Under the Radar: The Unseen Side of Film Noir – Part 1

Dennis O’Keefe and Marsha Hunt in Anthony Mann’s Raw Deal 1948.

While iconic film noirs grab our attention, films like Out of the Past, where Jeff Bailey’s (Robert Mitchum) past catches up with him lured by the complex and dangerous Kathie Moffet (Jane Greer), and while there’s nothing hotter than the steamy affair between Frank and Cora (Garfield and Turner) in The Postman Always Rings Twice, or watching Walter Neff’s (Fred MacMurray) descent into murder and deception lured by the wiley Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) in Double Indemnity. It’s no wonder these masterpieces have rightfully earned their place in cinematic history, yet there’s a whole alleyway of shadows, both literally and figuratively, that have flown under the radar. Well worth watching, these lesser-known noir gems are waiting to be discovered.

Films like The Sniper (1952), Raw Deal (1948), and Act of Violence (1948) offer gritty and challenging narratives and are begging for a bit of attention. These overlooked classics showcase the genre’s versatility, exploring themes of psychological torment, moral ambiguity, and the consequences of violence. The Sniper delves into the twisted psyche of a disturbed war veteran turned killer. Raw Deal presents a gritty tale of escaping the past, desire in flux, and redemption. Act of Violence examines the lasting impact of wartime choices on civilian life. These underappreciated noirs prove that the genre’s shadowy allure extends far beyond its most celebrated titles. I wanted to celebrate Noirvember by peering into the more obscure corners of the genre!

SPOILER ALERT ?

1-The Sniper 1952

The Sniper is a dark psychological film noir that explores the troubling story of Eddie Miller, a disturbed delivery man with a deep-seated hatred of women. Directed by Edward Dmytryk and shot on location in San Francisco, particularly in the Telegraph Hill area, the film was written by Harry Brown and based on a story by Edna and Edward Anhalt. The cast features Adolphe Menjou, Arthur Franz, Gerald Mohr, and one of noir’s finest femme fatales – Marie Windsor, who Eddie thinks played him for a poor sucker.

The Sniper unfolds like a fever dream in the burning, daylit streets, and shadowy streets of 1950s San Francisco. It is a haunting exploration of a fractured psyche teetering on the edge of madness and the manhunt that ensues.

Arthur Franz plays the unbalanced Eddie Miller, who feels compelled to kill women. When he tries to get help for himself, he is met with a lack of interest and sent back out into the world. Miller is a man whose inner demons have twisted his view of women and, evidently, a mother who is hinted at as someone he despises so severely that he finally breaks down and begins a killing spree, targeting them from rooftops throughout the city.

Adolph Menjou plays Lt. Kafka, a gruff and unmerciful policeman who is assigned to the case. As he investigates the killings, Lt. Kafka begins to see the full picture as he tracks down the troubled Miller, figuring out that the murders are not just sexually motivated but stem from a profound psychological fracture and a desperate cry from a mind splintering under the weight of unresolved trauma. Finally, cornering Miller in a cheap hotel, the cops close in. They force their way into his lightly barricaded room and find him surrounded by a small arsenal of weapons. The look on his face shows that he’s relieved it’s finally over. Dmytryck shows his visual flare reminiscent of his earlier noirs, including Murder My Sweet 1944, Cornered 1945, and Crossfire 1947.

Edward Dmytryk’s obscure noir masterpiece plunges us into the tortured world of veteran Miller, who harbors a darkness that threatens to consume him. His voyeuristic gaze, windows to a soul in turmoil, flickers with barely contained rage when he glimpses couples in intimate moments It’s as if their happiness is a personal affront; each romantic glance is itself a gunshot wound to his fragile ego. He perceives every woman he comes in contact with as being untrustworthy and brash.

In a moment of anguished self-awareness, Miller presses his hand to an electric stove, a desperate attempt to cauterize the emotional wounds that fester within and keep himself from projecting his rage outward. But the pain of other’s apathy only fuels his descent into madness, and soon, the city trembles under the shadow of his M1 carbine. As bodies fall and panic grips the streets, Miller’s twisted game of cat-and-mouse with his anonymous notes sent to the police takes on a surreal quality as he begs to be caught before he commits more murders, aware of his sins but powerless to stop himself.

Dmytryk, fresh from his own battles with the Hollywood blacklist, testifying before the House Un-American Activities Committee, infuses the film with a palpable sense of paranoia and urban alienation.

Miller’s crimes reflect the moral ambiguity of a society grappling with hidden threats. The Sniper delves into the murky waters of criminal psychology, pioneering profiling techniques that would become staples of the genre. Yet it’s the film’s unconventional ending that truly subverts expectations with the after-the impact of its structured violence and ends with the non-violent denouement of Miller’s surrender and society maintaining the status quo. More than just a thriller, The Sniper stands as a chilling indictment of a society ill-equipped to deal with mental illness, its streets teeming with walking wounded like Miller, in the shadows of post-war America in the 1950s.

“The characters found in The Sniper exist in a netherworld that permits humanitarian speculation to surface through scenes of humiliation and angst.” – (from Film Noir an Encyclopedia Reference to the American Style edited by Silver & Ward)

Los Angeles was experiencing their own version of a lone male ‘phantom sniper’ Evan Charles Thomas, stalking female victims, targeting them at random from a sniper’s vantage point the previous summer.

This must have heightened audiences’ fears when watching an eerily similar serial killer-themed film noir. While The Sniper was not directly inspired by the Thomas case, its release coincided with a real-life sniper incident in Los Angeles, creating an eerie parallel. The film’s story had been acquired by Stanley Kramer Productions from writers Edna and Edward Anhalt several months before Thomas began his shooting spree. Interestingly, Arthur Franz was cast as the sniper on August 27, 1951, the same day as Thomas’s first shooting. Despite the film’s independent origin, its producers recognized the potential to leverage the public’s interest in the ongoing sniper case. They capitalized on this coincidence in their marketing efforts, emphasizing the film’s relevance to recent events.

This strategy, aimed at drawing audiences by highlighting the film’s timeliness and apparent realism, was too close for comfort even though its conception predated the actual crimes.

“L.A. saw it happen!” the local ad for the film blared. Chief of Police Bill Parker was said to have signed a letter praising the film’s realism in its “handling of intensive methods” to track down the killer. In his review, Scheuer noted, “The parallel is too close for comfort, but even without the similarity between Eddie Miller and an alleged local “sniper” the picture would be distasteful.” (Source J.H.Graham)

E.R. doctor: Were you ever in a mental hospital?
Edward Miller: Only when I was in prison.

Police Lt. Frank Kafka: All I have to do is catch him.
Dr. James G. Kent: You’ll catch ’em, and they’ll kill ’em, and everyone will forget about it. . . that is until the next one comes along. Then it will start all over again.

Continue reading “Under the Radar: The Unseen Side of Film Noir – Part 1” →

A Tale of Two Spirits- The Haunting of Windward House: A Study of Gothic Horror in The Uninvited 1944

Retrospective reviews have continued to hold the film in high regard, with Carlos Clarens calling it ” the best and most unusual” horror film of 1944 in his book An Illustrated History of the Horror Film.

“ The supernatural is dealt with seriously in this dynamic, suspenseful melodrama, chock full of fine acting that will hold audiences glued to their seats for its entire 93 minutes…
Once in, they’ll like it, but getting audiences into the seats to stay “glued” there was less than a dead cert due to the film’s “unusual and controversial subject.” — Review from the 5 January 1944 issue of Variety.

In his review of The Uninvited for The New York Times, Bosley Crowther remarked that while the film features a “glaring confusion in the wherefore and why of what goes on,” it effectively showcases the talents of its cast, particularly noting that Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey “do nicely as the couple who get themselves involved” and praising Gail Russell as “wistful and gracious” in her role.”

Paramount’s The Uninvited 1944, MGM’s The Haunting 1963, and Twentieth Century Fox’s The Innocents 1961 stand as the finest examples of achievements in the realm of sophisticated supernatural cinema to come out of Hollywood in the forties. Horror in the 1940s were overwhelmingly monster movies, considering Universal’s trend, which was characterized by a blend of classic literary monsters and folktales and their more modern reinterpretations, such as Dracula, Frankenstein, and werewolves. The Gothic ghost story has had quite a resurgence in the past few decades and has become its own genre.

All three of the aforementioned Gothic supernatural films are ‘gravely’ serious and refined visions that tell a subtext or deeper meaning about inner psychological conflict and the path of self-discovery, which is effectively brought to life by the presence of ghosts and spirits. Therefore, while on the surface, the films appear to haunt the screen as a well-crafted ghost story, they also delve into meaningful themes that reach beyond their supernatural framework and their sense of the otherworldly.

These films represent a departure from typical ghost stories, offering nuanced, psychologically complex narratives that delve into the human psyche. These narratives are particularly powerful when amplified through the Gothic aesthetic.

With its cold earnestness, Lewis Allen’s stunning prototype of an authentic cinematic ghost story doesn’t expose the uncanny happenings as a mere gimmick perpetrated by human design to misdirect and obscure mischief. These ghosts are very real and dangerous.

Right off the bat, the movie gained attention for being above other horror films —as an early example of “elevated horror” or “higher bracket horror pictures,” as Jack Cartwright wrote at the time.

Hollywood normally sprinkled its ghost stories with a generous dose of comedy or as a subterfuge devised to cover up some criminal operations. Four years earlier, Paramount released the Bob Hope comedy classic The Ghost Breakers; the horror/comedy subgenre shifted to a lighthearted tone characterized by antics with the ‘it can all be explained away by the end of the picture’ flare. We can see this type of over-the-top carnival horror in pictures pulled off by showman William Castle in the 1950s & 60s, with House on Haunted Hill and 13 Ghosts.

Paulette Goddard and Bob Hope in The Ghost Breakers 1940.

Kay Hammond, Rex Harrison and Constance Cummings in Blithe Spirit 1945.

The Uninvited is an innovative approach to the supernatural Hollywood horror formula. It takes a bold stance by presenting these elements as genuine occurrences rather than comedic devices or plot misdirections and was considered “unusual and controversial” at the time, setting it apart from lighter iterations like Blithe Spirit or Topper, refraining from the campy theatrics typical of its predecessors. Allen’s film can be regarded as the first major Hollywood motion picture that transformed ‘ghosts’ into something malignant and threatening.

Gary J. Svehla’s The Uninvited essay in Cinematic Hauntings states: Hollywood’s glib attitude toward ghosts – perhaps they quickly became the caricature of human beings wearing a white sheet in two-reel comedies or the comical howling spirits of Disney cartoons, the ghost in Hollywood has never been taken seriously enough. Hollywood’s attraction to the ghost movie genre has largely been tongue-in-cheek with early thirties encounters between spooks and Laurel and Hardy, the Three Stooges, and the robust, demented Little Rascals. Even the MGM late thirties version of A Christmas Carol, featuring disembodied spirits of the spookiest nature, still managed to keep the proceedings moralistic, tidy, and safe (even fun).

Svehla cites the Halperin Brothers’ deadly serious pre-code horror Supernatural 1933, starring Carole Lombard, as one of the first mature ghost movies. It is still an obscure gem barely remembered today.

The Uninvited emerged as a pivotal work in the supernatural thriller canon, marking a significant shift in the genre’s trajectory, opting for a nuanced exploration of spectral phenomena that would redefine the genre.

This 1944 Paramount picture starred Ray Milland, one of its top stars, and Ruth Hussey, best known for her Oscar-nominated performance as Best Supporting Actress in The Philadelphia Story 1940.

Directed by the English-born Lewis Allen, with over thirty West End productions to his credit and several successful Broadway shows as well, he established himself as a prominent figure in theatre until he went to Los Angeles and joined Paramount.

In his directorial debut, Allen masterfully adapted Irish writer and activist Dorothy Macardle’s 1941 novel Uneasy Freehold, renamed The Uninvited, for its U.S. publication.

While his repertoire includes films like The Unseen 1945 (also a Dorothy Macardle adaptation which made it to the screen a year later), Desert Fury (1947), the atmospheric noir So Evil My Love (1948), and the tense thriller Suddenly (1954), it’s The Uninvited (1944) of all his moody offerings; it’s the film that stands out as his crowning achievement. Paramount allocated a substantial budget and assembled a talented cast for the production, resulting in a successful hit!

Joel McCrea and Gail Russell in The Unseen 1945.

Though more of a continuation of the theme rather than a literal sequel, Lewis Allen directed the follow-up, The Unseen (1945), also starring Gail Russell, this time playing a governess – echoing the Gothic themes of The Innocents (1961).

“As we think about The Uninvited today, its production tells us a lot about why it remains so culturally significant. When producer Charles Brackett bought the rights to Dorothy Macardle‘s 1941 novel, he had Alfred Hitchcock in mind to direct. Hitchcock had made Rebecca a year earlier in a similar fashion to what Brackett imagined The Uninvited could be: moody, gothic, and haunting. Brackett met with Hitchcock, who read the book but could not direct it due to scheduling conflicts. Hitchcock did give some suggestions to Brackett, but whether or not he used those suggestions is unknown.” – from The Original Ghostly Thrills of ‘The Uninvited’ published October 26, 2021, by Emily Kubincanek, senior Contributor for Film School Rejects.

The Uninvited will certainly resonate with admirers of Hitchcock’s adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca 1940, sharing some of its elements of psychological suspense and haunting ‘spirits’ from the past. Both stories explore parallel themes that center around the ‘afterlife’ influence of the idealized woman/wife revered as the epitome of perfection who casts a long, malevolent shadow over a pure-hearted girl.

Dame Judith Anderson and Joan Fontaine in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca 1940.

