(Including this entry, which was written in October but is only making its way to you now...waiting this whole time in our draft box, out of sight.)
The Phantom of Soho (1964)
Grade: C
Seamy and stabby, this Teutonic tale of maritime mayhem and razor-edged revenge is really more of a police procedural than a horror movie. And there's a dash of FPS in there, too.
A string of murders in Soho, or the mit Sauerkraut version thereof, attracts the attention of Scotland Yard's finest. It would seem in everyone's best interest to crack the case, and the local underworld certainly doesn't welcome the police attention...
...but no one's eager to talk.
The elusive perpetrator -- from whom the film takes its title -- is a cipher to all but a few, who begin to suspect that a crime they committed long ago has come back to haunt them.
The case also piques the curiosity of Clarinda Smith (Barbara Rütting), an author who specializes in lurid crime novels. The spunky Ms. Smith soon takes a personal interest in the proceedings, aiming to penetrate to the heart of these foul deeds -- as fodder for her next book, naturally.
It doesn't hurt that she's a very close friend of the head of Scotland Yard (Hans Söhnker), though neither he nor his appointed investigator, Chief Inspector Hugh Patton (Dieter Borsche), are too happy about her preternatural ability to keep one step ahead of them -- and everyone else.
Whoever put together the English-language script had some fun with it, as the dialogue is uncommonly tight for a dubbed film; no doubt it helped that The Phantom of Soho is based on a book.
And if you like to see older gentlemen hit on attractive, half-naked 1960s chicks? Well, it's got that too, though their wares will only occupy about half of your screen thanks to Mill Creek's bizarro pseudo-letterboxing.
But ultimately this Crimi is little more than a glorified Agatha Christie story. There's little to complain about, but little that sticks in the mind afterward. And unlike Christie, here the plot isn't convincing enough to pull off that pleasant suspension of belief that makes a good mystery.
So instead, it's mainly a matter of pointy things. And also knives.
The Sound of Horror (1966)
Grade: D+
We'd say "A group of treasure hunters gets more than they bargained for", but treasure hunters don't really bargain, do they? I mean, the idea is to find treasure, not to somehow transact for it. You don't make a proposition to the chest, unless you're P.'s high school social studies teacher (who made many such propositions, silently at least).
Anyway, we're in "Greece", there's a bit of pick-axing and dynamiting, and before you know it our merry band of bargain-hunters is under siege from an invisible foe. If this makes it sound a bit like Predator, well, kind of -- but with less Arnold and more dance scenes.
A bit of judicious editing would've done The Sound of Horror a world of good, if by "world" one means "significant, but insufficient for salvation". The cast is OK, the concept reasonable, but the movie has an almost suicidal compulsion to bring itself to a screeching halt every 10 minutes or so, with long scenes and extended shots that do nothing to advance the narrative. Examples include:
- a lengthy, static shot of an empty cavern, during which absolutely nothing happens as far as we could tell (unless something got lost in the crop from widescreen);
- an extended soliloquy on one character's affection for his car;
- the aforementioned dance scenes, which at least have a bit of eye candy going on if you're into that sort of thing (we're meh about it);
- and a lovely sequence, set in the kitchen, wherein the gang's superstitious maidservant fetches water and makes coffee.
When the movie permits itself to (ahem) move, it occasionally rises to the level of "mildly engaging schlock", but it's a little too dumb and muddled to really come off, and drops promising plot threads with little fanfare: we were expecting a Monster from a Prehistoric Planet angle, or maybe a Night of the Living Dead standoff, but instead we get a nonsensical mix of hunkerin' down and foolin' around.
Plus the characters are interchangeable, the score is sub-Bartókian rambling that frequently crosses the line from homage to plagiarism, and the special effects...aren't.
But of course, that can be part of the charm: "NO EAT I", sayeth the (mildly damaged) Pumpernickel Loaf of Doom. Alas, you can't mindmeld through a fireplace poker, and besides, isn't it time to go gluten-free? Everyone's throwing out their white flour lately.
Speaking of bodies completely drained of blood, we also caught a couple of Tod Browning flicks on TCM, namely: The Mark of the Vampire, a Dracula clone with Béla Lugosi, clever special effects, and a surprise twist that essentially ruins the movie; and The Devil-Doll, a silly tale of pseudoscience and revenge in France, with Lionel Barrymore as Mrs. Doubtfire.
No DVR = no screenshots, but we'd give 'em both a shiny D+, given the modest entertainment -- and copious opportunities for weary groaning -- they provided.
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