Behind the Velvet Curtain: Unveiling 8 Hidden Gems of 1940s Suspense Cinema

There’s a peculiar melancholy that lingers in the shadows of 1940s suspense cinema—a decade when the world seemed poised on a knife’s edge. The silver screen became a mirror for our deepest anxieties and desires. These films do so much more than simply entertain: they wrap us in a velvet shroud of uncertainty, where every footstep echoes with suspicion. Every silhouette threatens to dissolve into menace. They’re films spun from the fevered minds of visionary directors like Alfred Hitchcock, Fritz Lang, Robert Siodmak, and Jacques Tourneur, whose names became synonymous with the undercurrent of unease and tension, psychological intrigue, and atmospheric storytelling.

When I think about what makes 1940s suspense so compelling, often entering into noir territory, I always end up circling back to Robert Siodmak and Jacques Tourneur. Both directors had such a distinctive touch, but their approaches to tension and atmosphere were uniquely their own.

Robert Siodmak left a significant mark on cinema, blending noir atmosphere with psychological depth. He was a master of shadow and suspense, and you can see his roots in German Expressionism all over his films. He used black-and-white cinematography and urban landscapes not just for style, but to create a mood where darkness and light almost become characters themselves.

His films are packed with high-contrast lighting, inventive camera angles, and a sense of claustrophobia. He sets a mood that wraps the narrative in an airless vise like walls closing steadily around the story, unsettling and persistent.

Siodmak’s Phantom Lady starring Thomas Gomez, Ella Raines, and Franchot Tone.

Siodmak loved intricate, sometimes non-linear narratives—think of how The Killers unfolds through flashbacks, or how Criss Cross twists around on itself with betrayals and doomed romance. His characters are rarely straightforward heroes or villains; instead, they’re flawed, morally ambiguous, and often trapped by fate. Some of his best work includes noir masterpieces like The Killers 1946 and Criss Cross 1949, and suspenseful classics like Phantom Lady 1944 and The Spiral Staircase 1946—with Dorothy McGuire’s Helen navigating the labyrinth of shadows and peril—stand as cornerstones in the canon of suspense cinema, helping to define the genre’s enduring legacy of psychological complexity, visual innovation, and atmospheric dread.

Jacques Tourneur, on the other hand, brought a supernatural and Gothic edge to the genre. He was all about atmosphere and suggestion. He had this gift for making you feel like something terrifying was lurking just out of sight, using shadows, mood, and sound to let your imagination fill in the blanks. In his horror films—like Cat People 1942, I Walked with a Zombie 1943, and The Leopard Man 1943—he cultivates a cinematic spirit where the supernatural is always ambiguous, hovering just beyond the grasp of certainty.

James Bell and Jean Brooks in The Leopard Man 1943.

The sense of “the uncanny” is central: his films obscure any concrete visual cue, leaving us suspended between rational explanation and the possibility of something otherworldly. He rarely showed the threat outright, which somehow made things even more frightening.

Even when he shifted to noir with Out of the Past 1947, he brought that same sense of ambiguity and unease, blending hard-boiled crime with an almost ghostly mood. Tourneur’s camera work was elegant and fluid, and he had a real knack for subtle storytelling, leaving things unsaid, allowing us to draw our own conclusions. His best films (Out of the Past, Cat People, I Walked with a Zombie, Night of the Demon) are masterpieces of mood and restraint, proving that sometimes what you don’t see is even more powerful than what you do.

Both directors left a huge mark on suspense and noir, but in very different ways: Siodmak through his brooding, fatalistic cityscapes and tangled plots, and Tourneur through his poetic minimalism and haunting, ambiguous worlds.

Alfred Hitchcock stood at the high point of this thrilling movement— his American debut with Rebecca (1940), followed by Foreign Correspondent (1940), Suspicion (1941), Saboteur (1942), Spellbound (1945), and Notorious (1946). And one of Hitchcock’s most suspenseful works of the 1940s, Shadow of a Doubt (1943), with its chilling portrait of small-town innocence corrupted by Joseph Cotten’s unforgettable Merry Widow killer, Uncle Charlie. Hitchcock’s sensibility helped define the modern suspense film, blending ordinary protagonists, in seemingly ordinary situations, who find themselves mixed up with extraordinary danger.

Teresa Wright in Alfred Hitchcock’s suspense masterpiece Shadow of a Doubt 1943.

These directors dominated the suspense scene with pioneering cinematic techniques that heightened audience anxiety. I always marvel at how Hitchcock could make even the most mundane moments feel loaded with dread—he really knew how to keep us all on edge.

Honestly, I find myself endlessly drawn back to the suspense films of the 1940s—they just have this magnetic pull. Every time I revisit one, there’s that familiar jolt of excitement, like stepping into a world where danger is always just out of sight. The atmosphere is impossible to shake: shadows that seem to conspire, and a sense that every corner hides someone with sinister intentions. There’s something so compelling about watching depraved or nefarious characters weave their schemes while unsuspecting victims edge ever closer to peril. It’s that constant dance between predator and prey, menace and vulnerability, that keeps me hooked and makes these films feel so alive and unnerving. Suspense is painted with a palette of chiaroscuro, their stories flickering between light and shadow, hope and doom.

Fritz Lang was another towering figure. He brought his German Expressionist sensibilities to Hollywood and delivered classics like Man Hunt (1941), Ministry of Fear (1944), Secret Beyond the Door (1947), The Woman in the Window (1944), and Scarlet Street (1945). Lang’s films were marked by shadowy visuals, moral ambiguity, and a deep sense of fatalism.

Laird Cregar in Brahm’s The Lodger 1944.

John Brahm (Hangover Square, 1945; The Lodger, 1944) also contributed iconic suspense films that remain influential. Carol Reed’s Night Train to Munich (1940) and later The Third Man (1949) showcased British suspense at its finest, blending espionage with psychological tension. Alongside these luminaries, the decade was rich with directors who worked more quietly or off the beaten path, crafting understated or cult-favorite suspense thrillers. Mark Robson delivered the eerie The Seventh Victim (1943), a film that has grown in reputation for its ambiguous, atmospheric horror.

Carol Reed’s The Third Man starring Orson Welles as Harry Lime.

André De Toth’s Dark Waters (1944) offered a Southern Gothic take on suspense, while Stuart Heisler’s Among the Living (1941) explored madness and mistaken identity in a moody, underseen gem. Delmer Daves’ two superb 1947 gems – Dark Passage (1947), starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall is a suspenseful thriller about a man falsely convicted of his wife’s murder who escapes from prison and goes on the run to prove his innocence, aided by a mysterious woman, and The Red House a psychological mystery starring Edward G. Robinson and Judith Anderson, that centers on a secluded farmhouse, a mysterious red house in the woods, and dark family secrets that gradually come to light.

Joseph H. Lewis’s My Name Is Julia Ross (1945) is another compact, chilling entry, now celebrated for its taut direction and psychological depth. British directors also contributed to the genre’s richness. Norman Lee’s The Door with Seven Locks (1940) is a prime example of the “old dark house” thriller, and Thorold Dickinson’s Gaslight (1940) (the original British version) remains a masterclass in psychological manipulation and dread. There’s also George Cukor’s 1944 version of Gaslight starring Charles Boyer and Ingrid Bergman. Boris Ingster’s Stranger on the Third Floor (1940), though initially overlooked, is now recognized as a foundational film in both suspense and noir, with its surreal visuals and Kafkaesque atmosphere. Mexican director Roberto Gavaldón contributed with films such as La otra (The Other One 1946), a suspenseful tale of twins, murder, and identity. Starring Dolores del Río, La otra was later remade by Warner Bros. as Dead Ringer (1964) starring Bette Davis.

“A life that should have been but never was! A fate that moved on twisting and tortuous paths!”
– Dolores del Río, La Otra (The Other One)

Charles Boyer and Ingrid-Bergman in George Cukor’s Gaslight 1940.

Italian director Mario Soldati’s Malombra (1942) is a Gothic thriller with psychological suspense, featuring a haunted castle and a woman tormented by the past. Spanish director Edgar Neville stands out as the filmmaker most closely associated with suspense and crime thrillers in 1940s Spain. His film The Tower of the Seven Hunchbacks (La torre de los siete jorobados 1944) is a prime example—a fantastical mystery that plunges beneath the streets of old Madrid into a hidden world of intrigue, secret societies, and atmospheric menace.

The era’s thrillers-whether set in fog-choked London alleys, rain-soaked American mansions, or the labyrinthine byways of the mind-wove together noir’s bruised romanticism with the Gothic’s haunted longing all left their mark.

To revisit these films is to wander through that gallery of haunted rooms and rain-slicked streets, to step into a hall of mirrors, where every reflection is tinged with longing and every corridor leads deeper into uncertainty. Guided by directors who understood that suspense isn’t just about who did it or how—it’s about why we’re so drawn to the darkness at the edge of the frame. The legacy of 1940s suspense lies not just in its twists and revelations, but in the way these stories taught us to savor tension, to live inside the question, and to find beauty—even solace—suspensce is not just in the twists and revelations but in the way these stories taught us to savor the tension. It’s the melancholy art of not knowing what comes next.

The suspense thrillers of the 1940s were far more than products of their time—they were blueprints for the future, boldly blurring the lines between crime, horror, melodrama, and psychological drama. This willingness to experiment with genre boundaries opened the door to hybrid storytelling and tonal complexity. What makes these films so enduring isn’t just their style, but the way they tapped into the anxieties and shifting social landscape of their era, layering narrative daring with emotional depth and visual invention.

At their heart, these films revolve around recurring themes that resonate as strongly now as they did then. The “innocent-on-the-run” motif—ordinary people ensnared in webs of danger, mistaken identity, or conspiracy—heightened suspense by placing vulnerable protagonists in unfamiliar, often threatening situations, as seen in Hitchcock’s Foreign Correspondent (1940).

There are recurring tropes of Psychological Manipulation and Gaslighting: Films like Gaslight (1944) explored the theme of psychological abuse and manipulation, often within domestic or romantic relationships. Films that include Hitchcock’s Suspicion 1941, Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s Dragonwyck 1946, and Douglas Sirk’s Sleep, My Love 1948. These stories delved into the erosion of sanity, the questioning of reality, and the power dynamics between abuser and victim, reflecting broader anxieties and inherent fear about trust and control.

Some stories dealt with Doomed Romance, Paranoia, Conspiracy, and Betrayal—the pursuit of the object of desire and the fatal consequences of passion or unrequited love became a staple theme. Shaped by the looming shadow of war, these stories have a sense of dread and moral ambiguity. At the same time, claustrophobic settings and the motif of “the trap” amplified the tension, both literal and psychological. The shadow of World War II and the emerging Cold War infused thrillers with a sense of paranoia and distrust.

Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Le Corbeau 1943.

Films like Rebecca 1940, Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Le Corbeau 1943, The Mask of Dimitrios 1944 directed by Jean Negulesco, Hitchcock’s Notorious 1946, and The Stranger (1946), directed by and starring Orson Welles, The Two Mrs. Carrolls 1947 directed by Peter Godfrey. Reed’s The Third Man 1949, like many plots, often revolved around espionage, hidden enemies, and conspiracies, blurring the line between friend and foe and tapping into the era’s fear of infiltration and betrayal.

Moral Ambiguity and the Blurring of Good and Evil: Claustrophobia and the Trap: Many suspense films used confined or oppressive settings- locked rooms, shadowy mansions, fog-bound cities- to create a sense of entrapment. The “structure of the trap” was a key motif, with suspense built around the hero or heroine’s efforts to escape both literal and psychological confinement—Delmer Daves’s The Red House 1947. We also see Psychological Struggle and Internal Conflict: The best thrillers of the era didn’t just pit their characters against external threats, but also explored their inner turmoil. Themes of mental instability, trauma, and existential dread ran through films like Spellbound (1945) and The Spiral Staircase (1946), and Sorry, Wrong Number 1948, directed by Anatole Litvak and starring Barbara Stanwyck, where the real enemy was often within.

Barbara Stanwyck in Anatole Litvak’s Sorry, Wrong Number 1948.

Quite often, there was Patriarchal Control and Vulnerable Women: Many thrillers, especially those with noir or Gothic elements, explored the vulnerability of women in a patriarchal system, highlighting themes of emotional control, manipulation, and the struggle for autonomy, as seen in Gaslight and similar films. Women in Hiding 1940, directed by Richard Thorpe, and Uncle Silas 1947 (released in the U.S. as The Inheritance) starring Jean Simmons. Experiment Perilous 1944 directed by Jacques Tourneur. Starring Hedy Lamarr, it is a Gothic suspense film in which Hedy Lamarr’s character is trapped in a mansion with a controlling, possibly murderous husband. The story revolves around a woman’s struggle to survive and assert her autonomy amid a suffocating, patriarchal household. There was Undercurrent 1946, directed by Vincente Minnelli, starring Katharine Hepburn as a new bride who becomes increasingly fearful of her husband’s dark secrets and controlling behavior. The film explores the dangers of male authority and the erasure of female agency within marriage.

Crime, Murder, and the “Whodunit” Puzzle: Many suspense thrillers center on the mystery of a crime, often murder, and the gradual unraveling of clues, red herrings, and secrets. The “whodunit” structure provided a framework for suspense and brought us into the obstacle course and the tension of the mystery.

Olivia de Havilland in a dual role in Robert Siodmak’s The Dark Mirror 1946.

And, of course, we can forget: Psychological and Psycho-Sexual Disturbance. Beneath the shadowy intrigue of 1940s suspense thrillers pulses a current of psychological and psycho-sexual disturbance, where repressed desires, fractured identities, and taboo obsessions drive characters to the brink of madness and violence. This captures both the psychological and the psycho-sexual elements- think of films like The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946), directed by Lewis Milestone, Fritz Lang’s Secret Beyond the Door 1947, Phantom Lady 1944, Spellbound 1945, The Dark Mirror 1946, and that same year, Hedy Lamarr would become the dark antiheroine in Edge G. Ulmer’s taut, The Strange Woman. Ulmer brought a distinctive, atmospheric touch to this tale of power, desire, and moral ambiguity. Also in 1946, there was John Brahm’s The Locket, where inner turmoil and forbidden impulses are as suspenseful as any external threat.