It’s a complex blend of a psychological thriller and the obvious supernatural horror, blurring the lines between the tangible and the specters of the afterlife. It’s also a harmony of melodrama and Gothic romance, drawing inspiration from films like Rebecca; The Uninvited utilizes gothic elements such as a foreboding mansion and a sense of lingering past trauma. In addition to that, the murder mystery structure is a story in which Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey uncover clues about past events and dark family secrets as they investigate the haunting.

Allen clues us in on the uncanny phenomena by using sound, melancholic sobbing is particularly powerful, and other unseen forces to suggest a supernatural presence—such as intense cold, the lingering scent of perfume, and an overwhelming sense of oppressive sadness. This likely had a significant impact on another iconic film about a haunted house: Robert Wise’s The Haunting 1963.

Ray Milland was cast as the sophisticated Rick Fitzgerald, who seeks to lighten the tense atmosphere with his comedic flair—a skill playing the charming everyman he frequently showcased in his roles as a romantic lead. That same year, he co-starred with Ginger Rogers in the romantic musical drama Lady in the Dark and Fritz Lang’s spy thriller Ministry of Fear.

“He’s been described as an existential Cary Grant, and his performance here captures that sentiment perfectly. Ultimately, though, the comedy here feels more like genre residue, the persisting remnants of a past cycle that championed comedy over horror in a film pushing new boundaries of otherworldly terror. It’s in the film’s most haunting, stylized moments that it feels most grounded and self-assured.” — from Caleb Allison from the 2021 essay Erotic and Esoteric : The Uninvited as Queer Cult Film.

In her debut role, Gail Russell’s performance as the twenty-year-old Stella Meredith is the driving force of the film, making her character a pivotal element of the story. In her first leading role, Russell masterfully embodies Stella’s complexities; her portrayal captures the essence of a true Gothic heroine, as she combines vulnerability with courageous spirit, gentility with a rebellious heart throughout the picture. She is ideal – haunted and consumed.

She brings a feverish intensity as a waif longing for her mother, who spirals into a state of desperation as a young woman under a spell.

The role of Stella Meredith is widely regarded as one of her best and played a significant role in establishing her as a star in Hollywood. With The Uninvited, and for a brief time during the 1940s, Gail Russell’s spellbinding, ethereal beauty, which trade magazines compared to Hedy Lamarr, the film captured the essence of what might have been for the talented actress, showcased in films like Frank Borzage’s Moonrise 1948. The Western, Angel and the Badman (1947) featuring John Wayne and once again alongside Wayne in the South Seas adventure Wake of the Red Witch (1948). She also starred in John Farrow’s noir/psychological horror film Night Has a Thousand Eyes 1948, co-starring Edward G. Robinson.

Gail Russell and John Lund in Night Has a Thousand Eyes 1948.

From the time she started out at the age of 19, Gail Russell fell victim to the ravages of the Hollywood star factory and descended into a tragic life of alcoholism. Withdrawn, anxious, and out of place for the Hollywood hustle, she drank to calm her nerves while on the set of this movie.

Russell suffered from pathological shyness, preferring to have lived a reclusive life as an artist. Her mother pushed her into an acting career, wishing to exploit her sensual good looks to move the family up in class. It is an ironic twist that she plays a young woman in the grip of her mother’s controlling influence.

By the time she appeared in Budd Boetticher’s Seven Men from Now in 1956, alcoholism had taken a toll on her once-stunning looks, and her career was nearly at an end. Tragically, she passed away in 1961 at the age of thirty-six due to complications related to her drinking.

The screenplay, brimming with intelligence and wit, was written by Frank Partos, a staff writer for both Paramount and RKO, and Dodie Smith, the established playwright and children’s author known for The Hundred and One Dalmatians, which itself was infused with a few Gothic elements. Partos had often worked with Paramount Producer Charles Brackett, who often collaborated with Billy Wilder.

According to Emily Kubincanek, Partos was “ Only available because he’d turned down co-writing Double Indemnity 1944 because he felt the morally challenging plot of that classic noir was too ‘sordid’ and bound to violate the Hays Code.”

Continue reading “A Tale of Two Spirits- The Haunting of Windward House: A Study of Gothic Horror in The Uninvited 1944” →

Saturday Nite Sublime: The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre 1964 Sometimes the sun sets so suddenly

“Supernaturally or otherwise, we are all haunted. Anyone who’s lived in this past century, this last week, cannot escape being haunted. For some of us, it’s a mass haunting, an all-pervading specter of guilt or futility or alienation that we suffer collectively. For others, the haunting is more private and more terrible because the ghosts are ours alone and we recognize them. Sometimes it takes so little to free ourselves of our ghosts. And if my believing in another man’s haunting helps to free him, does it matter whether science calls his agony hallucinatory or real?”

Joseph Stefano’s and Villa Di Stefano Productions (his sole effort as a director) The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre 1964 emerges as a fascinating yet obscure and underappreciated artistic artifact in the landscape of 1960s television horror. Its legacy, while somewhat overshadowed by Stefano’s more famous works, remains an intriguing footnote in the history of televised terror. The film ambitiously blends elements of horror, paranormal investigation, and film noir, creating a narrative that is both intriguing and yet potentially unwieldy.

In 1964, while Joseph Stefano was immersed in the production of the inaugural season of his acclaimed science fiction anthology series The Outer Limits (1963-1965), a series created and executive produced by his old friend Leslie Stevens. Stefano felt inspired to create a companion show that would explore more supernatural themes.

There is nothing wrong with your television set… Do not attempt to adjust the picture, we are controlling transmission: The Transendental Heartbeat of The Outer Limits 1963-1965

Over the next year or so, he wrote two scripts as pilots for the proposed spin-offs, The Unknown and The Haunted.

The Unknown didn’t quite hit the mark, so it was reworked and added as an episode of The Outer Limits entitled The Forms of Things Unknown, which starred Barbara Rush, Vera Miles, David McCallum, and Sir Cedric Hardwicke.

The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre’s collaborative endeavor by Stefano, photographer Conrad Hall, and its incredibly intuitive cast of actors make it a little jewel that remained shoved in a drawer for decades. This made-for-TV film, which was originally conceived as the unrealized pilot for the ill-fated series called The Haunted, offers a compelling glimpse into Stefano’s creative vision beyond his most famous work on Psycho and highlights Joseph Stefano’s inclination to embrace a subtext that deals with psychological inner chaos through his eye for compelling narratives even within the constraints of modest television productions. The film’s existence in this liminal space between pilot and standalone feature offers a unique opportunity to examine the evolving landscape of horror in 1960s television.

The Haunted/The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre features Martin Landau as Nelson Orion, Diane Baker as Vivia Mandore, and Judith Anderson as their housekeeper Paulina.

Tom Simcox plays Henry Mandore, Diane Baker’s husband; Nellie Burt (who appeared in The Outer Limits episodes, Don’t Open Til Doomsday and The Guests in 1964 plays Mary Finch, Orion’s skeptical but loyal housekeeper, and Leonard Stone plays Benedict Sloane, the remarkably tolerant head of the architectural firm where Orion works. Both actors had a fine working relationship with Martin Landau and with each other and helped embellish Nelson Orion’s world. John Drew Barrymore was initially cast as Henry Mandore.

Tom Simcox, Nellie Burt, Martin Landau, and Dame Judith Anderson.

There’s also an additional nod to The Outer Limits with its use of an eerie score from series regular Dominic Frontiere, who created much of that anthology series’ transcendent hymn-like qualities. Here, Frontiere’s score keeps the story a little off-kilter and nightmarish.

The movie features black and white photography by Conrad Hall (an Outer Limits regular and later working on films like The Day of the Locust (1975) and Marathon Man (1975); 1965 would be his first of ten Oscar nominations, three of which he would win.

Conrad Hall’s visual artistry vs the television constraints is a standout element, pushing the boundaries of what was typically expected in TV productions of the era. His use of expressive lighting and ambitious camera work, dramatic use of shadows and light, striking black-and-white imagery, spectral elongation effects, and rare-for-TV crane shots demonstrate a cinematic ambition that strains against the medium’s limitations. It all lends to the film’s eerie quality. His camera operator, William A. Fraker, was on the brink of shooting Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (1968) and a career of five Oscar nominations in cinematography.

The Outer Limits Season 1 episode, The Galaxie Being aired Sep. 16, 1963

Also adding an effective creepy touch is the black-and-white art direction by McClure Capps and the sets by veteran designer Frank Tuttle. Fred B. Phillips’s makeup revises his groundbreaking work on The Outer Limits The Galaxy Being for the spectral figure using the reverse negative. The Galaxy Being itself was created using a negative image effect, with the actor wearing a black scuba diving suit covered in oily makeup that reflected light. When filmed, this created a glowing, otherworldly appearance when the image was reversed to negative. This gave the alien a distinctive face with no mouth and glaring eyes.

There are a few visual set pieces that are deconstructed; they are quite compelling. The movie also includes a bit of a rare hallucinogenic drug and a creepy bit of business, with a ghostly Dame Judith Anderson stalking Baker as she sits in a car on a clifftop in the tragic finale.

A striking title sequence features the Los Angeles skyline being wiped out by a tidal wave. The artful visual blend at the very start shows a wave breaking on a beach, metaphorically devouring the city.

There’s a visually arresting sequence that weaves together multiple elements of suspense and atmosphere. The scene unfolds in a single, meticulously choreographed shot that showcases both Stefano and Hall’s technical prowess and artistic vision.

The camera’s gaze encompasses the ominous phone line, a lifeline between two worlds: the foreboding crypt, the silent sentinel of family secrets; Pauline’s furtive movements, a dance of noirish light and shadow; and nature’s subtle intrusion.

A transition from a small, enigmatic black vial nestled in the crypt to Paulina’s windswept figure on the beach, her black attire echoing the vial’s darkness, a visual metaphor, linking disparate elements of the story through powerful imagery.

Stefano, fresh from his triumph with Psycho, cleverly leverages his Hitchcock connections in casting to orchestrate a cinematic reunion of sorts, bringing together some of Alfred Hitchcock’s wonderful ensemble of cast members.

Martin Landau, who gave a mesmerizing performance in North by Northwest, brought his intense gaze and brooding presence of cool demeanor and class; Judith Anderson, the imposing Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca 1940; her steely spined visage lends her formidable presence as the sinister housekeeper Paulina, And Diane Baker, the fresh-faced ingénue from Marnie 1964, and in William Castle’s Strait-Jacket that same year, adds a touch of vulnerable allure.

The Great Villain Blogathon 2019 Dame Judith Anderson as Mrs. Danvers “Do you think the dead come back and watch the living?”

Stefano’s shrewd choices infused each frame of this atmospheric production with an unmistakable aura of suspense, a subtle homage to the master of suspense. Each frame carries with it the echoes of these actors’ Hitchcockian past. In addition to Nellie Burt’s appearance on two episodes of The Outer Limits during Stefano’s tenure on that series, Martin Landau, who is one of my favorite underrated actors, starred in perhaps one of the most enduring, evocative, and emotionally compelling of that series, The Man Who Was Never Born which aired in 1963. Landau portrays Andro, a time traveler from a decimated world in the future who travels back in time to prevent the birth of the inventor who would become the inventor of destruction. He was cast opposite another favorite of mine, Shirley Knight, as Noelle Anderson, the intended mother of the future antagonist.

THE OUTER LIMITS – “The Man Who Was Never Born” – Airdate: October 28, 1963. (Photo by ABC Photo Archives/Disney General Entertainment Content via Getty Images) SHIRLEY KNIGHT; MARTIN LANDAU

Martin Landau in The Outer Limits episode The Bellero Shield

One account suggests that the pilot for The Haunted either never aired on U.S. television or was shown only once in limited markets. Stefano wound up adding extra footage and an alternative ending to the pilot, extending it from sixty to eighty minutes and releasing it as a feature-length and re-named The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre internationally, but not in the US.

The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre reveals the adaptability required of creators in the face of network rejection. By extending the runtime and altering the ending, Stefano attempted to salvage his work for a different market, showcasing the malleability of content in the pursuit of an audience.

Kino Lorber yanked it out of obscurity and released it on Blu-ray, allowing us to witness its moody and intriguing hint at what might have been a full-length feature and a continuing series.

There is a commentary track by film historian David J. Schow and an unrestored print of The Haunted (the sixty-minute pilot) with a commentary track by film historian Eric Grayson, who actually owns the print that Kino Lorber used.

Eric Grayson, who covers The Haunted in the commentary, makes the keen observation that the name Mandore sounds like Manderley, the mansion in du Maurier/Hitchcock’s Rebecca.

One narrative suggests that the pilot’s intensity exceeded the comfort level of American audiences; reports indicate that the TV stations that did air it received countless concerns from viewers that the story was just too frightening for television, and ultimately, the show was dropped.

Joseph Stefano and Martin Landau planned for this movie to be the pilot for a new show similar in concept to The Twilight Zone (1959) and The Outer Limits (1963) but with a much greater focus on horror rather than science fiction and fantasy.

An anecdote attributed to Martin Landau claims TV executives “soiled themselves” during the pilot’s screening. While likely hyperbolic, this underscores the potential disconnect between creative ambition and network expectations. It highlights the subjective nature of evaluating content and the power dynamics at play.

According to David Schow in his commentary for the Kino Lorber release – the then-President of the CBS Television Network, James T. Aubrey, did pick up the series, but when the unpopular executive was fired from CBS, his successors scrapped all his other projects – including The Haunted.

This account involving CBS President James T. Aubrey, If true, demonstrates how industry politics and personnel changes could abruptly alter a show’s trajectory, regardless of its intrinsic worth. This unrealized potential serves as a poignant reminder of the often arbitrary nature of television development and the impact of network decisions on the evolution of genre television.

Despite its promising elements, The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre fell victim to the capricious nature of network television. The departure of CBS president James T. Aubrey effectively sealed the fate of the proposed series, relegating this potential pilot to standalone film status, and it begs the question – what if? – what would have been the potential impact of a Stefano-helmed supernatural anthology series? Stefano’s vision for The Haunted as an anthology series, with its promise of weekly paranormal investigations, could have potentially predated and influenced later similarly themed pilots that failed to take off.

