The Dead Come Home

The Dead Come Home, an independent low budget (around $200000 as the director recalls) feature, sees a group of young people arrive at an isolated house to fix it up - one of them has just purchased the place and it's in serious need of renovation.  What they don't initially know is that it was once the home of a crazy old homicidal woman, and prior to entry one of them thoughtlessly trashes her gravestone.  This somehow brings her back to life - the house becomes supernaturally sealed with the group inside, and unable to find means of escape they begin meeting their respective ends.  There is an additional twist: each one of the new victims also comes back to help reap the old lady's vengeance for her.

Probably better known for the fact that Troma picked it up not long after its production, and retitled it as Dead Dudes in the House, marketed for VHS with very misleading cover photography.  It was later distributed by another company as I understand, under the much more preferable title of The House on Tombstone Hill, although when James Riffel completed (in 1988) and initially sought distribution, it was known as The Dead Come Home, and that's what Vinegar Syndrome have effectively restored it as here (although you get other storage/display options - see below).  The film is surprisingly effective: having the Troma moniker at the beginning usually gives me alarm bells (they're not exactly the mark of quality, although their juvenile sense of humour does appeal to some).  It wastes no time in getting the group to the house, and soon establishes an uncanny atmosphere as they become incarcerated in what is clearly an extremely creepy real location (indeed, one of the actors interviewed for the disc confirms that the place put the wind up him).  Killings are quite gory and well executed for the budget, and the outcome suggests a fairly unique imagination behind the project.  Obviously there is a slight tongue-in-cheek element to all of this (I can't think of any other stalk-and-slash films where the teens are terrorised and bumped off by a rickety old lady) but it generates for itself quite a sinister atmosphere.  Incidentally, I did think the beautiful daughter of the old woman could have been put to greater use: her character's return from death is of limited value to the story, then she proves to be an odd loose end in the narrative (her fate remains unexplained).

Vinegar Syndrome have scanned the Super 16mm negative at 2K to achieve amazing results - the image is vivid, colourful, with a vast field of natural grain that is quite pleasing to behold.  You could be forgiven, if you weren't already aware, for initially mistaking this as a 35mm production - it looks wonderful projected.  The stereo soundtrack is mastered, probably overkilled, at 96KHz, with strong resonance throughout, although it does betray restraints in the recording.  On the extras side there's a near half-hour interview with three of the main actors, where they recall their experiences quite well.  You also get about four minutes worth of production stills, plus a forty two minute audio interview with Riffel (played against stills from the movie).  This sounds like it was recorded from a phone call, the quality therefore being difficult to warm to, and shrill.  Despite that technical problem, the content proves to be a fascinating and revealing insight into the film, covering the unusual method with which Riffel acquired funds, circumstances prior to and around the Troma pick up, etc.  I was just going to sample this, because of the troublesome quality, but I ended up listening to the whole thing - a great extra.  The cover of the Blu-ray/DVD standard case is reversible, with the Tombstone Hill poster on one side, and the awful Dead Dudes iteration the other.  If you get the limited version you have a high quality slipcase with Tombstone Hill on one side (and its spine), or The Dead Come Home on the other.  So in all there are three places you could put this on your alphabetised shelf.  The slipcase edition is limited to 1500 units, and a cool buy in my opinion: the film itself is better than I anticipated and it's been treated with the usual VS respect.

The Conjuring 2

Released in 2016 this one is also known as The Conjuring 2: The Enfield Case.  Set in 1970s Britain (conjuring - sorry - a reasonably accurate depiction too: I was there), a family home becomes afflicted with a haunting which seems to be primarily focussed on one of the young girls in the house.  She demonstrates signs of possession, with poltergeist-like activity taking place around her with increasing frequency and snowballing violence.  The police are of course powerless to do anything (seems reflective of their fight against today's yobby criminals...) but after witnessing an incident one of them suggests Church assistance.  This leads investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren (returning from The Conjuring) to become aware of the case: these two experienced paranormal researchers are sent across the seas to London to take a look into the haunting whilst representing the Church in an unofficial fashion.  Simultaneously Lorraine has been having disturbing visions involving her husband's imagined death as well as very creepy nun - could this have any connection to the haunting in Enfield?  Or perhaps the whole thing is a scam to get the family moved into more appealing council premises...

The Conjuring is a powerful modern day horror with throwback characteristics, although I can think of little from the pre-2000s that is as terrifying to be honest.  Personally I find it an overwhelming experience in tension and fear, a trend that is continued in the second film: James Wan is quite a gift to the world of Horror.  Whilst this is a strong sequel I do have a couple of issues with it.  Firstly, it's too long at 134 minutes, and could have benefited from being shorn of 10 minutes or so at least.  Secondly, the first hour or so where the English family haunting sets its foundations can get a little repetitive, formulaic even.  The fright model works but is goes round in the same cycle four or five times before it gets back on track for the second half (i.e. day-time where a few ordinary things happen, night-time and a few bumps to scare the hell out of you, repeat several times over).  I can see how it was necessary to build up enough of a reason to get the Americans over to UK shores but it does get a bit much.  Despite this, I feel it becomes more intriguing once the investigators get down to work - there's a particularly good dialogue exchange between Ed and the ghostly old man, plus I really like the British investigator character, Maurice Grosse (Simon McBurney), who shows up early on to give a hand.  Make no mistake, there are many scary moments along the way, making sure you have pretty much two hours of having your heartbeat put on hold (a good example is the crooked man sequence, but there are many more).  The climax is well-staged and full of tension, especially because Lorraine's horrific premonitions start to look like they could become reality.  The nun provides unexpected terror; indeed she's since been given her own spin-off movie entitled, cryptically enough, The Nun.

The UK Blu-ray features a fantastic 2.35:1 picture (HD probably allowing precise replication of what is most likely a 2K master), while the Dolby surround track will absolutely rock your room if you have a respectable system.  It's actually an Atmos track but will default to Dolby True HD if your equipment is not Atmos enabled (as is the case with me, though I hope to upgrade at some point in the next year or two).  Still, the True HD track multiples the terror several times over, giving you several sharp demo sequences to choose from if you feel the need to show your friends what your system can do.  There are also a bunch of extras including a look at the real-life Enfield case, deleted scenes, etc.  I'm not sure if my copy was HMV-exclusive but it came with quite a colourful slipcase (pictured) whose image differs slightly to that of the standard case.  Overall, this is an overlong but frightening continuation of the now so-called Conjuring universe that respects its predecessor to successfully deliver on much of the same sort of elements.