Noirvember – Freudian Femme Fatales – 1946 : The Dark Mirror (1946) & The Locket (1946) ‘Twisted Inside’

One of the most unforgettable images comes from Alfred Hitchcock’s Saboteur (1942), where the climactic confrontation atop the Statue of Liberty’s torch delivers a harrowing blend of vertigo and dread. As the real saboteur Norman Lloyd as the villain Frank Fry, clings desperately to the statue’s hand, we’re left breathless, suspended between sky and sea, in a sequence that remains a blueprint for tension in visual suspense.

Norman Lloyd as the villain Frank Fry in Hitchcock’s Saboteur 1942.

One of the most haunting moments in 1940s suspense comes courtesy of Dorothy McGuire as Helen in Robert Siodmak’s The Spiral Staircase 1946. There’s a particular sequence that has stayed with me: Helen, mute and utterly alone in the storm-battered mansion, senses the killer closing in. McGuire’s expressive eyes and trembling hands do all the speaking—her fear is so palpable it practically seeps off the screen. As Helen ascends the shadow-soaked spiral staircase, every twist of the banister seems to tighten the grip of dread, the candlelight flickering across her face as if the house itself is conspiring to keep her silent. The camera coils around her, mirroring her mounting panic, while thunder rattles the windows and the killer’s presence presses in from every dark corner. It’s a stroke of genius in Silent Terror: McGuire’s Helen, trapped between floors and fate, becomes the embodiment of vulnerability and resilience, and in that moment, you can’t help but hold your breath right along with her.

For this collection of suspense that lurks off the beaten path, I’m hoping you’ll join me in descending these winding staircases and wander through this particular hall of mirrors, as we honor the spellbinding legacy of 1940s suspense- a genre that, like a half-remembered dream, refuses to fade with the dawn.

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Paths to Liberation: Personal Transformation Through Connection in Now, Voyager 1942 and Baghdad Cafe 1987

A common thread between Now, Voyager 1942 and Baghdad Cafe 1987 is the theme of personal transformation and self-discovery through unexpected relationships and environments. In Now, Voyager, Charlotte Vale undergoes a profound journey of liberation from her oppressive mother, gaining self-esteem and independence through love and her own inner strength. Similarly, in Baghdad Cafe, Jasmin’s arrival at the quirky desert Baghdad Cafe and Motel leads to her own transformation as she builds a surprising friendship with Brenda and its quirky inhabitants and finds a sense of belonging in an unfamiliar place. Both narratives highlight how stepping outside one’s comfort zone, be it on the ocean or in the desert, and forming connections can lead to empowerment and fulfillment.

Both Now, Voyager and Bagdad Cafe use clothing as a visual language for personal transformation: Charlotte Vale’s journey from drab, constricting dresses to elegant, self-assured ensembles mirrors her emergence from repression to confidence, just as Jasmin’s shift from tight, hausfrau attire to flowing, colorful garments signals her gradual liberation and blossoming in the desert. In both films, the evolution of each woman’s wardrobe becomes a powerful outward sign of inner change- a metamorphosis from invisibility and constraint to self-expression and possibility.

Where Now, Voyager begins like a deeply penetrating melodrama about maternal abuse and struggling identity, Baghdad Cafe unfolds like a hazy dream. Both women, Charlotte and Jasmin, take a journey toward awakening.

Now, Voyager 1942

“Don’t let’s ask for the moon! We have the stars!”

The iconic American melodrama that inspired the 1942 cult classic film starring Bette Davis. “Charlotte Vale is a timeless and very sophisticated Cinderella.”—Patricia Gaffney, New York Times bestselling author.

“I can think of no better account of the woman’s picture’s central role in American culture. At least we have the stars.” (Patricia White- Criterion essay We Have the Stars)

Here is a passage from David Greven’s Representations of Femininity in American Genre Cinema: The Woman’s Film, Film Noir, and Modern Horror (Palgrave, 2011) that specifically discusses Now, Voyager and Bette Davis’s performance:

“Bette Davis plays Charlotte Vale, and one suspects that what drew Davis to the role was the opportunities it gave her to perform a feat at which she excelled: onscreen transformation from one physical and emotional state into another. While several Davis films showcase her singular talent for such onscreen transformations, they are far from a unique event in the genre of the woman’s film, a prominent Hollywood genre for three decades, from the 1930s to the 1960s. Women frequently transform, either at key points in or over the course of cinematic narrative, sometimes on a physical level, sometimes in more abstract ways, as if in homage to Shakespeare’s Cleopatra and her ‘infinite variety… In her classical Hollywood heyday, Bette Davis made an onscreen transformation her signature feat. In film after film, Davis transforms, usually on a physical level but often emotionally as well. Typically, this transformation is grueling on several levels, ranging from the woman’s social situation to her bodily nature to her psychic state. As I will be treating it as a central issue here, transformation in the woman’s film genre, as Bette Davis’s roles evince, is a traumatic experience.”

Bette Davis and Paul Henreid in “Now, Voyager” 1942 Warner Bros.** B.D.M.

No matter how many times I watch Now, Voyager, I find myself weeping all over again-whether it’s Bette Davis’ profoundly moving performance or Max Steiner’s lush, aching score, the film doesn’t just tug at my heartstrings, it plays them like a symphony of bittersweet heartbreak; it’s more than a tearjerker-it’s a true weepjerker, and I surrender to its beauty every single time.

Now, Voyager, as in so much of her work, Davis’s theatricality becomes a conduit for something deeply authentic, reflecting an existential honesty. She lays bare the raw feelings at the heart of her characters, offering us glimpses of their essential truths. Acclaimed American playwright, actor, screenwriter, and drag performer Charles Busch describes Davis, and writer Ed Sikov sums it up:

“What I find interesting about her is that while she’s the most stylized of all those Hollywood actresses, the most mannered, she’s also to me the most psychologically acute. You see it in Now, Voyager in the scene on the boat when she starts to cry, and she’s playing it in a very romantic style. Henreid says, ‘My darling- you are crying,’ and she says, ‘these are only tears of gratitude – an old maid’s gratitude for the crumbs offered.’ It’s very movie-ish, but the way she turns her head inward, away from the camera, is very real.”

“In that instance, Busch so perceptively describes and appreciates Davis’s use of her melodramatic mannerisms and breathy, teary vocal delivery as well as her seemingly spontaneous nuzzling into Henreid’s chest to express the undeniable legitimacy of self-pity. It’s not a pretty emotion, but Davis somehow makes it so. Through Davis’s elevating, sublimating stylization, this woman’s secret shame becomes beautiful.”– Ed Sikov – Dark Victory: The Life of Bette Davis

Few films from Hollywood’s Golden Age have endured in the cultural imagination quite like Now, Voyager (1942), a sweeping romantic drama that transcends its era through its nuanced exploration and psychological portrait of transformation, female autonomy, and the complex bonds of love and family. Tracing the journey of Charlotte Vale, a woman suffocated by her domineering mother and her own internalized sense of worthlessness and self-loathing, as she emerges into independence, self-acceptance, and a bittersweet love.

Kino. Reise aus der Vergangenheit aka. Now, Voyager, USA, 1942 Regie: Irving Rapper Darsteller: Bette Davis, Paul Henreid. (Photo by FilmPublicityArchive/United Archives via Getty Images).

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The Curious Charisma of Roddy McDowall: A Life in Art and Film

Film critic Leonard Maltin: “Roddy McDowall’s career spanned more than six decades, and he managed to remain relevant and respected throughout. His performances were always compelling, and his contributions to cinema are invaluable.”

Roddy McDowall certainly had a distinctive presence: He always seemed to exude this uncanny youthful appearance. Even as an adult, McDowall was described as being “perpetually youthful.”

“McDowall was sharp-faced, clearly intelligent, chilly in his pride, and a kid who believed in masking his feelings (just like real kids). There are scenes in the film (How Green Was My Valley) in which older actors seem to learn restraint and stealth from the child. He was so emphatically honest in that film, and a kid who sometimes looked like a little old man (it was observed in life how, close to 70, Roddy still had “a child’s open face’).”– David Thomson for The Independent:

In 1941, The Detroit Free Press had this to say: “The child marvel of Hollywood right now is 12-year-old Roddy McDowall who arrived here from England a year ago. The public hasn’t had a really good look at him, but he has already been boosted to stardom. If you saw Manhunt, that was a small part; it was just a warm-up for the role in How Green Was My Valley, which Fox had in mind when they signed him. It is in this, his second film over here, that Roddy is becoming an American screen personality in his own right.”

“I enjoyed being in movies when I was a boy. As a child, you’re not acting- you believe. Ah, if an adult could only act as a child does with that insane, playing-at-toy-soldiers concentration!” – Roddy McDowall

Roddy McDowall was a highly prolific and versatile actor whose career spanned nearly six decades, encompassing a variety of genres in film, television, and radio. He began his acting journey as a child in 1938 and continued to be a prominent figure in Hollywood until his death in 1998. Throughout his extensive career, McDowall appeared in a wide range of classic films, beginning with 20th Century Fox’s 1941 thriller Manhunt directed by Fritz Lang and including his breakout role in How Green Was My Valley (1941).

Maureen O’Hara and Roddy McDowall in How Green Was My Valley 1941.

This is where he met and became lifelong friends with actress Maureen O’Hara. After Fox’s Best Picture winner, they cast him in the war film Confirm and Deny 1941. The following year, he played Tyrone Power as a young boy in Son of Fury: The Story of Benjamin Blake 1942.

Also, in 1942, they gave him top billing in On the Sunny Side, and he was given co-star credit alongside Monty Woolie in The Pied Piper, playing an orphan of the war. With McDowall’s success sealed, MGM borrowed the fine young actor to star in  Lassie Come Home (1943). The studio held onto him and gave him the leading role in The White Cliffs of Dover in 1944. 

Anne Baxter, Monty Woolley, and Roddy McDowall in The Pied Piper 1942.

Roddy McDowall was voted the number 4 ‘Star of Tomorrow’ in 1944, and Fox gave him another starring role in Thunderhead – Son of Flicka 1945.

Early on, he turned to the theater, starring in the title role of Young Woodley in the summer stock production in West Port, Connecticut, in July 1946. With his love of working on the stage, Orson Welles cast him in his production of Macbeth, where he played Malcolm. In 1948, he took on the same role in the film version.

By now, it was the late 1940s & 1950s, and he signed with Monogram Pictures, a low-budget studio that embraced recognizable stars to make two pictures a year. McDowall made seven films with them and worked as associate producer for director Phil Karlson’s Rocky 1948, a story about a boy and his dog. This was followed by the adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Kidnapped in 1948, Black Midnight directed by Budd Boetticher, Killer Shark, Big Timber in 1950, and The Steel Fist in 1952.

Lyn Thomas and Roddy McDowall in Black Midnight 1950.

Fans appreciate his appearance in the 70s disaster film The Poseidon Adventure (1972) and Overboard (1987). In the latter part of his life, he became a sought-after voice actor, lending his talents to animated projects such as A Bug’s Life (1998) and the popular television series Pinky and the Brain (1995-1998). Notably, McDowall also received acclaim on stage, winning a Tony Award for his supporting role in The Fighting Cock. McDowall worked with some of the most prominent actors in the industry, including Elizabeth Taylor, Gregory Peck, Orson Welles, Charlton Heston, Angela Lansbury, Kim Hunter, Vincent Price, Donald Crisp, Maureen O’Hara, Irene Dunne, Rock Hudson, Bette Davis, Jennifer Jones. Maurice Evans, Ruth Gordon, Natalie Wood, Lauren Bacall, Ava Gardner, and Rex Harrison. His career also included working with directors like Joseph L. Mankiewicz, John Ford, Jack Smight, Franklin J. Schaffner, and John Huston. His ability to transition from a child star to a respected adult performer set him apart in the industry.

Roddy McDowall possessed a fascinating duality; the contrast between his youthful looks and worldly-wise poise defined his unique charm and quiet intensity.

He was noted for his expressive eyes and articulate dispatch, which were instrumental in conveying a wide range of emotions. Roddy McDowall was intelligent and witty and often brought sharp intellect and a keen sense of humor to his roles, delivered with impeccable timing. McDowall was praised for his ability to mask feelings and convey restraint, even as a child actor. As an adult performer, he was characterized as “unpredictable,” which suggested a dynamic and varied approach to his roles. Critics noted his reliability as an actor, describing him as “always dependable.”

McDowall’s performances were subtle and nuanced: his approach to acting was all about restraint and introspection rather than over-the-top dramatics, at least in his earliest work. His acting was emotionally authentic, bringing a palpable sincerity to his characters and allowing audiences to connect with them on a profound level. Even in roles like Planet of the Apes, navigating the constraints of elaborate makeup, he transformed physical limitations into artistic opportunities. His performance transcended mere mimicry, embodying the character through a masterful blend of precise gestures and subtle nuances. Playing Cornelius in the Planet of the Apes series, he masterfully balanced intelligence, empathy, and subtle humor.

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MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #29 The Canterville Ghost 1947

THE CANTERVILLE GHOST 1947

The Embracing Fortitude of An Obliging AfterLife: The Kindly Ghost

The Canterville Ghost (1944) is a delightful comedy directed by Jules Dassin, with some initial work by Norman Z. McLeod. The film is a charming adaptation that takes liberties with Oscar Wilde’s original story, creating a unique blend of comedy, fantasy, and wartime drama.

Dassin left an indelible mark on cinema with his innovative techniques, particularly in the film noir genre. His notable films include Brute Force (1947), The Naked City (1948), Thieves’ Highway 1949, and Night and the City (1950), which are still highly regarded for their gritty realism and dynamic storytelling. After being blacklisted in Hollywood, Dassin moved to Europe where he created some of his most celebrated works, including the influential dialogue-free heist film Riffifi (1955) and the internationally successful Never on Sunday (1960). Dassin’s ability to adapt and thrive in different cinematic environments, from Hollywood to European art house, solidified his legacy as a versatile and influential director.

