The Raven

By Doug Gibson

Simply put, "The Raven" (1935) is a masterpiece. And credit for its perfection belongs to star Bela Lugosi, who is magnificent as the brilliant, deranged, courtly and insane Dr. Richard Vollin, who is so obsessed with Edgar Allan Poe that he has built real Poe-inspired torture devices in his dungeon.

Lugosi's Vollin is implored upon to save the life of a beautiful dancer, Jean Thatcher. Once he restores her to health, he fall in lust with her and wants her for himself. Rebuffed by Thatcher's father, he hatches a plan to invite the dancer, her father, her fiance, and others to be tortured and murdered. In his feverish mind, Vollin believes that by killing, he can be released from his Poe obsessions.

Vollin's unwilling helper is Edmond Bateman, a murderer on the lam who bewails his ugly face. He begs Vollin to bring beauty to his countenance. Instead, Vollin makes him uglier and then promises to fix his ugliness after he kills his guests.

Lugosi is juat brilliant. He's gentlemanly and manic, polite and cruel, courteous and a raving lunatic. The short, 61-minute film is tightly directed by Lew Landers. It is an example of Universal's cruelty to Lugosi that he received only half as much as Karloff earned, although Lugosi's Vollin is the real star, the real villain.

This is a film that should not be missed by any horror film fan.

Review: The Black Cat

By Doug Gibson

The 1934 Universal Studios' The Black Cat is a magnificent film, the best pairing of stars Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff. It is masterfully understated, both rivals mad but possessed of grace, dignity and impeccable manners. Lugosi is the good guy, but he's also crazy enough to skin the bad guy (Karloff) alive at the end.

The plot involves an American mystery writer, and his fiance (Julie Bishop) honeymooning in Hungary. They meet a courtly gentleman, Dr. Vitus Werdegast, who is traveling to meet an old nemesis, Hjalmar Poelzig, played by Boris Karloff. It reminds me a bit of the famous Hungarian novel, Embers. The tone of the film has a classic Hungarian fatalism.

While traveling to a city, a coach overturns. The young couple and Lugosi seek shelter at Karloff's forbidding castle. It is built on the site of a prison, where Werdegast was once held. He seeks his wife and daughter, who were in Poelzig's care. Karloff's Poelzig is the soul of courtesy, but that masks a truly terrifying evil. There are dark secrets in Castle Poelzig, and once Werdegast learns them he's driven to righteous madness.

Stuck in the middle of this is the young bride (Bishop) who becomes an object of desire to Poelzig. Naturally, that puts her husband in danger too.

This brisk, 65-minute horror film is well directed by Edgar Ulmer, who later hamstrung his career by winning the heart of a Universal executive's wife. The plot moves at a dignified pace, and what is literally a cinematic chess game grows more sinister until suddenly the horror of Karloff's character bursts out to the audience.

Lugosi excells at his role, that of a decent man with decent gestures who can't suppress his bitterness and longing. His final rage is memorable. There's little of Edgar Allen Poe's tale, just a cat that Lugosi's Werdegast has a phobia of and Karloff sometimes puts to use.

Horror fans, and Universal afficianados will love this black and white classic. Watch it in a single setting, marvel at the skill of horror experts Lugosi and Karloff. They deserve such respect.

Review: Frankenstein 1970

By Doug Gibson

"Frankenstein 1970" is pretty bad. And that's a shame, since the 1958 independent film, directed by Howard Koch, stars Boris Karloff as Baron Victor Von Frankenstein, last descendant of the infamous Dr. Frankenstein. Von Frankenstein, who suffers torture wounds received at the hands of the Nazis, allows a film crew to his castle to make a movie. Wih the cash, they give him, he uses an atomic reactor to, after killing him, turn a former servant into a reanimated monster. More murders follow.

This film is just flat, more soap opera and corny interludes from cliched characters -- film crew, Dr. Frankenstein's solemn colleague -- than terror. The monster is a huge letdown. It just has a box on its head with slits for eyes. Even Karloff isn't that good. His languid, tired appearance seems like he is just phoming in his performance. His salary -- $26,000, was more than a fifth of the entire budget. Despite the futuristic title, is never clear if it really is 1970. In fact, the film's settings look like its late-'50s timeframe.

