31 DAYS OF HORROR 2016-Day 13: THE LAST MAN ON EARTH (1964)

 "Come out, Morgan..."

Three years after a plague has transformed the human race into semi-intelligent pseudo-vampires, Dr. Robert Morgan (Vincent Price) is apparently the last uninfected person on the planet. He spends his days patrolling his city and staking vampires when he finds them, disposing of the bodies by chucking them into a perpetually burning pit of corpses. His nights are marked by waves of the infected showing up at his garlic-festooned home, attempting to break in while eerily trying to entice him to come outside. The bleakness and solitude of his situation is taking its toll but things take a turn when Morgan finds companionship first from a dog and then from a woman (Franca Bettoia) who may be infected...

Disposing of the dead.

This Italian-American co-production is the first adaptation of Richard Matheson's classic novel, I AM LEGEND (1954), and much like later versions it really only takes what it needs from the source novel and lets the chips fall where they may. This version is closest to what Matheson's book was going for but it's still kind of a mediocre effort. The reason I bring it to your attention is for its very obvious stylistic influence upon George A. Romero's NIGHT OF THE LIVNG DEAD (1968). The scenes where the vampires besiege Morgan's residence play like a dry run of Romero's zombies converging on the abandoned house that NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD's ill-fated characters take refuge in. THE LAST MAN ON EARTH is worth a look for completists but it's not essential viewing.

Poster from the original theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2016-Day 12: INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1956)

 Don't go in the greenhouse.

Every kid has that first film that awakens them to the possibility of cinema being something other than merely the territory of saccharine kiddie flicks and Disney confections, and for me that film was the original version of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS.

In the black-and-white post-McCarthyism landscape of the 1950's, the sleepy California town of Santa Mira is slowly, subtly taken over by extraterrestrial seed pods that replace the residents with emotionless doppelgangers. This situation is twigged to by Dr. Miles Bennell (Kevin McCarthy) and a number of his friends, all of whom do their damnedest to put a stop to the silent infiltration before it makes its way out of Santa Mira and wipes out the entirety of humanity.

The dreaded pods.

I first saw the film when I was five years old and still trying to figure out myself and the world around me, so the idea of a bunch of quiet plants possibly replacing the uniqueness of me with an emotionless duplicate scared the living shit out of me and put me into a state of wary shock for about a week. If I were replaced by a pod, I would no longer love my mother, my friends, my toys, or my beloved goofy Collie, Corky, so it would literally be the end of my world. And as I pondered the concept, I soon realized there would be no more music or art or other forms of expression of human feelings, and I wanted no part of it. Such a world would be a terrible place and it made the over-the-top scenarios of city-decimating raygun-wielding aliens that were the contemporaries of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS seem that much less believable.

The incomplete Miles Bennell duplicate gestates.

My mother was the person who steered me to a showing of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS when it ran on the Californian TV iteration of the CREATURE FEATURES sci-fi/horror movie showcase, knowing that I had a budding interest in science-fiction and horror movies, but I don't think she had any clue as to how much INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS would open up my mind and make me consider how things can lurk just below the surface of utter normalcy and be very, very wrong. It also clued me in to the fact that even when dressed in the trappings of science-fiction, complete with aliens and space-travel and whatnot, a narrative's basic roots and point can still be straight-up horror to the core.

The film was remade in 1978 in a version that's almost as good as the original — high praise from me — but the eerie, paranoid flavor of the 1956 version is simply impossible to beat when it comes to sheer shattering subtlety. HIGHEST RECOMMENDATION.

"They're here already! YOU'RE NEXT!!!!"

Poster from the original theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2016-Day 11: WWII, WATERING DOWN, and A PERIOD OF TRANSITION

And then World War II happened.