My review of Thieves’ Highway 1949 is below:

31 Flavors of Noir on the Fringe to Lure you in! Part 2

The Canterville Ghost stars Charles Laughton, who brings both humor and pathos to the role with theatrical flair as Sir Simon de Canterville, Robert Young as Cuffy Williams, and lovable Margaret O’Brien as Lady Jessica de Canterville. Laughton masterfully blends multiple acting styles, combining burlesque, melodrama, pathetic farce, the comedy of manners, and outright tragedy. Despite his large stature, Laughton displays surprising agility and grace in his portrayal of the ghost. He moves fluidly through the manor, running down corridors and leaping over benches with unexpected lightness.

The story begins in 17th-century England, where Sir Simon de Canterville commits a cowardly act by fleeing a duel. As punishment, his father has him bricked up in a room of the family castle, condemning him to haunt the halls until a Canterville descendant performs an act of courage in his name.

Fast forward to 1943, the Canterville castle becomes a temporary barracks for American soldiers during World War II. The ghost of Sir Simon still haunts the castle, attempting to scare its new inhabitants. However, the American soldiers are more amused than frightened by his antics.

Young Cuffy Williams (Robert Young) discovers he is a descendant of Canterville. He struggles with the family’s reputation for cowardice, especially when faced with dangerous wartime situations. Six-year-old Jessica, brought to life with the charm of a fine lady by Margaret O’Brien, befriends the soldiers and tries to help Sir Simon break his curse.

The film’s strength lies in its blend of humor, heart, and effective supernatural elements. Laughton’s performance as the cowardly ghost is particularly endearing, with his elaborate costumes and comical attempts at scaring the soldiers. O’Brien’s natural and sincere portrayal of Lady Jessica adds a touching element to their relationship, as Sir Simon and young Lady Jessica de Canterville form an unlikely friendship. Her relationship with Sir evolves from initial skepticism to profound empathy, ultimately transforming both characters.

At first, Lady Jessica is reluctant to engage with the ghost haunting the family castle. She views him as a nuisance and even scolds him for his antics, including his attempts to refurbish the infamous bloodstain. However, her encounter with Sir Simon reveals his tragic backstory—his cowardly act in a duel, his subsequent punishment, and his inability to find peace after centuries of haunting. As she learns more about Sir Simon’s plight, her pity deepens into genuine compassion. She recognizes his yearning for eternal rest and agrees to help him fulfill the prophecy that will free him from his curse.

Some of the wonderful moments include Laughton’s first appearance as Sir Simon in a feathered hat and the soldiers’ humorous reactions to him as a hapless, buffoonish ghost, and Sir Simon’s tour of the family portrait gallery with Cuffy Williams, recounting the cowardly acts of his descendants and the clever use of special effects to show Laughton as a transparent ghost.

The climactic sequence involves an unexploded mine. Sir Simon is seen straddling a gigantic unexploded mine as it’s dragged across the countryside by an American jeep. It’s a tense action sequence in which Cuffy must overcome his fears to perform an act of bravery, potentially freeing Sir Simon from his centuries-old curse.

Through Simon’s and Lady Jessica’s bond, both characters learn valuable lessons about love, forgiveness, and sacrifice. Her willingness to help Sir Simon bridges the gap between the living and the dead, reconciling ancient sins with hope for a brighter future as Simon disappears into a peaceful eternity.

#29 down, 121 to go! Your EverLovin’ Joey, formally & affectionately known as MonsterGirl!

 

Enter Teresa Wright in The Little Foxes 1941 – Behold, tomorrow I will bring locusts" and they shall eat every tree of yours that grows in the field.

“I only ever wanted to be an actress, not a star.”

Teresa Wright may seem lamblike at first glance, but don’t let the soft smile fool you into thinking there isn’t something gutsy within that charming glow. She is one of the most engaging actors, and she shows a resolute luster and independence to take on Hollywood with the same veracity she pursued wicked Uncle Charlie in Shadow of a Doubt.

Wright was not only endearing, but her acting and personal life lacked ceremony and authenticity. She was discovered by Samuel Goldwyn and gained early recognition for her exceptional performances in her first three films. She became the only actor to receive Oscar nominations for each of them. Wright earned an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress and one for Mrs. Miniver.

Teresa Wright and Greer Garson in William Wyler’s Mrs. Miniver (1942).

It stands to reason that Times drama editor Edwin Schallert described Wright’s burgeoning career as “one of the most remarkably brilliant for a young player in Hollywood.” Despite being a Hollywood star, she remained true to herself and rejected the pretentiousness that came along with being a star. She achieved Hollywood stardom on her own terms, without selling out for the sake of glamour.

Teresa Wright was resolute in her refusal to pose for photographs while wearing bathing suits and to subject herself to superficial interviews in gossipy fan magazines. At first, Goldwyn told her he was not of “the bathing suit school of Hollywood producers.”

Muriel Teresa Wright was born in Harlem, New York City. She discovered a passion for acting while attending the exclusive Rosehaven School in Tenafly, New Jersey, after watching Helen Hayes in “Victoria Regina.” While attending high school in Maplewood, N.J., Wright participated in theatrical productions. Although one teacher advised her to pursue typing instead, a public-speaking teacher mentored her and provided her with plays to read. He also arranged for her to spend two summers at the Wharf Theater in Provincetown.

After receiving a scholarship in the two summers preceding her graduation, she began apprenticing at the Wharf Theatre in Massachusetts, appearing in plays such as The Vinegar Tree and Susan and God.
She performed in school plays and graduated from Columbia High School in Maplewood, New Jersey, in 1938. She then decided to pursue acting professionally and moved to New York.

Wright had to drop her first name when she discovered that another actress named Muriel Wright was already registered with Actors Equity.

In 1938, in her first play, she landed an understudy role in Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town” on Broadway and then toured in the play.

It was a minor role, but it also served as a chance to understudy the lead ingénue character of Emily, actress Dorothy Maguire; however, when Maguire failed to return, Teresa continued in the same role under Martha Scott. Wright eventually replaced Martha Scott when the actress adapted the role of Emily in the film version.

Following her successful stage performances, Wright made her remarkable Broadway debut as Mary in Life With Father in 1939. This caught the attention of playwright Lillian Hellman, who recommended her to Goldwyn for the screen version of Hellman’s The Little Foxes.

Teresa Wright as Alexandra (Zan) Gibbons in Lillian Hellman/William Wyler The Little Foxes (1941).

She gained recognition for her work alongside Bette Davis (who played the cold, calculating mother Regina) and Patricia Collinge who reprised her unparalleled Broadway role as the mercurial Aunt Birdie) in the film.

At that time, she had signed a contract with MGM but refused to do publicity stunts or cheese-cake shots that would turn her into a centerfold:

” The aforementioned Teresa Wright shall not be required to pose for photographs in a bathing suit unless she is in the water. Neither may she be photographed running on the beach with her hair flying in the wind. Nor may she pose in any of the following situations: In shorts, playing with a cocker spaniel; digging in a garden; whipping up a meal; attired in firecrackers and holding skyrockets for the Fourth of July; looking insinuatingly at a turkey for Thanksgiving; wearing a bunny cap with long ears for Easter; twinkling on prop snow in a skiing outfit while a fan blows her scarf; assuming an athletic stance while pretending to hit something with a bow and arrow.”

Though she became the unwilling pin-up girl, Teresa Wright became Goldwyn’s biggest overall star during the 1940s.

Teresa Wright and Gary Cooper in Pride of the Yankees (1942) image RKO via Getty Images.

Teresa received Oscar nominations for her roles in Mrs. Miniver (1942), the only movie she made for her studio MGM, and The Pride of the Yankees (1942), winning the Best Supporting Actress trophy for Mrs. Miniver.

In both roles, Teresa Wright gave heartwarming performances as the granddaughter in the sentimental war-era Mrs. Miniver and as baseball icon Lou Gehrig’s kindhearted wife in Pride of the Yankees, starring opposite Gary Cooper. Wright, now one of the most appealing newcomers in Hollywood, garnered two Best Supporting Actress and Best Actress nods in the same year. She holds the record for receiving back-to-back Academy Award nominations in her first three film roles, which still stands today.

Teresa Wright received top billing for Shadow of a Doubt, a film that was her personal favorite and earned every bit of that limelight in Alfred Hitchcock’s psychological thriller. The film places Wright as serial killer Joseph Cotten’s unsuspecting niece, Charlie, at the story’s center. Unsuspecting at first”¦

When Young Charlie (Wright) is over the moon about her favorite Uncle Charlie coming to her sleeping California town for a visit, the whole family celebrates his arrival. Her mother, Emma, Charlie’s older sister (Patricia Collings, who appeared with Wright in The Little Foxes and Casanova Brown), can’t wait to dote on her baby brother. But soon, it comes to light that Charlie might have left strangled wealthy women in his wake, and in fact, maybe The Merry Widow killer.

Teresa Wright gives a nuanced performance as Charlie Newton, who daringly holds her own in a game of cat and mouse with Joseph Cotten. They are tangled up in danger as she carefully draws out his murderous impulses.

But in the shadows beyond the edges, the family is unaware of the two characters diverge ““ one set on self-preservation with a malignant disgust for fat lazy wives who live off their husbands and the other who seeks out the truth and bends toward humanity. Their same names are where it begins and ends. Wright is a glowing jewel in the blackness of Hitchcock’s nightmare.

Continue reading “Enter Teresa Wright in The Little Foxes 1941 – Behold, tomorrow I will bring locusts" and they shall eat every tree of yours that grows in the field.”

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away! Halloween A-Z

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I Married a Witch 1942

I Married a Witch is a 1942 romantic comedy fantasy directed by René Clair. The movie combines elements of witchcraft and romance in a lighthearted and whimsical tale.

The story revolves around a 17th-century witch named Jennifer, played by Veronica Lake, and her father Daniel (Cecil Kellaway), who are burned at the stake by the Puritans. Before their execution, they curse the descendants of the man responsible for their demise, the Wooley family.

In a quest for vengeance, Jennifer cast a malevolent curse upon all future generations of the Wooley family, ensuring that each of their sons would be destined to marry the wrong woman, leading to a lifetime of unhappiness.

Their spirits have been trapped in a tree for centuries.

Fast forward to the 20th century, and lightning strikes the tree, releasing the spirits of Jennifer and Daniel. Jennifer, still a mischievous and enchanting witch, is determined to seek revenge on the Wooley family. However, when she meets Wallace Wooley, played by Fredric March, a descendant of her accuser, she finds herself falling in love with him.

Jennifer decides to abandon her vengeful plans and use her magical powers to win Wallace’s heart. She brews love potions, casts spells, and creates humorous chaos in the process. As their love story unfolds, Jennifer’s magical antics lead to a series of comical and unexpected situations.

I Bury the Living 1958

I Bury the Living will be a film I cover in-depth for Sunday Nite Surreal. So stayed tuned

I Bury the Living is a 1958 horror-thriller film directed by Albert Band. The strange and offbeat story uses a graveyard as its primary stage, to follow Robert Kraft (played by Richard Boone), a cemetery manager who discovers that the placement of black and white pins on a map (a map that is a matrix of a sardonic, animated face) of the cemetery seems to affect the fate of the individuals they represent. When he mistakenly places a black pin in a plot reserved for a living person, mysterious and tragic events begin to unfold the first time the uncanny deaths occur is when Kraft sticks the wrong pins in the plot owned by newlyweds, and winds up dead. The question of the film is, was it a mere coincidence, or can Kraft control who lives or dies?

As the body count rises, Kraft becomes increasingly obsessed with unraveling the deadly secret behind the map, leading to a suspenseful and chilling exploration of fate, superstition, and the boundaries of reality. Theodore Bikel plays Andy McKee. Frederick Gately’s (Wicked, Wicked 1975, mostly working in television) cinematography almost gives the film the effect of being a stage play.

The Incredibly Strange Creatures 1964

An oddity, Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies!!? is a cult film released in 1964, directed by Ray Dennis Steckler, who also appears in the film as the character Jerry (Ray Dennis Steckler aka "˜Cash Flag'). The movie is often considered one of the worst films ever made and has achieved a certain notoriety in the realm of cult and exploitation cinema. The low production values, amateurish acting, and incoherent plot have contributed to its reputation as a “so bad it’s good” movie.

The film’s plot is quite bizarre and disjointed, featuring a mix of elements like romance, hypnotism, murder, and musical numbers, and yet nothing is ever fully explained such as the reason for the acid-disfigured victims kept in a cage. It follows bad boy Jerry and his friends as they attend a beach carnival, where Jerry becomes hypnotized by Madam Estrella and is compelled to commit murder. The film then follows his efforts to resist the urge to kill and uncover the secrets of the sinister Madam Estrella though the motives of Madam Estrella and her aide, Ortega, are also unclear.

Unemployed jerk Jerry (Ray Dennis Steckler credited in this oddity as "˜Cash Flag') is pals with sidekick Harold (Atlas King), but he’s a lousy boyfriend to Angela (Sharon Walsh). When he takes her on a date to the beach carnival, they go to see a mysterious fortune-teller named Madam Estrella (Brett O'Hara). Jerry is attracted to one of the dancers at the carnival named Carmelita (Erina Enyo) which pisses off Angela. Jerry is invited to come backstage and is put under a hypnotic spell by Madam Estrella and soon begins to go on a murder spree killing dancers, beginning with headliner Marge Neilson (Carolyn Brandt). Jerry is haunted by strange hallucinations and soon learns the news of the carnival killings. When he seeks out Angela, he gets a wave of murderous lust again and nearly kills her too. Jerry is determined to learn Madam Estrella's hidden secrets.

Also, the film features various dance costumes and scenes from the carnival midway, which are noted for their historical interest as they capture the atmosphere of the Long Beach Pike in the early 1960s.

Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies!!? has garnered a cult following among fans of low-budget and exploitation cinema. It is often appreciated for its unintentional humor and its unique blend of genres and elements. Interesting note:

The three cameramen who started their careers under Ray Steckler’s guidance would go on to leave indelible marks in the film industry. Joseph V. Mascelli, for instance, authored a widely acclaimed cinematography manual, plied his trade as a cinematographer for Arch Hall Sr., and even took a shot at directing his own Z-horror film, “Monstrosity.”