The best scene is the opening scene, where a terrified young lovely is pursued to her doom by a monster in a lake. Unfortunately, a "director" yells cut and we learn that it's the movie company. That's about if fright-wise. The 83-minute feature also featured Norbert Schiller, Jana Lund, Donald "Red" Barry and Charlotte Austin. Watch it only for Karloff. Even at his most lackluster, he still has worth for cult films fans.

Review: Die Monster Die!

1964, 80 minutes, color, American International Pictures. Directed by Daniel Haller. Starring Boris Karloff as Nahum Witley, Nick Adams as Stephen Reinhart, Freda Jackson as Letitia Witley, Suzan Farmer as Susan Witley, Terrence De Marney as Merwyn and Patrick Magee as Dr. Henderson. Schlock-Meter rating: 4 stars out of 10.

Die, Monster, Die! is one of the more lackluster of AIP’s 1960w Poe/Lovecraft adaptations. The film is supposed to be based on a H.P. Lovecraft’s story Color of Our Space, but really bears no resemblance. There’s virtually no suspense in this slow-moving clinker, but a lot of unintentional laughs as mumbling Nick Adams arrives in England from America to visit his English girlfriend (Farmer) at her forbidding castle with her creepy parents (Karloff and Jackson). It seems that Father Witley (Karloff) has been conducting experiments with radioactive stones, with disastrous results.

The movie starts out with promise. Adams arrives in a small town and can find no one in a tiny English village who will take him to the Witley house. In fact, these villagers are downright rude to old Nick! So, he takes a long walk to the house, and there’s some good atmospheric scenes as Adams passes decayed forests, creepy fences, gates, and is watched by a specter in black. At the house, he’s greeted coldly by a forbidding Karloff, playing his role in a wheelchair.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, appears the bubbly Farmer, looking like she just stepped out of an AIP beach movie. She’s totally wrong for the part (there’s no way this vivacious blonde would be the daughter of the dour Karloff) and her presence kills the atmosphere and hope of sustained suspense. Director Haller, who does a competent if uninspired job, tries to substitute shocks for suspense, but even those are weak. Viewers are treated to a black, homicidal specter, hanging objects in the castle that are supposed to be scary, lots of fog, mutant plants, and radiation-mutated humans, including Mother Witley (Jackson) who for no reason turns maniac late in the film.

he best scene in the film shows a mutated tree attempting to encircle a surprised Farmer in his branches, but even that was done a lot better two decades later in Evil Dead.

Adams is also wrong for the part. He reminds me of a Marlon Brando wannabe. He would seem more comfortable battling Johnny Friendly on a loading dock than matching wits with mad scientist Boris Karloff. Karloff is fine, but isn’t really given much to do. He’s in a lot less scenes than Adams and he mostly whines, threatens or talks of his need to see his wife. The final scene, where a green, ringing, radioactive Karloff rises from his wheelchair and goes after Adams and Farmer is pure camp and will inspire a lot of chuckles from viewers.

Be forewarned: There’s no scares in Die, Monster, Die!, but if you are a fan of AIP horrors or Karloff, it will hold your interest, barely.

-- Doug Gibson

Review: Isle of the Dead

Isle of the Dead, 1945, RKO Radio Pictures, 71 minutes, black and white. Directed by Mark Robson, Produced by Val Lewton. Starring Boris Karloff as General Nikolas Pherides; Ellen Drew as Thea; Marc Cramer as Oliver Davis; and Katherine Emery as Mrs. St. Aubyn. Schlock-Meter rating: 8 stars out of 10.

The mid 1940s was the beginning of a transition period for thrillers. The great Universal monsters were now B pictures, and soon to be relegated as fodder for comedy teams. The terrors of the nuclear age to come would bring a new type of horror star, Godzilla and various over-sized insects crawling across movie screens. But in between that change came several great horror films from Val Lewton, who knew how to exploit the supernatural and make the spines of World War II movie-goers chill.

Isle of the Dead is about our worst fears, death, the plague and being buried alive. Producer Lawton and director Mark Robson are old hands at slowly building a story, creating unease, and then slamming the viewer with a terrifying climax. There is a scene, about two-thirds of the way through, that takes this film from suspense to terror. An invalid woman (Katherine Emery) fears being buried alive. It's a legitimate fear since she suffers from spells where she appears dead. She suffers a spell and is presumed dead and put in a coffin. In a crypt, the camera pans to her coffin. She screams, and desperate clawing is heard inside. It's a scary payoff to a well-made chiller.