Roy Thinnes and Angie Dickinson in The Norliss Tapes TV movie 1973.

There was a similar attempt at the television supernatural detective genre with Harvy Hart’s Dark Intruder in 1965, starring Leslie Nielson as Brett Kingsford, an investigator with an occult bent, and in the 1970s, there was Dan Curtis’s The Norliss Tapes 1973, and Spectre 1977 co-written by Gene Roddenberry, or the beloved television series from the prolific Dan Curtis with Kolchak: The Night Stalker. And, of course, The X-Files, the show’s creator, Chris Carter, lovingly touts the former as his inspiration.

The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre isn’t just a curiosity in Stefano’s career but also a harbinger of the more sophisticated, genre-blending television that would emerge in subsequent decades.

The enigmatic fate of The Haunted pilot not only emphasizes the conflict between artistic vision, network politics, and audience sensibilities in 1960s television. The show’s rejection and decision-making in the industry remain very opaque, as do the challenges faced by boundary-pushing, innovative content in early television. Despite its initial obscurity, The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre has gained recognition for its chilling atmosphere and compelling storytelling.

Nelson Orion (Martin Landau) is an architect by profession with a passion for the supernatural and a paranormal investigator who lives in a self-created garçonnière, hazy in its aesthetic futurism, precariously situated as an audacious cantilever on a cliff, hanging on the edge of a sheer drop.

He is recruited by heiress Vivia Mandore (Diane Baker), who mistakenly thought herself free from the domination of her recently deceased mother-in-law, Louise Mandore, whose ghost is seemingly exerting her will via telephone. Vivia is married to the wealthy and blind Henry Mandore (Tom Simcox). The couple lives on a large, rustic 100-acre family estate.

Henry is being tormented by nocturnal calls from the ghost of his dead mother, who, haunted by the fear of being buried alive, had installed a telephone in the family crypt. The old woman appears determined to continue her controlling ways… from beyond the grave.

In her will, she stipulated that there must be five doctors who examine her before signing her death certificate. She must not be embalmed. The coffin lid must remain open. And there must be a telephone placed by the coffin with a direct line to her son Henry’s bedroom. She would also be able to dial the code H.E.L.P., something also engraved on a cross in her tomb.

Louise Mandore’s death marks the beginning of an unsettling time. Not too long after, the phone rings in Henry’s room, its eerie tones ringing out through the silence. On the other end, a woman’s sobs echo, each cry steeped in dissonant sorrow and desperation. The haunting timbre of her voice weaves a chilling narrative as if the very air is thick with unresolved grief and lingering shadows. Like a ghostly leitmotif, these unsettling cries constantly remind us of the supernatural forces at play. The eerie wail of a tormented soul is a haunting prelude to the macabre tale that unfolds at the very top of the chilling The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre.

Continue reading “Saturday Nite Sublime: The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre 1964 Sometimes the sun sets so suddenly” →

Sunday Nite Surreal: Night Monster (1942)

NIGHT MONSTER (1942)

What kind of a thing is it?

Directed by Ford Beebe with a screenplay by Clarence Upson Young, with moody frames by cinematographer Charles Van Enger (Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein 1948, Bride of the Gorilla 1951) Set Design by (using sets from The Wolfman 1941 & The Ghost of Frankenstein 1942) Russell A. Gausman (Shadow of a Doubt 1943, Phantom of the Opera 1943, Touch of Evil 1958) and Gowns by Vera West.

Night Monster features Bela Lugosi in a lesser role as the butler Rolf, Lionel Atwill as Dr. King, Lief Erickson as Laurie the lecherous chauffeur, Irene Hervey as Dr. Lynn Harper, Ralph Morgan as Kurt Ingston, Don Porter as Dick Baldwin, Nils Asther as Agor Singh, Doris Lloyd as Sarah Judd, Frank Reicher as Dr. Timmons, Robert Homans as Constable Cap Beggs, Fay Helm as Margaret Ingston “How many of us are sane? You wouldn’t know, but I shall soon.” Cyril Delevanti as Torque and Janet Shaw as Milly the maid.

*Janet Shaw* as the waitress Louise Finch who works at the Till Two bar in Alfred Hitchcock’s **Shadow of a Doubt 1943.**

Universal billed Night Monster 1942 as a companion piece to The Mummy’s Tomb. starring Lon Chaney Jr.

Ralph Morgan plays a wealthy recluse, Kurt Ingston, who is bound to his wheelchair, never to walk again. Ingston invites to his ominous Ingston Towers, the very group of doctors who left him hopelessly paralyzed with both his legs amputated (there will be a more stunning revelation later on). There, they are assembled at his secluded estate, shrouded in a menacing fog, to witness a miraculous healing session performed by an enigmatic Swami Agor Singh (Nils Asther), who can teach “a method by which man can grow new tissues at will.”

The sinister housekeeper played by wonderful character actress Doris Lloyd and psychiatrist played by Irene Hervey.

As Dr. Lynn Harper – “My study of the mind has convinced me how little we know of its powers.”

Agor Singh-“A little knowledge of the occult is dangerous. Unless it’s used for good, disaster will follow its wake. That is Cosmic Law!”

Margaret Ingston –“Blood… the whole house reeks of it. The air is charged with death and hatred and something that’s unclean”

Dick Baldwin-“How is that the blood didn’t dematerialize with the rest?”

Agor Singh-“There are certain details in the process that we are not allowed to explain to the uninitiated.”

Lief Erickson plays the skirt chasing chauffeur and Irene Hervey is a psychiatrist called in to tend to the unstable Margaret Ingston played by Fay Helm!

The Swami played by Nils Asther and Bela Lugosi though receiving top billing only plays a bit part as the disagreeable butler Rolf.

Soon, one by one, the doctors turn up dead, along with several meddling servants who know more than they should.

There begin the mysterious sightings of an eerie prowler who roams the fog-drenched grounds of the estate. Also, a guest at Ingston Towers is Irene Hervey playing the beautiful psychiatrist Dr. Lynn Harper who comes to see Langston’s unstable daughter Margaret, and mystery writer Dick Baldwin (Don Porter), who tries to solve the mystery of the murders.

Night Monster acts as an Old Dark House suspense-supernatural classical horror film that possesses an eerie otherworldly atmosphere while not filled with truly shocking moments, most of which happen within the mansion, Beebe has an instinctive touch at creating the air of peril and inducing some real palpable shudders. One of the more potent examples of this is when the terrified maid Milly Carson, played by Janet Shaw, is racing through the menacing fog-soaked night, pursued by an unseen attacker, off screen we hear her violent screams followed by the night sounds of crickets and swamp frogs. The differentiation between the dead stillness and the nocturnal symphony that resumes is quite effective. Also, a creepy touch is a skeleton that bleeds…

Unraveling the Knot: Don’t Look Now (1973) A Mesmeric Paradox of Grief in Uncanny Red: Part 1

The basic tenet of horror movies – "˜ Nothing is as it seems "˜ and for me, Don't Look Now is a death of all certainties.

In the early seventies, when even mainstream films could be fearless and experimental, smashing taboos and taunting the censors, it was non-conformists who offered cinemagoing a uniquely intense experience.

Â “Don't Look Now 1973 retains its power and mystery today thanks to Roeg's mastery of what Alfred Hitchcock famously called "pure cinema," manifest in his visual sleight of hand and, above all, in his refusal to be bound by the conventions of dialogue-driven narrative and simple chronology. All this has shaped a style that has justifiably come to be described as "Roegian."– (David Thompson: Seeing Red 2015 article CRITERION )

“Nothing is what it seems," says John Baxter, the protagonist of Don't Look Now, at the start of the film. The rest of the movie depicts the tragedy of Baxter's incapacity to apply this fundamental wisdom in his own life. "Nothing is what it seems" may be an untested platitude, but it's a truism when it comes to movies, and Don't Look Now is one of the great "movies-about-movie-watching" ever made. Primarily, it is about the act of perception itself"¦ By seeing an event that has not yet happened as something that is already happening (what-will-be as what-is), he (John) fatally confuses the signs and makes the future the past, i.e., irrevocable, inescapable. Like a movie stamped on celluloid, or the glimpse of the satanic dwarf on the slide Baxter is handling in the opening scene, he fixes something in time, and thereby turns life into death.""” (article – Jasun Horsley Cinephilia and Beyond)

"He was a genius, Nic. A visionary. He made a love scene between a grieving wife and herhusband with no cries of passion, no sounds of orgasm, no words. All you hear is Pino Donaggio's music as Nic intercuts their making love with them getting dressed to go out to dinner. Magical. You don't see that scene as a voyeur. You watch it and it reminds you of yourself, of you being loving and you being loved. We decided it would be wisest not to shoot John's death scene until we'd done everything else, in case the unreliable prop knife failed and my throat would be cut, spilling red. Fragmented, abstract images colour and tell his stories. Look at Omar Sharif on a camel, coming from the other end of the desert towards the camera. That's Nic. Look at the Sahara's empty foreground and suddenly the smokestacks of a steamer crossing from left to right along the unseen Suez canal. That's Nic. He was the was the first to use Panavision's R-200Â°, which meant he had 15 degrees more shutter for Don't Look Now than the 185Â°s that were the best before. He was everything I ever wanted from a filmmaker. He changed my life forever. Francine and I asked him if we could name our firstborn after him. He said yes. Our glorious son is named Roeg." -Â (Interview – Donald Sutherland)

Continue reading “Unraveling the Knot: Don’t Look Now (1973) A Mesmeric Paradox of Grief in Uncanny Red: Part 1” →

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 ingÃ©nue 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.” →

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

The Dark Mirror (1946)

In films such as The Dark Mirror and The Locket, the male psychiatrist is posited as an antidote to the bad female by being "˜'established as a detective figure whose principal function is to investigate and ultimately to eradicate "˜deviance' (represented in these instances by excessive female desire.)'' From Frank Krutnik IN A LONELY STREET; FILM NOIR, GENRE AND MASCULINITY 1991

It is the phantom of our own Self, whose intimate relationship with and deep effect upon our spirit casts us into hell or transports us to Heaven – E.T.A. Hoffmann

”The figure of the double has been manifest in diverse forms. At times the doppelgÃ¤nger has shown itself as an ether being – a shadow, a reflection or an animated portrait. At other points, it has taken the shape of an identical being – a person of kindred appearance, a relative, a twin.” From TWO-FACED WOMEN: THE "˜DOUBLE" IN WOMEN'S MELODRAMA OF THE 1940S – Lucy Fischer Cinema Journal 1983

In the 1920s hard-edged and gritty crime fiction became popular, and by the 1940s Hollywood embraced them. At the same time Freudian psychoanalysis became a big deal in America. People knew the basics of Freud’s ideas, so Hollywood could paint stories with ideas the audience could recognize, knowing that people would get the main gist. It became the foundation for some amazing visual displays. Dream sequences started popping up a lot in American cinema, most distinctive in thrillers and in particular in film noir. The Dark Mirror is one of the standout films made during the 1940s and 1950s that introduced psychiatry – like – Spellbound 1945 and two years later, de Havilland would star in Anatole Litvak’s The Snake Pit 1948.

Much of film noir's psychological pathology gives rise to obsessive fixations on the object of one's desire. What differs with Siodmak's The Dark Mirror is that the psychotic's fixation lies with their sibling and not a lover.

The Dark Mirror is a psychological film noir released in 1946, directed by Robert Siodmak who worked with shadows in his various film noir/horror/ and thrillers like an artist works with paints.Â The film was produced and screenplay written by writer/director Nunnally Johnson who penned a slew of diverse screenplays that spanned the 1940s through the 1960s – including The Grapes of Wrath 1940, and The Dirty Dozen 1967.

Nunnally Johnson, transitioning from writer and producer to director, secured the rights and brought the story to life on screen. The film materialized through a collaborative effort between International Pictures, co-founded by Johnson and William Goetz, and Universal Pictures, marking their inaugural project under the Universal Pictures-International Pictures Banner.

The recently established studios were looking for a well-known name for their picture and Olivia de Havilland who was a huge star at the time came on board. She had recently taken legal action against Warner Bros. to terminate her contract and was now free from the studio's stranglehold.

In 1947, she delivered a noteworthy performance in To Each His Own for Paramount earning her the Academy Award for Best Actress. Following two films, The Well-Groomed Bride and Devotion in 1946, she entered into an agreement with Nunnally Johnson to star in The Dark Mirror.’

The Dark Mirror, like The Spiral Staircase both of which were classic ‘paranoid women’ /Â "˜woman's films' stars de Havilland who plays identical twins, one of whom is a knife-wielding paranoiac killer. The casting of de Havilland is significant particularly because she not only starred in a variety of women's pictures but her sister Joan Fontaine was also an iconic star of the paranoid woman's films. Some of the most notable are Hitchcock’s adaptation of Du Murier’s Rebecca 1940 and Nicolas Ray’s Born to Be Bad 1950. The Dark Mirror presents itself as a psychological noir right from the start of the film with the Rorschach blots backgrounding the titles.

Olivia de Havilland engaged in a notable real-life conflict with her younger sister – silver screen star Joan Fontaine. This behind-the-scenes rivalry positioned the actress to confront her own duality in Robert Siodmak’s 1946 quintessential film noir, The Dark Mirror.

Siodmak made some of the most critical film noirs in the late 1940s and early 1950s, including, The Killers 1946, Cry of the City 1948 Criss Cross 1949 and The File on Thelma Jordon 1950. he had left the spotlight that shined on his pictures specializing in terror and became one of the most prominent directors of crime noir and suspense. By the early 1950s, he grew weary of Hollywood and returned to Germany.