All the Sins of Sodom

All the Sins of Sodom was one of a quick succession of films Joe Sarno wrote and directed in 1968, following the auspicious production of Inga back in Sweden.  The New York tale offers us a voyeuristic glimpse into several intertwined lives: Henning, a photographer on the edge of what he feels is a great artistic achievement; Leslie, the model of his current project, who has also become his (latest) lover; and a nomadic young woman called Joyce, who has befriended (beguiled?) Henning to a point where he lets her stay at his flat/studio indefinitely, ultimately allowing her also to intrude on his professional and personal lives.  Joyce develops some sort of sadistic attraction to Henning, deliberately attempting to cause a rift between him and Leslie, while also becoming a supplementary subject in his photographic conquest.  But, perhaps, she poses an even greater threat than he may realise.

It's very much a kitchen-sink style approach to drama, albeit with added eroticism and nudity (it never veers into hardcore territory, thankfully).  Clearly produced very cheaply (almost the entire film takes place in Henning's cramped apartment, where he also works) Sarno manages to elicit quite a buzz from the triangle.  The story is told through quite a lot of dialogue, facial expression, and copulation.  The surprising acting accolade (considering the material) of the film must go to Maria Lease as Leslie, who delivers an amazingly emotive and fragile performance, essentially putting the other actors in the shade slightly.  Having said that, the actress playing Joyce, despite appearing to be relatively inexperienced, comes across as quite fascinating and suitably mystical (indeed, her character is likened to the Devil early on).  Joyce is certainly appealing, though destined to be Henning's downfall just as one of the characters loosely predicts.  He asks the artistically impotent Leslie for more 'evil', and that's precisely what he ends up getting when Joyce strays into the equation.  Overall, aside from the fact that the film could be simplistically seen as softcore fodder, this is quite an intriguing character and situation study.

Film Movement have put this out on Blu-ray as part of their Joseph Sarno Retrospectove series, the disc additionally including the Sarno film Vibrations (also 1968).  Vibrations also features Maria Lease in an excellent role as she plays an uptight typist whose loose sister starts visiting the adjacent apartment for some strange group shenanigans (generally involving a vibrator, which I'm sure is exactly the same one that was used in All the Sins of Sodom).  Vibrations has a great soundtrack, while the story is effectively set against an ambient 60s New York.  Characterisation and drama is not as complex as Sins, but it is nevertheless quite an interesting piece that has welcome presence on the disc.  It has been treated to a 2K scan at 1.78:1 B&W, which is detailed and naturally grainy.  There are a couple of commentaries for this feature.

Back to Sins and you'll find there is an audio commentary and an interview with the director (who died in 2010) - what an amazing life he led!  The clear, slimline Blu-ray case contains a booklet depicting an essay by Tim Lucas, plus film credits and photos.  The 2K-scanned Sins transfer is 1.78:1, B&W, and looks excellent on the Blu-ray, with a consistent grain-field and strong detail.  This film was actually previously released on Blu-ray by Vinegar Syndrome, but was limited to 1000 units and is of course out of print.  The Film Movement edition is superior anyway, due to its inclusion of extras and Vibrations, and makes a great buy for Sarno or otherwise curious film fans.

Grave Robbers

Grave Robbers (AKA Dead Mate), 1988, starts with a nightmare-plagued waitress (played by the striking Elizabeth Mannino) arriving at her dead-end job only to be impressed enough by one of her customers that she spontaneously accepts a proposal of marriage before heading off to live with the guy at - kind of another dead-end really - the funeral home he runs.  The romanticism doesn't end there: before she's barely settled in she realises that not all is quite right, not only with the inhabitants of the funeral place but extending to the surrounding town more widely, which is populated by some very strange individuals.  The owners of the home appear to be 'fiddling' with the deceased in various ways, and it becomes apparent that they may have plans for her also...

Routinely billed as a 'comedy horror' I wouldn't really say it particularly delivers, certainly not on the former aspect, although quite clearly the whole endeavour is not meant to be taken seriously (the necrophilia angle is certainly not handled in the same fashion as the likes of Nekromantik,or Kissed for example).  Occasionally gory with a little nudity, the entire project evolves in an offbeat fashion, the acting easily categorised as 'bad' if one chooses to view it in that way, and the unfolding events illogical from the very beginning.  I did become intrigued to a certain extent, but was left mildly frustrated: the conclusion was partly predictable, and is suffixed with a supposedly humorous 'where are they now' narrative that detracted from the film (for me).  For a while it almost steps into Lynchian territory, and I really feel the film-makers potentially had something pretty neat on their hands here.  Had they let the nightmarish scenario spiral further into the surreal without feeling the need to bail at the last minute, and also actually started the film a little more straight (i.e. normal people cast into an abnormal world, where the contrast can be felt, rather than moulding it as simply very odd right from the start), this could, I would controversially suggest, have been transformed into a minor classic.  As it is, it's an unusual, periodically atmospheric curiosity piece that possesses a degree of 'rewatchability'.

Vinegar Syndrome have a provided a reliably excellent 2K scan from the 35mm negative, making Grave Robbers look like nobody ever would have expected it to.  Audio is mono (DTS-HD), sounding deep and strong throughout, and the transfer is backed up with a commentary from the director, Straw Weisman, a thirty second introduction (optional), a 4:3 video trailer, and an eighteen minute on-screen interview with Weisman - this is quite a fascinating piece where he reveals his beginnings in the industry, his versatility in the range of jobs he undertakes, and some points about the film at hand of course.  Very interesting fella who I would have been happy to listen to more from.  The cover of the Blu-ray/DVD pack is reversible, and the limited edition comes with a premium slipcase, embossed in places and very nicely designed.  The Blu-ray will play on all regions.  Overall, an excellent package for another oddity exhumed by the legendary Vinegar Syndrome.

