VOODOO MAN

(1944)

Dir - William Beaudine

Overall: MEH

The penultimate film that Béla Lugosi made for Poverty Row studio Monogram Pictures, Voodoo Man is about what one would expect.  Lugosi is a man who practices voodoo.  Even by the fairly low standards of such movies, this is a significantly lousy one.  William Beaudine's direction could not be more flat and uninspired.  The most stylistically exciting choice that he makes is to cut between two scenes on occasion while using a fade.  John Carradine and George Zucco also appear and the former is pretty embarrassing as a dim-witted henchman.  Usually, these D-budget yawns could at least come to life on occasion due to Lugosi's presence, at least if his role was significant enough, (which it often was not).  Though he is accurately top-billed here, the actor noticeably looks to be phoning it in.  Granted the material is quite poor and even an actor with Lugosi's occasional showmanship can only do so much with it.  Still, he understandably puts in the minimal effort this time, resulting in one of the most laughably under dramatic death scenes likely ever filmed.  The whole affair is about as lifeless as they come though and while Lugosi has much worse in his filmography, this one easily stands as a very forgettable one.

1930s Boris Karloff Part Four

CHARLIE CHAN AT THE OPERA

(1936)

Dir - H. Bruce Humberstone

Overall: MEH

 

The thirteenth Charlie Chan film to star Warner Oland in the lead and the only one to feature Boris Karloff, Charlie Chan at the Opera is quite typical of the series.  Chan is primarily portrayed as a yellowface Sherlock Holmes, noticing and then deciphering clues quicker than any of his causation colleges.  Meanwhile the actual Asian actors are delegated to minor roles, including Keye Luke as Chan's "number one son".  Chan may be the most charming and brilliant character on screen, spouting wise, faux-Chinese slogans at every opportunity, but Oland does play him with a stereotypical, stilted-English accent.  Also, various characters call him Chop Suey or make morphine addict and "all Asians look alike" quips at regular intervals.  While plenty of this is certainly eyebrow raising today, the movie itself is primarily harmless in its intent and has a lighthearted charm despite its ignorance.  It is mostly a treat for Karloff fans as he plays a deranged former opera star and even gets to mime such singing in a few scenes, which is quite a hoot.

 

NIGHT KEY

(1937)

Dir - Lloyd Corrigan

Overall: MEH

The last movie in which Universal billed Boris Karloff solely by his last name, Night Key features him as an elderly, nearly blind inventor whose plans to get back at his corrupt rival backfire with organized crime hi-jinks.  Though the title gadget works on some kind of faux-scientific logic, throwing the sci-fi tag on it let alone a horror one is completely misleading.  Karloff basically uses the contraption to short circuit security alarms without any malicious intent.  It is only once an unexcitable crime boss and his gang get a hold of it and kidnap Karloff's daughter that the movie raises the stakes in a typical, mildly exciting crime story capacity.  The cast does respectable work and director Lloyd Corrigan keeps the sixty-eight minute run time rather agreeable.  This would easily be a forgettable film altogether though if not for Karloff's involvement, merely serving as a contract-filler for the working actor who does his usual, respectable best with the material.  If anything, it showcases him in a largely benevolent light, representing one of the "farthest from a villain" roles that he would ever take on.

 

SON OF FRANKENSTEIN

(1939)