In this way, the reception of Siodmak's 1940s Hollywood films demonstrates the ways in which the category of horrors incorporates films now seen as thrillers, film noir, and examples of the ‘woman's film.’ Siodmak brought with him the sensibility of German cinema strongly associated with the art of shadows and horror.

It's clear, that director Robert Siodmak was drawn to exploring the human psyche in his picture, and The Dark Mirror is a perfect example of this. Siodmak was fascinated with the dynamic of the good sister/bad sister which was apparent in his earlier works like Cobra Woman (1944) and The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry (1945).

Siodmak’s penchant for the use of shadow in his other work holds back his enduring use of chiaroscuro in The Dark Mirror. Apart from the opening scene, the only instances where he delicately manipulates light and shadow occur within the confines of the twins’ bedroom.

The bedroom is the place where we are most vulnerable, where they sleep, which is symbolic of the psychological warfare Terry wages against her sister Ruth. There was a historic rivalry and jealousy over the years. The perceived rejections by male suitors, even the adoptive parents who chose Ruth over her. At the end of the film, Detective Stevenson tells Dr. Elliot that he had the idea to lay a trap for Terry because he feared for Ruth's life. "˜'Even a nut can figure out that it's simpler to get rid of a rival than to go on knocking off her boyfriends all the rest of her life.''

A narrative featuring identical twins presented an ideal chance to delve deeper into the realm of the doppelgÃ¤nger mythology, a theme that captivated him and inspired by Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927).

Based on a short story by Vladimir Pozner that appeared in Good Housekeeping in 1945, The Dark Mirror is notable for its exploration into the complexities of the human mind and the manifestation of conflicting identities.

Pozner's story was nominated for Best Story at the Academy Awards, though it lost to "˜'Vacation from Marriage” by Clemence Dane, which was adapted into a British movie released as Perfect Strangers in the UK starring Robert Donat and Deborah Kerr.

Collaborating with cinematographer Milton Krasner, known for his work on Lang’s Woman in the Window 1944 and Scarlet Street 1945, and All About Eve 1950, Siodmak enlisted an old colleague – Eugen SchÃ¼fftan, for visual effects. SchÃ¼fftan created the visual effects for Metropolis 1927. In the film, over three dozen shots feature mirrors, some to set the tone, but mostly to depict the inner conflict of the twins, highlighting their interchangeable likeness. De Havilland is shot beautifully in split screen using a stand-in when both twins appear.

Though de Havilland gave a very nuanced performance balancing opposing identities, down to the tone of her voice used for each sister, their body language, facial expressions, the subtle arching of her eyelids, and the sister's diverging character traits, Siodmak tried to ensure that the audience would have subtle cues for each of the characters. They were visibly "˜labeled' for us. De Havilland's Ruth is gentle yet timorous and softly spoken. She wrings her hands out of nervousness. Terry, however, is the bolder one, more assertive and hostile by a hair's breadth when challenged. Terry also smokes and is left-handed, while Ruth chooses to favor her right hand.

In a large part of the film, as in so many films, clothes often tell a story, in particular at the beginning of The Dark Mirror the twins wear identical clothing, Irene Shraff's costume designs, monogrammed dressing gowns, tailored houndstooth suits, initialed brooches, and largish necklaces bearing the letter ‘T’ and "˜R' might have been used as visual clues to help us sort out which twin was which, however, this does not dismiss de Havilland's ability to traverse the dueling roles.

It is important to note once we become aware of how unbalanced Terry is, the sisters begin to dress differently. For example: Ruth can be seen wearing a white long-sleeved sweater and conservative pencil skirt, while in contrast – Terry goes to Elliott's apartment pretending to be Ruth wearing a chic black satin dress with a jewel-encrusted pill-box hat. The visual clues summon the fall of the girl’s connection to each other and begin to symbolically delve into the clichÃ© good vs evil through the emblematic use of color coding- black vs. white.

The narrative is framed by the presence of two significant mirrors, serving as visual parentheses for the story.

Siodmak initiates ambiguity with his use of mirrors and reflections: right from the opening sequence there is a shattered mirror which is reiterated or "˜mirrored' at the climax of the film when Terry throws an object at the mirror after she sees Ruth's image in the glass. Throughout The Dark Mirror appearances are deceptions – this is the central substance of the story.

The Dark Mirror is a psychological study of identical twin sisters Terry and Ruth Collins both played by Olivia de Havilland who vex and bewilder Thomas Mitchell (Stagecoach 1939, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington 1939, Gone with the Wind 1939 also with de Havilland, It's a Wonderful Life 1946, High Noon 1952.) who plays surly Detective Stevenson who gets frustrated and ornery trying to solve a murder he is convinced one of them has committed. Lew Ayres plays the role of Dr. Scott Elliott, a psychiatrist tasked by Stevenson to help unravel the mystery as to which one of the twins is guilty of murder.

De Havilland's performance is striking under Siodmak's direction a tough process considering both Collins sisters had to be filmed separately for the scenes where she/they occupied the screen at the same time. Adding to the struggle to make this work was the disagreements between Siodmak and de Havilland who clashed from the beginning over how to approach the way the twins were portrayed. Siodmak was making a psychological thriller and de Havilland saw the film as a character study of paranoid schizophrenia (Greco) "˜'One sister could and one couldn't commit murder, and that's all there is to it,'' the film's resident psychiatrist explains.

"˜'The film suggests but does not develop the possibility that Terry is Ruth's other self, the "˜dark mirror' that reflects the negative potential lurking beneath Ruth's sunny mask. However, the insistence on the separation of the characters into icons of good and evil makes the film a superficial melodrama rather than a probing psychological study. Good and evil do not engage in an internal clash but are presented as the essence of two separate characters, as in a medieval morality drama.'' – Foster Hirsch The Dark Side of the Screen: Film Noir

The film’s foundation rests on the "˜old wives tale' about twins, suggesting that one must possess an inherent darkness"”in this instance, a deep-rooted psychological one. Featuring the dramatic taglines: Dramatic tagline Twins! One who loves… and one who loves to kill! This is conveyed in the film's promotional ads, “To know this twin is to love her"¦ to know this twin is to die!”

When one of the twins is accused of murdering a doctor, both come under scrutiny. Ironically, it becomes impossible to establish which twin was identified by the eyewitnesses, so the law can't touch them.

In The Dark Mirror, Terry, the malevolent sister, murders her fiancÃ© the prominent Dr. Frank Peralta when she realizes that he actually feels more genuine affection for her virtuous sister Ruth, though he is unaware of Ruth’s existence. He experiences a tenderness in Ruth’s and a peculiar absence of emotion when he's actually with Terry. Seeking understanding, he consults a psychiatrist to explore the possibility of a split personality in the woman he loves. The primary suspect is one of the Collins twins. However, the authorities are confounded by the fact that the twins are identical in appearance, making it difficult to determine which one committed the crime. Dr. Scott Elliott is brought in to evaluate the sisters and aid in solving the case.

Dr. Scott Elliott who frequents the medical plaza's magazine stand where he purchases his lemon drops from Terry, is shocked when he discovers that she has an identical twin sister Ruth. Dr. Elliot (Lew Ayers) is called to the district attorney's office to help with the investigation because he is an expert in the study of behavioral genetics in twins.

The Dark Mirror was Lew Ayers’s first movie after a four-year absence acting as an Army medic and awarded three battle stars during WWII. He returned to acting and became famous for his kindly Dr. Kildare series of films which was on the nose having been away for four years working as a doctor.

A darkened cityscape leads to an apartment that unfolds with a nighttime homicide and a shattered mirror like a fractured mind, an overturned lamp, and a man lying on the floor with a. knife stabbed through his heart. It establishes an atmospheric backdrop for a sinister and psychological story where the thin line between the narratives’ proposed trope of good vs evil is obscured behind the enigma of perceived "˜female' duality.

At the opening of the film, it is nighttime in the city and Siodmak masterfully employs protracted camera movements through two rooms in an apartment. He unveils the time of a violent struggle, the time is precisely 10:48 pm. A man has been stabbed in the back. A prominent mirror over the fireplace becomes the silent witness to the murder – shattered – it is a visual testament to the intensity of the attack.

Cut to Detective Stevenson (Thomas Mitchell) assigned to the case, who is interviewing several witnesses in his office at the police station. The identity of the victim is revealed to be Dr. Frank Peralta. Two of the witnesses claim they saw a woman leaving his apartment around the time of the murder. Soon he learns the name, Theresa ‘Terry’ Collins.

Peralta’s assistant tells Stevenson that the doctor was in love with Terry and had planned to propose to her which gave Terry a motive. It was no secret that Terry was dating Peralta. Maybe it was a lover’s quarrel? As far as Detective Stevenson knows, the only suspect is Terry Collins.

The next morning, Stevenson brings his two solid witnesses to Terry’s magazine stand in the medical building, in order for them to lay eyes on her and confirm she is the woman they saw leaving Peralta’s apartment. They are both certain it was her. He begins to interrogate her but is cut off when Dr. Scott Elliot comes by to purchase his well-loved lemon drops. Stevenson continues to put pressure on Terry to give her whereabouts the night before. She is able to detail every move as well as deliver the names of several witnesses who can swear to her presence, including a police officer and her butcher.

Once Terry learns that Peralta has been murdered she faints and seems genuinely shaken up by the news. Stevenson cannot break Terry’s alibi so he can’t arrest her. But this cop is doggedly convinced the girl is good for the murder and drops by her apartment to get to the bottom of the confusion with the witnesses. Then Ruth appears. The sisters are wearing the same bathrobes, though one is adorned with the monogrammed ‘T’ and one has the letter ‘R’ on it.

Stevenson almost combusts from the revelation that there are two of them- identical in every way and he is convinced that one of them murdered Peralta. The Collins sisters are resolute to stay silent. Neither sister will confess to which one has the foolproof alibi and which one stayed home that night. This drives Stevenson to distraction. The interrogation is getting him nowhere, there are no fingerprints on the knife and no way to prove that either one of them was there at the crime scene.

Orphans since childhood, Ruth and Terry Collins are inseparable. They live together, dress alike, and even wear wire necklaces that bear their names with a peculiar"” over-obsessive clunky jeweled monogram – as if they force their identities upon us or perhaps each might be threatened by losing themselves without them. Ruth is older by seven minutes, yet Terry seems to be the more dominant, controlling sister. Terry has a maniacal obsession with Ruth and is driven to prove that she is the superior twin.

The story unfolds – Stevenson learns how Terry and Ruth seamlessly orchestrate a charade, both working at the magazine stand as the same girl – taking turns to enjoy moments of respite – essentially to "˜switch out'' when one of them wants time off.

Under the guise of a singular job (which they cleverly share under Terry’s name), to the casual observer, no one can tell the difference until the murder exposes that they are, in fact, two separate people. Even Dr. Peralta didn’t know he was actually dating twins at the time he asked Dr. Elliott about split personalities.

Terry stands as a mother figure, a notion that the ‘bad twin’ constantly drives home to Ruth by asserting she is protecting her, making it more of a challenge for Ruth to betray her sister in the maternal role.

Among other films exploring dynamics projected by the good twin/the bad twin trope – they are often suggestive of variations on schizophrenia.

Detective Stevenson brings the sisters in for a line-up but they are so uncannily alike, that the witnesses can’t tell them apart.

Because both Terry and Ruth stay quiet, the DA is forced to drop the case against them because they won’t be able to convict with no evidence. But Stevenson is a bulldog and isn’t willing to give up. That’s when he seeks out Dr. Scott Elliott to help him uncover the truth about which one murdered Peralta.

The investigating officer on the case is Lt. Stevenson (Thomas Mitchell) enlists the unofficial help of up and coming psychiatrist, though Stevenson is more of a skeptic about psychology referring to him as a "˜fortune teller' who employs "˜gimmicks.' "Don't you witch doctors treat people with tinker toys?''

Dr. Elliot doesn't ascribe to the age-old superstitions that twins are usually "penalized in some way, physically or psychically."

He believes that "character, personality is the key" – that the two elements which are very black & white are pivotal, though one is a moral question and the other is scientific. Ayers is an actor who often comes across as a paternalistic figure puffs on his pipe and uses softly phrased insights as the even keel Dr. Elliott.

Dr. Elliot says, "Not even nature can duplicate' this quality, "even in twins" so this is what would tell who is the murderer. He adds that "˜one could and one couldn't commit murder, and that's all there is to it."

"˜'the insistent separation of the characters into icons of good and evil makes the film a superficial melodrama rather than a probing psychological study. Good and Evil do not engage in an internal clash but are presented as the essence of two separate characters, as in a medieval morality drama.'' Foster Hirsch

Terry and Ruth agree to be added as another set of twins for Dr. Elliott's research, though Ruth appears to be more wary of submitting to his examinations and acts cautious believing that Terry might be guilty of the murder.

Terry admits to Ruth that Peralta did propose to her and that she did see Peralta the night he was murdered. But Ruth agrees not to talk. She poses the question to Ruth, why would I kill him? Ruth is frightened that the truth will come out during Dr. Elliot’s examinations, but Terry thinks she's smarter than him and can pass all his ridiculous tests.

He invites the sisters to come to his office separately, where he puts them through a series of psychological tests, including the clichÃ© inkblots that were groundbreaking at that time. Dr. Hermann Rorschach created them in 1921 to diagnose schizophrenia but that was modified in 1939 when it was used as a standard personality test.

As Dr. Elliott delves into the lives of Terry and Ruth, he discovers the stark contrast in their personalities. While Terry is manipulative, cunning, and emotionally unstable, Ruth is kind-hearted and virtuous.

The mystery deepens as Dr. Elliott tries to understand the motives behind the murder and grapples with the challenge of distinguishing between the sisters. The film takes an intriguing turn as Dr. Elliott employs psychological techniques to uncover the truth.