In parallel, the camera operator Vilmos Zsigmond and his assistant, László Kovács, who had fled Hungary in the tumultuous year of 1956, embarked on their ascent with the Hollywood camera profession. Their involvement in “Incredibly Strange Creatures” marked one of the early steps in their dedicated climb, how ironic – they began their remarkable careers with one of the worst films ever made.

Island of Terror 1966

Island of Terror is a 1966 British horror film directed by Terence Fisher. The story unfolds on a remote island off the coast of Ireland, where a group of scientists led by Dr. Brian Stanley (played by Peter Cushing) and Edward Judd as Dr. Davis West becomes embroiled in a terrifying ordeal.

A series of gruesome deaths occur on the island, with victims reduced to skeletal remains, and the local population is gripped by fear. Dr. Stanley and his team soon discover the cause of these horrors: the island has become infested with deadly, gelatinous creatures resembling turtle-like amoebas with tentacles, which suck the bones out of their victims, leaving them as lifeless husks. The monocellular creatures are reminiscent of those in Caltiki, the Immortal Monster 1959 which also features a scene in which one of the characters loses a hand.

In the pursuit of a potential cancer cure on a remote island nestled off the Irish coast, the project’s esteemed scientist unwittingly creates a monstrous new organism that thrives by devouring all other living creatures.

As the scientists and the island’s inhabitants attempt to combat the horrific creatures, they realize that traditional weapons are ineffective against them. The film explores themes of scientific curiosity, survival, and the desperate struggle to find a way to defeat the relentless, bone-devouring monsters. The film also stars Niall MacGinnis as Mr. Roger Campbell. Offering support to David West is his beloved socialite girlfriend, Toni Merrill (Carole Gray).

Island of Terror features two well-known actors in British cinema, Sam Kydd plays the constable, John Harris who discovers a missing farmer dead in a cave. The frightening discovery reveals the body is a mass of jelly. Eddie Byrne (Hammer’s The Mummy, The Vengeance of Fu Manchu) is the island doctor, who mocks mere simplicity used to describe the gruesome condition of the corpse: “There was no face, just a horrible mush, with the eyes sittin’ in it.” 

Fisher knows how to create an eerie landscape and in this horror/sci-fi hybrid, the mood is suffocating due to the isolation and the inescapable reality that they are all marooned on this remote island. The village is encircled by these insatiable parasites, as they try desperately to survive while scrambling to find a way to exterminate these organisms before catastrophe strikes. Of course, there’s a twist ending… the scenario repeats itself in Japan.

The Incredible Two-Headed Transplant 1971

The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant is a 1971 science fiction horror film directed by Anthony M. Lanza. The story revolves around an ambitious scientist, Dr. Roger Girard (Bruce Dern), who conducts a groundbreaking and ethically questionable experiment.

Dr. Girard successfully performs a head transplant, attaching the head of a convicted murderer, Max (played by Albert Cole), to the body of a mentally disabled man, Danny (played by John Bloom). The result is a grotesque and unnerving two-headed lumbering mess. Max and Danny’s conflicting personalities and desires create chaos and tension within their shared body.

As Dr. Girard struggles to control his increasingly unhinged creation, Max’s criminal tendencies resurface, leading to a series of violent and deadly actions. The trashy pick also stars Pat Priest (The Munsters) Berry Kroeger, and Casey Kasem.

The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant is known for its cheesy, campy, and exploitative nature, more ridiculous than bizarre, or macabre. It has become a cult classic for all the obvious reasons.

This is your EverLovin’ Joey saying ‘I’ will see you around the snack bar while I pick up an icy cup of the letter J!

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away! Halloween A-Z

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The Ghoul 1933

The Ghoul is a 1933 British horror film directed by T. Hayes Hunter and starring Boris Karloff who appears in the first and the last two reels, along with co-stars Sir Cedric Hardwicke, Ralph Richardson, Ernest Thesiger and Dorothy Hyson as Morlant’s niece Betty. The picture is considered one of the most ‘elusive’ of the lost horror films because it had not been seen until 1969 since its original release in 1933. There now exists a ‘tattered’ yet welcomed print (the negative had decomposed) owned by the Rank Organization, discovered in an East European archive and sent to The Theodore Huff Memorial Film Society. Karloff considered this film to be worthy of remembrance and had been heard saying that he hoped it would stay lost. (source: William K. Everson)

The film follows the story of Professor Henry Morlant (a very grotesque role for Boris Karloff), a rich eccentric and an Egyptologist who dabbles in the occult and is obsessed with the idea of immortality. Before his death, Morlant arranges for his body to be buried with a valuable ancient Egyptian jewel known as “The Eternal Light”, that will bring about his resurrection and be granted eternal life by the Egyptian God Anubis.

Upon Morlant’s death, a group of individuals, including his lawyer, a relative, and other acquaintances, gather at his estate to attend his funeral. Morlant is interred in low light given off by the glowing torches during a dreary, morbid ceremony. It is after this that the vultures swoop down for the reading of his will which includes the rightful heirs to his estate, a greedy lawyer, and a sinister collection of Oxford-educated Egyptians who seek to repossess the jewel. There are enough suspicious characters and villains to go around.

However, they soon discover that Morlant’s body has mysteriously disappeared, and they become embroiled in a series of eerie and supernatural events. As they search for the missing jewel, they are haunted by Morlant’s restless spirit, a ‘ghoulish’ version of the man who has returned from the dead, stalking his old house in search of the Eternal Light to achieve immortality. Driven by his unholy desires, unhinged by the end of his life, now a monstrous evil spirit he nearly strangles his niece Betty whom he adored in life.

In a grim ending, Morlant reclaims his jewel and offers himself to the God Anubis, carving sacrificial sacred symbols into his chest, and now can find his final rest after he has had his wishes fulfilled when the statue comes to life and accepts his gift.

The Ghost Breakers 1940

The Ghost Breakers is a 1940 comedy-horror film directed by George Marshall and starring Bob Hope and Paulette Goddard in the lead roles. The film combines elements of comedy, mystery, and the supernatural to create an entertaining and light-hearted story about a radio broadcaster, his trembling butler, and an heiress investigating the mystery of a haunted castle in Cuba.

The film follows the adventures of Larry Lawrence (played by Bob Hope), a radio personality and skeptic, who finds himself embroiled in a series of comedic and spooky events. After mistakenly believing he’s committed a murder, Larry flees to Cuba with his loyal butler, Alex (played by Willie Best), to escape the authorities.

In Cuba, Larry and Alex end up staying at a seemingly haunted mansion owned by Mary Carter (played by Paulette Goddard). Mary believes her family’s ancestral home is cursed and haunted by ghosts. Larry, always the skeptic, begins to investigate and uncover the secrets of the mansion, leading to a series of comedic encounters with supernatural phenomena.

As the plot unfolds, Larry and Mary join forces to unravel the mysteries surrounding the haunted mansion, including hidden treasure and a ghostly pirate curse. The Ghost Breakers is known for its witty humor, playful banter between Bob Hope and Paulette Goddard, and its blend of comedy and spooky elements, making it one of the most enjoyable classics in the comedy-horror genre.

The Giant Claw 1957

The Giant Claw shot over the course of two weeks is a 1957 science fiction film directed by Fred F. Sears (who also has 77 acting roles to his credits – was responsible for other cheapies including exploitation and westerns  – The Night the World Explodes 1957, the very sublime The Werewolf 1956, and the fabulous Earth vs. the Flying Saucers 1956 that featured the work of Ray Harryhausen.) The film revolves around the appearance of a gigantic and mysterious flying creature that threatens the world. Samuel Newman and Paul Gangelin’s script adhered to the classic and well-established narrative of the ‘giant creature-on-the-loose.’ Both Morrow and Corday wind up investigating a series of strange phenomena, including the destruction of military aircraft. As they dig deeper into the mystery, they discover that a massive bird-like creature, resembling a giant prehistoric vulture, is responsible for the destruction.

See Keep Watching the Skies featuring Earth vs. the Flying Saucers Here:

Jeff Morrow plays Radar test pilot Mitch Macafee whose discovery of an unidentified flying object (UFO) initially met with widespread skepticism. Most people doubted his account, dismissing it as a mere fantasy. However, doubt turned to alarm when a fighter jet mysteriously disappeared without a trace. The authorities and officials could no longer afford to disregard Macafee’s story as mere conjecture, especially as other planes and boats fell victim to unexplained attacks.

Of course, he has a hard time convincing anyone that he saw what he saw.MacAfee’s love interest is 1950’s scream queen heroine Mara Corday as Sally Caldwell. Mitch and Sally, along with the military, must find a way to stop this colossal menace before it can cause more destruction and chaos. Along for the ride is science fiction’s stalwart military/police/scientist-actor Morris Ankrum as Lt. Gen. Edward Considine.

See my tribute to Queen B’s of 1950s sci-fi & horror: Mara Corday Here:

Eventually, its existence can’t be denied when it flies off with a train filled with passengers dangling from its beak. The authorities warn everyone to stay indoors, but a carload of rebellious teenagers don’t listen and get eaten in their car like a can of unopened sardines. The problem is, that the giant claw is undetectable by radar because somehow, The enormous bird, defies the laws of physics. This monstrous bird possesses its own antimatter shied which also makes it indestructible. And its goal is to lay its eggs here on earth. So one could say that this creature is both an ancient god and extraterrestrial? When Morrow shoots up the Claw’s eggs there begins a personal grudge against him, who then must work around the clock to find a way to pierce the thing’s antimatter shield. Once the Giant Claw is shot down it disappears into the ocean and that’s the last we see of it.

The Giant Claw is known for its campy special effects, including the rather comical appearance of the titular creature, and has gained a cult following among fans of classic B-movies.

It has been reported that the marionette of the “Giant Claw” monster, made by a model-maker in Mexico City, cost producer Sam Katzman a mere $50./blockquote>

The lead actor, Jeff Morrow, confessed in an interview that no one who had worked on the film knew what the giant bird creature actually looked like until the premiere.

He watched the film in its entirety for the first time in his hometown."ƒHearing the audience laugh each time the monster appeared on-screen caused him to slip out early, embarrassed anyone might recognize him.

The Gorgon 1964

She Turns Screaming Flesh Into Silent Stone!

Read Brides of Horror 1960s tribute to Barbara Shelley Here:

The Gorgon is a 1964 British horror film produced by Hammer Film Productions, known for its classic horror productions. Directed by Terence Fisher (Curse of Frankenstein, Horror of Dracula, and The Mummy), and a story by writer J. Llewellyn Devine and screenplay by John Gilling (Plague of the Zombies 1966 and Blood Beast from Outer Space 1955) the film blends elements of mythology, suspense, and gothic horror that features gorgeous strokes of a lush color palate with art direction by Don Mingaye and cinematography by Michael Reed.

Co-writer Gillina told Little Shop of Horrors magazine, “was a writing assignment from Hammer that I considered one of my best screenplays…” but according to him, Anthony Hinds ”re-wrote the opening and changed much of the dialogue.” Ultimately this damaged the script and the film.

Set in a remote German village in the 19th century, the story revolves around a series of gruesome murders that have plagued the community. Each victim has been turned to stone, and the villagers are living in fear of a mysterious and deadly creature.

Local physician Dr. Namaroff (played by Peter Cushing), the local physician employs Carla Hoffman (one of Hammer’s finest scream queens/heroine Barbara Shelley) to work as his assistant. Carla just happens to be possessed by the spirit of Megera -the ancient mythological creature -The Gorgon. Richard Pasco plays Paul Heitz the hero hopelessly in love with Carla, who is blinded by the possibility that she may be responsible for the uncanny killings that have beset the village.

"You'll perform an autopsy?" the inspector asks. "On a body that's turned to stone?" Namaroff

When Professor Karl Meister (played by Christopher Lee) arrives in the village to investigate the murders, he is joined by Dr. Namaroff to begin to uncover the chilling truth behind the deaths. They soon learn that the Gorgon, a creature from Greek mythology, is responsible for the killings. The Gorgon has the power to turn anyone who gazes upon her face into stone.

In The Films of Christopher Lee, the actor called The Gorgon a ”beautiful-looking picture, but the whole thing fell apart because the effect of the snakes on Megera’s head was not sufficiently well done for the climax of the film. Not a memorable picture, but it ouls have been terrific.”

Syd Pearson Hammer artist did the makeup for The Gorgon.

Grave of the Vampire 1972

"Cake is so delicious. I can't believe dead people haven't found a way to eat it."

Director John Hayes–specialized in trashy exploitation & horror including Dream No Evil 1970 (Read my post about the film HERE:), Garden of the Dead 1972 (which was part of the double bill with Grave of the Vampire), The Cut-Throats 1971 and Jailbait Babysitter 1977— was in a good position to explore the evocative study of the modern-day vampire. Following the Yorga mythos, Hayes also made a smart move in casting Michael Pataki as Caleb Croft. Hayes manages to effectively include brutal deaths and a climactic confrontation between father and son.

Michael Pataki’s portrayal of Caleb Croft/Professor Lockwood is not bad as a malevolent, hostile, and snarling 70s-style vampire. William Smith -prolific in exploitation, thrillers, and favorite television series like Kolchak, Columbo, and The Rockford Files is known for his hyper-H Man persona and is an interesting decision to be cast as the tragic product of Croft’s angy loins.

Back in the early 1970s Grave of the Vampire featured one of the most cringe-worthy scenes in a horror movie. Today it wouldn’t arouse a slight wince, but for that time period seeing a mother feeding a newborn infant a baby bottle filled with blood was quite a bold move on the part of filmmaker John Hayes. In 2009 Paul Solet directed Jordan Ladd in Grace, the story of a mother Madeline Matheson who loses her unborn child but insists on carrying the baby to term. When she delivers the infant it miraculously returns to life but with a thirst for human blood…

Leslie begins drawing her own blood into syringes and filling bottles to feed the baby, whom she names James. Thirty years later, Leslie dies, leaving her son to blame his father for her suffering, James spends his life hunting down his evil father.

