When the syringe is falling down, you make the best of what's still around

Since we've already posted four reviews this week, assiduous readers have probably guessed that we're playing catch-up at the moment. And rightly so: the two films in this entry were watched ("mistakes were made") back in March, and all told we've got about nine movies in our backlog. (We're a little more than halfway through the equivalent of the Horror Classics boxset, for those keeping score at home.)

However! Just as a good telemarketer answers your call in the order it was received, so too do Umbrellaheads review movies in the order we watch them (with rare exceptions). It keeps things simple, and honest too. We have to be truthful to our journey, man.

So the coincidence that marks today's entry is no contrivance. These two movies were watched one after the other, and in both of them, a key scene involves a syringe falling off of a laboratory table. With the exception of Behind the Music marathons, how often does that happen?

---

The Ape (1940)

Grade: D

In this corner, we have Dr. Bernard Adrian (Boris Karloff), an outcast scientist struggling to find a treatment for paralysis so a young woman (Maris Wrixon) might walk again. If only he could find a source for the serum he needs...


("I had a yen to see you get on a leg. Or two. You dig?")

And in this corner we have a crazed ape, caged and tormented by the visiting circus, that escapes and wreaks havoc on the local yokels:


(The bad men put him in a box and now he is a mad ape. Oh, woe.)

Who wins? Well, not the viewer who has to endure the ghastly print used by Mill Creek. It looks good in still shots, but skips so much that the movie loses 3-4 minutes from its original running time. Dialogue gets hacked to bits, major plot points become hard to follow, and we start cracking up. (If you want a DVD with no skips, there's apparently a Karloff double feature that pairs The Ape with the spy movie British Intelligence.)

Who loses? To our surprise, not this guy:


("I did not wed you, so I want to do you. I am SO bad! So, are we on?")

Not only is he a shady businessman, but he carries on a blatant affair (with the woman in the picture above). When his wife gently asks him to stop, he basically tells her to go kill herself. And what happens to him? Nothing! He goes 100% unpunished! It's an interesting twist, though sometimes realism is less satisfying than the tidier option.

Anyway, the movie is watchable despite the scrambled print, but little more than that. The plot teeters between the predictable and the implausible, and a few memorable scenes and images don't really make up the difference. But if you like jerks, this one's for you!



("But you wed me, not her! Do not go yet...can we not eat in our hut, we two? You and me?"
"No way. As far as I see it, you can go eat poo and die."
"But why? Why?"
"Hey, I'm a bad man. It's who I am.")

---

Maniac (1934)

Objective Grade: D
Gleam-Powered Bonus: A


("When you wish upon a syringe / Soon you'll crave a murder binge...")

Like the Ed Wood films, enough has been written about this movie that we don't need to repeat it here. Plus we don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it -- and if you haven't seen it, put it on your very, very short list.


("If you're troubled by the gleam / No behavior's too extreme...")

It's not the simpleton's fault

When they were kids, they probably rode the shortbus. Now they're adults, and getting blamed for mayhem. It's not their fault, but they pay the ultimate price -- poor simpletons!

---

The Mad Monster (1942)

Grade: D

We'd like to reimagine this tired werewolf movie as a screwball comedy, maybe in a Marx Brothers vein. Take, for example, the simple-minded gardener (played by Glenn Strange) who lies in restraints, placid as can be, while the mad doctor (George Zucco) injects him first with a sedative, then with werewolf serum.

Instead of murmuring compliant chestnuts, what if he launched into a series of clever wisecracks?


("Gee, I'd love to help you, Doc, but I'm kinda tied up right now." It's a laff riot!)

Or think what we could do with Johnny Downs's character, Tom Gregory -- that rarest of birds, a spunky male reporter. Why not make him the kind of absent-minded goofball who brings guffaws to even the lowliest of flicks?


("Now where did I put my hat?" It's COMEDY GOLD! With a parrot!)