Elliott puts the girls through a series of standard psychological tests that seem to imply more of a moral evaluation than a psychiatric one. After Terry gives her impressions of the inkblots Elliott determines that she has a dark inner conflict, clever and calculating, even a tendency toward violence, after she describes "the lamb looks so innocent, but it has two men under its paws."

Terry's answers seem rehearsed, suggesting an attempt to assert her power though she tries to convey a helpless innocence. But Elliott notices the contrast in Ruth's answers right away. She appears very genuine, and is not aggressive, or threatening, with her contemplations more of a refined nature, as in dancers around a maypole and skaters in an ice show. Ruth is more retiring and amiable. This leads Elliott to conclude that Ruth is normal and Terry is the one who is mentally disturbed. Eventually, the monograms are disposable as de Havilland manifests the difference through her acting skills.

As Dr. Elliott delves deeper into the two personalities he begins to fall in love with Ruth, while Terry pursues him romantically. A pattern that is replaying itself. In the past, men have always chosen Ruth over her, while Terry desires them herself.

We learn that as orphans, a couple wanted to adopt Ruth but not Terry, and as they grew up, men were always drawn to Ruth, even Dr. Peralta preferred Ruth though he didn't know why. It was when he was with Terry that he feared she suffered from a split personality.

Ruth isn’t aware of Terry’s psychosis but Dr. Elliott is convinced that she is insane and killed Peralta in a jealous rage.

The narrative appears somewhat superficial, adopting a simplistic approach wherein the individual potentially toying with Elliott’s psyche, teasing him with aggressive insights, is labeled as the embodiment of evil. Meanwhile, the one exhibiting a gentler perspective through her mild and innocuous visions is deemed the epitome of normalcy.

"˜'20 percent of people who see things in the inkblots that expose the "˜'true secret patterns of their own minds'' The results for Elliott point to this"¦ "˜'one of our young ladies is insane.''

During the free association session, Dr. Elliott is left a bit mystified because the only unusual reflex is Ruth's reaction to the word "˜'mirror,'' to which she responds, "˜'death.'' Now he cannot wait to see how Terry responds to his prompts. But being visibly unnerved, having found out from Ruth how she reacted to the word mirror, it is not clear whether Terry would have given the same answer or if she is now toying with Elliott.

Terry is agitated when she hears Ruth's answer which shows some understanding of "˜that mumbo jumbo.' She refers to Dr. Elliott's tests as "˜'kindergarten games’' obviously trying to poison Ruth's faith in the doctor's credibility and that his psychological tests are nothing more than childish trials.

When Dr. Elliott gives them both a polygraph, it is hard for Terry to successfully manipulate her responses. Terry’s blood pressure spikes every time Elliott invokes Ruth’s name. Whenever her sister is mentioned the needle bounds frantically across the paper in a storm of black lines, especially bringing up the subject of a particular boy who liked Ruth.

From these tests, Elliotts makes his diagnosis – Ruth is sane and innocent of the murder while Terry is "˜'a paranoiac- a paranoiac is capable of anything.'' He is assured that Terry merely found his tests "˜'another challenge to her, another opportunity to show the world what contempt she has for it. That was the tip-off."

"A marker for insanity, or at least "˜'abnormality'' for women, then, is the transgression of typical patriarchal authority. The "˜tip-off' to Elliott that Terry is the "˜'wrong'' twin is her effort to thwart the masculine power and rules that are being applied to explain her motives, psyche, and very existence." – THE DARK MIRROR PSYCHIATRY AND FILM NOIR BY MARLISA SANTOS

Though Terry thinks she is putting one over on Elliott with his psychological "˜analysis' she begins to feel threatened by the growing romantic relationship between him and Ruth.

Terry witnesses Elliott and Ruth in an embrace outside their apartment building, but when asked Ruth doesn’t mention it. Terry becomes more desperate to sabotage Ruth's budding romance, something she evidently has done in the past. She decides to seduce Dr. Elliott herself, while gaslighting Ruth, trying to make her think she is losing her mind.

She begins to torture Ruth, hoping to push her to commit suicide and pin Peralta’s murder on her. She crafts illusions, spins nightmares, and conjures conversations, savoring every moment of her imaginative ploy.

Initially puzzling is why Ruth willingly covers for Terry despite being the target of Terry’s cruel gaslighting, nearly driving her to a mental breakdown. As Ruth witnesses Terry’s darker side, she hesitates to betray her, fearing that Terry’s potential for evil, even going as far as murder, might also exist within herself.

Terry starts by telling Ruth that she's been having nightmares, talking in her sleep, and then waking hysterical and terrified. Persuading Ruth to consume an excessive amount of sleeping pills, Terry secretly uses flashbulbs to light up their pitch-black bedroom in the dead of night. Ruth awakens startled while her cunning sister Terry pretends not to have seen anything.

Terry also secretly turns on a music box so it will remain playing after she leaves their apartment, to create the illusion that Ruth is only hearing the music from inside her head.

After all this, Ruth begins to believe she is descending into madness. Her head grasped between her hands she breaks down, – "Something's happening to me, and I don't know what it is. I don't understand it. I'm so scared; I don't know what to do." Pleased with her scheme to drive her sister crazy Terry reassures her –

"˜'Just remember that I'm with you and I'm always going to be with you. no matter what"¦ no matter happens, they can't do a thing without {her} consent.''Â

Terry is suggesting that Ruth is mad, but she'll be there to protect her as always. "˜'We'll be together as long as we live.''

"Terry converts feelings of loss and fragmentation into fantasies of total power and god-like control; she projects lack onto her own sister in the form of psychological disorder."˜' – Lutz Koepnick from Doubling the double: Robert Siodmak in Hollywood

Self-absorbed, Terry constantly seeks approval from Elliott, wanting to know what it is about Ruth that draws him to her. In a crucial scene, she even pretends to be Ruth, kissing Elliott and challenging him to be able to tell the difference. Yet she cannot restrain herself from self-aggrandizing “Terry is the smart one,” the one men usually go for.''

The use of a one-way mirror becomes a visual metaphor and a symbolic tool, reflecting not only the physical likeness of the twins but also the duplicity and hidden facets of their personalities. As the story unfolds, the audience is taken on a journey through the labyrinth of the human mind, exploring the nature of identity, morality, and the thin line between good and evil.

As the walls close in around Terry, she becomes more and more possessive of Ruth: "You and I are never going to be separated, as long as we live. You and I are going to be together. Always.''

Elliott tells Stevenson that Terry is a paranoiac and definitely killed Dr Peralta. Stevenson becomes concerned for Ruth's safety, so Elliott promises to tell Ruth that night about her sister. He calls the sister’s apartment and asks Ruth to come to see him later. But he is actually talking to Terry pretending to be Ruth. Fortunately, Ruth stops by his office right after the phone call, so he uncovers Terry's ruse. Later on, Terry arrives at his apartment not realizing that Elliott knows about her trickery.

In a demeaning and sexist soliloquy, Elliot begins to enlighten fake ‘Ruth’ about sisterhood rivalry. All sisters are rivals for men. How it is stronger for sisters than other women. Elliott doesn’t even take into consideration ‘social class’. This jealousy is ‘‘why sisters can hate each other with such a terrifying intensity.” Considering this misguided theory, the rivalry between twins is even more intense. It is this rivalry that has consumed Terry.

Dr. Elliot –"˜' All women are rivals fundamentally, but it never bothers them because they automatically discount the successes of others and alibi their own failures on the grounds of circumstances – luck, they say. But between sisters, it's a little more serious. Circumstances are generally the same, so they have fewer excuses with which to comfort themselves"¦ That's why sisters can hate each other with such terrifying intensity. And with twins, it's worse.''

He describes how the murder might have taken place. When he confronts Terry about her split personality, she realizes that he was in love with the part of her that is Ruth, even though he didn’t know that Ruth existed. In a jealous rage, she stabbed him in the heart. It struck me how risky this meeting is for Elliott, as Terry is genuinely dangerous having already killed one man. Sure enough, she goes to grab a pair of scissors when the phone rings, and Stevenson gives him the news that Ruth has killed herself. Terry snaps out of her homicidal rage and they rush to the sister’s apartment.

Terry as ‘Ruth’ tells Stevenson that Ruth killed herself because she was ‘sick’ and ‘twisted inside,’ words Elliott used to describe Terry. That it was Ruth who was insane and committed the murder. She killed herself over the guilt. Terry begins to ramble that she is actually Ruth. That it is Terry who has killed herself because she was so jealous of Ruth.

Elliot tries to provoke the fake "˜'Ruth'' into revealing herself as Terry, antagonizing her about her past rejections. The family that wanted Ruth but not her, and the boys who preferred Ruth.

He confronts Terry by telling her how mentally disturbed she is. He tells her while she is pretending to be "˜Ruth' that "Terry is "˜sick inside' and needs help. He imagines that it is tied to something that happened in their past when they were quite young but has grown inside like a poisoned seedling. "˜'more and more bitter and is now abnormal.’'

Finally working with the police, Ruth, who has been reluctant up til now to believe that Terry is dangerous stages her own "˜'suicide'' in order to trap her sister. As Terry begins to unravel, Ruth suddenly emerges from the bedroom. When Terry sees her reflected in a mirror behind her she throws an object and smashes it, symbolically destroying her sister who is the constant evidence of her "˜lacking.'

At this revelation it is all over for Terry and she smashes the mirror when she sees Ruth’s reflection.

By the end of the picture, Elliott and Ruth are united. He asks Ruth, ” Why are you so much more beautiful than your sister?”

"˜'Terry's possessiveness may be interpreted as a desire to absorb Ruth, to eliminate the "˜difference'' between them that haunts her and frustrates her desires.'' Marlisa Santos -The Dark Mirror

Dr. Elliot's comment in the end supports the actuality that good and evil can exist within two identical people as he tells Ruth, "˜'That's what twins are you know, reflections of each other, everything in reverse."˜'

This mental image -Â signals the shattering of the mirror by the darker souled Terry at the climax of the picture when she is ultimately caught in her game of deceit, tricked by Detective Stevenson into thinking that the real Ruth has committed suicide. Caught by her own duplicity, she cannot help through her conceit she reveals her lies while claiming that she is actually Ruth and it was Terry that has killed herself.

She tries to convince Stevenson that "Terry' despised her (Ruth) out of jealousy because men always found her more attractive and likable. Unlike the doppelgÃ¤nger who inhabits an evil that is transferred to the good person, this is subverted with the evil person Terry claiming that she possesses all the good attributes from their double.

The Dark Mirror is often praised for its innovative narrative and psychological depth. The film’s exploration of the duality within a single person, embodied by the twin sisters, adds layers of complexity to the story. Olivia de Havilland’s stellar performance in the dual role is a highlight, showcasing her ability to convey the nuances of two distinct characters.

It is lauded for its psychological depth, but some critics have noted that the resolution of the murder mystery may be somewhat predictable for modern audiences. However, it’s essential to appreciate the film in its historical context, considering its influence on subsequent psychological thrillers.

"˜'Sugar wouldn't melt in the mouth of Nancy, the heroine of The Locket. Yet if we are to believe the evidence, she is a first-class criminal. With this to go on, Nancy brings the wicked-lady psychopathic parade up to date. Laraine Day gives what must be her most fascinating performance. As with so many of these wide-eyed innocents who are supposed to be baddies inside, the spectator maybe have difficulty in crediting her with such heatless villainies. However, there is just enough of a defiant something about Miss Day. More of the spirit than the actual behavior, to raise the shadow of doubt. It is this question mark that holds one rapt.'' "”Philip K. Scheuer, "Laraine Day Psychotpath.'' Los Angeles Times May, 27 1947

"˜'The complexity of Sheridan Gibney's plot was what really enticed me to the material. It was an enigma within an enigma within an enigma. John Brahm, had done a very good horror picture at Twentieth about Jack the Ripper called The Lodger. He was a German- but not too German "” and I thought he would be good to direct this and give it some of the same atmosphere.'' "”producer Bert Granet in Lee Server's Baby, I don't Care

The New York Times (1946) found The Dark Mirror to be a lamentable production that operated as little more than a vanity project for Olive de Havilland, who "˜has been tempted by the lure of playing against herself.'

"˜'Siodmak explained that "˜audiences love a picture like The Dark Mirror because it affords what psychoanalysis call a psychic renovating'' The strategy of bringing all aspects of The Dark Mirror under the rubric of psychological science including even its purportedly positive influence on audiences, is indicative of the representational shift away from the cynical and at times gruesome depictions of psychiatrists and psychological practices that characterized wartime horror cinema. The horror films that went into production after the ebbing of the Shock controversy evinced Hollywood's newfound commitment to responsible depiction of psychiatry. A case in point was the 1947 film Possessed''– Bad Medicine from book Merchants of Menace: The Business of Horror Cinema edited by Richard Nowell.

In 1948 the Screen Guild Theater produced a radio version of The Dark Mirror starring Lew Ayres and Loretta Young. In 1950 de Havilland reprised her role for a radio broadcast at Screen Director's Playhouse.

Continue reading “Noirvember – Freudian Femme Fatales – 1946 : The Dark Mirror (1946) & The Locket (1946) ‘Twisted Inside’” →

Marlene Dietrich & Anna May Wong: Shanghai Express (1932) The Merciful Temptress or Veils on a Train & The Quiet Cultural Warrior or Mythos of the Dragon Lady With a Dagger

"˜'Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again. That’s a woman.” -Maurice Chevalier

”A shaft of white light used properly can be far more effective than all the color in the world used indiscriminately." "¨"“ Josef von Sternberg – Fun in a Chinese Laundry, Mercury House, San Francisco, 1988)

For a century the divine Marlene Dietrich in her enigmatic work in cinema has been a radiant star of the silver screen. A torch singer, Sphynx-like, a seductress in a world where her mystique remains intangible and beyond adequate description. A torch songstress – she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany. Dietrich began her cabaret performances in 1954, which lasted two decades.