All within the first fifteen minutes of the film, in a mist-shrouded graveyard, the camera gracefully circles around a tomb bearing the Croft family name. Jaime Mendoza-Nave’s ( The Town That Dreaded Sundown 1976, The Evictors 1979) soundtrack resonates with the rhythmic thud of a heartbeat, hinting at a secret lifeforce lingering within the tomb.

This reveal is suspended as the film cuts to a college fraternity house, where a  ritual is being held, "Lola Blossom's gonna do her dance," says a fraternity brother. "And we've got all the freshmen dressed up like dogs so they can crawl on their knees and bark at her."

One of the college students – Paul, leaves the party with his girlfriend Leslie, driving off in an automobile from the 1930s.

Somewhere in New England on a moon-soaked night in 1940, the young couple Paul (Jay Scott) and Leslie (Kitty Villacher, The Deathmaster) go to a cemetery to make woopie in the nighttime hours. Sporting an argyle sweater and bow tie, Paul plans on taking the opportunity to propose to his sweetheart. When Paul proposes to Leslie, her response is classic: “Yes, Paul, anytime you want me to.”

The lovers immediately become amorous on a tombstone. Leslie says, "I don't think I'll ever be frightened of graveyards. It's special for us."

At the same time, a coffin lid in the Croft tomb opens to expose busy character actor Michael Pataki whose dessicated face appears with decrepit green/gray pancake makeup. (Tino Zachhia Psychic Killer 1975, Death Game 1977, and The Manhandlers 1974 was responsible for Pataki’s vampire makeup) The living dead Croft is crawling with tarantulas and toads. (think Barbara Steele in Black Sunday).

This is the grave of Caleb Croft (Michael Pataki  178 television & movie credits- from exploitation/thriller/dramas and a slew of horror films-) a known murderer who was accidentally electrocuted to death "” now rising from his tomb in search of fresh blood.

Paul and Leslie don’t have time to celebrate as they climb into the back seat of his car to consummate their engagement when Croft ascends from his coffin and makes his way to the couple's car ripping the car door off its hinges, pulling Paul out, lifting him over his head, and slamming him down onto a massive tombstone, breaking his back. Leslie then witnesses Croft sucking blood from her fiancé's neck. And when she tries to escape, he drags her into a nearby freshly dug grave.

During the gruesome attack, a worse fate is in store for Leslie, as she is dragged into the empty grave and assaulted by the undead fiend who flees before sunrise to find shelter and commit further bloodshed.

Leslie ends up in a hospital. This is where John Hayes begins to disrupt the traditional vampire narrative. Two years before in 1970, Robert Quarry emerged on screen as Count Yorga who terrorized a group of 70s hipsters, and the same year as Grave of the Vampire, Dan Curtis introduced Kolchak: The Night Stalker which also subverted the conventional Gothic vampire tale as a modern-day exploration of the urban threat of vampirism, its historic mythos and its insidious ability to adapt to contemporary rituals. Now the vampire hunting Van Helsing became a shabby reporter in a Searsucker suit and $2 hat, chasing down a twentieth-century boogeyman, and in this film, Caleb Croft is actually a professor at the community college.

Lieutenant Panzer (Ernesto Macias) already suspects that Paul has been slaughtered by a vampire. When he questions Leslie at the hospital, he shows her a series of photographs and when she sets her eyes on the picture of Croft she has a violent reaction. Croft eventually kills Lieutenant Panzer (Ernesto Macias Kiss of the Tarantula 1976), by smashing his head with the lid of the crypt.

The doctor breaks the news to Leslie that she is pregnant. At first, she is happy thinking that she’ll give birth to Paul's baby, but he immediately strongly urges her to have an abortion as what's growing inside her is an otherworldly parasite. "What's growing inside of you isn't alive,"

Though he doesn’t explain his findings. Olga (Lieux Dressler), Leslie’s roommate in the hospital reveals why she doesn’t trust doctors, "My husband died from pills, man! Leslie is confused by her doctor's ambiguous warning. Though he has been her doctor since she was a child she defies his logic. "All those old people in the waiting room, none of them ever got better." Leslie turns her back on conventional medical science. When Leslie refuses his medical advice to abort her pregnancy, she leaves the hospital.

Leslie winds up in an old summer home that belonged to her parents and with Olga’s (Lieux Dressler, Kingdom of the Spiders) help who acts as a midwife, She delivers her baby at home in her bedroom. However, the baby, whom she names James (full name James Eastman), has a sinister secret. He requires human blood for sustenance, and Leslie resorts to drawing her own blood to feed him.

When Leslie quickly realizes "Why is he so gray?" Olga begs Leslie to take him back to the doctor. Leslie refuses and insists on trying to breastfeed the newborn one last time.

In a prophetic moment, as Leslie begins to bring her baby to her breast to feed, reaching toward a bowl of fruit that holds a knife, the blade cuts her finger and the little beads of crimson begin to drop onto the infant’s mouth. It’s at this moment that she realizes the true identity of her son, and who his father is.

Her ashen little boy can only find nourishment through human blood. Its anxious new pink lips suckle, the blood like red milk nourishes its unholy thirst. What upends this scene is the way it subverts the rule of law of motherhood – heightening the disturbing aspect of the thing, blending the grotesqueness of an infant drinking blood, and the simultaneous use of a traditional lullaby. “All the pretty little horses…” Leslie sings to James. I remember this scene vividly.

Some thirty years later, at the time of Leslie’d death, James has grown up to be the brawny James Eastman (William Smith,), who is presumably half vampire and half human enough to exist out in the sunlight but still depends on eating bloody raw steaks. James sits beside his mother’s coffin, he explains to us in voice-over:

James Eastman voiceover] ”My mother found it difficult to tell me that I wasn’t like other children; I could never share a life with whole human beings. I slowly learned that the thing that raped my mother and fathered me was no living feeling man, but a malignant force of cancer that refused to be destroyed. It wasn’t only her blood my mother gave to keep me alive, her youth and her own life was sucked up into the syringe that fed me.

I came to hate Caleb Croft for creating me in his image, and for using my mother as a spawning ground for his evil. I’m determined to destroy him.”

James is tormented having spent his life tracking down his monstrous father. It's been James Eastman's lifelong mission to finally confront his murderous old man, who constantly moves from place to place and has managed to elude him over the years. Caleb Croft who is believed to have been born centuries earlier as Charles Croyden is now calling himself Professor Lockwood, teaching a night class on the occult. James enrolls in one of his classes, being vocal about his suspicions about Lockwood – calling out the subject of vampires. And now father and son’s lives will finally converge

In class, Croft/Lockwood makes a racist remark about a voodoo spell that can kill its victims. Here he demonstrates a bit of ironic misdirection – drawing away his student’s attention from the fact that he is proof that these things are possible in a cruel and supernatural world "Can it really kill? No. Not here with automobiles and electric lights. We could never believe such a thing. But strip away the lights, the automobiles, the antibiotics that keep us one step ahead of death, and we are left with pathetic, frightened little creatures wandering in a cruel and hostile world."

After Prof. Lockwood theorizes that death is ‘beautiful’, James presses him on the subject of vampires, and the legend of Charles Croydon, a 17th-century Englishman who, with his wife, practiced vampirism. James and fellow student Anita (Diane Holden) have read that Charles Croydon and Caleb Croft murderer and rapist, are in fact, the same person. But the bell rings, and it cuts Lockwood off before he can address the question.

In the meantime, Lockwood/Croft has already murdered a prostitute drinking her blood after he slashes her neck with a broken bottle. Next, he seduces one of his female students, "At first you reminded me of my dead wife Sara, but then I went beyond that… Forgive me if I seem to be compelling. That quality is inspired by you." She answers him, "I feel very helpless at this moment."Â "You are free to leave, No tricks. no…’ (re-referencing the racial slur.)

Later that night, Lockwood is in the library searching for a book on Charles Croydon. When the library closes, the librarian unloosens her hair letting it fall on her shoulders, and begins to try and seduce him. She entices him with the knowledge that she was once a photographer’s model. But, when she refuses to let him take the book on Croydon from the library, he becomes enraged, "You were using me!" He grabs her by the throat and kills her.

Later, James and Anita attend a party, where she remarks to him ‘‘I'd swear you were a vampire if I hadn't seen you walking around in the sunlight. You're unobtainable."

By the night’s end, James winds up back at his apartment with another student, Anne (Lynn Peters) who seduces him. After they make love,  he can hardly keep from biting her neck, but he stops himself.

James becomes romantically involved with Anne who happens to remind Croft of his former vampire bride, but it is Anne's flirtatious roommate Anita (Diane Holden) who offers herself up to Croft in exchange for vampirism, but she just ends up another one of his many victims.

When Lockwood comes looking for Anne and wanders into Anita’s apartment, she knows his true identity and asks him to make her one of the undead. "I want you to make me a vampire. Slowly mix my blood with yours until one night while I'm bathing in the light of the full moon, the black magic will take place, and I will come to you as your bride, and serve you for all eternity."

But he denies her hunger for immortality, "The relationship would become a bit stale, don't you think."Â  Then he takes a kitchen knife and slashes her throat. Anne comes home from her night of lovemaking and finds Anita’s body in the shower.

After Anita is found murdered, Anne’s friend notices that she is very calm for someone who found her best friend slaughtered, "God if I found Anita like that, I'd be in a strait-jacket. But here you sit, sweet as cream, ready for tonight's seance."

Anne and James attend a séance hosted by Lockwood who shows up for the séance channeling a bit of Robert Quarry’s Count Yorga, another modern vampire flick that features a groovy séance. Carol Moskowitz (Abbie Henderson) remarks, "You make a groovy medium” and tells Lockwood ”I’m not afraid… I even left my crucifix upstairs!”

Lockwood chooses Anne to be his conduit to the spirit world. He tells everyone to "relax," and begins invoking his dead wife Sara: "Anne is here with us all. Take her, Sara. Your mind in her body, with me through all eternity."

James seizes the moment to summon the recently deceased Anita, channeling her presence into Anne’s body. James seeks to compel Anita to reveal the truth about the way she died at the hands of Croydon/Croft/Lockwood.

Through Anne, Anita speaks, "Professor Lockwood is the vampire," and then Anne faints.

James carries Anne upstairs, and the two make love again. Lockwood faces his students with one of them saying "I think either you're a vampire, or Anne is a marvelous actress and voice impressionist."

Lockwood breaks their neck, while another macho séance guest (Carmen Argenziano) stands bewildered as the bullets from his gun pass right through Lockwood’s body. As he bares his sharp teeth, he slaughters the rest of them, and then finally goes on to confront his son.

It is then that James reveals his true identity – that he's the vampire’s long-lost illegitimate offspring. James and Lockwood begin to have a violent exchange. They follow each other upstairs where Anne passes out again. "Who are you?" Lockwood asks and is destined to find out."I'm your son!… Your son, conceived in a grave!"

When James puts a stake through Lockwood’s heart, he returns to the decrepit fiend that rose up from the grave. "James, what's the matter?" Anne asks. "Get away from me, Anne," he growls in agony. The twist ending… James now has fangs.

In 1972 the gloomy and modern Gothic work was a far cry from the usual Hollywood vampire movie. The whole idea of a vampire knocking up a young woman in a dreadful empty grave, and later giving birth to his waxen offspring with a thirst for blood, is quite unsettling, and this blesses the film with the shocking scenes that would lead to some controversy by way of the critics and audiences alike – that of the mother cutting her own breast or sticking a needle in her arm like a heroin addict, to fill the baby’s bottle with the blood needed to feed her baby boy. Included in this cinematic sacrilege, are the droplets of blood sprinkling onto the infant's lips in close-up.

The low-budget film reportedly made for $50,000 in 11 days. Grave of the Vampire was obviously influenced by the box office success of Count Yorga, Vampire 1970, possessing some of the same still effective crudeness, gritty creepy offbeat realism of many of the early 1970s and the funky California Gothic-dreary atmosphere associated with Yorga and its sequel in 1971.

One of the things that has given Grave of the Vampire some notoriety over the years is that its screenplay was written by a young David Chase, some years before he would become story editor on the classic Kolchak: The Night Stalker series of which he wrote eight episodes for. Chase would go on to become the creator of the iconic culture phenomenon mob drama The Sopranos.

This is your EverLovin’ Joey sayin’ G! It’s been ghastly! Stay tuned for the Horror of letter H!!!!

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away! Halloween from A-Z

A

Arsenic and Old Lace 1944

Directed by Frank Capra and adapted for the screen by Julius and Philip Epstein from Joseph Kesselring’s play, Arsenic and Old Lace is a whirlwind farce set in a cozy Brooklyn home. The home’s occupants are two charmingly batty elderly ladies, portrayed by Josephine Hull and Jean Adair, who have an unusual hobby: they poison lonely old men with elderberry wine, believing death to be a preferable fate for them. These deceased individuals are then discreetly interred in the basement with the assistance of their harmless and offbeat nephew, who envisions himself burying yellow fever victims in the Panama Canal.

The plot takes a humorous twist when the sisters’ less-than-amiable nephew, Jonathan, played by Raymond Massey, arrives on the scene with a few deceased individuals of his own. To complicate matters further, Massey’s character bears an uncanny resemblance to Boris Karloff, after having plastic surgeon Peter Lorre give him his new face. Karloff originally portrayed Jonathan in the Broadway play but was unavailable for the film. The script cleverly alludes to this likeness, provoking intense anger in Massey’s character whenever it’s remarked upon by the other characters.

Cary Grant assumes the role of Mortimer Brewster, the film’s romantic lead, who is attempting to enjoy his honeymoon with Priscilla Lane’s character, Elaine. The film also boasts the talents of Edward Everett Horton and Jack Carson in supporting roles.

Arsenic and Old Lace” is celebrated for its witty and chaotic humor and has secured its status as a classic in the realm of dark comedies, renowned for its unforgettable performances and enduring popularity.

The Amazing Colossal Man 1957

Directed by Bert I. Gordon, The Amazing Colossal Man 1957 is a story that revolves around Colonel Glenn Manning, a military officer who becomes the victim of a tragic accident involving a plutonium explosion during a test flight. As a result of the explosion, Manning begins to grow uncontrollably in size, becoming a colossal giant.