And that slightly disturbing scene in which the beast enters through a window, killing a little girl while her family jaws about the wolfy rumors? Why not completely re-edit that one, and indulge in a little May-December humor...with a discomfiting dash of January?


("Hmmm, a tempting possibility, but let's look in the front room first...")


("Whoa, Nellie! She's pipin' hot! I wonder if she speaks Dutch?"

And now the reaction shot:)


(That's right. It's Tex Avery time.)

But instead, mysterious murders mad scientist revenge peripeteia blah blah blah. Oh, and that one Talking Heads song, too.

---

The Vampire Bat (1933)

Grade: D+

Feast your eyes, friends, on the greatest non-Mazovia-related screenshot ever to grace the Umbrellahead Review:


(So good it doesn't need a caption...oops.)

Apparently Dr. von Niemann (Lionel Atwill) keeps around a bottle of fake sleeping tablets, just in case he needs to poison a nosy guest. I suppose it makes a kind of sense if you don't assume that the bottle is intended to deceive anyone, but simply an extra label for his own reference. Otherwise, it's like a cartoon dog who cuts a small hole in a wall, paints "KATS SHUD GO IN HERE" over it, and waits on the other side with his mouth open.

Anyway, there weren't quite enough other moments of comparably glorious absurdity to sustain our interest over the course of The Vampire Bat's not-quite-an-hour. The simpleton here is Herman, played by the inimitable Dwight Frye, who bears a vague resemblance to intellectually-challenged-Leonardo-DiCaprio in What's Eating Gilbert Grape?


(Yeah, I remember when I saw my first Atari too.)

And again, do you really need us to walk you through what happens next? You won't be surprised by much, though there are some interesting und character-acting faces on display if you like that sort of thing. Oh, and it's got Fay Wray, so if that gives you a 28th President, go for it.


("Funny, I was thinking of the 29th, but eh, same difference.")

However, the film deserves credit for spawning a brave, bold new dance move, one that's sure to take the country by storm any day now. Of course, it's called the "Vampire Bat" -- how could it be anything else? -- and it's far simpler than the Wagon-Na-Gal.

All you need to know is how to wiggle to and fro, and you're doin' the Vampire Bat. Observe:


(Doin' the Vampire Bat.)

Like a fine wine, it's best paired with middle-period Kraftwerk, early Sugar Hill, or just set your Roland TR-808 to 100bpm. Und so weiter, but I expect to see you at the next discotheque party, ja?


(The likely reaction if you start "doin' the vampire bat" in public...at least for now.)

If loving you is Wong, I don't wanna be white

The Fatal Hour (1940)

Grade: C

It's 1940 in San Francisco, and the titular fatal hour has already claimed its first body. Don't worry, Secret Asian Man is on the job!



("There's something Wong here . . . very Wong . . .")

Yes, here we have Frankenstein's monster starring as a Chinese detective, and not just in this one, but in four of the remaining five Mr. Wong films. (The sixth installment of the short-lived series starred -- amazingly, given the era -- an actual Chinese actor. Imagine!)  To the movie's credit, though, there's a refreshing lack of racism (again, a nice surprise for that day and age). Karloff dons a western suit and spectacles, rather than a changshan and funny hat; speaks with no accent; and wears a Clark Gable mustache, rather than a full-on Fu Manchu (as he did when playing the actual Fu Manchu in 1932).
 



("What, did I say something Wong?")

What we lack in racism is more than made up for in female reporter spunkitude, as Bobbie Logan sticks her intrepid little nose wherever the shout-em-down, is-he-or-isn't-he-her-boyfriend head cop tells her she shouldn't. Nothing new here as far as the hot scoop trope is concerned, though because the film is one in a series we missed out on the usual offer of marriage that swoops in just before the ending title card (though Bobbie did manage to put in a good swoon, just to make up for it).