Marlene Dietrich has a world-weary appeal, the goddess of reflexive poise, self-possessiveness, an inscrutable aura of boundless insight, and a sort of subdued confidence. Next to Bette Davis, Dietrich has stirred a fascination in me – maybe it’s her indescribable physicality, the orb of dancing light across her smile. She’s an elusive divinity.

And through her alluring glamour and fluid sexuality, she became an international symbol, a timeless, enchanting muse, whose elegance and allure mesmerized both men and women alike. Her sensuality is daring, she held aloft her humor with courageous ease, and her inimitable style and aspect, are timeless.

Dietrich started as a cabaret performer and worked as a silent film actress at the height of the Weimar years, after which she abandoned Berlin at the dawn of the 1930s and headed for Hollywood with off-screen lover and director Josef von Sternberg.

In the late 1920s, Dietrich gained prominence on the German stage, drawing comparisons to Greta Garbo in the German press. In early 1930, director Josef von Sternberg came to Berlin to shoot The Blue Angel. He'd been searching for an actress who could "˜'exude the electric eroticism of the movie’s cruel temptress.'' (Peter B. Fling NY Times 1992). Once he saw Dietrich on stage he found his purely malevolent Lola Lola who corrupts, demeans, humiliates, and ultimately destroys Emil Jennings cast as the bewitched well-respected elderly professor. The role won her a Hollywood contract, and with her collaboration with von Sternberg, a legend emerged.

(EingeschrÃ¤nkte Rechte fÃ¼r bestimmte redaktionelle Kunden in Deutschland. Limited rights for specific editorial clients in Germany.) Marlene Dietrich (left) as ‘Lola-Lola’ and Rosa Valetti (centre) in the UFA – movie ‘Der Blaue Engel’ (‘The Blue Angel’). Director: Josef von Sternberg – 1930 Also available in color: Image Number 622600 (Photo by ullstein bild via Getty Images)

Dietrich's characters function both as objects of desire (her face drinks in light like a Brancusi sculpture) and agents of desire, in the grip of consuming, concentrated loves that frequently demand pain or martyrdom. Von Sternberg places this complex figure into many different contexts, from street prostitute ("Dishonored") to absolute monarch ("The Scarlet Empress"). He even tries, with mixed success, to imagine her as an ordinary, middle-class wife and mother ("Blonde Venus"). (David Kehr NY Times 2012 article The Well-Lighted Agent of Desire)

Dietrich and von Sternberg "˜'embarked on a mad experiment to push photographing well to the furthest limits of the possible "¦ Who cast her as angel and devil – amoral blithely destructive – detected a lustrous vitality beneath this mask of restraint- and she was, in fact, fiercely ambitious – but the pose of not giving a damn, which she made challenging and seductive was what he wanted.'' – (Imogen Sara Smith)

From Dietrich – flowed the look of delirious eroticism, an inscrutable quintessence as she became a golden-haired blonde, her face framed by lighting and makeup that made her arched brows, cheekbones, and mesmeric blue eyes aristocratic, a persona so richly textured as the roles she embodied: a siren, victim, predator, or lover.

In her role in Morocco in 1930 she adopted male attire which was used to indicate sexual experience. (Source: Catherine Constable -Thinking in Images: Film Theory, Feminist Philosophy and Marlene Dietrich).

Not merely provocative -Dietrich’s transcends gendered attire, extending beyond donning men’s clothing or bestowing a kiss upon a woman's surprised lips in the crowd, prompting startled, bashful laughter. She effortlessly appropriates other attributes typically reserved for men: their privilege, self-assuredness, sexual dominance, and emotional detachment. What truly distinguishes her, even more than her nonchalant mastery of her role and her blithe signals, is her unmistakable air of indifference.

"˜'Aloof and calm, she continues her meticulous preparations: dusting off and donning a top hat, straightening her tie, slipping into a tailcoat. She strolls onstage and surveys the jeering audience inscrutably through a scrim of cigarette smoke, from under eyelids dragged down by the weight of knowingness and thick, curling eyelashes. The close-ups is killing in its beauty.'' – Imogen Sara Smith – Morocco (1930)

The Dietrich persona, embodied by the aphrodisiacal Lola-Lola, the iconic cabaret songstress invested in a rakish top hat and sheer silk stockings in The Blue Angel in 1930, was a reflection of a non-conformist, an unrestrained libertine who picked her lovers, made her way in the world financially, and regarded sexuality as an intriguing pursuit of pleasure. Up on the screen, Dietrich personified the audience's wish fulfillment.

"˜'In emotional scenes, she often has a look of blank shock and numbness, sometimes with a fleeting wildness in her dry eyes – the look of someone who cannot lose control, who freezes up in the face of strong feeling. It is a limitation used to best advantage, make her seem inaccessible rather than inadequate.'' (Imogen Sara Smith)

Critic Kenneth Tynan described Lola Lola's self-expression as “a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies"¦ She has sex but no positive gender. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.”

She was a fashion trendsetter on screen and in her personal life, often dressed in tailored trousers and mannish attire. The actress pioneered the “Dietrich silhouette,” demonstrating that women could maintain their femininity while wearing masculine clothing that still highlighted a slender figure with subtle hips and bust line.

Dietrich herself manifested an individualist charisma in her personal and public persona as with many of her earlier roles, Mademoiselle Amy Jolly in Morocco 1930, Marie Kolverer -(X27) in Dishonored 1931, Helen Faraday in Blonde Venus 1932, and the corrupting vamp Concha Perez in The Devil is a Woman 1935 which was her particular favorite.

von Sternberg & Dietrich –Blonde Venus 1932

“The cool, bright face that didn’t ask for anything, that simply existed, waiting — it was an empty face, he thought; a face that could change with any wind of expression. One could dream of anything. It was like a beautiful empty house waiting for carpets and pictures. It had all possibilities — it could become a palace or a brothel.” (Erich Maria Remarque).

Eventually, the top executives at Paramount wanted to maintain the box office attraction of their big investment in Dietrich and blocked von Sternberg from directing her in any other pictures. He was losing money for them with his opulent storylines that were growing more self-indulgent and the narratives anemic. They cast her in two successful romantic comedies, her first Desire (1936) with Gary Cooper as her leading man. Then a satirical western Destry Rides Again in 1939 where Dietrich plays a free-spirited fireball who sings in a saloon and seduces Sheriff James Stewart. There's a raucous scene that features a hair-pulling, face-slapping brawl between Dietrich and Una Merkel.

Some of her more well-known films include – As a German Noblewoman in von Sternberg's The Scarlett Empress in 1934, The Garden of Allah in 1936, as Lady Maria Barker in Ernst Lubitsch's Angel in 1937, As Bijou the saloon singer in Tay Garnett's Seven Sinners in 1940, as the saloon owner Cherry Malotte in The Spoilers in 1942, she played a glamorous gypsy in Mitchell Leisen’s Golden Earrings in 1947, as a manipulative Berlin cabaret singer in Billy Wilder’s A Foreign Affair 1948, as a conniving murderess in Hitchcock's Stage Fright in 1950. As a saloon manager hiding outlaws in Fritz Lang’s Rancho Notorious in 1952, as a duplicitous wife in Billy Wilder's Witness for the Prosecution in 1957, as the cynical madame of a brothel in Orson Welle's Touch of Evil in 1958, and as an aristocratic widow in Stanley Kramer's Judgment at Nuremberg in 1961. Her last picture was in 1978 – she played Baroness von Semering alongside David Bowie in Just a Gigolo.

"˜'Touch of Evil provided Miss Dietrich with one of her most memorable lines. She admonished the character played by the corpulent Welles to “lay off the candy bars.” (Peter B. Flint New York Times 1992)

During WWII she became a symbol of free Germany, outspoken against Hitler, financed the escape of many people from Nazi occupation, and entertained Allied troops and prisoners of war. "˜'Tirelessly and good-humoredly, she roughed it with the G.I.’s, standing patiently in food lines, washing with snow, and sleeping in dugouts and ruins, often near the front lines. She sang her movie songs, the international wartime ballad “Lili Marlene” and some current songs, and even played a musical saw, a skill she had mastered for the Berlin stage.'' (Peter B. Flint New York Times 1992)

The troops fell in love with her. How could they not? After the war, she was awarded the Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian honor the United States Government bestows. France named her a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor and Belgium dubbed her a Knight of the Order of Leopold.

After 5 decades on stage, film, television, and lilting torch songs in cabarets, Dietrich died in 1992 at the age of 90 at her flat in Paris.

The inscrutable Anna May Wong, the pioneering Chinese-American actress, was born in 1905 above her family’s Chinese laundry in Los Angeles, Wong quickly developed a passion for the world of cinema. From a young age, she earned a reputation as the "˜curious Chinese child' who would frequently visit film sets in Chinatown. At the age of 17, Wong seized her debut leading role in the silent film “Toll of the Sea” in 1922. Throughout her career, Wong encountered obstacles and racial discrimination. Not only were roles limited due to the film industry’s decision to primarily cast Western actors in leading Asian roles, but Hollywood and the Hays Code had very harsh rules against miscegenation, which restricted her from any on-screen kisses with non-Asian actors, even if that actor was portraying an Asian character. Further limiting her career was the desire producers had to cast Western actors in leading Asian roles.

In Shanghai Express, Wong’s performance as Hui Fei was vivified with dignity and primacy which challenged the pervasive stereotypes and expectations Hollywood had of Asian actresses during the 1930s.

At the beginning of her career, the Chinese press with the addition of the Nationalist government had been critical of Anna May Wong for her on-screen sexuality that perpetuated negative stereotypes of Chinese women.

On the screen goddess Anna May Wong was fond of saying, that she died a thousand deaths.

In Tiger Bay she sacrifices her life – as Lui Wong she stabs her wrist with a poisoned ring. Dying, she whispers an ancient Chinese poem. As Shosho the London flapper and ”Chinese Dancing Wonder,” was shot in the chest by a jealous suitor, she appeared as Taou Yuen, in Java Head 1934 an exquisite Qing Dynasty princess transported to cold grey Victorian Bristol, she indulges in opium while wearing spectacular Peking Opera costume and reviled by high society and righteous members of the church -Taou Yuen's grace and decency are ignored, and as Wong dignity rises above the dialogue the film is riddled with contradictions. With the cast of characters condemning her "barbaric" rites, the undertone is that Chinese culture is like a dangerous drug like opium which provokes the senses and awakens forbidden desires.

As Lotus Flower in The Toll of the Sea (1922) Wong plays an innocent Hong Kong girl abandoned by her unambitious American lover, she throws herself into the provoking sea.

As Shosho, it was her erotic triumph in 1929 British silent ‘Picadilly’ directed by E. A. Dupont – set in the backdrop of London, she outshines Gilda Gray, known as the “Queen of Shimmy,” in her role as Shosho, the scullery maid who captures the affection of a nightclub owner who happens to be Gilda's lover. She becomes an overnight sensation when he puts her on stage.

Perhaps it had something to do with her costume — a scanty, gilded interpretation of a vaguely Indonesian warrior outfit, purchased (at Shosho’s insistence) in Limehouse, London’s Chinatown. More likely it’s Wong’s intensity, toughness, and vibrant sensuality, showcased in a film that played off the fears and temptations of miscegenation. (From The Dragon Lady and the Quiet Cultural Warrior By Leslie Camhi New York Times article 2004)

Wong's big break came a year later when Hollywood's jeweled prince Douglas Fairbanks cast her in his over-the-top Orientalist pageant The Thief of Baghdad in 1924.

The Mongol slave girl, attired in a revealing bikini, turns traitor to her mistress"”a Persian princess and the object of Fairbanks’s affection"”by acting as a spy for a Mongol prince. Wong’s outrageous scene-stealing moment comes when she tremors and writhes as Fairbanks’s knife takes away her last breath.

That epic picture made Wong an international star, but it was not enough to deliver her from supportive roles that added to her "˜Oriental intrigue' and "˜local color' while white actors were made up in "˜yellowface' like Warner Oland who starred in the Charlie Chan detective series, were routinely cast as Asians. In addition to being relegated to cultural caricatures, the taboos of mixed-raced romance kept Wong from taking on the lead role if she couldn't kiss her co-star. As a seductress, she was doomed to certain death. Her faithless servants, gangsters’ molls, and formidable dragon ladies — in the Hollywood parts that awaited her"” she often met unfortunate ends.

"I was tired of the parts I had to play"¦ Why should we always scheme, kill, (and) rob?"

In the casting of the film The Good Earth based on Pearl S. Buck's popular novel, Wong deeply wanted to play the lead role of Olan and fought hard to be cast in the part but was passed over for German actress Luise Rainer. Most insulting, she was offered the part of an unsympathetic character in the film, which she refused. "If you let me play O-lan, I will be very glad. But you're asking me "“ with Chinese blood "“ to do the only unsympathetic role in the picture featuring an all-American cast portraying Chinese characters."

Anna May Wong's sophistication, both in front of the camera and in her personal life, was a captivating blend of traditional Chinese dress and the glamorous fashion of 1930s Hollywood. Wong dedicated herself to infusing authenticity into even her most minor roles by meticulously incorporating genuine Chinese hairstyles and costumes, which she often used from her own collection.

Though her elegance and allure and pursuit of authenticity are undeniable, Wong's characters could still be seen as the embodiment of the racist stereotypes perpetuated by a studio system that struggled to envision and articulate positive roles for Asian actors. She wishes to break the bonds of the Dragon Lady trope.

Publicity stills from Limehouse Blues (1934)

On January 14, 1932, a Chinese newspaper ran with the headline "Paramount Utilizes Anna May Wong to Produce Picture to Disgrace China.