This transformation not only poses a threat to Manning’s own well-being but also becomes a matter of national security as the military tries to contain and study this astonishing phenomenon. As Manning’s condition worsens, he grapples with the physical and emotional toll of his transformation, while the military races against time to find a way to stop his relentless growth.

“The Amazing Colossal Man” is a beloved classic of 1950s science fiction cinema that ushers in the giant consequences of unchecked science that threatens man’s existence and his shoe size.

Attack of the Giant Leeches 1959

ATTACK OF THE GIANT LEECHES, (aka THE GIANT LEECHES), poster art, 1959.

Directed by Bernard L. Kowalski, Attack of the Giant Leeches 1959 is set in a remote swampland community that finds itself terrorized by enormous, monstrous blood-sucking leeches. The townspeople become victims of these grotesque creatures, while the police don’t believe the stories behind the disappearances of the locals. Ken Clark as game warden Steve Benton must investigate the strange occurrences in the swampland by himself and Jan Shepard as Nan Greyson gets caught up in the deadly threat of the leech-infested swamp. The film stars scream queen Yvette Vickers as Liz Walker, Bruno VeSota’s unfaithful wife, and also co-stars Michael Emmett and Gene Roth as Sheriff Kovis. The giant leech suits are hilarious and the atmosphere is suffocatingly schlocky considering Daniel Haller (The Dunwich Horror 1970, Die, Monster, Die! 1965) was the art director of the film.

Atom Age Vampire 1960

Atom Age Vampire aka Seddok 1961 is a vintage Italian horror film directed by Anton Giulio Majano. The movie tells the story of a lovesick, obsessed doctor who is determined to restore the beauty of a disfigured exotic dancer who was maimed in a car accident. In his desperate pursuit, the doctor resorts to a macabre method, extracting blood from dead women in an attempt to rejuvenate the object of his obsession. However, his gruesome experiments spiral out of control. The film stars Alberto Lupo as Prof. Alberto Levin and Suzanne Loret plays Jeanette Moreneau his beautiful fixation.

The Awful Dr. Orlof 1962

The Awful Dr. Orlof is a 1962 horror film directed by Jesús Franco, it marked the beginning of his prolific and distinctive career in the genre. The movie follows the chilling exploits of the enigmatic Dr. Orlof, a mad scientist who kidnaps and murders young women in order to harvest their skin for his disfigured and paralyzed sister, Melissa. Dr. Orlof’s sinister activities attract the attention of the police, and Inspector Tanner is determined to bring the mysterious doctor to justice.

As the investigation unfolds, it becomes apparent that Dr. Orlof is not acting alone. He has a henchman, the pop-eyed Morpho looking like a psychotic mannequin who helps him carry out his gruesome crimes. The film delves into themes of obsession, sadism, and the blurred lines between science and madness.

The Awful Dr. Orlof is known for its gothic atmosphere, eerie cinematography, and a memorable performance by Howard Vernon as Dr. Orlof whose portrayal of the mad scientist is chilling and charismatic. The film is considered a classic of Spanish horror cinema and has influenced subsequent horror films with its macabre, atmospheric, and visually captivating storytelling. It’s Gothic atmosphere creates a dark shadowy cobweb-filled landscape with a haunting score and creepy elements that contribute to the macabre tone of Franco’s signature style. Orlof explores disturbing themes of sadism, obsession, and dehumanization of female victims as Dr. Orlof seeks to restore his sister’s beauty.

The film’s approach to horror characterized by its psychological terror and the blurred line between science and madness, has left a lasting impact on the genre. It foreshadowed the emergence of early Spanish horror films and European horror cinema in the 1960s and 1970s, influencing directors like Jean Rollin and Dario Argento.

Jesús Franco’s direction and experimental filmmaking for The Awful Dr. Orlof illustrates his early penchant for innovative camera work and editing techniques that were considered unconventional for its time. Franco’s willingness to take risks and push boundaries and the film’s distinctive psychological horror and Gothic aesthetics continue to focus on Dr. Orlof as a compelling example of Gothic European/Spanish horror cinema, with both a hauntingly dark atmosphere and disturbing elements, making it a seminal work in the genre and its influence on subsequent horror cinema.

The Asphyx 1972

The Asphyx is a 1972 British horror film starring Robert Stephens and Robert Powell. The story is set in the Victorian era and centers around Sir Hugo Cunningham, played by Robert Stephens, a scientist who becomes obsessed with a mysterious and deadly force called the “Asphyx.” Sir Hugo discovers that the Asphyx is a supernatural entity that appears at the moment of death and can be trapped in a photograph or film, and placed in a contraption- effectively granting immortality to the person in the image.

As Sir Hugo becomes increasingly obsessed with the Asphyx and its power, he conducts a series of unethical experiments in an attempt to capture and control it. His actions lead to tragic consequences for himself and his family, including his adopted son, Giles, portrayed by Robert Powell. It also stars Jane Lapotaire, Alex Scott, and Ralph Arliss. I saw this upon its theatrical release and remember it causing more than a few shivers.

Asylum 1972

Read my Barbara Parkins tribute here:

Directed by Roy Ward Baker and written by horror master Robert Bloch (Psycho) Asylum 1972 is one of the most unusual horror portmanteaus – a chilling and immersive horror anthology that takes viewers on a spine-tingling journey through the dark corridors of the nightmarish horror trope of the long-abandoned asylum. Set in the year 1972, the film weaves together five distinct and haunting tales, each exploring the themes of madness, supernatural terror, and the thin line between reality and the macabre. The film stars Barbara Parkins, Richard Todd, and Sylvia Syms in Frozen Fear, Peter Cushing in The Weird Tailor, Charlotte Rampling, Britt Ekland and Megs Jenkins in Lucy’s Come to Stay, and Patrick Magee and Herbert Lom in Mannikins of Horror. Asylum also stars Robert Powell as Dr. Martin.

Asylum 1972 combines atmospheric cinematography, haunting soundscapes, and a talented ensemble cast to create a cheeky yet truly terrifying and unforgettable early 70s horror experience.

Alabama’s Ghost 1973

Alabama’s Ghost is a 1973 psychedelic horror film directed by Fredric Hobbs.

The nightclub janitor (Christopher Brooks) discovers a secret room, finds an old magician’s belongings, tries on the costumes, and becomes Alabama, King of the Cosmos. The film features a bizarre assortment of characters, including credits for ‘groupies, Carter’s Ghost, Marilyn Midnight, Dr. Caligula, Granny, and Mama Bama.

Alabama’s Ghost is a campy and offbeat film known for its low-budget, cult appeal among fans of unconventional cinema.

Axe 1977

Axe 1977 also known as “Lisa, Lisa,” is a cult classic thriller that tells the harrowing story of Lisa, a young woman who becomes the target of a sadistic killer’s obsession. Set in the eerie and remote countryside, the film is a suspenseful and psychologically disturbing journey as Leslie Lee is assaulted by three criminals on a murder spree after they arrive at her farmhouse, where she lives with her paralyzed grandfather.

As Lisa fights for her survival, the film takes audiences on a suspenseful rollercoaster ride, filled with tension, brutality, and psychological terror. Axe is a relentless thriller that explores themes of brutality and vulnerability, and an unflinching portrayal of isolation and terror, which has led to its cult status in the realm of exploitation cinema.

This is your EverLovin’ Joey sayin’ I’ll BE back with the letter B! So bring me an apple, without a razor blade in it, please!

 

John Carradine-I am a ham! Part 1

Read Part Two here

Actor John Carradine attends the premiere of Dark Eyes on March 23, 1981, at Warner Beverly Theater in Beverly Hills, California. (Photo by Ron Galella/Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images)

"I am a ham! And the ham in an actor is what makes him interesting. The word is an insult only when it's used by an outsider – among actors, it's a very high compliment, indeed."

In the history of cinema, there are stars that burn white hot. Then there are those who wind up taking a detour – yet they've earned the vibrancy and a willingness to explore even the vast floor of the ocean's bottom – this is emblematic of a beloved cult B actor. Those who tickle us with a zeal for chills and chagrins, guffaws and gadzooks, individualism and inimitability, captivating and crapola!

In his later years, John Carradine would come to be known as one of these"¦ the crime is… he was a damn sensational actor!

"I never made big money in Hollywood. I was paid in hundreds, the stars got thousands. But I worked with some of the greatest directors in films and some of the greatest writers. They gave me the freedom to do what I can do best and that was gratifying."

In regards to his horror legacy, this is what he had to say in 1983 in an interview for KMOX tv:

“That’s the least of my work. I’ve done almost 400 films and only 25 have been horror.”

When you think of John Carradine you might recall his brilliant performance as Casy in The Grapes of Wrath. Carradine had worked with some of the most notable actors and directors in the history of cinema and by the end of his career, he also managed to plumb the depths with some of the crummiest.

Then again you might be excited by his translation of the Dracula mythos in five films: two from Universal’s finely tuned House of Frankenstein (1944), House of Dracula (1945), and three from the later decade’s trash heap – Billy the Kid Versus Dracula (1966), Vampire Hookers (1978), and Nocturna (1979).

On Bela Lugosi in 1956: "Lugosi was a craftsman. I've known him for 25 years. He was a considerate and kind gentleman. As for the parts we both played, he was the better vampire. He had a fine pair of eyes. Nobody will ever be able to fill his shoes. He will be missed by us all."

Like Whale's Frankenstein monster, Carradine actually missed out on playing the monster and the lead role in Dracula (1931).

With 354 film and television credits to his iconic career, John Carradine was known for his distinctively deep baritone voice and tall, thin frame, a "˜towering, craggy frame' which often earned him roles as villains and sinister characters, mad doctors, Draculas, hobos, drunks and a slew of nefarious Nazis devils!

At times he had the charm of a jaunty Grim Reaper. Even those smart pale blue eyes that flicker cannot be obscured by that quizzical squint.

William Beaudine on the set of The Face of Marble 1946.

He often worked with director John Ford but you've no doubt seen him playing a mad scientist in Captive Wild Woman 1943, The Face of Marble 1946, and The Unearthly 1957.

But one thing that links all these archetypes together is Carradine’s range of either an austere penetrating reserve or a flamboyant spirit framed by his willowy shape. Carradine can intone with either his whispering rumination from a well-written script or summoning his grandiose voice as he reads aloud the trashiest, tackiest dialogue that only he can make appear as a highfalutin soliloquy.

His nicknames were the Bard of the Boulevard and The Voice.

The Face of Marble (1946) An Odd John Carradine Obscurity with an “Identity Crisis”

Carradine's career includes significant Academy Award-worthy roles, but in contrast, once he started his descent into the madness of acting obscurity, he embodied figures of grotesques and unsavory types. Eventually, he appeared in films more like a drifter just passing through in overambitious garbage Z movies. And now, he will always be considered one of the big-time heavies of the horror genre.

Still, he has left behind a legacy of striking screen performances: the sinister Sgt. Rankin in The Prisoner of Shark Island, and the somber "Long Jack" of Captains Courageous. He played a melancholy Lincoln in Of Human Hearts, a treacherous Bob Ford in Jesse James, the curious stranger Hatfield of Stagecoach, and one of his greatest contributions to the acting craft, as earnest dispirited preacher Casy in The Grapes of Wrath. All masterful characters in Hollywood's golden age of filmmaking.

Carradine appeared in eight Oscar Best Picture nominees: Cleopatra (1934), Les Misèrables (1935), Captains Courageous (1937), Alexander's Ragtime Band (1938), Stagecoach (1939), The Grapes of Wrath (1940), The Ten Commandments (1956), and Around the World in 80 Days (1956). Only the last of these won.

He has appeared in eight films that have been selected for the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being “culturally, historically or aesthetically” significant: The Invisible Man (1933), The Bride of Frankenstein (1935), Stagecoach (1939), The Grapes of Wrath (1940), Johnny Guitar (1954), The Court Jester (1955), The Ten Commandments (1956) and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962).

Though he was known for his ability to bring a kiss of intensity and an air of mysteriousness to his characters, often cast in villainous and sinister roles – he was highly regarded for his versatility and range as an actor. Despite his status as a horror icon, Carradine was more than just a genre actor and never wanted to be known for his long involvement with horror pictures, as he called them.

He was transitional in all genres such as historical dramas, war and spy films, film noir, westerns, horror, sci-fi, mystery thrillers, and romantic comedies. His career ran the spectrum of storytelling.

Carradine was capable of serious dramatic reverie, and earnest and sober performances til ultimately – schlocky b movies, ‘The "˜Divine Madness' of this flamboyant, grand old man of the theater and Hollywood, Carradine's persona emerged as a confluence between the individualist and distinguished gentleman.’ (John Carradine: The Films edited by Gregory Willam Mank)

But after all this superior work in an industry that chewed up and spits out great actors, even after his contribution to the horror genre that once saw him as one of the ruling class in Universal's horror films such as House of Frankenstein and House of Dracula. There is a place for him amongst the aristocracy of Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee, and Peter Cushing, though he might be considered the vagabond of the horror pantheon, as he will undoubtedly be remembered for his role in B horror and exploitation films.

"I have shot, strangled, or otherwise disposed of many a victim on the screen in my day. However, more mayhem has been committed on me than I ever committed on anyone else. I have been poisoned, drowned, shot, pushed off cliffs, hanged, strangled, electrocuted, and run over by subway trains."

05 May 1983, Los Angeles, California, USA — 5/5/1938- Los Angeles, CA: Screen villain sculptor in spare time. John Carradine, who plays the part of a sinister scoundrel in the movies, is quite a sculptor on the side. He is shown here putting the finishing touches to the head of his five-year-old son, Bruce. This work is included in the current art show by non-professional artists in the film industry at the Stanely Rose Gallery here. — Image by © Bettmann/CORBIS

John Carradine is a noble eccentric, a cult icon who enjoyed photography and painting, sang opera, loved sculpting, knew the Bard's work by heart, and could recite Shakespeare at every opportunity. Interviews and commentary from other people in the industry would relate stories of John Carradine getting potted with a drink in hand and spouting Shakespeare and funny anecdotes. "He had a repertoire of bad jokes and off-color reminiscence of Old Hollywood." He was famous for that as much as for his acting.