(Wong place, Wong time)

So far, nothing too memorable, right? Well, there's nothing really wong with this film -- excepting, of course, the strange effect it has on our desire to make increasingly hackneyed rhotacistic puns. The acting is fine, the plot is believable, and there are enough red herrings so that things aren't too predictable. It's short, too, which is always a plus. That's really about all, though -- nothing so bad or so good that it can be singled out for recommendation. It's fine as a break from marauding apes and freaky vampires, but given the option we wouldn't miss Wheel of Fortune for it.



("Yolanda? You must have the Wong numbah.")

A question which Mr. D'Arcy only can answer

With enormous difficulty (well, not really) but with great joy we bring you:

Revolt of the Zombies (1936)

Objective Grade: D-
Gay Blade Bonus Points: C+

Sometimes the Internet has already said pretty much everything we want to say about a movie. Do we really need to repeat how, though Revolt of the Zombies claims to be a sequel to White Zombie, it's really just a straight-up ripoff of the older, better film?



("Say it ain't so, fellas! Say it ain't so!")

Or should we talk about the absurdities of the plot and dialogue? Or how, as this review points out, the only real zombies in this movie appear briefly at the beginning?



("How interesting. Tell me more.")

The world doesn't need these things from us. Instead, we can focus on smaller matters upon which the Internet has yet to hold forth, like the slight resemblance between power-hungry protagonist Armand Louque (Dean Jagger) and infamous TV chef Bobby "Fuckin'" Flay...



("Stephanie, get your garters out, it's chipotle time!")

...and the mesmerizing presence of one of the most singularly (ahem) festive villains we've ever had the pleasure of seeing on the silver screen:



(There was a little toolshed where he made us suffer.)

Yes, friends, that's Roy D'Arcy as Colonel Mazovia. The epitome of evil and a murderer to boot, this smooth operator is also the feyest, Oyster Bay-est, all-live-together-on-Avenue-A-est fellow you'll ever meet. He's one part Ming the Merciless, one part Beelzebub, and one part Randy Constan.

We first meet Mazovia as he lurks around the edges of a conference of military men who are trying to decide what to do about the "zombie issue". Among this straight-backed, brass-buttoned crowd, his flamboyant attire and simpering mannerisms stick out like a sore thumb, with hilarious results.

Oh yeah, and there's also his overwhelming aura of pure malevolence. You might think they'd notice that, too.



("I find that funny hats always put me in a stabbing mood, don't you? No?")

But no one does, and so he pursues his diabolical ends until...well, let's just say that we end up seeing less of him than we might have expected, and evil counters evil. I guess sometimes two wrongs do make a right.

Strangely, the Internet seems silent (more or less) on the topic of Mazovia's magnificent mannerisms. You'd think that such a distinctive screen presence would have earned at least a few fans by now.



("Wait a minute, you're saying this was all a set-up for a bad pun? The props and everything? You son of a bitch, I deserve better than this. I'm gonna step all on your cutting boards.")

So should you find yourself watching Revolt of the Zombies someday, we suggest that you set aside any hopes for a coherent plot or convincing dialogue, and instead focus on this compelling presence, this singular individual, this...Mazovia.



("That's right -- I'm your Internet date!")



("Ach nein! Es kann nicht sein! Mein Match.com ist verflucht!")

Has the moon lost its appeal?

Expecting a werewolf movie? Think again:

Dead Men Walk (1943)

Grade: C+

Moody vampire flick stars George Zucco as twin brothers, Drs. Lloyd and Elwyn Clayton. Naturally, there's one good one and one bad one, but Zucco makes it easy to tell which is which: Lloyd wears glasses, and is right as rain; Elwyn goes without, and is evil as eggs. You know how these things go.

After a brief opening narration (with the requisite heavy-handed references to vampirism), the movie begins with Elwyn's funeral, where we soon learn that he dabbled heavily in the occult...and that Lloyd was responsible for his death. Hmmm.

Meanwhile, we're also introduced to Lloyd's niece, Gayle, and her fiance, Dr. David Bently. If you like doctors, this is the movie for you!


(From the neck down, she's nothin' but Tribbles. Enjoy yr honeymoon.)