The plot involves a dour Greek general (Karloff) and an American reporter (Cramer) who visit an isolated island near the front of a war. They spend the night with an anthropologist and his several guests (all of whom have been forced to the island to avoid the war). A British guest (veteran cult actor Skelton Knaggs) is discovered dead. A doctor decrees it to be the plague. The general orders everyone confined to the house. One by one the plague starts to claim its victims.

As mentioned, the film drips in atmosphere. The first scenes show Karloff and the reporter walking through a battlefield strewn with the bodies of dead soldiers. There's a creepy sight of suffering soldiers hauling away wagons full of the dead for disposal. As Karloff explains, it must be done immediately to avoid the plague. The house on the island has a claustrophobic feel, none of the rooms are too large. The island is dark, foggy and creepy, the crypt dark and forbidding.
Karloff does a very capable job as a villain who can still inspire some sympathy. The heartless, but courtly Greek general who places "rule of law" over mercy is a study of extremism from two sides. When the plague starts, Karloff's general scorns the superstitions of an elderly Greek maid, preferring to put his trust in the doctor. But when the plague claims the doctor, a disillusioned Karloff switches beliefs. Still the extremist, he allies with the maid, and with frightening intensity, believes a young woman named Thea (Ellen Drew) is possessed with an evil spirit. They plot to kill Thea.

Today very few horror films rely on atmosphere to turn suspense into horror. Most try to use foreground shots (like John Carpenter's Halloween) to create tension. Some succeed. Most don't. Too many filmmakers err by throwing away characterization, thinking that a quick knife killing serves as a payoff to a lazy viewer. Val Newton's Isle of the Dead is a reminder that creating a scary film is a gradual process that takes time and care.

-- Doug Gibson

Review: House of Frankenstein

House of Frankenstein, 1944, Universal, B&W, 71 minutes. Directed by Erle C. Kenton. Starring Boris Karloff as Dr. Gustav Niemann, J. Carrol Naish as Daniel, Lon Chaney Jr. as Lawrence Talbot, John Carradine as Dracula, Lionel Atwill as Inspector Arnz, George Zucco as Prof. Bruno Lampini, Peter Coe as Karl HussmanAnne Gwynne as Rita Hussman, Elena Verdugo as llonka and Glenn Strange as the Frankenstein monster. Schlock-meter rating: Seven and one-half stars out of 10.

House of Frankenstein is a fun, exciting monster-fest that provides a few chills largely due to the performance of Boris Karloff as mad scientist Dr. Gustav Niemann, who escapes from prison after 15 years with a hunchback assistant named Daniel (Naish). Niemann, a wannabe Frankenstein, was thrown in jail for trying to put a man's brain in the body of a dog. He's brooded for 15 years, and once out, is eager for revenge against those who sent him to jail. He kills the owner of a small traveling horror show (Zucco, in a great cameo), resuscitates Dracula (Carradine) and manages to kill one of his past adversaries. This done, he abandons Dracula (who tries to kidnap a young bride (Gwynne) to be killed and Niemann and Daniel take off for another village to exact revenge.

They pick up an abused gypsy girl who the hunchback Daniel quickly falls in love with. They make their way to Frankenstein's old village, where while he isn't settling scores with old enemies, Niemann finds the frozen bodies of the Frankenstein monster (Strange) and the wolfman Lawrence Talbot (Chaney Jr.). The wolfman, upset at being revived, nevertheless agrees to help Niemann since the doctor promises to end his curse. Of such bizarre plots were delightful horror films of the 1940s created. It's fun to watch. By the way, the cute gypsy girl falls in love with Talbot, thereby frustrating Daniel and turning him against the mad Dr. Niemann. Also, the villagers start to catch on to the the inhumane science occurring at the destroyed castle.

Karloff is chilling in his role. He appears to be without conscience. In an early scene he casually grabs a jailer by the neck and chokes him until given a piece of chalk. His talent to frighten audiences lasted a lifetime as those who have seen the 1960s films Targets and Black Sabbath can attest to. Chaney is whiny, but effective as the wolfman. Carradine underplays Dracula, but does a good job, although it's tough to compete with Lugosi's legacy. Strange, as the Frankenstein monster, is barely in the film, but he does an capable job. The film is tight and fast-paced, and runs at a lean 71 minutes. It's a fun cult film and definitely worth a rental.

-- Doug Gibson