"Her specialty is to expose the conduct of the very low caste of Chinese," the editorial ran on, citing her turn as "a half-robed Chinese maid in The Thief of Bagdad [sic]. Although she is deficient in artistic portrayal, she has done more than enough to disgrace the Chinese race."

In Shanghai Express, Anna May Wong gives an enigmatic performance as Hui Fei, the elliptical warrior who brings an extra layer of agency and nuance to the film as her character converges with Dietrich's Shanghai Lily. Hui Fei is acute, resourceful, and instrumental in the prevailing plot line.

Wong's portrayal of Hui Fei is a marked departure from the conventional exoticized and orientalization of surrendering girls she was more often confined to by Hollywood during the era.

Anna May Wong at Hollywood’s Music Box Theater for the opening of The Old Woman 1933.

As Hui Fei, Wong manifests "˜'an inordinately graceful Confucian courtesan with nerves of steel (and traveling companion to Marlene Dietrich’s notorious prostitute Shanghai Lily), who disappears from a crowded train platform amid the flashes of news photographers after collecting her reward for murdering a brutal Chinese warlord"¦ Wong’s presence in “Shanghai Express” can be seen as a counterpoint to Marlene Dietrich’s character. While Dietrich’s Shanghai Lily is an embodiment of Western allure and independence, Wong’s Hui Fei represents a more complex portrayal of an Asian woman navigating her own path in a racially charged and patriarchal world. This contrast between the two actresses and their characters adds depth to the film and highlights the intersectionality of their struggles in the film industry.'' -(Leslie Camhi The Dragon Lady and the Cultural Warrior -New York Times article 2004)

During the 1930s the radically individualistic Wong traveled between Europe and Hollywood and in 1936 she embarked on a year's stay in her spiritual homeland China, in search of a better way to represent Chinese women in her work, where she had been subjected to roles as women of little morality who live by the flesh.

Like numerous actors from her era, Wong concluded her career in the emerging realm of television. She briefly took on a role in “The Gallery of Madame Liu Tsong,” portraying a Chinese art dealer and detective entangled in the subterfuge of the international art world. Her ultimate promotional photograph, captured during her appearance in “Portrait in Black” (1960), a film she hoped would ignite her career once more, features her as a maid, caressing a Siamese cat. She died a year after the film's release.

Continue reading “Marlene Dietrich & Anna May Wong: Shanghai Express (1932) The Merciful Temptress or Veils on a Train & The Quiet Cultural Warrior or Mythos of the Dragon Lady With a Dagger” →

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

R

The Raven 1935

Dr. Vollin ‘Your monstrous ugliness breeds monstrous hatred. Good! I can use your hate.'

The Raven is a 1935 classical American horror film directed by Lew Landers, and it features two iconic horror actors, Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff, in starring roles. This would be the second film that featured the pairing of both great horror stars after the success of The Black Cat. Along with its Gothic atmosphere and Poe-inspired storyline, it is a memorable entry in their respective filmographies. Read my feature on The Black Cat HERE:

Vollin ”Death is my talisman!

Dr. Richard Vollin (Bela Lugosi) is a brilliant but eccentric surgeon with a morbid fascination for Edgar Allan Poe’s works, particularly “The Raven.” Vollin is also known for his expertise in plastic surgery and a questionable reputation for performing radical procedures.

Judge Thatcher “I’ll pay you any amount of money, Dr. Vollin'’

Dr Vollin “Money means nothing to me."

Judge Thatcher “But someone is dying! Your obligation as a member of the medical profession"

Vollin “I respect no such obligation. I am a law unto myself!'’

Thatcher “But you have no human feeling? My daughter is dying!'’

Vollin “Death hasn’t the same significance for me as it has for you.”

Lugosi as Dr. Richard Vollin is a complex character who is both brilliant and deeply disturbed. Lugosi’s portrayal captures the character’s descent into madness and obsession. Vollin’s fascination with Poe’s works is conveyed through Lugosi’s mesmerizing, sinister, and theatrical performance.

When a young woman named Jean Thatcher (Irene Ware) is critically injured in a car accident, her desperate father seeks out Dr. Vollin’s assistance to save her life. Vollin agrees to perform intricate neurosurgery, but his growing obsession with Jean veers off into a deadly obsession. As Vollin’s obsession with Jean Thatcher grows, Lugosi skillfully portrays the doctor’s psychological unraveling. His fixation on Jean is palpable, and Lugosi’s performance is marked by dramatic facial expressions and body language that highlight Vollin’s increasing mania. This doesn’t bode well for her father, Judge Thatcher {Samuel S. Hinds}, and her fiancÃ©, Dr. Jerry Holden (Lester Matthews).

Meanwhile, Edmond Bateman (Boris Karloff), a criminal mastermind who seeks to change his appearance to evade the authorities, approaches Vollin for his surgical skills. Vollin agrees but insists that Bateman becomes his loyal servant in return. Edmond Bateman is a criminal mastermind who seeks to change his appearance through plastic surgery. Batman becomes aÂ victim of Dr. Vollin’s monstrous cruelty and becomes a sympathetic character despite his criminal past. Throughout the film, Bateman’s loyalty to Dr. Vollin is only through necessity, even as he undergoes a shocking transformation, horribly disfigured at the hands of Vollin’s knife, and depends on Vollin to restore his face.

A standout moment in the picture is when Lugosi peers through the door and watches Karloff with sadistic orgasmic glee as the poor man discovers the horrors that Vollin has inflicted on him,Â as the image of his face in a myriad of mirrors stares back in fright. During the gallery of mirrors reveals, when Bateman yells “NO!” that is not Boris Karloff's voice but a post-production dub-over.

Bateman ‘‘I’m saying, Doc, maybe because I look ugly… maybe if a man looks ugly, he does ugly things.'’

Vollin ‘‘You are saying something profound.”

As Vollin’s infatuation with Jean deepens and his madness takes a darker turn, he uses his surgical talents to transform Bateman into a grotesque visage resembling a raven, reminiscent of Poe’s poem. The doctor’s sinister plans culminate in a chilling and macabre climax, with Poe’s themes of obsession, madness, and revenge at the forefront as Lugosi employs his Poe recreations of the instruments of torture.

In the film’s denouement – it all gets wrapped up with Karloff’s twisted visage & sympathetic grotesqueness as he endeavors to end the deadly pendulum that comes a whisker away from Irene’s father getting sliced in half, as he shuts off the mechanism and saves his life. Lugosi shoots Karloff for rebelling and proceeds to trap his prisoners in a claustrophobic chamber with its walls triggered to close in and crush them. At this point, he is stark raving mad – as his maniacal amusement fills his gallery of torture. Yet Karloff takes his last breath and frees the prisoners, instead leaving Lugosi in the chamber to be milled instead.

Belu Lugosi and Boris Karloff’s performances in “The Raven” showcase their abilities to bring nuance and depth to their characters in the horror genre. Lugosi’s theatricality and intensity complement Karloff’s subtler and more sympathetic portrayal, resulting in a memorable and chilling cinematic experience. Their on-screen chemistry adds to the film’s enduring status as a classic of 1930s horror cinema.

For the B.B.F.C, The Raven was the final straw. The British film censors decided to withdraw any further horror movies from being shown in the U.K.

Return of the Vampire 1943

Return of the Vampire is a 1944 American horror film directed by Lew Landers. The movie features Bela Lugosi in a role reminiscent of his iconic portrayal of Dracula.

Set in London during World War II, the story revolves around the resurrection of a malevolent vampire named Armand Tesla (Bela Lugosi). Tesla had been destroyed by Professor Walter Saunders (Gilbert Emery) years earlier, but a bomb during an air raid accidentally uncovers his tomb, allowing him to return to life.

With the help of his loyal werewolf servant Andreas Obry (Matt Willis), Tesla resumes his reign of terror. He seeks revenge against those who thwarted him in the past and sets his sights on a young girl named Nicki Saunders (Nina Foch), the granddaughter of Professor Saunders.

Determined to stop Tesla once and for all, Professor Saunders enlists the assistance of a fellow scientist, Lady Jane Ainsley (Frieda Inescort), and a vampire expert, Sir Frederick Fleet (Miles Mander). Together, they confront the resurrected vampire and his supernatural powers in a battle between good and evil.

Rodan 1956

Rodan, also known as “Sora no DaikaijÅ« Radon” in Japan, is a 1956 Japanese science fiction kaiju film directed by IshirÅ Honda. The movie features one of Toho Studios’ iconic giant monsters and is a classic of the kaiju genre.

Synopsis: The story is set in the mining town of Kitamatsu, Japan, where a series of mysterious and deadly events begin to unfold. Miners are disappearing deep underground, and strange fossils are discovered in the depths of the mine.

As the investigation into these anomalies deepens, it becomes evident that a prehistoric creature, a monstrous pterosaur known as Rodan, has been awakened from its long slumber by underground nuclear testing. Rodan, with its supersonic flying ability and deadly strength, emerges as a catastrophic threat. As the military and scientists race to confront the colossal menace, Rodan’s destructive power becomes apparent. The creature’s rampage and aerial attacks on cities lead to widespread devastation and loss of life.

The Reptile 1966

The Reptile is a 1966 British horror film produced by Hammer Film Productions, with a folklorist and Gothic flair. The movie combines elements of Gothic horror and mystery directed by John Gilling and written by Anthony Hinds.

The story is set in the remote village of Clagmoor Heath in Cornwall, England. Newlyweds Harry Spalding (Ray Barrett) and his wife Valerie (Jennifer Daniel) move into a cottage previously owned by Harry’s late brother, Charles.

Strange and unsettling events begin to occur in the village, including a series of mysterious deaths. The local doctor, Dr. Franklyn (Noel Willman), is secretive about the cause of these deaths, and the villagers are filled with fear and suspicion.

As Harry and Valerie investigate the sinister occurrences, they discover that a deadly and supernatural secret haunts the village. A curse transforms one of the villagers into a reptilian creature, a half-human, half-snake entity, and this monstrous creature is responsible for the deaths.

The Spaldings must uncover the truth behind the curse and confront the malevolent force behind it before they too become victims of the reptilian terror that stalks Clagmoor Heath.

This is you EverLovin’ Joey Sayin’ Rrrrrrrgghhh!!! don’t look behind you, I think it’s the letter Ssssss!

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

M

The Mad Doctor of Market Street 1942

GENIUS – OR FIEND?…

I'll be the most important man to have ever walked the earth!

Mad Doctor of Market Street is a lesser-known 1942 American horror film directed by Joseph H. Lewis (Gun Crazy 1950). A product of early ’40s horror, the film is unintentionally campy and racially offensive as with the scene during Atwill’s wedding with Clarie Dodd when the ceremony is interrupted and perplexed by this he tells the chief to have the native men, ‘Dance… or something!”

The film tells the story of Dr. Ralph Benson (played by the classically trained actor Lionel Atwill who has enjoyed the role of over-zealous mad scientist with high-strung verve! ), a brilliant but deranged scientist who conducts unethical experiments on human subjects. Atwill is always arrogant and wild-eyed in films like The Pre-Code Doctor X 1932 and Murders in the Zoo 1933 beloved Universal monster movies like Son of Frankenstein 1939, to Poverty Row Pictures like Man Made Monster 1941 and Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman 1943.

In this comedy/crime/horror drama, the allure of cinema’s obsession with the mad scientist, a character akin to Dr. Moreau, is on full display. Atwill possesses a messianic complex, feigning the ability to resurrect the dead to maintain control over his followers.

Una Merkel stars as Aunt Margaret Wentworth, Claire Dodd as Patricia Wentworth, Anne Nagel as Mrs. William Saunders, Milton Kibbee as Hadley, and John Eldredge as the ship’s officer Dwight.

Dr. Ralph Benson is wanted for murder and escapes on a ship bound for a remote tropical island. At the film’s outset, he escapes aboard a cruise liner bound for New Zealand, inadvertently landing on uncharted terrain alongside a group of fellow passengers. The island’s residents become suspicious of the mysterious doctor’s activities. As they investigate, they uncover Dr. Benson’s dark secrets and the horrifying results of his experiments.

Unfazed by his circumstances, he persists in his experiments, exploiting the locals as both convenient and susceptible test subjects. When a native woman falls into a coma from a heart ailment, he can’t resist showcasing his life-reviving “magic.” This act leads to him being anointed as the “God of Life” by the natives, and he promptly declares himself the island’s supreme ruler.

Unlike the traditional gothic laboratories of Univeral horrors, this story unfolds amidst a lush jungle backdrop. The remaining survivors from the civilized world include a callous ship’s officer who abandons his companions in a futile attempt to escape the island via canoe, only to meet his death at the hands of one of the natives.

A predictable romantic duo emerges, between Una Merkel’s niece Patricia (Claire Dodd) andÂ Jim (Richard Davies) a former crew member from the sunken liner. Despite an initial clash, they are gradually drawn together. When Tanao’s wife (Rosina Galli) the old woman Atwill “resuscitates” urges him to take a wife"”and he goes after Merkel’s niece Patricia to be his unwilling bride. By the end, his disdain for his followers and his being exposed as a charlatan not really able to work miracles ends with them turning against him.

This film made it’s television debut on 18 January 1958 on New York’s channel 7 (WABC).

The Mad Ghoul 1943

The Mad Ghoul is a 1943 American horror film directed by James P. Hogan. The film follows the chilling tale of a university chemistry Professor Dr. Alfred Morris (played by George Zucco another horror movie Mad Doctor classic), a brilliant scientist who discovers a secret ancient Mayan gas that can turn people into mind-controlled zombies.

