Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla (1952)

 

Director: William Beaudine

Screenplay: Tim Ryan (with additional dialogue by Leo 'Ukie' Sherin and Edmond Seward)

Cast: Bela Lugosi as Dr. Zabor; Duke Mitchell as Duke Mitchell; Sammy Petrillo as Sammy Petrillo; Charlita as Nona; Muriel Landers as Saloma; Al Kikume as Chief Rakos; Mickey Simpson as Chula; Milton Newberger as Witch Doctor Bongo; Martin Garralaga as Pepe Bordo; Ramona, the Chimp

A Night of a Thousand Horror (Movies) #255

 

Don't mind my friend. He has a one-syllable brain.

For what was considered one of the worst films ever made, this requires having to unpack an entirely different era of pop culture few may know of to explain why this even exists. That effectively, with this premise starting Sammy Petrillo and Duke Mitchell, producer Maurice Duke  felt there was an opportunity to cash-in on the craze of films by Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, a popular duo at the time, without having to hire Martin and Lewis. To contrast those figures, you have a young Duke Mitchell, who would go on infamously to self-fund two cult films in the seventies, Massacre Mafia Style (1974) and Gone With the Pope (1976/2010), whilst Sammy Petrillo was known for doing Jerry Lewis impressions and even worked with Lewis at one point. Paramount Pictures producer Hal B. Wallis, who then had Martin and Lewis under contract at the time, even sued the creators of the film, with a compromise likely to be found in burning the negative. Why that did not happen is to speculate, but it led to this film to gain the infamy it has.

The strange thing is that, even with Lugosi in the cast as a star, this is not a horror film. It really is not substantial (nor funny) enough to be a comedy. It is a complete oddity, as Mitchell and Petrillo end up introduced stranded on a Pacific Island "Kola Kola", one where the natives are (mostly) very white actors masquerading as non-white people in tribal dress. Pointing out insensitive cultural appropriation here is like pointing out the practicalities of sculpting a fire guard from chocolate. Instead, knowing the infamy of this film, the obvious point is still the most important thing to point out, that it is an awkward film. Sammy Petrillo in particular has the ignoble job, as a visibly young man in this film, of replicating Jerry Lewis, who act was an acquired taste anyway. Contrasting him, Duke Mitchell calmly coasts through with ease, about to sing very well even when his character is turned into a gorilla by Dr. Zabor, played by Bela Lugosi, for eyeing up his native assistant Nona (Charlita).

This is the type of low budget film where no one bats an eye about a gothic castle in the jungle existing, all because this is aware of what it is. It wants to play to the Jerry Lewis-Dean Martin films of a Lewis figure going for yucks, the Martin figure being suave and crooning songs, whilst playing off the reputation of Bela Lugosi even if at this time he was badly in need of work, even having a meta joke about Lugosi playing someone who looks like Dracula. This is the type of film on paper which sounds compelling to witness, but the film itself watching is surprising in how much even time seems to drag. It is strange, after all the years I have heard of this film, actually watching the film as see how a horror icon, an act meant to cash-in on a huge comedy duo, a jungle set and a barely cohesive narrative are meant to be bolted together.

It is a film where the MVP, even with Bela Lugosi in the cast, is Ramona the chimpanzee, a cute trained simian who plays a comedic foil to Petrillo. Only knowing, even if likely an infant, that this type of animal casting was stopped for a reason undermines the fun of this character, plus knowing that an adult chimpanzee is strong enough to rip appendages off human beings with ease and willing to if provoked. Even Ramona feels abruptly placed in, for a film which never finds a point to itself baring the vaguest of variety shows in filmic form. All of the obvious thoughts that, yes, this film lives up to its reputation as a bad film do not actually explain that this film also is a curious experience, felt with less pain than a strange apathy fascinating. More so as this is effectively a comedy - a comedy where none of the humour worked for me, which made it a perplexing movie.