Offerings

88 Films continue their somewhat dubiously entitled 'Slasher Classics' range with this obscurity from 1988 (as it's dated at the foot of the end titles), spine numbered 36 for the disc series - apparently the film itself was released in 1989, although it could have ended up direct to videotape.  The tale goes as follows: an outcast child is knocked down a well by his friends (who needs them like these, eh?), only to spend the next decade in an institution due to his catatonic state.  Then one day he perks up, kills the nurse, and escapes.  Making his way back to the hometown he proceeds to also bump off each of the teenagers who were once responsible for bringing his childhood to such an abrupt end.

As it tends to be noted by reviewers, Offerings borrows liberally from Halloween, which is far superior it goes without saying.  Having said that, whilst suspense it notably lacking, this later effort directed by Christopher Reynolds does contain sequences that are likely to evoke amusement in the viewer - the way characters appear only to be bumped off minutes later, a bizarre segment where the teens find an ear on their doorstep, etc.  Naturally there are a handful of killings to behold, one of which makes me wince even though it shows very little gore-wise (this scene, where a guy gets his head jammed in a vice, is also quite funny because he actually thinks for some time it's one of his friends playing a joke on him...).  As the film reaches its climax it gets really cheeky with the Halloween inspiration: not only does the killer become a virtually unstoppable machine, à la Michael, but so too does the music increasingly ape John Carpenter's iconic score; a few notes are changed or dropped, possibly just enough to avoid the makers being sued.  It should be said also that the 'final girl', who inadvertently causes all the trouble back in the childhood days simply by befriending the boy who's to become a killer, is very appealing, although the actress herself (Loretta Leigh Bowman) did not remain in the business.

Previously issued on Blu-ray in the US by Dark Force, 88 bring an identical transfer to the UK shores.  It's touted as a new 2K scan of the original negative, but even though it was shot on 16mm I'm struggling a little with the soft nature of the image: either a) this transfer is not taken from the OCN (though I wouldn't blame 88 for that, they are simply reiterating what they've been told), b) it was taken from the OCN but has had noise reduction applied, or c) I've no idea what I'm talking about.  The colours also look a little pasty, the image lacking dynamism generally.  Personally I would say even 16mm should/can look quite a bit better than this (having seen what has been done with other horror pictures shot on this medium - in fact, a great example of this is Vinegar Syndrome's disc of The Dead Come Home, which I viewed a couple of days later).  The other thing that I would possibly raise issue with is the ratio: it's at about 1.78:1 on both Blu-rays, but the compositions often appear to be a little cramped and I'm guessing that an open-matte transfer would have presented the film better (I don't have the previous DVD's, which I believe were 1.33:1, to see how they stood up).  As I say though, it may be me not knowing what I'm talking about.  Despite my personal reservations, the picture quality could be said to be reasonable for such an obscure slasher movie that could easily have been left to disappear forever.

The disc offers up the same trailer that came with the Dark Force package, but 88 improve on the US edition in a couple of areas, notably the inclusion of an entertaining audio commentary from the Hysteria Continues guys - I quite enjoy listening to these and particularly here the banter enhanced my enjoyment of the film itself.  There's also a reversible cover (essentially eschewing the 18 certificate logo from front and spine, the Slasher Classics banner, plus the photos on the rear).  Therefore the 88 Films Blu-ray is technically the best available version of this moderately enjoyable but not quite classic little movie that is rammed full of slasher staples.

Dear Dead Delilah

A disintegrating family of plantation heritage are gathered at their isolated mansion, mostly waiting for the old lady of the house to pop her socks so they can get their hands on 'fair' share of inheritance.  They've also inadvertently acquired the services of a woman who once axed her own mom to death, subsequently serving time for it.  This old plantation bat is no going down so easily, however, and - out of sadistic fun? - hides a huge some of money somewhere on the grounds: first come, first served.  Thus ensues a frantic search for the fortune, occurring alongside the inevitable topping of various members of the family.

Dear Dead Delilah originates from way back in 1972, inexperienced director John Farris doing quite a good grindhouse job of constructing an offbeat tale about a bunch of greedy misfits housed up together. It can be talky for longer periods than necessary, but as the tension ramps up things get suitably screwed.  The director managed to get Agnes Moorehead on board to play Delilah (not dead, but pretty much all of the characters wishes she was), and she does a great job as the embittered rich (and therefore powerful) old lady.  The film captures the madness given birth by greed, and never more pertinent is that concept than it is in today's money-obsessed/driven world.

Vinegar Syndrome deliver their usual 2K scan of the best available elements of this otherwise obscure film, the 1.85:1 transfer frequently reaching 40Mbps along with DTS-HD mono audio mastered at a whopping 96KHz.  The picture quality depends on which part of the film you're at, sometimes looking out of focus, sometimes fantastic - looks like VS did the best job possible to me.  The disc contains just shy of two minutes of promotional material (including text-based items, which you can pause and actually read on the Blu-ray - a DVD is also contained for those yet to move on), and a twenty minute interview with the director, where he provides insight into various things including who else he considered for the Delilah role and how much he appreciated Moorehead's talents.  He also mentions the fact that the film's pretty nifty decapitation sequence earned it an X from the MPAA when originally submitted (they eventually got an R following appeal).  The VS cover is reversible, plus the limited edition is enclosed in a premium slipcase.  Slim on extras this is otherwise a nice film to have in the collection, especially looking better than it probably ever will.  For info, the disc plays on all regions.

Deadly Daphne's Revenge

I'm not overly keen on slating anything that the magnificent Vinegar Syndrome spew forth to the Earth but I am massively disappointed in this release, although the company have put their usual stellar efforts into the transfer itself (other than some visible print damage in some sections).  I think my dissatisfaction is more to do with the inherent fact that the film is seriously mis-marketed, most likely because it exists in its own netherworld of virtual pointlessness.  There is one brief second of creepiness when you glimpse the titular Daphne, and that is emblazoned across the cover (see below) - i.e. pretty much the only thing worth seeing in this film is on the cover of the box.