Carradine is known for his theatricalizing, his out-of-control drinking, and his private life which was a circus. A life bombarded with non-conformity, chaotic marital trials and tribulations, arrests for not paying alimony, drunk driving, prostitution scandals, and bankruptcy that left him destitute.

With all the disorder in Carradine's life, the reputation that the actor built from his earlier career took a ruinous insult over the years.

By the end, the actor didn't bother to read a script, he learned his part no matter how ridiculous yet he took anything that came his way so he could pay the rent, finance his dream of having his own theater company and support his boys.

"An opera cape, top hat, ebony stick, and glittering diamond studs set John apart in a town where a tuxedo is considered formal dress. At intermissions, he stands gracefully in the lobby, smoking a long Russian cigarette and twirling his cane"¦ It is the kind of exhibitionism that made Hollywood, in its colorful beginnings, the most talked about town on Earth"¦"

John Carradine with his actor sons, John, Keith, and Robert courtesy Getty Images date unknown.

Fred Olen Ray: "He was both a prince and a rascal" "¦" He was colorful and dramatic"¦ He had a sweeping, majestic personality and an extraordinary voice that somehow managed to make the worst dialogue sound good."

Keith Carradine: "Here was this Shakespearean actor who, in the 1950s to feed his children, did a lot of horror movies. That's mostly what he's known for. I think it sort of broke his heart."

We know him for his deep voice, that low-pitched booming voice that sounds like well-worn leather and warm spices-cinnamon, sandalwood, and clove. He delivers his dialogue more like a fustian oratory, a sagacious silver-tongued scholar intoning a sermon instead of reading his lines straight.

From an interview with KMOX tv:

What do you think made you so successful as an image that I think maybe that incredible voice?

“I think the voice helped and another thing that helped I think was the fact that – well my face Darryl Zanuck was once heard saying when he came out of the rushes for something that I was in. He said "that guy Carradine got the god damndest face (He laughs) What he meant by that I don't know but I think that was part of it. Well I think the voice helped a lot. Cecil DeMille said I had the finest voice in the business and he was right I did have the finest voice in the business. Still have. But it's because I had been because I spent so much time in the theater and because I did Shakespeare. As I told my boys if you want to. Be an actor play all the Shakespeare you can get your hands on. Cause if you can play Shakespeare you can play anything. And I did a lot of Shakespeare. Cause that's why I became an actor because I wanted to be a Shakespearean actor.”

John Carradine is an actor that commands a parade of imagery and similes. He's just that darn interesting. I find him to have an almost regal symmetry that strikes me as handsome.

He is wraithlike and sinewy, withered, worn to a shadow, and as thin as a rake yet his presence is boundless.

A lanky actor wafting around the screen like a willow tree, hollow-cheeked, rawboned, and lantern-jawed, the opposite of Herculean – but make no mistake his presence is immortal.

And in a not-so-flattering light, he's been referred to as cadaverous.

"I wasn't eccentric in those days. I was just trying to learn my craft and improve what I had"¦ cadaverous I'm a very thin man Cadaverous means looking like a cadaver and at least I do look alive. I look like I might live another five minutes!"

Continue reading “John Carradine-I am a ham! Part 1”

Chapter 5 – Queers and Dykes in the Dark: Classic, Noir & Horror Cinema’s Coded Gay Characters:

There is only one possible end. We are monsters. I don’t like monsters.

Diabolique, directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot, based his film on Pierre Boileau and Thomas Narcejac’s novel “Celle qui n’était plus” (She Who Was No More, which Hitchcock attempted to buy the rights to. The original novel is overt in referring to the two women carrying on a lesbian relationship. Clouzot made this more implied in the film. Boileau and Narcejac then wrote D’Entre les Morts” (From Among the Dead) specifically for Alfred Hitchcock, who subsequently adapted to the screen as Vertigo in 1958.

Henri-Georges Clouzot’s 1955 French psycho-sexual thriller Diabolique set off a tone of thrillers to come, with its atmospheric looking-glass quality and suggestion of both lesbianism and the supernatural. Véra Clouzot stars as Christina Delassalle, the wife of a cruel headmaster, Michell Delassalle ( Paul Meurisse), at a private boarding school.

His wife, Christina, and mistress, Nicole Horner (Simone Signoret), conspire to kill him and give themselves a perfect alibi. Christina is a fragile sort, with a weak heart, and beaten down by her husband’s physical and mental abuse (he calls her his little ruin). Nicole is self-reliant and aggressive. The two women form a bond with an unspoken tinge of their lesbian alliance. Along the way, Nicole must push Christina to go through with their plans to murder Michel and be rid of Michell, the swine, forever. After his death, there are sightings of him on the grounds of the school. This injects an element of the uncanny into the plot unless there is something more insidious at the core. Throughout the picture, there is a strong sense of Sapphic tension and allusions to the two women’s sexual relationship. In the novel She Who Was No More, the two women were clearly lesbian lovers.

M. Drain Professeur “I may be reactionary, but this is absolutely astounding – the legal wife consoling the mistress! No, no, and no!”

 

Christina Delassalle “There is only one possible end. We are monsters. I don’t like monsters.”

Nicole Horner “If it’s only him, I feel better. I’ll save the grain of sand falling from the hands of providence for my morality lessons.”

Alfred Hitchcock was so impressed with Henri-Georges Clouzot’s French thriller Diabolique (1955) it inspired him to create a dark and psycho-sexual black & white film that would also shock his audience and be a success at the box office.

With his horror film — quasi-noir-tinged Psycho (1960), he engendered a whole new brand of Schadenfreude with his outre creepy film adapted from the story by Robert Bloch about Norman Bates, who personifies the Oedipal relationship between himself and his castrating mother.

The mysterious Mrs. Bates is never seen on screen, except for her voice that croaks out stern remarks from behind her bedroom door. In order to manifest his vengeful mother’s overarching power, he brings her to life by dressing in her clothes and killing anyone Norman has sexual desires for. Norman Bates became the poster boy for the cross-dressing psychopathic killer with latent homosexual tendencies brought about by his over-possessive mother. Though these disparaging visions of gay characters existed on screen, Norman Bates WAS a cinematic prototype and composite of serial killer Ed Gein, who did in fact go on a killing spree in Wisconsin in the 1950s and 60s. Gein wore women’s clothing, and he also wore their skin, sharing Norman’s fascination with taxidermy. He also carried on conversations with his dead mother, which he dug up and kept on the old creepy family farm. In later years, the graphically perverse Deranged (1974), starring Robert Blossom, was released as a direct biographical film about Gein’s life. Later on, it became the interlace of the story, which would be the gory incidentals in 1991, in Jonathan Demme’s Silence of the Lambs, where Buffalo Bill would also become iconic and a composite of Ed Gein.

William Castle’s Homicidal 1961 was directed by the king of ballyhoo, who answered Alfred Hitchcock’s horror noir with his own cringe-worthy psycho-sexual film featuring the cross-dressing Jean Arliss as Emily/Warren — another psychopathic gender-bending murderer. The brutal stabbing murder of a justice-of-the-peace sparks an investigation of dark family secrets in a sleepy small town in Southern California. Also stars Glenn Corbett and Patricia Breslin.

A peculiar young man, Warren (Jean Arliss), plots to murder his half-sister, Miriam Webster (Patricia Breslin) in order to collect the family fortune. Miriam is supposed to share her inheritance with her half-brother Warren, who lives with his nanny and now guardian Helga (Eugenie Leontovich), an old woman confined to a wheelchair. Helga has recently been struck down by a stroke and is barely able to move or speak; she can only tap out something like Morse code with her trusty doorknob. Warren is a strange and menacing figure who projects an undercurrent of hostility toward his childhood guardian. Warren and Helga live in the old family mansion where he and Miriam grew up. Helga is taken care of by a pretty blonde nurse, Emily, who seems to have formed a close relationship with Warren.

Miriam Webster: “I remember when we were kids, you took this doll away from me, and I never saw it again.”
Warren: “You want it? Take it.”

Making its departure from gruesome queer killers, Hollywood contributed to the screen another type of threatening’ gay subtext with James Dean, who exuded tragic emotional disturbances, and the tough sensitivity of Marlon Brando, who dressed in worn-out leather to cover up the pathos oozing from his deep eyes and rugged voice. Dyer refers to these actors as the sensitive ‘spectacularized young man.’

In director Nicholas Ray’s Rebel Without a Cause (1955), a most talked about film with homosexual undertones, particularly from Sal Mineo’s (openly queer) portrayal of Plato. James Dean is on fire with teenage angst as Jim Stark, whose father is an emasculated, weak male figure. There is a lot more light that passes through Plato’s homosexuality, as he exudes more than the hero worship of Jim. There’s a tell-tale scene when Plato is combing his hair in the mirror of his locker, decorated with a photo of Gary Cooper. Jim is walking down the hallway, and as Plato catches sight of him, his gaze is eroticized.

The character of Plato is played as an unstable youth, and Jim comes from a family with a domineering mother who emasculates his apron-wearing gutless father… In 1955, the question of homosexuality still had to be handled on screen as a question of deviance; Plato, therefore, must pay for his transgressions with his life.

There is also a moral warning for parents. Represent good role models of a heterosexual ideal, or your kids might turn out either troubled or queer. It is a cautionary tale about paying attention to heteronormative expectations. In the end, the story is sewn up with Jim grabbing his father as he tells him it’ll be alright.

Ray’s film, with its heavily rendered homosexual subtext, avails itself of dialogue that is easily interpreted as sexually ambiguous. “Are you ready to come out yet?”

In Howard Hawk’s Gentleman Prefer Blondes, 1953 Jane Russell does one of her lively musical numbers which suggests a very tongue-in-cheek hint at ‘gay panic’ when her character Dorothy Shaw is surrounded by a chorus of muscle-bound weightlifters in homoerotic swim trunks that pay Dorothy no mind.“Doesn’t anyone want to play?”

In a more deeply disturbing narrative, director Jack Garfein’s The Strange One (1957) is set in a military boarding school. Jocko De Paris (Ben Gazzara) is a manipulative upperclassman who rules sadistically over the other cadets. The root cause of Jocko’s ambiguous violent schemes is suggested to be his latent homosexuality.

the film wallows in a steamy mixture of homoerotic imagery and verbal innuendo. The mise-en-scene is filled with phallic signifiers, such as towers, trumpets, cigars, flashlights, nightsticks, bottles brooms swords and scores of erect young men marching sweatingly through the night… The specter of homosexuality also envelops the characters of Cadet Perrin, and effete poet who idolworhips Jocko and Cadet Simmons, a Peter Lorre look-alike who refuses to date girls or shower with the other cadets. Ultimately all this queerness is dislplace onto Jocko’s violent sadism, a linkage not uncommon in the ear’s medical discourse about homosexuality… Jocko calls Cadet Perrin a ‘three-dollar bill” and repeatedly towel whips his ass its hard not to read the scene as a metaphoric sodomy wherein (Code-sanctioned) homosocial violence displaces (Code -forbidden ) homosexual contact. The story itself is an extended gloss on secrecy in the barracks centering on a bizzare narrative event that also speaks of homosexuality in barely coded ways.(Jeffrey Sconce)

Tennessee William’s Suddenly, Last Summer (1959) conflated homosexuality with the devouring mother archetype, promiscuity, cruising, pedophilia, and cannibalism. It’s a melodrama that could very easily share the shock scenes and denouement with some of the most gruesome horror films.

Not to forget Vincente Minnelli’s Tea and Sympathy (1956), where John Kerr, sewing with the ladies and removed from all sports, is barely veiled as a homosexual, though the picture throws Deborah Kerr at him in one night’s sexual encounter to awaken his maleness. The film is so uncomfortable with itself because it dares not admit Tom’s homosexuality.

Even as the Production Code authorities attempted to expurgate “homosexuality” per se from the film version of Tea and Sympathy 1956“”focusing instead on the euphemism of its young protagonist’s effeminacy this move fooled few spectators and simultaneously reinforced a stereotypical and reassuring blurring of effeminacy and male homosexuality. (Foster Hirsch-The Dark Side of the Screen)

Where homosexuals are either portrayed as deviants or boys who have had their masculinity neutered for them, lesbians have a symbology all their own. In director Gerd Oswald’s psychotronic cult film Screaming Mimi (1958) starring Anita Ekberg, Gypsy Rose Lee plays exotic night club owner Joann ‘Gypsy’ Masters, a veiled lesbian who runs the burlesque show and looks after her girls.

Exotic dancer Anita Ekberg surrounds herself with her Great Dane… Screaming Mimi.

In contrast to coded characters, in Basil Dearden’s Victim (1961), the outed queer character Melville Farr is played by Dirk Bogard. one of the gay men being targeted by a blackmail plot during the 1960s London, coinciding with the death of a young man, whom Bogard had a fling with. The subject of homosexuality was out in the open in Dearden’s bold 1961 film, which deals with homosexuality as the central plot. Yet it drops the characters into a seedy pit of unsavory intrigue surrounding gay men and their criminal affiliations. Victim is one of the first films dealing with homosexuality directly as the central storyline, confronting some of the issues in a serious manner without demonizing its leading character, Melville Farr, yet trying to examine how being in the closet causes so much psychological turmoil and heartache.

Lesbians are often portrayed as harsh and tyrannical or on the femme side; they’re trashy and beaten down. For example, in director Gordon Douglas’ Tony Rome (1967), After 1961, times were changing, and the Code was forced to ease up on policing the content of pictures coming out of Hollywood. One of the first signs of the lesbian innuendo, with more of a kick to it, was in director Gordon Douglas’ Tony Rome 1967. The equation of lesbian love with tyranny is also the strongest impression we get from that scene between Irene and Georgia (uncredited Deanna Lund) in the caravan.

Georgia, the stripper, might be seen as a lady who gets what she wants with no interference, but she also lives in a caravan with Irene (character actor Elizabeth Fraser). In the film, she plays a dowdy, heavy-set, unspoken lesbian lover (who is credited on IMDb as Irma.) The film doesn’t call their relationship out by name, but the dialogue contains sharp innuendo dished out by the smooth-talking Sinatra, who talks to Georgia about an old boyfriend of hers. Tony’s been trying to track him down. Redheaded Georgia (Deanna Lund), a stripper who’s shacked up with her ‘roommate,’ as abusive and whiny as the men who used to beat her.