Large portions are spent with Petrillo prating about. There is a dance sequence. There is a romance with Nona and Duke Mitchell, but he and Petrillo playing themselves, with a very educated daughter of the island's leader. Yet nothing here even turns into a slog but just exists. More so as well that the film does feel unfinished, with no ending to a narrative of one of your leads being turned into a gorilla and an evil scientist baring, to spoil this and the aforementioned film, the conclusion of the 1939 The Wizard of Oz. The director William Beaudine became infamous for films like this in his career, despite being a journeyman who worked in a variety of genres, and honestly, as a simplistically shot movie, he does not take the blame. It looks average, but even the fake stage bound jungle sets have a fascinating artificiality. Bela Lugosi, even at the time with a drug addiction where he would eventually encounter Ed Wood Jr., is charismatic here as a significantly older man, managing to wear white in the jungle without it being stained. Even Duke Mitchell when stuck in a gorilla suit, even if dubbed over, is vaguely amusing to see the weird trope of cheap gorilla suits for comedy. That is the really strange thing, in that having seen the lowest of low even next to this film in my viewing experiences, no one here is really the blame for dropping the ball. Even the cinematographer Charles Van Enger worked with Ernst Lubitsch and The Phantom of the Opera (1925).

It is really the point where you have to sit and ponder its existence. Only Sammy Petrillo really stands out as egregious trying to mimic Jerry Lewis, as a younger man, with a heightened shrillness, but beyond the jokes being dumb, this is innocuous. In fact, most barely register, almost sweet in their lack of impact. The script is to blame but I do not want to really criticise the screenplay either. The rest is perversely anti-entertainment, which could sound gimmicky to say, but in the sense that, whilst a narrative film, it leads nowhere, leads to no humour or subversion for this, and is entirely a conservative film of conservative jokes with problematic cultural appropriation, yet completely innocuous in spite of this. In a way, it is admirable for a film to achieve this state of existence, of a form of nothingness, even if in truth, one would rather prefer a film that tried for this tone but with more on the table. Or a film which, with its history and content - ripping off a famous comedy duo, Bela Lugosi, men being turned into gorillas by cheap suits - was more over-the-top then this, which is just a weird film instead.

Next of Kin (1982)

 

Director: Tony Williams

Screenplay: Michael Heath and Tony Williams

Cast: Jacki Kerin as Linda Stevens; John Jarratt as Barney; Alex Scott as Dr. Barton; Gerda Nicolson as Connie; Charles McCallum as Lance; Bernadette Gibson as Mrs. Ryan

A Night of a Thousand Horror (Movies) #254

 

In Not Quite Hollywood: The Wild, Untold Story of Ozploitation! (2008), a documentary whose existence is arguably why the term "Ozploitation" even exists, Next of Kin even among all the films being loved in the documentary, and the variety of Australian genre films from decades before brought to light, was talked of as something different. Even among interviewees like Quentin Tarantino, this Tony Williams film was viewed as something alien to the others, a psychological thriller that was unreal and a bar in its own area of special.

The documentary was a little deceptive. I come to Next of Kin having had the anticipation of the scenes shown in the film ingrained on my memory. It is still an incredible film, but without spoiling too much, I came to this film believing this was a supernatural horror film. It is something else - a psychological horror film which, in its final twists, even gets as over-the-top as an Italian giallo. Upon the death of her mother, Linda (Jacki Kerin) inherits a working residential home that has elderly occupants and staff, and not only does the grief of losing her mother play on her mind, but Linda has weird dreams and fragments of memories returning to her the longer she is there. Something or someone is also trying to gaslight her, whether just playing with her by moving objects around or leaving bathtubs and sinks to overflow, or for more sinister purposes as she sees figures in the distances around. Neither does it help one of the residents is found drowned in a full bathtub, where even cause of death is suspicious.

The Ozploitation films covered in Not Quite Hollywood were all celebrated. Even the sillier entries were loved, and have gained cult audiences, so this review will be cautious in saying how different this film is, as I do not want to dismiss the others from that documentary, just express how unique this way. Next of Kin, not to be confused with the 1989 Next of Kin with Patrick Swayze, was sadly the last film made by Tony Williams, a New Zealand filmmaker who before and afterwards focused on television and documentaries. This is an absolute shame as it is not just the final twists which feel indebted to European genre cinema, but as an Australian set production, it feels it has swallowed the visual deliriums and tricks of European horror films too. It is a fascinating film in context, especially as a large portion of the film contrasts this with grounded ordinary Australia, which was a huge factor in the celebration of these types of Ozploitation films in the first place.