A group of rednecks on a hunting trip pick up a teenage hitchhiker, but instead of dropping her off at her destination they take her to their hunting lodge.  After one of the group befriends her and the two get it together, she's raped by a couple of the others no sooner the love interest is out of the room.  Days later she's pressing charges against the whole group, and thus ensues the wrangles between solicitors, victim, and perpetrators.  Later still the prime mover behind the sordid moves is hiring someone to bump off the girl, but then she drops the charges and so he has to rush to call the whole assassination attempt off.  Somewhere behind this whole social mess wanders the ex-girlfriend of the main badboy, who's escaped from an institution for the purposes of revenge.

So is it about a rape victim's attempts to bring her attackers to justice, or is it about a scorned ex out to bump off her not-so-nice boyfriend?  The hybrid approach suggests that even the film-makers weren't sure, and the whole scorned-ex subplot feels like it was tacked on.  The irony being that the handful of minutes that this takes up (a snippet at the intro, one or two cursory references along the way, and the finale) are the basis for the title and poster/cover.  Released in 1987 while looking like it was shot in the seventies, the movie itself was filmed under a different title I believe (possibly The Bigamist although later it was known as The Hunting Season), again suggesting the producers didn't know what to do with it.  I'm not sure why it was ever filmed at all, however, Troma appear to be involved so some viewers may shout 'enough said' to wake themselves up.

I'm certainly all for boutique labels exhuming the obscure, particularly if they were once lost gems, but I'm truly struggling with this one.  What begins as a possibly cool exercise in exploitation cinema soon pummels you into boredom with sheer eventlessness.  Hell, VS even gave it one of their premium slipcases!  The film was scanned at 2K and, as I mentioned above, looks mostly excellent.  Mono 48 KHz audio is in good shape (you can even listen to a music-separated track if you truly want to play with your sanity), and the discs (Blu-ray plus DVD in the pack) come with a barrel-scraping interview (with an actress who played a desk clerk, barely able to remember anything about the film) plus plenty of promotional stills, an alternate opening, and reversible cover.  The fact that it's a limited slipcase edition from a generally fantastic label might make this marginally collectible, but I'd be amazed if the film itself has, or acquires, many fans.  Thank the Lord that director Richard Gardner never went on to shoot anything else, otherwise VS would probably have bestowed the insomniac world with that too...  Now let's hope my recent Black Friday package (a welcome package nonetheless) contains some significantly better material than this!

Bride of Frankenstein

Taking some elements of the book that were originally left out of Frankenstein (1931), the 1935 sequel continues directly from the conclusion of the first film extending the story into something a little more complex.  Clearly the major omission from the 1931 adaptation was the creation of a mate for the abomination that had become a burden to its creator - a ploy on the part of Victor (here called Henry) to dispense of the creature once and for all from his life whilst simultaneously making amends, if such as thing were possible.  After the believed-dead Henry has been dragged back to his home and wife Elizabeth, his revival comes as a shock to all.  An old acquaintance visits the recovering man (bedridden partly because actor Colin Clive had actually broken a leg in real life at the time) with the intention of teaming up to continue experimenting with the creation of life, much to Elizabeth’s disapproval.  It seems the man, announced as Dr. Pretorius, has been developing in his laboratory a few miniature automatons of his own, something that seems borne out of a morally devoid mindset of obsessive, sadistic tinkering akin more so to that of a child than a scientist attempting to evolve mankind’s knowledge.  Initially defiant, Henry’s involvement is egged along by Pretorius bringing in the now obedient monster, something Henry thought to be dead after the windmill fire.  Elizabeth is kidnapped by the monster and Henry is forced to work with Pretorius to build a female, granting it life by similar means to the birth of his first ‘child’.  The monster himself is quite aroused at the prospect of a new friend after his first and only one, a wood-dwelling blind man, was taken from him by strangers.  Of course, the results of the female’s awakening are not predictable and her arrival is destined to bring doom to those around her.

Apart from filling in some literary gaps in Universal’s Frankenstein franchise the studio put together what some have since deemed to be the greatest horror movie ever made.  Yet this label often came from those who rarely watch genre products, and it can never live up to such heights.  Aside from that the film was certainly ahead of its era in many ways.  Englishman James Whale was nothing like the usual director employed to shoot mainstream films back in the golden age; he brought personality and style to his projects and was one of cinema’s earliest auteurs.  Look at any of his genre films and they stand out from the crowd: Frankenstein and the sequel reviewed here, The Invisible Man, and The Old Dark House.  In contrast to most directors of the period, Whale was not simply another employee on the film set.  One thing he brought to these darker outings, including Bride…, was a grimly humorous edge, something that was probably lost to the comprehension of studio executives in the thirties.  Much more pronounced here than in the first film it can take a while to get accustomed to nowadays (the squawking old woman who seems omnipresent still grates a little with me after many viewings), but it’s at least memorable, for example the monster puffing on cigarettes and acquiring a taste for wine is something that embeds itself in memory.  And then there’s that inexplicable laboratory lever…

Continuity is maintained with the first film quite well, bringing Colin Clive back as Henry, removing the monster’s burnt eyebrows as a result of the fire it had survived, the watchtower production design, etc.  Unfortunately, Mae Clarke would not return as Henry’s wife, however, she was replaced by the overly dramatic but innately beautiful Valerie Hobson.  Dwight Frye also returned despite his character being killed in the first film, this time in a role as a different person with almost identical functionality (that of an assistant). The increased budget (nearly half a million dollars) is reflected in an amazing laboratory sequence, the film’s pinnacle - a lovely marathon of drama, great shots and editing, culminating in the eponymous woman’s birth (or rebirth).  The combined motivations of Henry, Pretorius, and the monster itself all direct to this one event, their actions throughout propelled towards a singularity.  The monster simply desires a friend (though is innocently unaware of any reproductive urge that probably survives in his blood), Pretorius has a morbid, amoral fascination with experimentation in life engineering, while Henry wants his wife back, although it’s clear his own scientific intrigue is piqued once work begins on the bride.  Like the monster, the bride herself is a gorgeous, iconic piece of design, thanks to Jack Pierce once again I believe.  She doesn’t speak but clearly displays disgust as she first sees her predetermined mate, this in turn fuelling the monster’s anger that seals fate.  It was a small masterstroke to cast Elsa Lanchester as both the bride, and Mary Shelley herself in the film’s prologue (almost suggesting that Shelley identified with the bride when she wrote the story).  There was a similar epilogue shot eventually removed along with quite a few other scenes after test screenings; these are probably lost forever.