Dir - Rowland V. Lee

Overall: GOOD

The first Universal horror film to go into production following a several year break after the financially less successful Dracula's Daughter, Son of Frankenstein also stands as the final time that Boris Karloff appeared on screen as the monster.  While the fifty-two year old Karloff does his best under an uncomfortable wardrobe, Willis Cooper's screenplay leaves him very little to do in comparisons with the previous two films.  Thankfully, Béla Lugosi steps in as a saving grace, playing the crippled, fiendish Ygor.  Easily one of hist finest performances, Lugosi essentially steals the movie, contorting his body and using his naturally stilted English to ideal effect as the seemingly dim-witted, accused grave-robber out for revenge.  Rowland V. Lee's direction cannot compare to that of James Whale's as the pacing can afford to be a bit snappier at times.  Still, the set design is as German Expressionism-inspired as ever, particularly in the Frankenstein's stark, shadowy, and unusually styled castle.  Most of the heavy lifting falls on the shoulders of Basil Rathbone in the title role and Lionel Atwill as the wooden-armed Inspector Krogh, both of whom do solid work, (even if Rathbone's character comes off as arguably the worst liar in the history of cinema).  While it is overall a step down from the earlier, much beloved and influential entries in the series, this is still very much a success.

1930s Boris Karloff Part Three

BEHIND THE MASK

(1932)
Dir - John Francis Dillon
Overall: MEH

Released three months after Frankenstein began making him a household name, Behind the Mask was a run-of-the-mill, Pre-Code crime film where Boris Karloff had a minor role.  Joined once again by Edward Van Sloan who gets a much meatier part as a crooked doctor running a complex drug-smuggling operation, Karloff plays a low-life with only a handful of scenes.  His fate is even left open-ended as the bulk of the film revolves around Jack Holt uncovering the unwholesome doings-a-transpiring as a federal spy.  John Francis Dillon's direction is pretty flat and the film is mostly forgettable. That said, the script by Joe Swerling has some gruesome details to it, at least on paper.  Anyone who gets too close to Van Sloan's diabolical operation finds themselves murdered under an operating table and then their coffin is filled with drugs which are dug back up at a later date.  Unnecessarily convoluted yes, but this does provide the movie with a solid, somewhat disturbing ending, be it one that still ends up as triumphant for the good guys.

THE INVISIBLE RAY

(1936)

Dir - Lambert Killyer

Overall: GOOD

Rushed into production by Universal after a proposed Bluebeard project between Boris Karloff and Béla Lugosi fell through, the resulting The Invisible Ray surprisingly is a solid mad scientist romp.  Initial director Stuart Walker was replaced by Lambert Killyer near the last minute, as the former had been unhappy with John Colton's script.  Lugosi received second billing as the more rational and brilliant scientist Dr. Felix Benet, while Karloff got the juicier, increasingly insane Dr. Janos Ruhk role.  Thankfully, both horror icons get a handful of scenes together, plus each actor treats the borderline silly material respectfully.  It has the usual, pseudo-science premise where radiation causes Karloff to glow, kill anyone he touches, and lose his mind to jealous, revenge-seeking villainy in the process.  This provides for some nifty, be it dated visuals and other ridiculousness like a dead man's eyes holding the image of the last thing he saw, (meaning Karloff coming in for the kill), and a the ray of the title being able to both cure blindness and blow up a bolder.  Fun stuff though.

 

THE MAN WHO CHANGED HIS MIND

(1936)

Dir - Robert Stevenson

Overall: GOOD

The first in Boris Karloff's unrelated "Man Who..." series of films and one that utilizes an effective pun as a title, The Man Who Changed His Mind, (The Man Who Lived Again), was one of two British productions that he made in 1936.  Though he of course became immortalized as the Frankenstein monster, it was really in playing brilliant/doomed scientists that Karloff made his bread and butter throughout his long career.  Here, he is yet another one whose wild experiments are laughed off by his colleagues, making him bitter and mad in the process.  Karloff's Dr. Lawrence does not hold much of the audience's sympathy for long, though this is hardly a problem as he turns in a villainous performance with his usual unwavering class.  Plus, he redeems himself in the end anyway.  British bombshell Anna Lee, (who would later inspire a song from Dream Theater of all people), also shows up as virtually the only woman with any dialog.  The story is the usual implausible scientific gobbledy gook nonsense, but at only sixty-six minutes in length, director Robert Stevenson trims any would-be fat out of the proceedings, making this a fun and harmlessly macabre bit of silliness.