This is of a world that is not actually set in a gothic or supernatural tone¹. It as much adds to the edge of Next of Kin too, that large portions of this film are entirely set in a wholesome world, of likable and eccentric elderly residents, of an ordinary world, and a love interest that Linda can depend on to trust her when she believes something is wrong. But people are hiding secrets, an aunt of hers has presumably "died", and this wholesome world does not stop her from having weird dreams mixed with memories of herself as a girl bouncing a scarlet red ball. Even in reality, the weirdest thing about the film is not all the striking uses of distortion of corridors, but that for the bus trip out for the residents, there is inexplicably a ventriloquist hired to join them, not even a good one as he still has to move his lips to speak for the doll.

When the film starts to enter inside Linda's head, the film will introduce visual moments which are incredible, the moments which I first saw in Not Quite Hollywood, an incredible cinematic language. One of the most striking images, of a man underwater tapping a window from outside, is still incredible in context even as a dream sequence. In context in fact, such scenes gain more power as they follow Linda's psychological state including techniques such as distorting corridors with camera lenses or slow motion. The film burns with a palpable mood as a result which, even if the plot is more conventionally structure than I presumed over the years, amplifies it.

This does not even take into consideration the score by Klaus Schulze, a musician with his own prolific career but also known as the original drummer of Tangerine Dream. The prolific German electronic musician's work was not even the intended score, but the temporary soundtrack built from his pre-existing work², but they work together as a mesmerising score. Sadly, his work in cinema is limited, barring at this same period of note the Austrian film Angst (1983), which is a shame as here alone, you have music which adds to the film's grandeur.

The film's tone takes very conventional material, including what the ultimate plot twists are, and brings it up to a level of haunting virtue. This is done visually and audibly, but also in terms of the narrative motifs; water is the obsession of this film for example, making it a maleficent entity though never coming a real part of the true threat. The giallo comparison is apt as, whilst the tone feels supernatural, this is a mystery, which ends up in horror when violence does appear and is gristly.

Being able to consider Next of Kin beyond the weight of years of wanting to see the film, it has been a virtue to finally see this film, see it as a fan of Australian genre cinema, part of its heritage and a strangely unique entity even among them, but a moment to pause to think about it carefully. I also now lament its director never made films after this, but at the same time, Tony Williams pretty much puts an exclamation mark; as documented in the Not Quite Hollywood documentary, even a botched explosion set piece with a building turned, by pure accident, into a much more evocative shot. When even a mistake became part of Next of Kin's incredible virtues, we are dealing with a special horror film.  

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1) I have to love the cafe in this film, which becomes a common location, with an arcade machine and a pinball table. Even if the cheesecake nude model photos on the wall are of the time, it shows a place lost to time, with the annual books for kids and raffle prizes, which you wish still exists in the modern day.

2) As referenced in this film review.

Voodoo Man (1944)

 

Director: William Beaudine

Screenplay: Robert Charles

Cast: Bela Lugosi as Dr. Marlowe; John Carradine as Toby; George Zucco as Nicholas; Wanda McKay as Betty; Louise Currie as Sally; Michael Ames as Ralph; Ellen Hall as Mrs. Marlowe; Henry Hall as Sheriff; Dan White as Deputy Elmer

A Night of a Thousand Horror (Movies) #253

 

I have a good mind to report you to the Chamber of Commerce!

Another Monogram Films production, though they were more a distributor of this than its producer, but here we also can talk of Bela Lugosi. His life, and in mind to when this film was made, does admittedly cause me to feel sad. This will be a fun review, but it should be considered this is close to when he started making whatever films he could to make the bills, the tragedy of not only the man who played Dracula ending in the position he did, but an acclaimed theatre and film actor in his homeland of Hungary who did so to his death in the late fifties. And yet even here in Voodoo Man, a very silly film, Bela does stand out. It softens this thought, and the mood, that this fun film still has Lugosi stand out. That and being to refer to this being a William Beaudine film.