Certainly not the ‘greatest’ but a standout entry from Universal’s monster cycle and the genre as a whole when considering the thirties and forties.  James Whale did not return to the Frankenstein series again but Boris Karloff was to make one more appearance as the monster, several years later in Son of Frankenstein…

Frankenstein (1931)

While an eminent vampire was crawling out of his crypt-bound coffin somewhere in Eastern Europe, a devout but possibly unhinged scientist was discovering the secret of granting life to that which has never lived…  Somewhat abbreviating Mary Shelley’s early nineteenth century novel, Universal’s first version of Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus warns us via prologue through an onscreen narrator of the ghastliness we’re about to witness (a tool Ed Wood would later naïvely employ in similar fashion with Criswell), before introducing Henry (though he was actually called Victor in the book) and his deformed servant Fritz as lurking body snatchers waiting for a recently deceased corpse to be buried over so they can exhume it in order to take it back to their laboratory.  Assembling a makeshift body from other people’s parts the scientist's last component required is a brain, but the imbecilic Fritz accidentally takes a damaged specimen from the nearby medical school after he drops the only good one.  This of course forms the catalyst for Henry’s eventual failure in creating a Nietzschean ‘superman’.  Using electricity provided by a storm the hulking monster is ’granted’ life but it proves to be sporadically violent, lacking observable intelligence and the means to integrate socially, unpredictable, and a moral burden to its creator.  Soon Henry is persuaded to go home and marry Elizabeth but he’s unaware that the creature has broken free of its prison and is now roaming the countryside.  The innocent murder of a child sparks a mob congregation, partly led by Henry himself, intent on tracking the wayward monster and destroying it.

Jack Pierce unwittingly developed one of the most iconic characters in cinema history with his creature design, painstakingly applied to Boris Karloff over a period of hours.  The bolts in the neck, the flattened cranium, darkened fingernails - all possibly thought of as clichéd nowadays but innovative at the time, and certainly possessing everlasting longevity.  The first proper appearance of the monster is strange, and partly achieved with a lovely piece of editing: footsteps as it approaches (and a verbal warning offered by Henry himself so our anticipation is heightened), the door creaking open, and the monster facing… backwards?  Yes, it actually walks into the room backwards before slowly turning for our first full view of it, a series of three or four cuts that progressively bring us closer to the distorted, morbid face.  This was the movie that really launched Boris Karloff’s career and seeing him in other films tends to bring it home how great this performance is; it’s an easy thing to forget through years of repeat viewings.  In fact I tend to prefer his portrayal of the monster here over his work in the sequel.  Bela Lugosi was famously offered the role, declining to become involved due to what he felt was an apparent lack of talent required.  This misjudgement is sometimes blamed on his later vocational misfortune but to be fair he’d already received plentiful recognition with Dracula and I doubt his future would have been significantly improved by taking on the role of the monster, firstly because his versatility as an actor would have inhibited his progression one way or another and secondly because he finally got his chance to play the monster a couple of films later for one of the sequels and it didn’t shake the world.  Having said that it’s impossible for anyone to predict what might have happened.

Henry’s dedication to his work is quite heavy handed, however, there is an omnipresent duality to his motivations: is his work that of a man who wishes to master science to create life through manipulating naturally evolving cells, thereby offering evidence that there is no God, or is he seeking to emulate the God that he believes exists (signified by his most famous line, “…now I know what it feels like to be God.”) so as to reinforce either his admiration or competitive contempt?  In fact, the name ‘Victor’ (the character's name in the book) itself may not have been chosen randomly in this light of theistic questioning: as indicated by the use of a quote from Milton’s Paradise Lost at the end of her book, Shelley was influenced by the poet and it is in this book that Milton refers to God as ‘the Victor’.  This possible allegory is unfortunately lost in the Universal film by their renaming the scientist as Henry.  Further characterisation of the protagonist comes when the monster is on the loose and we see Henry craftily lock his wife in her room - is this to protect her or because he doesn’t want her interfering, something which she has already done enough of.  Probably the former in this case but throughout the film there are thoughts in Henry’s brain we feel are remaining unspoken and this makes his character much more interesting.  Mention must also go to the castle/watchtower where Henry performs his experiments as it’s an incredible gothic design of twisted angles, warped walls and shadows, echoing some of the German silents that preceded it years before.  As a film it’s much better in many ways than its brother project, Dracula, released the same year, similarly successful and revolutionary.

The Wolf Man (1941)

Taking a slightly more original approach than what could be considered typical of the time, Universal had this story wrote afresh rather than adapting a piece of existing literature. Of course the werewolf myth itself was not their concoction and neither was this the first time they had wrestled with the legend - 1935's preceding Werewolf of London is a great film and quite different from the Larry Talbot series, of which The Wolf Man is the first (though subsequent offerings would always join him up with other monsters). Returning from America to Welsh soil to ultimately take up a hereditary role as squire (following his brother’s unexpected death) Larry Talbot - a mechanically gifted man but hardly qualifying as intellectual - becomes almost immediately besotted with local girl Gwen who helps run a small shop. Persuading the already engaged woman to go out for the evening they (along with a 'gooseberry') wander into the carnival of a passing gypsy camp where Gwen’s friend is gorged to death by what may be a wolf, though is in fact one of the gypsies, Bela, who has transformed under full moon into a werewolf. Talbot himself is also attacked though manages to kill it with the silver-tipped cane he bought from Gwen’s shop, however, some confusion ensues when the police find the dead gypsy Bela instead of the wolf carcass Talbot claims should be there. Offering the benefit of doubt some of those around him reason that it was dark and foggy and Talbot couldn’t actually see what or who he was killing, but he’s already attracted the hostile attentions of some of the townsfolk who’ve had their moral strings yanked upon hearing that Talbot was out with an engaged woman. Additionally her friend ending up brutally slaughtered is something that wouldn‘t have happened if it weren‘t for him. Talbot’s own version of things loses weight as he goes to show the authorities a bite received in the attack, but finds that it has inexplicably healed prematurely. His problems seem to be getting no rosier when one of the gypsies warns him that he’s due to transform into a wolf himself as soon as the full moon reappears.

