Devil Doll (1964)

 

Director: Lindsay Shonteff

Screenplay: Ronald Kinnoch

Based on a story by Frederick E. Smith

Cast: Bryant Haliday as The Great Vorelli; William Sylvester as Mark English; Yvonne Romain as Marianne Horn; Sandra Dorne as Magda Cardenas; Nora Nicholson as Aunt Eva; Alan Gifford as Bob Garrett; Karel Stepanek as Dr. Heller; Francis De Wolff as Dr. Keisling

A Night of a Thousand Horror (Movies)

 

An obscurity among British b-movies, said wicked doll is named Hugo, a figure who finds himself between transitional eras for British b-movies. Before, from the nineteen thirties on, the b-movies as they were known, the double bill with an "A-movie", were enforced by law to be created to allow the British film industry a chance from Hollywood dominating the country. By and after Devil Doll this is less of an issue, when you get into an era where, whether from America, Canada, British, Italy etc., you have the exploitation wave of usually independently made genre films that were no longer the quickie genre film but tapped into more explicit content to sell in multiple places. Hammer horror was already in full swing in 1964, and names like Norman J. Warren from British genre films will become prominent as the more lurid content also starts to creep in.

Devil Doll also follows the Great Vorelli, a mesmerist and ventriloquist who, whilst performing at night, is also an evil man who wishes to possess a beautiful woman's mind, part of a story you could adapt in the nineteen thirties but absolutely shows the streak of more salacious content starting to be acceptable. Obviously, with its premise, Hugo a ventriloquist doll of Vorelli's which has a mind of its own, there is a lineage that causes some to instantly think of will instantly think of Dead of Night (1945). The segment from this legendary anthology tale from Ealing Studios which has had the iconic power was also about a ventriloquist, played by Michael Redgrave who finds himself psychologically at war with his own doll for his mind. There were stories about ventriloquists before that film, and dolls have always been a source of fascination over the years for their uncanny appearance. Hugo is suitably creepy, though he stands out as he is able to walk independently of Vorelli, clearly a sentient figure whose relationship with Vorelli is hostile as a working duo. Michael Redgrave was never threatened with a knife mid-performance at a charity dinner party for example.

Devil Doll is pure pulp - esoteric powers from non-Western spirituality is evoked, the ability to transfer souls, and Vorelli wishing to hypnotise and control a beautiful and wealthy young woman linked to Mark English (William Sylvester), an American journalist whose scepticism changes to trying to learn of Vorelli's past to save the woman of his life. Credit to this film, produced by Lindsay Shonteff, it is at least a solid production, absolutely interesting as a genre film, working around its clear limited budget and embracing the environment of mid-sixties Britain even if the film's plot is fantastical and even Gothic in tone at times. Even when they need to cheat and depict going to Germany on the hunt for Vorelli's past, the world of small apartments and performance halls helps prevent this film stretching credibility. There is one curious piece to the film's history, knowing that Sidney J. Furie was originally meant to helm Devil Doll. Furie jumped ship to another film, Swingers’ Paradise (1964), with pop icon Cliff Richards¹, and then would go on to The Ipcress File (1965) a year later, a significant film for many from British cinema at the time. It presents a curious alternative timeline if he had not switched from Devil Doll, though I come to this with the sense this film would have likely not changed as much in the final film we got.

This is also fascinating for what is already mentioned, of how this is at a fascinating turn in British genre cinema. The tale could have been told in a thirties film, but alongside seeing Britain in the mid-sixties, which is compelling for me, you also get the inklings of the later exploitation films, including the fact that there were two cuts, a British censored release and a racier export cut¹. There is the creepy aspect that Vorelli, alongside wishing to marry her and bump her off for her money, hypnotises the female lead and clearly seduces her against her will, alongside the eroticism of Vorelli's female assistant, an older woman who is a lover realising she is being spurned. The export cut had greatly more explicit material, and there is the creep towards more violent and sexually explicit material which would become as much an issue in British genre cinema. We would eventually make some sleazy productions, and more adult genre films in their themes and content, making Devil Doll interesting in how a scene of an undressed woman in bed, being set up by Hugo with a knife, shows the eventually ease of restrictions in British cinema.

It is worth seeing, a film I am surprised is less freely available in its homeland, considering that least in my country of Britain, a resurgence of interest over decades has lead to films like this being available even on basic DVD releases. It is worth experience in terms of a b-movie which does not stretch itself and make mistakes, and Bryant Haliday makes a compelling villainous lead. Working through in a slew of British horror films, he is one of the best things about this film, and he is also fascinating for the least expected thing I thought I would learn of with Devil Doll. That being how, alongside being great in this film, Haliday with Cyrus Harvey, Jr. founded Janus Films in 1956, the legendary American distributor of legendary films in art and world cinema, from Akira Kurosawa to Ingmar Bergman. Considering the ties that company has with the Criterion Collection, and how Janus even in the current day is held in such importance for these films staying in the public eye, it is beautiful that this vital organisation has this curious real life link. That, befitting cinema as a medium, one of its founders was clearly game arguing with a sentient and hostile ventriloquist dummy in a horror film. It is worthy, even with a non-alcoholic drink, to raise a toast to Bryant Haliday and the film itself for that reason let alone its own virtues.

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1) Hugo is No Dummy, written for Cinema Sojourns and published on October 28th 2021.