The chills provided by the Universal monsters swiftly paled in comparison to the all-too-real horrors of devastating international conflict and the shattering, violent loss of life on all sides. Cities bombed into rubble, millions put through unspeakable torture (and worse) in concentration camps, and more defined an era in which man's mettle was tested as never before, so what power did Gothic castles, man-made monsters, and vampires who were clad like they were about to attend a performance of LA BOHEME hold over the collective psyche of the average civilian? A pasty Hungarian showing up in one's bedroom to get a sanguinary taste straight from the tap was simply not going to happen, unlike the very distinct possibility of suddenly finding oneself on a beach in some foreign land and trying to stay alive as bullets and shells rained down upon you while trying not to step in the shattered, disembodied limbs of one's fallen comrades.

Though the Universal horror cycle continued during this period, the entries bore a marked difference to the eerie narratives that had kickstarted the genre. Coupled with the baleful spectre of international warfare, Hollywood's balls had been effectively lopped off by the Hays Code, which hyper-sanitized the movies to a degree where nothing that they presented could have offended even the most uptight of Carmelite nuns. Consequently, horror movies in general, and those released by Universal in particular, became about keeping things family-friendly and upbeat. Musicals, family dramas, lighthearted comedies, and other saccharine fare were the order of the day, and for a good while true cinematic horror mostly lay fallow. What did get released were mostly low-budget potboilers that were consumed and almost immediately forgotten, though a handful of genuine classics did manage to squeak through. That said, the Universal series had devolved into rote and kinda cutesy "monster rallies" that united all of the brand's stable of bogeymen in time-killing matinee fare. HOUSE OF DRACULA, HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLF MAN and so on were fun enough but the real magic was gone. The only interesting thread running through that batch of films was that Larry Talbot, aka the Wolf Man, was now immortal and in search of either a cure for his lycanthropic condition or simply a way to end it all.

Fortunately, the 1950's loomed and with that decade came a shift toward science-fiction and the terrors of the burgeoning "atomic age." Hostile extraterrestrials, giant radioactive bugs, and teenage variants of some of the classical monsters ruled supreme, but it was only a matter of time before the influence of the Hays Code lessened (and more or less vanished altogether) and balls-out horror came back with a vengeance...

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2016-Day 10: THE WOLF MAN (1941)

NOTE: Since the first portion of this year's essays has turned into an overview of the Universal cycle, I would be remiss in leaving out a few films that I have previously covered. This is not meant as a cheat, but rather as a nod toward keeping things complete. This entry is from last year, so forgive me if you've already read it.

"Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and autumn moon is bright." Poor Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.) finds this out in no uncertain terms.

There are very few horror films that could be considered as perfect in every way and 1941's THE WOLF MAN can be counted among them. Though the classic Universal horror entries that preceded it are seminal works that defined the genre for a couple of decades, all of them — with the notable exceptions of BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN and WEREWOLF OF LONDON (both from1935) — bore the earmarks of cinema that was only just finding its way after the advent of sound and the demise of the silent era. They tended to possess the feel of stage plays, often featured exaggerated/over-the-top acting and melodrama common to the era, and also suffered from issues of slow pacing (or at least slow when compared to what we're used to from the 1940's onward). THE WOLF MAN benefits from coming a decade after DRACULA and FRANKENSTEIN in that it's a more modern and sophisticated piece. Though lacking that dark fairytale quality that flavored its antecedents, THE WOLF MAN more than makes up for that with moody atmosphere to spare, a pervasive air of impending dread, and a terrific and grownup script by Curt Siodmak that brings the audience characters whose actions and motivations are quite realistic, especially when seen within a horror movie context. 

I won't go into the full details  but all one needs to know is that THE WOLF MAN tells the story of a hapless innocent, Lawrence "Larry" Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.), who becomes afflicted with the homicidal curse of lycanthropy and how that condition inevitably leads to his tragic destruction. Siodmak's much-imitated script set in stone many of the werewolf tropes that we now consider the very DNA of the sub-genre, elements such as:

• A protagonist that we cannot help but like and genuinely care about
• Ye olde superstitions and pagan magic colliding head-on with disbelief wrought by modern science and psychology
• Doomed romance
• The involvement of wise/creepy gypsies (Yeah, I know that "gypsy" is now considered an ethnic slur, but I use it here rather than "Romani" because most folks who know the stock type in stories of this nature may be unfamiliar with the accurate ethnic/cultural designation)
• Charms to ward off the curse that serve little or no purpose
• Ill omens that all point to werewolf-related awfulness
• Silver being the surefire way to kill a werewolf
• All of the "modern" characters firmly believing that the afflicted's claims of being cursed with werwolfism are indicators of grievous mental illness
• The protagonist's tragedy being compounded by his death inevitably being facilitated by a loved one

Larry stalks the moors.