Tony told Georgia about her ex-boyfriend: “Maybe he was trying to get into the wrong ballpark.”

After Irene, who seems overly possessive, jealous, unstable, and isn’t the most fashionable 60s lesbian, begins smacking Georgia around until they both fall on the small caravan bed as Irene whimpers that she’s sorry for hitting her.

Tony smirks- “You want the lights on or off?… They’re better off.”

Tony Rome is scattered with a few distasteful scenes, characteristic of late 6os cinema; queers were not portrayed in a very good light. While the film has a groovy 60s vibe, some smart-alecky dialogue, and the presence of Sinatra who plays it cool, the decades’ propensity for painting gays with a dirty brush is ever present in Gordon Douglas’ crime drama.

Lloyd Bochner plays an effete drug dealer named Vic. A brief teaser role that seems to have flown under the gay radar. Bochner portrays Vic with a pretentiously fake obstinance, wears an ascot, and listens to classical music in his kitschy pad. Tony shows up looking for a user who will be trying to score from Vic. After he roughs Vic up a bit, Rome prepares himself a hamburger on the stove and asks Vic in a mocking tone, “How do you like your meat?”

The tyrannical relationships between lesbians in the world of the classic film noir where there was more of a power differential, between employer/employee, etc (Rebecca, In a Lonely Place, Walk on the Wild Side for instance) carry over into films where the lesbian characters are not only visible but they are supposed to be each others’ social equal.

The emphasis on lesbians as working women can exhibit keen elements of cruelty and violence of either the servants or mistresses, as with Mrs. Danvers and the second Mrs. de Winter (Rebecca) and Martha to Laurel (In a Lonely Place). But also the dominance that madams show to the ‘girls’ in their stable. This manifestation of iron-handed emotions leaves us suspicious of what the attraction is to women or the object of their affection.

As the Hays Code began to crumble and it was gasping its last bitter breath, the lesbian character was made visible on screen. This is the case of Dirk Bogard in Dearden’s Victim or with George (Beryl Reid) and Childie (Susannah York) in Robert Aldrich’s painfully revealing exploration of an aging dyke in THE KILLING OF SISTER GEORGE (1968), where lesbianism is out in the open for the audience but not for the character of Sister George who is a beloved soap opera star for BBC. She tries to make her private life separate from her career as a well-loved nurse on the popular television show. But June Buckridge, who plays the character of George, is compelled to sabotage both her private and public life with her shameless reputation for drinking too much and goosing nuns in taxi cabs. She is a belligerent, self-hating lesbian who is trapped within her private closet, trying to hold onto her girlfriend, who is a wandering woman/child.

The sixties ushered in several interesting films that still cast a veil of secrecy over queer cinema before films became franker with gay subjects as the lead story. One of the most flirtatious and entertaining with more than a queer inkling or attentive innuendo is THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEMEN (1960), a homosocial/partly-homosexual buddy film about men coming together to rob a bank. As the Criterion Collection calls it, “precisely calibrated caper… influences countless Hollywood heist films.”

One of the unprecedented aspects of Dearden’s film for 1960 is not only is the narrative steeped in queer innuendo, but homosexuality also is not tangential to the plot; a few of the main characters are ‘queer,’ and they are not stereotypical.

Director Basil Dearden’s impressively quirky British heist movie stars the accomplished Jack Hawkins as Hyde and equally brilliant Nigel Patrick as Major Race. Hyde is a resentful Colonel who was forced into retirement as he was ‘redundant.’ He recruits an eccentric group of disgraced petty criminals, ex-British army officers, to help him pull off a meticulous bank heist that includes infiltrating a military compound. Hyde has the goods on all of their shady pasts and influences them to accept his offer. Race becomes his most trusted ally and implied lover, who used to run the black market in Hamburg. The film also stars some British greats, Richard Attenborough, Kieron Moore, and Bryan Forbes, who went on to direct, and Roger Livesey. Hyde assigns each one a task that matches their expertise.

Women are rarely seen except for the opening of the picture and are not part of the narrative, merely to illustrate that they are not quite essential or actually a drag on the men’s lives. There are no romantic relationships on the periphery, just Attenborough lusting after a pretty young skirt. For the most part, women are not shown in a good light. They are either whores, shrews catering to their doddering old father-in-law, cling insecure older women being used by Forbes; the rest are bitches. Women are the counterbalance of the film’s antiheroes, who form a homosocial circle. However, I wonder if there isn’t a form of homosocial order within a female assembly, like prisons and convents, that have their own shape of erotic engagement. I might call this experience ‘sapphic-social.’

Gentlemen have a definite undercurrent of sexual attraction between Hyde (Hawkins) and Race (Patrick). Often, the two exchange glances and trade coquetry, while there is a seductive ambiance to many of their interactions, especially when Hyde tells Race to spend the night. He also requests that Race drop the old “˜darling’ bit, and then Race calls him Old Dear instead. Their entire relationship is flirtatious,” and when Race dons an apron and does the dishes with Hawkins, it’s divine.

Race looking at a portrait, “Is that your wife? Is she dead?”

Hyde “Oh no, the bitch is still going very strong.”

“One gets into terrible habits at the YMCA,” and “You’d be surprised where I’ve parked my Caravan.” Race tells Hawkins. Race tells him, “You’re spoiling me.” Hyde tells him, “All my men loved me.”

Kieran Moore is being blackmailed, but it is only implied that he is homosexual. ” Well, there are thrills and “˜thrills’ ” he tells his patron whom he is massaging. There is a reference to him by one of the others that he’s an “odd man out.” And Lexy (Richard Attenborough) acts green around the gills because he has to room with him.

For a gripping, black comedic crime thriller, the more than implied queerness makes The League of Gentlemen, a variation on Boys in the Band, a sort of Boys in the Bank Robbery will do nicely!

Then, in 1962, Peter Ustinov directed BILLY BUDD, which was based on the novel by Herman Melville. Billy Budd stars Robert Ryan as John Claggart Master of Arms, Peter Ustinov as Capt. Vere and co-stars Melvyn Douglas, Paul Rogers, David McCallum, Ronald Lewis, Niall MacGinnis, and Terence Stamp as Billy Budd. Billy Budd is an innocent, naive seaman in the British Navy in 1797. When the ship’s sadistic master-at-arms is murdered, Billy is accused and tried. Claggart ( Robert Ryan) has a ‘queer’ fixation on Billy. Laura Mulvey terms this fixation as a case of ‘scopophilia,’ which describes the psychological tendency towards deriving aesthetic pleasure from looking at something or someone in terms of masculinity/femininity and subjectivity and objectivity.

In her book Epistemology of the Closet (1990/2008), Eve Sedgwick, expanding on earlier interpretations of the same themes, posits that the interrelationships between Billy, Claggart and Captain Vere are representations of male homosexual desire and the mechanisms of prohibition against this desire. She points out that Claggart’s “natural depravity,” which is defined tautologically as “depravity according to nature,” and the accumulation of equivocal terms (“phenomenal”, “mystery”, etc.) used in the explanation of the fault in his character, are an indication of his status as the central homosexual figure in the text. She also interprets the mutiny scare aboard the Bellipotent, the political circumstances that are at the center of the events of the story, as a portrayal of homophobia.

The centrality of Billy Budd’s extraordinary good looks in the novella, where he is described by Captain Vere as “the young fellow who seems so popular with the men””Billy, the Handsome Sailor”, have led to interpretations of a homoerotic sensibility in the novel.

King Rat (1965) written by James Clavell (To, Sir With Love 1967, The Great Escape 1963) directed by Bryan Forbes (Seance on a Wet Afternoon 1964, The Whisperers 1967), and astounding Miltonian cinematography by Burnett Guffey (All the King’s Men 1947, From Here to Eternity 1953, Birdman of Alcatraz 1962, Bonnie and Clyde 1967), framing the prisoners steeped in hell. The scene at the end with the collective wide shot of the hollowed-out men not quite connected to the world anymore or their coming release reminds me of the potent image from Paths of Glory (1957). King Rat is a meditation on humanity when British and American prisoners of war are captured and thrown into a Japanese camp in Changi.

In some of the more subtle homosexual subtexts, King Rat shows Dr. Kennedy (James Donald) using an acid tongue with his male nurse, Stevens (Michael Lees). Kennedy’s hostility is the one trace of homophobia in the picture. “˜Stop trying to pretend you’re Florence Nightingale” and “You shave your legs, and you’re a liar. Forbes himself never showed any homophobia in his work, even considering Cicely Courtneidge as a sympathetic lesbian in The L Shaped Room (1962) and Stevens in The League of Gentlemen (1960).

Director Bryan Forbe’s films came to grips with taboo subjects in his realist style of 1960s cinema, in much the same way Robert Aldrich populated his films with misfits and outsiders — The L Shaped Room examines converging stories and social minefields, including unwed motherhood, lesbianism, and race. Forbe’s work delved into humanity in a microcosmic tableau.

But if one were to look at the film objectively, there would be nothing on its face that couldn’t be read one way or the other. George Segal is Corporal King (‘Rat’) who runs a lucrative black market, always scheming and plotting within his close circle of men, the Guards, and the Malay locals to obtain contraband. His position as a black marketeer helps him transcend his rank within that prison camp.

But freedom meant that he would be stripped of his privilege. King lives a better life than anyone else in the POW camp, but he does bring a bit of release and small obtainables, which, to the desperate, become luxuries for the other men. There is a sharp contrast between his freshly laundered shirts, combed hair, and clean face while other men starve and wear soiled, tattered rags. Pete Marlowe begins to respect King, who he comes to see not only as a clever mercenary but also as someone who brings a bit of dignity to the other men.

James Fox gives an astounding performance as Pete, a gentle, fair-minded, upper-class Brit who is also trying to make the best of his captivity. The men in the camp have very little rations, and the extreme heat is enough to dry a man to dust. There’s also diphtheria, malaria, insanity, and undignified death. They are reduced to animals struggling to survive, so beaten down they’ve lost their soul in their eyes. But in the midst of this hell, the nameless King never shows more than sweaty armpits in his freshly cleaned uniform, while the others are half-naked and emaciated. King has fresh eggs, cigarettes, and deals going on with Japanese soldiers to make a lot of money, which makes him feel like a big man. Back in civilization, he was a nobody, but here he flourishes because he is in charge. In this isolated camp, his cunning has made him the most influential and, at times, predatory of men.

Men can sink to the depths of hell when they are treated like animals. The film is an example of a homo-social dynamic of camaraderie against a common obstacle. Homosocial behavior is often seen in films where men are thrown together and must bond, in particular prison movies and war films, where men are dependent on each other and forced to survive.

It is given in both male and women’s prison movies that there might be a sexual relationship out of necessity. With men, it would be because there aren’t any women, and they need someone to depend on and form a close bond with. But once they are free, they go back to their heterosexuality.

What makes King Rat such a strong film coded with homosexual subtext is the bond that Pete and King form at the very beginning. Forbe’s film never comes out and tells us that the two men have fallen in love. On the surface, it is about a strong friendship that grows between the two. But it is obvious, if you look at it through a queer lens, that there is a romantic dynamic between them. Pete is more overtly queer, while King never lets his guard down to anyone; Pete is the only one he takes into his intimate space.

From the beginning, there’s a subtle flirtation. King doesn’t treat anyone else like he treats Pete. At the first meeting, he makes him a fried egg. Pete comments, when does one have to kiss his ass? The men in the hut turn and look at the two of them curiously. King tells Pete, “Never before meals.”

As Pete grows closer to King, it is more apparent that he is effeminate and is immediately drawn to King. Pete moves very fluidly; while everyone wears shorts or long pants, he wears a traditional skirt and walks like a sylph. Very quickly, he falls under King’s spell. The two men gradually fall in love, and as the film progresses, we can see a strong friendship, but those of us who are either in the know or know what they’re looking at will see the homosexual love story.

Hollywood proposes films that appear heterosexual but have suggestive coding. There are many scenes of tenderness, caring, and affection that speak of homo-erotic desire that hasn’t been consummated but lingers around the two men. Pete has a strong longing for King, but once the prisoners are freed, King pushes Pete away not only because he will lose any identification of great importance but also because he will go back to obscurity. Now, he must bury his homosexual feelings and go back to his straight life.

In one scene, when Pete is suffering from gangrene and might lose his arm, King takes his head and strokes his face passionately, caressing his neck and cheeks. King, who always looks out for himself, pays a lot of money to get the medicine to heal Pete. He sits by his bedside and holds his hand; without his usual dress army shirt, King is bare-chested for the first time. It’s a very homoerotic moment when King sits by Pete’s bed, his sweat glistening by the bedside light.

At one point King talks about how he never got the dolls (women) back home, all the fat men with money got the girls. The mentioning of his heterosexuality is a way to appease the censors and draw away the implication that he might be gay. This qualifies his heterosexuality to prepare for the following moment, where he is stroking Pete’s face, taking it in his hands, and bringing his own face close to his in a moment that might erupt in a kiss. Now that King has just talked about looking at dolls, this can be read as a hetero friendship and not a homoerotic one.

Ultimately when the war is declared over, King must deny and dismiss Pete completely in order to shed his homosexuality. But Pete is devastated “”King becomes cold and cruel. Pete implores him “You called me Sir last nightThe war is over, but you and me, we’re just the same.”

But King has already decided to walk away from their “˜homoerotic friendship’ Peter pleads with him, “People don’t change. I’m not ashamed that you and I are friends. We survived it. Don’t you remember what we had, don’t you remember that? Don’t ask me to forget all that. Otherwise, what’s it all been made of? I’m not different.”

At the very end, Pete actually says King’s (which has merely been his nickname ) last name, which we hear for the first time during the film; it symbolizes the intrusion of the real world on their insulated existence. When King is leaving with the Americans, Pete runs frantically toward him, trying to say goodbye. King looks at him from the truck, and for the last time, he reveals to Pete one lingering stare- a despairing, longing look at Pete to let him know it was real.

Continue reading “Chapter 5 – Queers and Dykes in the Dark: Classic, Noir & Horror Cinema’s Coded Gay Characters:”