"Nine Lives" ranks as the first genuinely lighthearted adventure, Albert Salmi as the Irish miner Shawn Mulhare banished for carelessly lighting a fuse that causes an explosion near a legal encampment. His punishment is to replace their killed feline mascot with another equally adept at drinking beer (thus earning the name 'Boozer'), finding one with a crippled widow willing to part with her pet if he and Caine dig a well for her. There's also a family of brawling brothers led by papa Henry Skowrin (Royal Dano) eager to win $10,000 with Caine's capture. The most heartwarming sequence deals with a breech birth that endangers a pregnant mare, the foal emerging safe and unharmed. Football great Merlin Olsen was still playing for the Los Angeles Rams at the time, eventually earning his own Western series as Father Murphy. Back from the original pilot, Albert Salmi would return for a third season episode that also deals with animals, "Cry of the Night Beast."
Reviews
3,251 Reviews
John Doucette and Pat Hingle
4 June 2024
"The Soul is the Warrior" finds Caine arriving at the Edward Rankin ranch in search of his brother Danny, who left behind great bitterness by stealing son Breck's girl away before leaving weeks earlier. Breck Rankin (Shelly Novack) shows Caine some trinkets left behind by Danny, intending to teach him a few lessons on manners before his father (John Doucette) intervenes (we are told that the absent Danny was 'a lying coward'). Pat Hingle's General Thoms is the town sheriff, inviting Caine to a plate of beans before continuing his search, but Breck's rude interruption forces his hand and the hotheaded youth is shot dead. Rankin, with his Indian blood, is the most powerful man in the entire territory, not one to be trifled with, and when his attempt to shame Caine comes for naught, the priest suggests an exchange: the life of General Thoms for Rankin's fear. All denials meet upon deaf ears, for his pit of deadly rattlesnakes prove that fear not only exists, it has its temple, and Caine, a man who knows no fear and is one with nature, will save the sheriff's life by walking through it. We learn early on Rankin's philosophy about holding on to a pit filled with instant death: "every man learns something about watchin' what he's a-feared of." The philosophy is made clear: "seek always peace, wear no path for the footsteps of others unless the soul is endangered...we are all linked by our souls, to endanger one endangers all...(thus endangered) in such times, the soul must be the warrior." Viewers continue to be appreciative of the show's adept writing, even with the lesser characters ("if he don't stink of death, I never saw a carcass").
Final showdown with Robert Ito
4 June 2024
"The Way of Violence Has No Mind" marks the happy return of two cast members from the original pilot, Victor Sen Yung (in the third of his six episodes), and Robert Ito, sadly bowing out after two second season entries (he earlier played the title role in "The Assassin"). This is one of the show's very best episodes, filled with breathtaking action and solid characterizations essayed by another sterling cast, with Fritz Weaver as Hillquist, ruthless owner of a mining company that has displaced thousands of immigrants, stealing their gold and leaving them without homes. Robert Ito's Captain Tim fancies himself a modern Robin Hood, robbing white men to offer aid to his people, his martial arts skills taught to him back in China by a priest who renounced the Shaolin faith. Philip Ahn's Master Kan watches an older student display his strength and prowess yet laments the means to which their teachings have been abused: "to be violent is to be weak, violence has no mind...is it not wiser to seek a man's love than to desire his swift defeat?" The young Caine (Radames Pera) is instructed by Master Po (Keye Luke) to pull a sash that produces gunfire, shattering several pieces of beautiful pottery: "it seems a handsome tool to be used like others, but it is an instrument which can fulfill its purpose only through destruction...as the sound injures the ear, so its discharge consumes the flesh." The final showdown between Hillquist and Captain Tim takes place at the farm of former city man Dan Hoyle (Gary Merrill), an injured casualty in this senseless conflict, the no nonsense sheriff (Ron Soble) calling for the reluctant Tim to give himself up; his intention to shoot his way to freedom understandably meets resistance from Caine, their battle royale in close quarters even better than their previous bout in the stream in "The Assassin." Ron Soble was a ubiquitous presence on TV Westerns in mostly villainous roles, including a standout appearance in the third season STAR TREK episode "Spectre of the Gun," offering that rare glimpse of a tough sheriff free from corruption. This was the penultimate on screen performance of June Vincent as Gary Merrill's wife Meg (reunited as husband and wife from the 1952 feature "Night Without Sleep"), a popular 40s starlet who remained a busy presence on television in later years. Victor Sen Yung would return in three more episodes while Robert Ito never looked back, securing a regular role as assistant coroner Sam Fujiyama on 8 seasons of Jack Klugman's medical drama QUINCY.