It's no spoiler to reveal that Elwyn has, in fact, done what Peter Loew could only dream of doing (dude!), and is taking nibbles out of local yokels. Revenge is on Elwyn's mind, and soon he turns his attention to Gayle...though for once, we have protagonists who (once prompted) take intelligent countermeasures.


(No dinner for you, sir -- Jesus has dibs on this one.)

From here the plot is more or less by-the-numbers, and so nothing in Dead Men Walk will surprise anyone who's seen their share of evil-twin movies (let alone vampire movies). It's even got a hunchback assistant and everything! The ending is easy to predict, but disappointingly pat when it arrives.

Still, we admired the film's restraint, atmosphere, and willingness to take its time. Dead Men Walk is a refreshingly competent movie, too, with solid performances throughout, cinematography that's easy to watch, and a score that doesn't offend the ears.

It also doesn't hurt that it's short.


("So...is everyone in this town a character actor?")

The open question: how much credit does a movie deserve for, well, not failing? Have we watched so many B-pictures that we're bedazzled by the basics, and marvel at mediocrity? Does the absence of glaring flaws in Dead Men Walk denote the presence of something admirable?

Well, not as such. But once the fundamentals are in place, brevity and atmosphere go a long way in our book. And isn't it nice to look at pretty things, anyway?


("Look at me, friends, look at me! Aren't I pretty? Don't I have a pretty smile?")

Drop in...I'll flatten you.

The Giant Gila Monster (1959)

Grade: C/C-

Despite the rickety start, this engaging little romp is almost impossible to dislike. Of course the premise is threadbare, the acting often terrible, and the eponymous monster is unmistakably a regular ol' gila monster shot in close-up.


(This little fella looks sorta like one of P.'s distant relatives.)

But the movie is just so relentlessly good-natured and pleasant, we couldn't help but be won over. Everybody's nice to each other (with one notable exception) and there's hardly a bad apple in sight. Heck, the town sheriff even gets along with the local kids, and makes an effort not to ruin their fun!


(The two male leads share a tender moment.)

Our main protagonist is one of those kids, and quite a busy fellow he is! A mechanic by day and engineering student by night, he also finds spare time to help the sheriff, woo his French girlfriend, care for his polio-stricken little sister, and build the perfect hot-rod.

Oh, and he likes to sing, too. That's his true passion.


(Our hero singing "The Mushroom Song". Is it a banjo? Is it a ukulele?)

In fact, The Giant Gila Monster is very nearly a movie about music. One of the secondary characters is a famous DJ, several key scenes involve music in some way, and the score -- which alternates between theremin schlock and "Yakety Sax" -- is prominent throughout. Plus half the cast seems ready to burst into song at a moment's notice.


(The town drunk reaches for a high note to match his high BAC.)

Don Sullivan is an engaging presence onscreen, with an easy, unselfconscious charisma that made us surprised to learn that he never really had much of a career. Too bad.

Perhaps the most telling sign of The Giant Gila Monster's charm is that, unlike so many other movies of its kind, we were actually rooting for the hero to make everything come out OK.

Of course, that was never really in doubt, since about five minutes in, we're dropped a pretty obvious hint about how things will end...


("Hello? Is this 1-800-NITRO-4-U?")

So gather round, steamboats and dreamboats, and give 74 minutes of your time to The Giant Gila Monster. It won't thrill you, and it certainly won't chill you, but it's got a pleasant spirit and decent miniature work. Heck, it may make you hearken back to a simpler time when people cared about each other, grown men could sing to little girls without creeping everybody out, and your local mechanic might well be the next big pop star.


("And then I said to that Kraut, no, you Heil Hitler!")

Worth a thousand birds

Thought we'd try something new here at the UR: pictures!

The Terror (1963)

Grade: D

Despite its star-studded cast and decent sense of atmosphere, this Roger Corman cheapie is turgid and uninvolving. Actually, the stars don't really help, since Jack Nicholson's performance as a wayward French soldier is easily the worst in the movie. Sleepwalking through the part with little sign of interest or spark, his line readings evoke a distracted guidance counselor, too busy thinking about his divorce to really pay attention to the student in front of him.

