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.)
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