Black Dragons was released in 1942 and was apparently designed to capitalize on the hysteria surrounding World War II. This, in and of itself, is interesting enough, as it affords modern audiences a glimpse into the collective mindset of Americans during the post-Pearl Harbor era. There are certainly parallels that can be drawn between some of the psychological implications embedded in Black Dragons with what contemporary U.S. citizens are struggling with in a society still recovering from the unexpected brutality of 9/11, but that's where anything remotely interesting contained in the film stops.
What you really get with this Bela Lugosi vehicle is a dry, sleep- inducing murder mystery that's almost exclusively set in a large house. The story is as muddled as they come. It centers on people who are found dead with Japanese daggers clutched in one hand, and this (it seems) is the stimulus for some sort of massive Eastern conspiracy centered around mind control.
Or something like that.
It's incredibly difficult to make sense of anything that happens, and this isn't just the product of boring writing. The sound of the film ranges from acceptably clear to indeterminably static-filled. At points it sounds like someone is moon-walking across a twenty yard sheet of cellophane. With a film this old, I wouldn't usually linger on something as expected as lackluster sound, but here it really does detract from the overall understanding/appreciation of what's taking place. And that's a bad thing.
Making it to the end of Black Dragons is akin to struggling through a school-assigned documentary: you're watching it because you don't have a choice. In that regard, the most terrifying thing about the film is how much effort it takes to stay awake for the duration of its 64-minute run-time.
What you really get with this Bela Lugosi vehicle is a dry, sleep- inducing murder mystery that's almost exclusively set in a large house. The story is as muddled as they come. It centers on people who are found dead with Japanese daggers clutched in one hand, and this (it seems) is the stimulus for some sort of massive Eastern conspiracy centered around mind control.
Or something like that.
It's incredibly difficult to make sense of anything that happens, and this isn't just the product of boring writing. The sound of the film ranges from acceptably clear to indeterminably static-filled. At points it sounds like someone is moon-walking across a twenty yard sheet of cellophane. With a film this old, I wouldn't usually linger on something as expected as lackluster sound, but here it really does detract from the overall understanding/appreciation of what's taking place. And that's a bad thing.
Making it to the end of Black Dragons is akin to struggling through a school-assigned documentary: you're watching it because you don't have a choice. In that regard, the most terrifying thing about the film is how much effort it takes to stay awake for the duration of its 64-minute run-time.