1941's The Wolf Man moves along at a brisk pace using a few conventional cinematic tricks to characterise Talbot quickly, helped by a notably able cast - Bela Lugosi is, er, Bela the gypsy and quite fantastic in what is essentially a bit part.  Bela’s presence is the pivot that changes Talbot’s fate forever and the curse the latter acquires almost seems to be nature’s condemnation of his actions as he endeavours to woo Gwen, a girl already in line to marry the strapping gamekeeper.  Up until the point he is bitten everything seems quite optimistic for the carefree foreigner.  Lon Chaney Jr. exhibits better thespian skills here than he later would in Son of Dracula and Ghost of Frankenstein - the doomed Larry Talbot suiting his naturally melancholic appearance while taking advantage of his persistently sorrowful expressions in effort to induce sympathy.  I’m sure Universal were happy to employ him here because the name itself was a commodity that could bring in audiences thanks to his very famous father - the fact that his father’s name was effectively forced on Chaney Junior by the studios (his first name was Creighton and this is originally how he was credited in films) smacks of marketing amorality and couldn‘t have done the man's morale much good.  Of course the ever reliable Claude Rains as Talbot senior is great in a calm and collected performance - John Talbot and some of his contemporaries are responsible for a number of intriguing discussions regarding the mechanics of the human mind as they pass opinion on how it might be possible for a man to realistically believe himself to be a werewolf, whilst naturally denying that a corresponding physical transformation could also be possible.  In fact in this light it could be a great ambiguous study of either abnormal human psychology or supernatural metamorphosis depending on how you wanted to look at it, if it weren’t for the fact that Chaney transforms into a wolf on screen...  Supporting this possibility is the reported fact that the first draft of the script contained no such transformation and could have resulted in a movie similar in approach to some of those Val Lewton later produced for RKO - this ambiguity would have been preferable in my opinion.  The wolf man himself is eventually displayed without a shadow of either physical or conceptual obscurity and, while this is probably one of the film’s very few faults, it is understandable from the perspective of wanting to push cinematic boundaries for the sake of popularity.

The actual effigy of the wolf man (in this incarnation) has never been something I’ve admired personally, looking odd whilst simultaneously out of synch with the kind of creature that attacked and infected him in the first place (i.e. he walks on two legs while Bela’s wolf was on all fours).  Having said that, it’s quite an accomplishment from a special effects angle (courtesy of Jack Pearce), taking several hours to both apply and remove.  The most adept aspect of the film must surely be Curt Siodmark’s script itself, featuring entrancing dialogue for the most part and plenty of good ideas that have become highly influential for this particular sub-genre.  The tragic status of the infected man formulated here has since become a staple of the werewolf movie for example, and Paul Naschy’s later creation, Waldemar Daninsky (appearing in over ten films from the sixties onwards), is clearly inspired by Larry Talbot.  The sign of the pentagram being visible on the wolf man’s victims is also a smart metaphor for the symbol that Jews were forced to wear in Nazi Germany (i.e. those marked with the five pointed star will die) - Siodmark himself was a Jew who departed Germany as the new political regime was taking force.

Werewolf of London

After the success of Guy Endore’s 1933 novel The Werewolf of Paris Universal missed the opportunity to hire the author as a screenwriter (MGM beat them to it - he went on to work on Mark of the Vampire, Mad Love, and Devil Doll for them), so they set about putting together their own wolf-man story, 1935's Werewolf of London. Appearing several years before the more commercially viable The Wolf Man the first real lycanthrope outing for the studio brought in Cornish actor Henry Hull as botanist Wilfred Glendon in search of a rare moonlight driven plant in Tibet. The scientist is mauled in an attack that occurs during an excursion through a valley that’s populated, as locally hypothesised, by demons - actually people that turn into wolves under moonlight. Having brought the plant back to England and now recovered from the vicious attack with only scars apparently remaining, everything seems back to normal as he goes about studying the nature of his unusual find. Soon London is in the grip of terror as a series of murders and monster sightings threaten the safety of its inhabitants - Wilfred himself is afflicted with the Tibetan curse, transforming into a homicidal wolf-like man under full moon.

This is quite a different beast (excuse the pun) compared to Universal’s Larry Talbot series. It didn’t have any major stars, though reportedly there was to be a werewolf film around this time starring Karloff - something that was ultimately abandoned. Hull had the opportunity to wear make-up similar to what Chaney would later adopt in The Wolf Man, but found the process arduous and too uncomfortable to endure so a modified version was developed by make-up artist Jack Pierce. The creature as a result is quite unusual, sort of a less monstrous cousin of Oliver Reed’s titular monster in Curse of the Werewolf. One thing that’s quite unique to this film is the fact that the transformed beast actually resembles its human alias to a point where it can be recognised by those who know him, such is the similarity of facial features. Also, the werewolf here is less animal-like than is often the case: this creature doesn’t so much as shed clothing as he does actually getting dressed up to go out - leaving home after one transformation the werewolf grabs his hat and coat on the way out! At a glance the roaming monster could be mistaken for Mr Hyde and even utters some words later on during the film’s closing sequence. One nifty little idea comes when Wilfred begins realising there’s a problem: experimenting with simulated moonlight in attempts to stimulate the Tibetan plant into growth his hand gets caught under the lamp and promptly begins growing hair.

It’s difficult to say whether Hull’s monster would have been more effective with Pierce’s full blown make-up as I never thought Chaney’s equivalent looked exactly threatening, but neither is Hull the most ferocious werewolf to be put on screen. He is, however, quite an eccentric creation and very eloquent along the way. A nice plus is the presence of the beautiful Valerie Hobson as his wife. She played alongside Colin Clive as the baron’s wife in Bride of Frankenstein and a notably different character too - while in Whale’s film she was of a slightly melancholic disposition here she is bubbly and perpetually effervescent. She brings some unwanted complexity to Wilfred’s life when she begins flirting and going out with an old flame, a situation that possibly evokes some of the darker feelings that reside within Wilfred. The engendering anger beneath the surface of his personality seeps through, bringing an air of tragedy to the character as his wife finds something 'better'. The werewolf myth has always seemed like an expression of the cathartic manifestation of man’s less desirable emotions and thoughts - the literal revelation of the primordial animal that’s buried beneath evolutionary layers to the point of almost complete suppression, at least in those of us that generally abide by the law. Thus there is much going on underneath Wilfred’s uptight exterior that can be contributing towards the creation of a beast.  Werewolf of London is well written, competently acted, and features some unique ideas that elevate its value as a movie, despite the fact that it’s not especially frightening or challenging.