But hey, at least he gets to play fancy dress-up.


(One of Jack Nicholson's rare moments of facial expression in the movie. The print quality is sometimes pretty good...)


(...and sometimes pretty dire.)

The other actors, including Boris Karloff, deliver undistinguished but inoffensive performances. Technically speaking, the film is generally acceptable; the sets and props are good enough, the music wasn't quite as overbearing as the opening scenes made us fear, and most scenes are visually well-composed. Among The Terror's multiple directors was Francis Ford Coppola (sans his middle name), so perhaps he gets some of the credit for that.


(That's a big rug! What would that thing go for nowadays, fifty grand?)

But the plot! The plot! Ach unser Gott, the plot! Seldom has a movie managed to be both so obvious and so confusing. Initially we seemed on course for a cross between Ladyhawke and The Invisible Ghost, but matters gradually degenerated into a slurry of red herrings and murky motivations.


(A typical viewer's reaction when trying to make sense of the plot of The Terror.)

We don't mind a certain amount of ambiguity and unresolved threads in our movies, but The Terror is just a complete mess. For instance (without giving away too many spoilers), what on earth was the point of the cradle? Why introduce a plotline like that, only to drop it without subsequent references? We assume it was meant to throw the viewer off the scent, but the movie's "real" ending is hardly satisfying enough to justify such a tactic.

Or maybe they were just making it up as they went along.


(To quote Ice-T: "My eye! Bitch!" Still, an appealing alternative to watching The Terror again.)

New Year's resolution: the quick 'n' dirty solution

Short reviews offered up by inveterate procrastinators.

The Cold Room (1984)

Grade: C/C+

The Petulant Teenager's guide to surviving 1980s East Berlin: smoken der weed, getten der German-chick haircut, and treaten der Dad's girlfriend with open contempt. If you're thinking "Wait, that should be in the accusative case!", she does that too, mindmelding with her 1940s counterpart to reveal a hidden Nazi narrative in the eponymous chilly chamber. Unfortunately, Nancy Drew blood, but everyone who matters lives, except Yehudi and the Blowfish. Nice premise, mediocre protagonist.

Robot Monster (1953)

Objective Grade: F
Bubbly Grade: A

Awww, just go read this guy's review. Especially the part about how it's "easily the most relentlessly bleak and hopeless sci-fi movie of the 1950’s." Heck, they even kill off the kiddies!

Creature from the Haunted Sea (1961)

Grade: B

We were blindsided by this off-the-wall Roger Corman spoof, in which Cubans, mobsters, and monsters collide with comic effect. It even has its very own song. LOL? IDK, but we enjoyed it.

Nightmare Castle (1965)

Grade: D-

Since we don't want to have sex with Barbara Steele, we were unmoved by this dull, predictable take on Gaslight.

The Screaming Skull (1958)

Grade: D-

Since we don't want to have sex with a screaming skull, we were unmoved by this dull, predictable take on Gaslight.


Mesa of Lost Women (1953)

Objective Grade: F
Adam's Apple Bonus Grade: C

In our attempts to write about this movie (which boasts an impressive roster of B-players, and a score that Ed Wood famously reused), we keep coming back to the...handsome...image of Tandra Quinn as Tarantella. The world is full of strange, strange things.

Carnival of Souls (1962)

Grade: B+

"I was astonished to see her in Utah, for I had an appointment with her tonight in Kansas." Or vice versa.

Atom Age Vampire (1960)

Grade: F

"I don't wanna live no more! I gotta boot-fa-chay!"
"Hey, boot-fa-chay! You wanna come to my house, we give-a you nice fa-chay?"
"OK, we do-a dis."

(later)

"Hey, I wanna my sweet little boot-fa-chay!"
"You canna have her."
"But I gotta!"
"OK. Me anna this udda lady, we die now. Also, Hiroshima."
"Is OK."