THE WOLF MAN is arguably the most influential werewolf film ever made and its impact continues to reverberate some seventy-four years after its debut. Though Jack Pierce's pioneering makeup effects have long since been eclipsed by superior techniques in prosthetic effects, animatronics, and digital wizardry, it says a lot that THE WOLF MAN would still be an effective film if the wolfed-out version of Larry had been achieved with naught but some glued-on barbershop floor sweepings and creative lighting. The film's true strength lies in its script and soul, so if you have not yet experienced this Rosetta Stone of lycanthropic pop cultural lore, I strongly urge you to see it for yourself as soon as possible. In its sequels, Larry proved to be immortal and THE WOLF MAN itself also endures.

Poster from the original theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2016-Day 9: SON OF FRANKENSTEIN (1939)

The family business marches on.

Henry Frankenstein is dead and now his son (Basil Rathbone) moves into the ancestral home. The locals are none-too-pleased about the son of the infamous monster-maker taking up residence, and they are absolutely convinced that he will immediately set about cobbling together murderous horrors from grave-robbed spare human parts. Those fears, however, are unfounded...until the grotesque and creepy hunchback Igor (Bela Lugosi) enters the picture with the Monster (Boris Karloff) in tow, and in no time that family business of unholy experimentation is up and running again. While Frankenstein's intentions are as good (and as misguided) as his father's, he more or less turns a blind eye to the utter wrongness of what he's doing, and how does all of this figure into the agenda of the baleful Igor?

SON OF FRANKENSTEIN is a good movie, don't get me wrong, but it is by far the weakest of the Universal Frankenstein trilogy, likely due to it coming in the wake of the ruinous Hays Code, which was put in place to sanitize what was perceived as Hollywood's increasingly salacious and offensive output. The film feels considerably lighter in tone and content than its two classic predecessors and exudes a flavor that would seem more in pace with major studio films of the looming 1940's. It has that signature artificial slickness that never lets us forget that we are watching a movie, whereas its predecessors served as the darkest of fairytales committed to celluloid. But that's neither here nor there. SON OF FRANKENSTEIN is definitely worth your time for the sake of completism but also so that a good number of the gags in Mel Brooks' loving spoof of the genre, YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974), make sense.

Poster from the original theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2016-Day 8: DRACULA'S DAUGHTER (1936)

The desperate Countess Zaleska (Gloria Holden).

Following the death of Count Dracula at the end of his 1931 film, his daughter, Countess Marya Zaleska (Gloria Holden), steals and burns his corpse in hope that its destruction will free her from his influence and the curse of vampirism. No such luck, unfortunately, so she resorts to modern psycho therapy for a cure. Falling for her therapist (Otto Kruger), who is himself attempting to clear Professor Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) of supposedly murdering Dracula — one cannot "murder" the undead, but try convincing the authorities of that when they are confronted with a fresh corpse with a stake driven through its heart — the Countess resigns herself to her fate and kidnaps her therapist's quasi-girlfriend (Marguerite Churchill) in order to convince him to trade his own life so he'll become the Countess's undead consort.

A lesser effort in the Universal horror cycle, DRACULA'S DAUGHTER is often ignored because it's really a character study of a reluctant monster and her genuinely sad and lonely existence. I didn't dig it when I saw it as a kid because I was too young to relate to the Countess' plight, but once I was older I got what it was going for and now embrace it as a quiet, melancholy look at an outsider's attempt at fixing her inexorable fate and trying to make a futile connection. There's even a lesbian subtext that totally went over my head when I was a child, and though predatory, the Countess' lesbian moves are marked with a desperation born out of her crushing loneliness. 