The difference between law and justice
4 June 2024
"Empty Pages of a Dead Book" opens with Caine befriending Bart Fisher (Slim Pickens), unaware that both are being stalked by Captain Clyde McNelly (Robert Foxworth), whose father was the nation's most feared Texas Ranger for the journal he kept of all the outlaws he'd pursued. Fisher and his three brothers knew that McNelly would come after them sooner or later, but after the passage of 8 years and taking up residence in another state assumed that they would be safe. The captain shoots Bart without provocation, in the knowledge that the former gunman used to keep a spare pistol in his saddle bag; for this the presiding judge (Nate Esformes) accepts Caine's word about what he saw and takes away the lawman's badge. This isn't enough for the four Fisher brothers, who proceed to taunt McNelly until Caine intervenes and takes on all four at once. Joe Billy (James Storm) tries to reach Clyde's gun but falls off the balcony, breaking his neck. The judge must follow the law and assume that Caine and Clyde are guilty of murder based on the Fishers' false testimony, and are sentenced to hang. In escaping and causing injury to the sheriff (Bruce Carradine), the duo are granted mercy in the act of saving his life, and McNelly decides the best course of action is to finally bury his father's journal and lead his own life. It's a small role for Bruce Carradine, David's half brother (same mother, different fathers), but the standouts are clearly Robert Foxworth as the conflicted lawman, and Slim Pickens as the outlaw gone straight. The flashbacks feature Philip Ahn's Master Kan demonstrating the difference between law and justice, both are based on assumptions often made without facts (the letter of the law may not be enough to offer justice).
Final performance of John Drew Barrymore
4 June 2024
"A Dream Within a Dream" opens with Caine discovering the corpse of a hanged man through the fog of a boggy swamp (his white horse still present), only to be shot in the head by an unknown assailant. Taken in by sculptor Alex McGregor (John Drew Barrymore), his description makes it clear that the deceased was the town's most prominent citizen, and that several people had reason to kill him, from the corrupt sheriff (Sorrell Booke) to the town banker (Mark Mercer), whose wife (Tina Louise) was planning to run off with him. There's a neat twist at the conclusion, but the actual revelation is watching John Drew Barrymore in what turned out to be his final on screen performance, only a year away from the birth of his youngest daughter Drew (he passed away in 2004). Rarely did he essay such a sympathetic character, and his Irish accent proves impeccable, the best of a cast of seasoned veterans which also include Ruth Roman and Howard Duff.
A divisive yet incisive entry that won a pair of Emmy Awards
2 June 2024
"An Eye for an Eye" earned much deserved Emmy Awards for director Jerry Thorpe, Jack Woolf winning for Best Cinematography, a divisive entry that demonstrates the difficulty of writing for a pacifist hero in the violent Old West. Caine comes to the aid of an old Confederate soldier, Amos Buchanan (Harry Townes), whose daughter Annie (Lane Bradbury) was the victim of rape perpetrated by three Yankee soldiers. Despising the unwanted child in her womb, the girl is further embittered when the post captain (Ross Elliott) is no help to her, eagerly waiting for brother Samuel (Tim McIntire) to avenge his sister's honor in a duel at dawn with wicked Sergeant Straight (L. Q. Jones). With Union soldiers still intent on punishing the South for lives lot, their Rebel counterparts little different, vengeance assumed to be sweet merely leaves a sour taste in one's mouth. Caine's response to the sad fate of Annie's child: "before we wake, we cannot know that what we dreamed does not exist...before we die we cannot know that death is not the greatest joy." Keye Luke's Master Po insists that death need never be feared: "a man who knows how to live has no place for death to enter!" Tim McIntire went on to play a villainous deputy in a second season entry, "The Well," returning the third season as Caine's long lost brother for the series finale (L. Q. Jones would again walk the path of evil in another third season episode, "The Last Raid").
Nancy Kwan the big draw
2 June 2024
"The Cenotaph Part 1" served up the first series two parter, a special showcase for the sultry Nancy Kwan, a native of British Hong Kong, her father a Cantonese architect, her mother a European fashion model of English and Scottish heritage. Like future KUNG FU guest star France Nuyen (in the third season's "A Small Beheading"), she came to the attention of Hollywood through the stage production of "The World of Suzie Wong," winning the 1960 screen role despite her lack of acting experience, the two sharing accolades as Asian sex symbols for the rest of the decade. By this time, Nancy Kwan's screen career was secondary to television, previously working opposite both David and John Carradine in the 1970 release "The McMasters."
