Those dogs? Still dead now.

And so are the "exotic" brunettes with arched eyebrows -- no dogs, they -- who constitute the other common thread in this pair of movies.

---

The Rogues' Tavern (1936)

Grade: C-

With apologies to Lemmy.

So, a detective (Wallace Ford) and his also-a-detective fiancée (Barbara Pepper) decide to get hitched one dark and stormy night --

"Suddenly I'm feeling lactose-intolerant."

-- but end up stranded at a foreboding inn, to which a cast of sketchy characters have all been summoned for purposes unknown even to them.

Most of these folks are utterly indistinguishable, with the exception of haunted fortuneteller Gloria Robloff -- portrayed by perennially panicky (and perfectly plucked) Joan Woodbury, who overplays her cards in more ways than one, but sure gets a lot of attention from the camera.

I'm "Mexican".

But before our protagonists even get a chance to settle in to their (grudgingly provided) rooms, the body count begins to pile up, and at first the culprit appears to be -- horror! -- a Very Bad Dog.

Why they say "Good boy!" when I act like bad boy?

They capture him soon enough, and things look grim for Fido, but canicide is not on the menu at The Rogues' Tavern. Pity, since that would have been a novel (if unsettling) twist.

"Now where's my Spicy Bold?"

Instead, we soon start seeing the kind of tactics you always get in these "I've gathered you all here because..." films: sudden power outages, scream queens, and murderous props that creepily approach, Dr. Tran-like, from the side of the frame.

This cheese is burning me too.

We'd like to say The Rogues' Tavern is a fun romp (heck, Shadows_Girl does exactly that), but it's too dull and muddled to qualify. With neither a coherent plot nor crisp dialogue, the film has little to offer beyond a short and painless experience, plus a couple of campy death scenes.

"Shmeh."

In fact the most intriguing thing about The Rogues' Tavern is an audio dropout about 23 minutes into the film, just as Barbara Pepper starts talking about "practicing [to be] the dutiful wife". During those twelve seconds, while the cast make horrified faces at the camera for some unknown reason, a fragment of conversation -- clearly unrelated to the film -- can just barely be heard in the background:

"I won't be going long enough...there or not...I'm gonna...by tomorrow morning..."

"All right!"

What fragment of human experience was accidentally preserved, and when? Who knows!

"Shmeh?"

But a few memorable shots aside, The Rogues' Tavern is nothing more or less than a half-assed effort designed to fill up sixty-odd minutes of your time. When we finally learn the villain's identity (which comes with a generous helping of maniacal laughter), it's hard to muster up more than a shrug of "Sure, whatever", with barely enough time to lower our shoulders before the predictable denouement.

And unless you have a thing for smoldering Woodbury, you'll probably do much the same.

"Shmeh!"

---

The Island Monster (1954)

Grade: D-

...but not his voice.

Italian policeman (Renato Vicario) travels to island to bust drug-smuggling ring. Upon arrival, who does he meet at the local bar but noted philanthropist Don Gaetano (Boris Karloff), who's all smiles and welcome.

Hail fellow, well met.

But is there a dark side to this friendly old gentleman?

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.

Soon enough our intrepid policeman attracts the attention of the local vamp (Franca Marzi), with whom he shares oceanside chats whilst they dine on the "fruits of the sea".

"She called me gallant!"

Meanwhile his wife and daughter, whom he left behind on the mainland, brilliantly decide to come visit -- because there's nothing a policeman working undercover needs more than a surprise visit from his family. His meddling, cockblocking, less-attractive-than-what-he's-already-got-going-so-why-couldn't-you-just-stay-home-and-let-me-have-some-fun family.

But at least they brought the dog.

"The soft parade / Has now begun..."

Sure enough, his cover is soon blown, and with the help of a not-so-clever ruse that fools his not-so-clever wife, the criminals take his daughter hostage.

Suffering from APOS (Acute Post Oom Syndrome).

What to do? Why, it's Wonder Dog to the rescue! He bravely swims:

Banzai!

He craftily stows away on boats:

Not a bathtub, but it'll do.

He carefully spies from rocky promontories:

"Ras I rotched..."

Our canine friend, who doesn't even get a credit, is probably the only real redeeming feature of The Island Monster -- which, under normal circumstances, would merely be a tedious, turgid movie whose decent nautical cinematography can't compensate for its plodding plot.

"Do you own another game system, besides your Sega Dreamcast?"

But the nail in the film's coffin is the English dubbing. First off, the policeman's daughter is voiced by the single most irritating "adult woman trying to be a little girl" voice actress you'll ever hear. It's a bit reminiscent of June Foray's work in "The Bewitchin' Pool", aka the last episode of The Twilight Zone, but ten thousand times worse.

The only time she's onscreen and not actively annoying us.

This turns The Island Monster from an unremarkable experience to an intermittently unpleasant one. But to top it all off, the film doesn't use Boris Karloff's real voice, but instead -- no joke -- overdubs him with a Karloff impersonator.

SRSLY?

In fairness it appears the English dub may have been done after Karloff died, so if the original sound elements weren't available (or didn't have a clean capture of Karloff's English-language dialogue), it's possible there was no alternative. But still.

He seems unaware that Ms. Marzi is totally over it.

It's not like The Island Monster is totally worthless, nor is it remotely close to being the worst movie we've ever seen. But all in all, it's easy to believe that Boris had the exact same thought while making this film as we did while watching it:

"I'm getting too old for this shit."