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?

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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.")

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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!

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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.

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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.")