Not for all tastes, DRACULA'S DAUGHTER offers little by way of shocks but its personal story is a feast of characterization. Give it a shot.

Poster from the original theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2016-Day 7: WEREWOLF OF LONDON (1935)

NOTE: Since the first portion of this year's essays has turned into an overview of the Universal cycle, I would be remiss in leaving out a few films that I have previously covered. This is not meant as a cheat, but rather as a nod toward keeping things complete. This entry is from last year, so forgive me if you've already read it.

 

When lycanthropy strikes the upper class.

Wealthy and world-renowned botanist Dr. Wilfred Glendon (Henry Hull) heads to Tibet in search of the rare Marifasa Lupina Lumina, an ultra-rare flower than only blooms by moonlight, and ends up on the wrong end of an attack by a werewolf. Surviving the mauling and returning to London, Glendon attempts to cultivate specimens of the plant and in the process neglects his wife, Lisa (Valerie Hobson), who has recently been reunited with a close male childhood friend (Lester Matthews) who clearly still loves her. But things take a turn for the weirder when another famed botanist, Dr. Yogami (Warner Oland), arrives and shows an odd interest in the Marifasa. Dropping mysterious hints at having met Glendon before, "in Tibet...in the dark," it soon becomes apparent that Yogami is the werewolf that attacked Glendon and that he was in Tibet in search of the flower, which happens to be the only known cure for the curse of lycanthropy. As the marital tension escalates and Yogami's lust for the flower intensifies, the full moon arrives and the unbelieving Glendon transforms into a slavering (though well-dressed) monster. Murders ensue, Glendon and Yogami have a final encounter, and it all culminates in the sort of tragedy one expects in a werewolf tale.

An often forgotten entry in the Universal monster cycle, THE WEREWOLF OF LONDON was the first major studio film about a werewolf and differs quite a bit from the lycanthropic tropes that would be codified six years later in THE WOLF MAN. For one thing, the werewolf appears to be able to think rationally, though admittedly with an accent of animalistic savagery, and he even takes the time to dress himself with an overcoat, scarf, and hat before embarking on his lethal nocturnal excursions. The film's London setting also distances it from the more "old country" feel of most werewolf yarns, and that populating of the story with characters seemingly lifted from the broad British comedies of the era creates a jarring tonal dissonance in relation to what's ostensibly a horror narrative. Upper crust stereotypes collide with Una O'Connor-style over-the-top lower-class biddies, and both archetypes feel like they'd be more at home in a musical hall comedy sketch.

But the aspect that most separates THE WEREWOLF OF LONDON from other lycanthropy stories and especially from films of its era is its in-your-face homosexual subtext. Written by gay playwright and screenwriter John Colton, the script uses the lycanthropy angle as an expressive metaphor for then-forbidden homosexuality within stereotypically stuffy British society. Glendon and Yogami are bonded by their shared "affliction" and they share many exchanges that resemble secrets being shared between lovers who must stay out of the societal spotlight. Glendon's disintegrating marriage also serves to represent the misery of a gay man stuck in an "acceptable" but visibly-uncomfortable relationship, while his wife seeks happiness with a man with whom she has a concrete and fulfilling emotional (and therefore sexual) bond.

Yogami meets his well-deserved fate.

Reportedly a box office flop when it came out, possibly due to its marked similarities to DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE (1931), THE WEREWOLF OF LONDON is worth a look for its historical significance and its position as a homosexual allegory. It's not as great or as seminal as most of the other films in the classic Universal horror cycle and it lacks the dark fairy tale atmosphere of its brethren, but it works well enough as a simple and entertaining monster story. That said, the werewolf genre would have to wait until THE WOLF MAN for its defining myth, but we'll get to that soon enough...

Poster for the original theatrical release.