Son of Dracula

Yes, not only did Dracula have a daughter, but apparently a son too…  Disregarding any potential continuation of a story from Dracula’s Daughter this one introduces us to migrating Count Alucard (no!) who appears on the scene somewhere in the deep south to sweep a young woman, hot Katherine, off her feet, one who also happens to be engaged to somebody else.  She’s immediately ensnared by the count’s mystical nature, a man who seems to have ulterior economic motivations for his infiltration of the family who owns a plantation - the father of said family becomes deceased almost immediately upon the Hungarian man’s arrival.  Katherine’s fiancée Frank wonders what activities are going on between the count and the woman he loves, so he traces her to a house where the residing count reveals that they’ve just married each other.  In anger Frank attempts to shoot Alucard, but the bullets inexplicably seem to pass right through him killing Katherine instead, who was standing behind Alucard under the misconception that she would be shielded.  A distraught Frank breaks free of the house and makes a run for it but Alucard transforms into a bat to follow him with the intention of permanently resolving any issues between the two, only to be thwarted by the silhouette of the cross cast by a gravestone as the chase ends in a cemetery.  Elsewhere a couple of scientists-turned amateur sleuths begin to suspect that Alucard is a descendant of Dracula and set about destroying the undead wanderer.

1943's Son of Dracula plot kicks off in quite a feeble manner with little justification for Katherine’s initial fixation with the count and his arrival.  Generally what follows is what seems like simply an excuse to continue the series whilst taking advantage of Universal’s newfound star or terror, Lon Chaney’s son (this genre stardom arising primarily as a result of The Wolfman, but his most acclaimed role overall was Of Mice and Men prior to that).  One of the most prominent problems is that, aside from a Hungarian with an American accent, Chaney Junior doesn’t make a particularly good count, though I did like the way he handled the sequence where he’s being shot at; similarly later on his realisation that his coffin is burning is quite pronounced.  One scene where things get a little silly occurs when some woman brings in her blood-drained boy to the doctor: already aware of Alucard’s local vampiric threat, the doctor immediately treats the neck bite by painting two small crosses over the wounds and promising that the boy will make a full recovery - first time I’ve seen that one!  The score is very typical of how a composer of the period would define genre music and is likable and corny in almost equal measure.  As far as special effects are concerned, the bouncing bat has improved marginally since the 1931 Dracula and there’s also a little animation helping Chaney transform from human to bat and back again.

Black levels on the now quite old DVD transfer were good, as was detail and sharpness, however the image was sometimes plagued by flickering and contrast instability which slightly spoiled what would otherwise have been an excellent picture.  Audio is fine.  The later Blu-ray presented an improved and more stable image that is now the preferred way to view.  Whilst not complete rubbish, Son of Dracula is not an exceptional film in any sense and its creation seems to have been derived almost purely from commercial decision-making.  Having said that, the film’s downbeat conclusion is quite surprising, and there are moments of amusement to be had along the way (whether intentional or not).

Dracula's Daughter

I‘ve heard varying stories about Lugosi‘s meagre involvement with the first sequel to Dracula, which hails from 1936 and was directed by Lambert Hillyer.  One suggests that he was paid several thousand pounds to appear in publicity stills following the film’s completion, while another reports that he was actually drafted in to star until script revisions excluded his presence but contractual obligations required him to be paid anyway.  Either way, it’s not that Lugosi probably minded too much but his absence here is a shame (depending on whether you enjoyed him in the first movie or not!), and dragging someone else to ‘stand in’ for his dead body was a bit pointless (it actually looks like a dummy to me anyway).  Dracula’s Daughter takes up directly from the end of the first film, with Van (here entitled ‘Von’ in the credits) Helsing emerging from the tomb having staked the vampire, while Renfield lies dead at the foot of the stairs.  Two policemen apprehend the homicidal professor and bring him in for questioning.  After the body of Dracula is shipped back to a secure unit a mysterious Hungarian woman called Countess Zaleska appears, hypnotises the guard and minutes later the dead count’s body has vanished.  Revealing herself to be under the same curse as her father, she cremates the corpse to altruistically release his soul.  However, her own soul remains tortured as she spends the remainder of the story attempting to convince the eminent Doctor Jeffrey Garth to help her overcome her major hindrance.  Meanwhile ‘Von’ Helsing maintains his innocence (argument: you can’t kill someone who’s already technically dead) to generally sceptical ears as the same Doctor Garth steps up to defend him, having been one of the professor’s most prized students years earlier.  Then people start showing up drained of blood…

Surprisingly, this outing went way over budget though that probably wasn’t helped by the action quite suddenly shifting to Transylvania for the last eight minutes of the film (up until that point everything had taken place in England), requiring different sets, costumes, actors, etc.  A spattering of scenes throughout the film rely a little on typical comedy of the period but once the story gets going, alternating between V. Helsing’s legal predicament and Zaleska’s fight against the vampire curse, it becomes quite interesting if a little low-key.  There’s not a great deal of terror going on here though a few injections of gothic overtones remind us that we’re watching a genre film.  One touch I liked was the reiteration of one of Lugosi’s beautifully executed lines from the first film - “I never drink… wine” - this time spoken by Zaleska.  Zaleska herself is a confused character: impelled to carry out the horrific deeds of her bloodline whilst simultaneously begging for help to be released from her existential prison before finally resigning herself to eternal torment.  A fairly fascinating psychological dichotomy results.  Whilst I’m not one to jump on homosexuality bandwagons there’s a good chance she’s also bisexual due to her apparent disregard for someone’s gender when showing them interest (for example, at one point her servant brings back a woman to pose semi-nude for the countess).  The man she wants to settle for is clearly attracted to another woman so even when craving a normal life Zaleska seems tragically doomed.  It’s nice that Edward Van Sloan returns to reprise his role as V. Helsing from the first film, offering cohesive narrative continuity, though he seems a little less energetic here despite a retained eloquence.