The Mistresses of Dr. Jekyll
(1964)
Jesus Franco's lesser sequel still a solid early outing
1 June 2024
1964's "Dr. Orloff's Monster" (El Secreto del Dr. Orloff or Les Maitresses du Docteur Jekyll), a Spanish-French-Austrian coproduction and sequel (the first in a lengthy series) to Jesus Franco's 1961 "The Awful Dr. Orlof," basically a continuation of the same outline, murderous undead assassin stalking pretty showgirls in various stages of undress. A similar castle setting finds Marcelo Arroita-Jauregui's evil Dr. Conrad Jekyll (no Hyde in evidence, his name changed to Fisherman in other territories) ruling his beaten down wife, who has been grieving for her lost love over the decades, in fact the doctor's own beloved brother Andros (Hugo White), now his robotic pawn drawn to each victim by a radio transmitting necklace that police prove slow to pick up on (a lost necklace was also a catalyst in the original ORLOF). Only when he tries to murder his visiting niece Melissa (Agnes Spaak) does he meet his fate at the hands of her protective father, though one wonders how Andros would recognize his now adult daughter after being, well, dead for so many years! Andros isn't as fearful as the original film's Morpho (Ricardo Valle), but he does prove more sympathetic and has the benefit of sight where his predecessor was blind. This doctor is a real cold fish, addicted to opium, lacking even the menacing qualities of Howard Vernon, who would reprise the Orloff role on many occasions into the 80s, plus a well meaning surgeon in Claude Mulot's unrelated French title "The Blood Rose." A perfunctory love interest for Melissa helps flesh out her character, Agnes Spaak the elder sister of Catherine Spaak, who would soon retire from the screen to work as a photographer. This early Franco shows that he was capable of good work with a decent budget, and without the dizzying zoom lens that would become his trademark.
The Awful Dr. Orlof
(1962)
The origins of the Spanish horror genre
1 June 2024
1961's "The Awful Dr. Orlof" (Gritos en la Noche or Cries in the Night), as derivative as it is, proved a milestone in at least three different ways, marking the beginning of the Spanish horror genre (finally blossoming with the arrival of Paul Naschy), the transformation of director Jesus Franco from art house auteur to exploitation maverick, and introducing actor Howard Vernon as a horror star to international audiences. This Spanish-French coproduction was nominally based on its French predecessor "Eyes Without a Face," the clinically graphic tale of a mad surgeon obsessed with the restoration of his disfigured daughter's once lovely features; Vernon is the turn of the century surgeon here, assisted by a sightless monster named Morpho (Ricardo Valle), rescued from the gallows by a fake death certificate signed by prison doctor Orlof. Perla Cristal only pops up for needed exposition as Orlof's other assistant and former lover, finally tiring of his attentions to female corpses with a new desire to succeed with living donors instead. The perfunctory police investigation accounts for roughly half the footage, trying to make sense of two descriptions of the mysterious kidnapper, while the inspector's music hall fiancee (Diana Lorys) uses her acting skills to lure the villainous Orlof out of the shadows. Most viewers will recall the bulging eyed visage of Morpho from his initial appearance, hidden in the closet of the first victim, attacking her like a vampire but rather than drink her blood only groping the poor girl incessantly before the doctor's tapping cane summons him with her in tow (only two brief shots of gratuitous nudity easily excised for other territories). The nighttime photography is impeccable, horse drawn carriages and cobblestone streets suggesting a healthy budget uncommon to Franco, whose attention to detail proves greater at this early stage in his career than it would later on (the headache inducing zoom lens for instance). The doctor's daughter remains an unmoving figure encased in a see through coffin, no characterization for supine actress Diana Lorys, doubling as the willing volunteer who forces Orlof's hand, Morpho inevitably turning on his master. Franco had planned to shoot a serious political film but was forced to utilize the sets and performers on a quickie horror title instead, inspired by the recent Hammer release "The Brides of Dracula," numerous sequels to follow, most of which would also feature Howard Vernon, now earning recognition after 15 years of constant screen work (amassing nearly 200 credits by the time of his 1996 death at age 88).
The Witch's Mirror
(1962)
Simply one of the best Mexican horrors from K. Gordon Murray
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
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
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
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").
First shown on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater in 1966
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
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
14 May 2024
Warning: Spoilers
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
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
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).
First shown on Pittsburgh's Chiller Theater in 1967
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
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
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
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
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 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
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.
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