After the unsuspecting Ted Allison (David Bruce) becomes an unwitting subject of Professor Morris’s (George Zucco) experiments, the professor’s mind wove a fanciful tapestry. He deludes himself into believing that Allison's fiancÃ©e Isabel (Evelyn Ankers), the captivating concert diva engaged to Ted Allison harbors intentions of ending their engagement because she finds the professor more sophisticated. The truth is, Isabel’s heart dances to a different melody, one orchestrated by Eric Iverson, her devoted accompanist (Turhan Bey). To rouse Ted out of his trance-like state, Dr. Morris compels him to perform the macabre art of cardiectomy, on recently deceased and even living bodies, extracting the serum from their hearts needed as a short-term antidote. As a series of gruesome murders appear to coincide with Isabel’s concert tours, investigative journalist “Scoop" McClure (Robert Armstrong) takes it upon himself to pursue this unhinged mad scientist.

The Mad Ghoul co-stars Charles McGraw, Milburn Stone, and Rose Hobart. Costume design by the fabulous Vera West and distinctive ghoulish makeup by Jack P. Pierce who was responsible for Universal’s parade of memorable characters- especially beloved is his work on Boris Karloff’s expressive Frankenstein’s monster. A must-mention for the moody cinematography by the brilliant Milton R. Krasner (The Woman in the Window 1944, The Dark Mirror 1946, A Double Life 1947, The Set-up 1949, No Way Out 1950, All About Eve 1950, Beneath the Planet of the Apes 1970).

The Mummy's Ghost 1944

Read John Carradine feature here:

The Mummy’s Ghost is a 1944 American horror film directed by Reginald Le Borg and part of Universal Pictures’ Mummy film series. The movie continues the story of the ancient Egyptian mummy, Kharis, and the cursed love that binds him. The film is set in the United States, where Kharis (played by Lon Chaney Jr.) and Princess Ananka/Amina (played by Ramsay Ames) are still entwined in a tragic love story from their past lives. Kharis, the living mummy, is brought back to life by an Egyptian priest who wants to reunite him with Princess Ananka, who has been reincarnated in the body of a young woman named Amina.

Journeying from Egypt to America, a high priest (George Zucco) embarks on a quest to reclaim the earthly remains of the ancient Egyptian princess, Ananka, and her guardian mummy, Kharis. Discovering that Ananka’s ethereal spirit has been reborn into a new vessel, he seizes a young woman of Egyptian heritage who bears an enigmatic resemblance to the long-lost princess. Yet, in his insatiable greed, the high priest unwittingly unleashes forces beyond his control, setting in motion a series of deadly events that defy the bounds of his control over Kharis.

As Kharis seeks to find and reunite with his love, he embarks on a reign of terror and destruction. Archaeologists and authorities must stop him before he reaches Amina, who is unaware of her past life and the danger she’s in.

The Mummy’s Ghost continues the themes of love, reincarnation, and supernatural vengeance that are characteristic of the Mummy film series. It’s known for its moody and atmospheric portrayal of Egyptian mythology and the tragic fate of its titular character, Kharis.

John Carradine’s performance in The Mummy’s Ghost (1944) is a notable aspect of the film and adds to its charm within the context of Universal Pictures’ Mummy film series. In the movie, Carradine portrays Yousef Bey, an Egyptian priest who is responsible for resurrecting Kharis, the living mummy, in his quest to reunite him with the reincarnated Princess Ananka.

Carradine’s portrayal of Yousef Bey exudes an air of mystery and malevolence and is shrouded in secrecy and driven by an unwavering commitment to his mission, making him a formidable and enigmatic antagonist. His performance contributes to the overall atmosphere of Egyptian mysticism and supernatural intrigue that is characteristic of the series. While “The Mummy’s Ghost” is not as well-known as some other entries in the Universal Mummy franchise, John Carradine’s performance as Yousef Bey remains a noteworthy element, adding to the film’s enduring appeal among fans of classic horror cinema. The film also co-stars George Zucco as the High Priest, Robert Lowery, and Barton MacLane.

Macabre 1958

Macabre is a 1958 American horror film directed by William Castle.

Small-town Dr. Rodney Barrett (William Prince) has been given a gut-wrenching task: he has become ensnared in a sinister vendetta where he must rescue his little girl who has been abducted and buried alive. He must find her before her air runs out. He races against the merciless ticking clock, with mere hours to unearth her before the suffocating darkness claims her life. Producer-Director William Castle extended He provided every attendee with an official certificate, underwritten by Lloyds of London, assuring them of a $1,000 insurance coverage in the unlikely event they died of fright!

William Castle, known for his innovative and gimmicky promotional techniques, added an extra layer of excitement to the release of “Macabre.” He introduced a promotional gimmick called the “Fright Break,” where audience members were provided with certificates of life insurance in case they were to die of fright while watching the movie. Additionally, Castle hired nurses to be present in theaters during screenings to assist any patrons who might be overwhelmed by fear. These marketing tactics were a precursor to Castle’s later, even more elaborate gimmicks used in films like House on Haunted Hill and The Tingler. The film also stars Jim Backus as Police Chief Jim Tyloe, Christine White as Nancy Wetherby Tyloe, Jacqueline Scott as Nurse Polly Baron, Ellen Corby as Miss Kushins, Dorothy Morris, Phillip Tonge, and Susan Morrow.

Mill of the Stone Women 1960

”Trouble began with a woman…”

Mill of the Stone Women alternative title Drops of Blood” The Horrible Mill Women -is a stylish 1960s Gothic Italian Euro-Cult horror film directed by Giorgio Ferroni and based on the Flemish writer’s short story by Pieter Van Weigen. It is quite Hawthornesque – giving a nod to his short story ‘Rappacini’s Daughter’ as well as the 1953 film House of Wax starring Vincent Price and of course the mythos of Ovid’s Pygmalion & Galatea and a bit of a derivative story based on Franju’s Eyes Without a Face that was released that same year, but nearly as poetic. Ferroni imbues the film with a claustrophobic and hallucinogenic tone, with a nostalgia for the above stories.

The opening scene of the Mill underneath a ponderous sky as Scilla Gabel stares – secretly dark and broken -behind the drapery. Carlo Innocenzi’s score bellows an unsettling lament. In 19th century Holland, a professor of fine arts Professor Gregorius Wahl, and the strange rogue surgeon Wolfgang Preiss as Doctor Loren Bohlem (who secretly desires Elfie ) run a secret lab where the professor’s daughter (Scilla Gabel) who suffers from a strange and rare blood disorder, is kept hidden in the house and forbidden to leave the mill as she must receive blood transfusions with the help of Dr. Bohlem and kidnapped female victims who are later transformed into macabre statuary art. A young journalist Hans von Arnim (Pierre Brice) is sent to Holland to write a piece on the famous ‘carousel’ powered by the windmill, its artist, and the Mill’s famous exhibition of waxen women subjected to gruesome torture and death and becomes fascinated by the work of the brilliant yet reclusive sculptor, Professor Gregorius Wahl (Herbert A.E. BÃ¶hme) renowned for his lifelike figures of strikingly beautiful women, who are known to be eerily realistic tableaus. Professor Wahl lives on an island in a historic old windmill the locals call the ‘Mill of the Stone Women.

Hans eventually discovers that the professor’s sculptures are created from the preserved bodies of women who have mysteriously died (sacrificed for their blood in order to sustain Elfie ). In some of the horrifying sequences a wide-eyed Gabel leans over a bound and gagged Dany Carrel and BÃ¶hme looms over a kidnapped victim about to have her blood drained, her death soon to come, he has a look of righteous madness on his face as the camera frames him from underneathThe young journalist falls under the spell of Wahl’s alluring daughter Elfie (Gabel) though his true love is Liselotte (Dany Carrel). Eventually, Liselotte’s life will become threatened when Wahl seeks to make her his next victim. Wahl is determined to achieve perfection in his art, and he believes that only the bodies of women who must die can provide the ideal subjects to keep Elfie alive and used for his sinister waxworks. The film works on a grotesque level due to its Gothic Guignol of mechanized forms that emerge forcefully through a door – revolving around a stage of expressionist, historical icons whose fates were shocking and violentÂ – Joan of Arc, Cleopatra, Mary Queen of Scots "“ life-size figurines from a music box meeting the camera as they turn – eerie specters of the victims in a nightmarish procession upon a rotating carousel.

As Hans delves deeper into Wahl and Dr. Bohlem’s (Wolfgang Preiss)Â disturbing and ghastly transgressions against the local women of the village who go missing, he becomes increasingly entangled in a web of dark secrets and surreal horrors. There is aÂ nightmarish sequence where Wahl and Bohlem subject Hans to a potent hallucinogenic that plunges him into a surrealistic realm where the boundaries of reality and fantasy converge.

He is drawn into a nightmarish descent as he uncovers the truth about the mill, the mysterious deaths, and the professor’s obsession with creating his morbidly aesthetic masterpieces. Ultimately the phantasmic figures go up in flames, a close-up spectacle of grotesquery, the melting reflections of Wahl’s work, shown inÂ Technicolor – for example, Elfie’s glowing scarlet boudoir hinting at the theme of blood and the moment when she is revealed beneath the lid of her glass coffin holding bright yellow roses in contrast to her deathly pale complexion. All thanks to the art direction by Arrigo Equini and cinematography by Pier Ludovico Pavoni who employs a color palate that recalls Pressburger and Powell’s body of work.

Mill of the Stone Women (1960)stars Pierre Brice as Hans von Arnim, Scilla Gabel as Elfy, Wolfgang Preiss as Doctor Loren Bohlem, Dany Carrel as Liselotte, and Herbert A.E. BÃ¶hme as Wahl, Olga Solbelli as Selma and Liana Orfel as Annelore.

Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny, and Girly aka Girly 1970

Everyone is dying to meet Girly!

Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny, and Girly 1970'Â is a cheeky British horror-comedy, an Impish yet grisly shocker released as Girly outside of the U.K. directed by cinematographer turned director Freddie Francis. Collaborating with writer Brian Comport, this quirky film emerged under the direction of cinematographer-turned-director Freddie Francis. It unfolds within the atmospheric Oakley Court, a location frequently favored by Francis for his film exteriors.

The film’s origins trace back to Maisie Mosco’s two-act play, “Happy Family.” Screenwriter Brian Comport ingeniously adapted this play into a novella titled “Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny, and Girly.”

At a secluded manor house in the remote England countryside, Â the eccentric lives of four peculiar characters play a bizarre role-playing pastime called 'The Game.' Here, they immerse themselves in their archetypal personas.

The family members engage in a bizarre and disturbing game in which they “adopt” unsuspecting strangers from the outside world, bringing them into their home and forcing them to participate in their twisted role-playing scenarios. These scenarios start innocently enough but gradually become increasingly dangerous and deranged. Girly seduces unsuspecting men into their eerie world. Once hooked they are they have no choice but to join this unsettling hobby. As the family’s games take a darker turn, tensions rise, and their unsuspecting guests become trapped in a nightmarish world of manipulation and violence.

Girly: Nasty Nanny is no good! Chop her up for fire wood! When she’s dead, boil her head, make it into gingerbread!

Refusal leads to a dreadful death, preserved on film by the camera-wielding Sonny for the family's morbid indulgence. However, a "˜New Friend' their latest captive designs a way to use the internal conflicts of the four captors and begins to drive a wedge between them.

Mumsy: [Girly is visibly upset by the super 8 snuff reel her family is watching] Girly, come back here and watch the lovely film!

[Girly bites her nails and sits back down to watch the snuff reel]

The principle of The Game lies in the complete abandonment of each primary character to shed their true identity and choose a new role. Mumsy (Ursula Howells) domineering and eccentric assumes the role of the mother figure, Pat Heywood becomes Nanny, a strict and authoritarian caregiver, Sonny (Howard Trevor) a rebellious, mentally unstable son, and Vanessa Howard is the enchanting yet dangerous child-like Girly, Â the seductive daughter who is the naughty siren luring men to their doom. Amidst the cryptic rules governing this twisted world, one commandment remains constant: “Rule No. 1 – Play the Game!”Things go awry after one fateful night, Girly and Sonny attend a swinging party in London and meet a prostitute (Michael Bryant) who is accompanied by his client (Imogen Hassall) When Girly fancies ‘New Friend’, she and Sonny entice the couple to join them for a wild night of mischief. At a playground, they push the woman off a giant slide and somehow convince the dazed guy that he murdered his paying date in a drunken stupor.

Girly [Girly watches as Sonny and the other man try to get the man’s girlfriend to go down the slide] Go on!… bitch.

New Friend: Yeah, go on!

Girly [Smiling slyly] Cowardy-cowardy-custard

[Sonny nods his head and then grabs the girlfriend’s leg, causing her to trip]

Girlfriend: AHHHH!!!

[the girlfriend falls several feet to the ground below, breaking neck. The man stares down in shock while Sonny and Girly pick up the girlfriend’s veil from her body]

Girly:[In a childish voice] What’d you push her for, Mister?

They succeed in luring the ‘New Friend’ back to the manor, where he undergoes a rebranding of his identity, and forced to assume the appearance of a schoolboy, and is subjected to humiliating ordeals. His past client serves as a haunting reminder of his alleged crime, designed to keep him in his place.

When Mumsy and Girl both desire New Friend, it creates conflict within the family as he sows the seed of jealousy, conflict, and dissension between the women and turns the family against each other. The question lingers: Who will ultimately join the makeshift graves of their former ‘friends’?

Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny, and Girly is a rare British cult classic known for its unique blend of humor and horror, creating an unsettling and satirical commentary on societal norms and the dysfunctionality of family dynamics.

The original poster art for the film was an eerie black and white family portrait of “The Family,” dressed in traditional English attire (six form uniforms for Girly and Sonny, a maid’s outfit for Nanny, and a World War II era dress for Mumsy). Though this iconography would have struck a chord with British viewers, it was deemed that US audiences wouldn’t understand the image. For the US release, the distributor commissioned a poster of an anonymous girl standing in forÂ Vanessa Howard wearing a cutoff skirt and clutching a doll in one hand and a bloody axe in the other.