Looking a little better on DVD than the preceding film, the image from the Monster Legacy set was quite pleasing taking its antiquity into consideration - there was a fair amount of detail for the format. Sound comes across well though there are no modern alterations to be had here. The later Blu-ray was a step up, presenting a more refined image and audio that demonstrated diminished hiss (this may or may not be seen as a good thing, depending on your perspective).  Despite not qualifying itself as a great movie I found Dracula’s Daughter ticked away an hour or so quite comfortably.

Dracula (1931)

Taking the theatrical play of the late twenties (of which Lugosi himself was also the star) as a template Universal Studios put together a script that was more faithful to the stage version than it was Stoker’s book.  Nevertheless, it was their biggest financial success of the year and really was to change the future as it almost single-handedly sparked a whole generation of films, primarily from the studio itself but also from those influenced by their output, whether directly or indirectly.  From the opening it’s clear that there are liberal differences to the original literature as Renfield (yes, Renfield) is travelling with a group of passengers with the intention of making his way to the count’s castle in Transylvania, the objective being to offer him property in London.  Parting company with the group he is taken by carriage to the rather derelict castle which is occupied by an offbeat count (who is revealed to sleep in a coffin from the opening scenes) and three mysterious women.  Dracula soon enslaves the estate agent, turning him mad and using him as a servant.  Both of them return via ship to London where Renfield is imprisoned for his insanity and Dracula continues his quest to ensnare a woman who has attracted his attention: Mina.  John Harker does make an appearance but it’s later on in London, his position in the film being much less prominent than in the book (or, indeed, other filmed versions).  On to the scene comes Van Helsing, naturally, the man who recognises that several of the people in the vicinity are in the grip of a vampire curse, the cause of which is the count himself.  From there onwards Van Helsing attempts to persuade the most relevant people of the count’s true undead nature in order to despatch him forever, although such proposals are not unanimously welcomed of course.

The feel of this movie compared to Universal’s subsequent chillers is closer to that of silent cinema, despite it being quite talky - I’m really thinking about Browning’s filming techniques, plus Dwight Frye’s very old-fashioned performance of Renfield.  His exaggerated expressions and movements remind me of something from the silent era (though, aside from a small appearance in one film, Frye’s only work was in ‘talkies’, whereas Browning was very experienced with the silents), however his distinctively insane laugh is something of a spectacle.  There are two actors that really strengthen the proceedings: Edward Van Sloan is captivating as Van Helsing, his recital of lines being emphatic, deliberate, and authoritative.  He could feasibly convince anyone that vampires exist, so serious and articulate is his delivery of words.  Then of course there is Bela Lugosi as the count.  Aside from hinting at a possible lack of versatility his portrayal is quite domineering thanks to his incredible accent and odd way of expressing vocal emphasis; it’s difficult to take your eyes (and ears) away from him.  The other actors are generally quite conventional and service the picture adequately without standing out (though really, it’s difficult to stand out next to the likes of Van Sloan and Lugosi).  The first fifteen or twenty minutes of the film features Renfield’s trip to the castle, the introduction of the count, and Renfield’s succumbing to madness, and this is the best segment of the whole film.  The creepiness is laid on quite effectively and the ruined castle is an incredible piece of gloomy, ancient architecture, its huge stones broken with massive cobwebs ubiquitous.  Actually, there is one nice little sequence involving a cobweb where Dracula appears to walk right through it (much to Renfield’s understandable shock), something achieved with no special effects whatsoever and all the more potent for it.  The three brides make a brief appearance, almost token but welcome they are nonetheless.

After the return to England things become very dialogue driven and not as gripping as the Transylvania-bound act, with the exception of certain sequences generally involving Lugosi and Van Sloan.  For the final segment the movie gets back to great production design with a beautiful underground crypt and what must be one of the stunning gothic staircases ever seen.  Speaking of crypts, I love the introduction of the count at the beginning where we see first him climb from his coffin, followed by his bride climbing from hers, then a cockroach crawling out of its own small box - nice touch.  Another humorous aspect is Renfield’s persistent ability to escape from his cell, even turning up at one point to engage in a discussion with Van Helsing in Dr Seward’s office - they can’t seem to keep the slippery man imprisoned long before he finds a way of wandering off somewhere.  The use of bats in this film is pretty hopeless with them bouncing up and down remarkably like rubber on string (indeed, on the discs you can actually see the string in at least one scene).  Unfortunately Hammer were insistent on using this same effect some forty years later - surely it didn’t convince audiences even in 1931?  So, Dracula is of course a classic; it was highly successful, formed the catalyst for a whole sub-genre and was generally influential, but it’s not wall-to-wall excitement, more so an average film with a number of high points that make it worth watching. Tod Browning himself was to go on to much more notoriety a year later with Freaks.

Universal get some mileage out of these films, with several DVD incarnations across the globe having been in existence hitherto, followed by various Blu-rays.  From the beautiful Monster Legacy collection containing carefully painted busts of the three main creatures, the DVD I have features a transfer that fluctuates between very good in some shots, to very awful in others.  The 75th anniversary disc (later released in the US) is reportedly an improvement.  A couple of instances of censored audio exist in my print unfortunately (again, corrected for the 75th anniversary): Dracula’s death moans, and some screams from Renfield. There’s a choice between two soundtracks on the DVD - the original mono track of course and a score composed a few years ago by Philip Glass, presented in surround while the dialogue and effects remain centred.  It’s something that purists probably can’t accept (the original track is almost completely music-less) but it’s a great score and very reminiscent of the period (possibly earlier) so it fits well.  It is a little overly present but there are occasions when it enhances the film just like any great score should, my favourite being the scene where Dracula almost hypnotises Van Helsing - the music here embellishes the moment exquisitely.  Despite the rough print used the package (including commentary and documentary) is a very good one.  I do intend to upgrade at some stage to the Blu-ray of course.