Beaudine for me was dubbed "One Shot", christened to him by the Michael and Harry Medved with their book The Golden Turkey Awards. The man is arguably more than his notoriety - he was working from the 1910s to the late sixties, over countless genres between The Bowery Boys film series to the notorious Mom and Dad (1945), an exploitation sex education film. What likely did not help Beaudine over the years, and was how I first heard of him, were the notoriously "bad" films in his career in the horror genre. Beaudine helmed Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla (1952), which is at the point Lugosi was in the midst of the era of a drug addiction and having to get work for money, and whilst I look to them with interest to see again, my younger self did not appreciate The Ape Man (1943), also with Lugosi, or Beaudine's last film Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter (1966). His is the type of career undermined by merely picking at it rather than seeing how large it was, over a hundred credits, and whether a large percentage of them were good or not, Beaudine was still a man who worked and had a life, whether working on obscure Disney films, exploitation sex hygiene movies, or here with the horror genre.

Voodoo Man, as one of these titles, is unabashedly goofy. With a nearby gas station to his home in cahoots, Bela Lugosi and his associates, including John Carradine and George Zucco, are abducting women off the highway and using the voodoo rituals of "Roombuna" to transfer the souls/consciousnesses of the victims into his young dead wife to resurrect her again. Multiple attempts have failed when we get into the narrative, which means mindless female zombies have to be kept locked up, and Hollywood screenwriter Ralph (Michael Ames) finds himself stumbling into this when the bridesmaid of his upcoming wedding is the latest victim. As a film ending with a note onscreen asking the audience to buy war saving stamps and bond notes, this is of another era onscreen, mid World War II, a type of horror cinema including its cast which has its own legacy and its own ticks. One, admittedly, is questionable cultural appropriation of Haitian and Voodoo beliefs, likely made up here, with white people using for evil means. That is definitely something to raise an eyebrow on.

Admittedly this is summed up with George Zucco, who played Professor Moriarty in The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939) with Basil Rathbone, in silly "tribal" makeup, and a very confused looking John Carradine playing bongos in a set full of deliciously exaggerated skull ornaments, so the problem is more having to use another's "other" culture and calling the film "Voodoo" Man, not the idea of the film being about occult arts to resurrect a noticeably younger wife. Aside from that, nothing is really problematic here at all, in terms of how it has aged, instead entirely innocuous. It has definitely aged in how stiffer this is from, say, Revenge of the Zombies (1943), also from Monogram Pictures. Yet the most rewarding thing about the film is that it feels as if it knows this, and almost has an air of parody of itself, least a banality creeping into what is meant to be a horror film which is intentionally funny.

I think of the perpetually annoyed Sheriff and his deputy Elmer for example - the former once had an easy job, whilst Elmer talks of his wife constantly shouting at him for always being at work - and see how the film has a banal matter-of-factness to admire. Our main lead Ralph, ultimately useless when he has to come to the rescue in the finale, only gets involved at first due to forgetting to have the station attendant fill his gas tank when he drives off, having the audacity to threaten to go back and punch the attention for taking his money. Throughout this, the movie feels like a comedy, even to the point, predating meta-horror of decades later, especially into the nineties, where the film ends with a script for a film also Voodoo Man being finished and someone suggesting Bela Lugosi should be the star in dialogue.

Even for an ultimately cheesy film, this tone helps so much. It is also, taken seriously, from an era where you could bolster them with recognisable and prolific actors who were capable hands onscreen. It says a lot of John Carradine for example, in his diversity, that he could go from being a debonair and calm Nazi scientist in Revenge of the Zombie, to here playing Toby, a simpleton obsessed with "pretty women", his fawning over the zombies thankfully never becoming further creepier than it is, and leading to one escaping from the glass pods they are stored in. And Lugosi even in context of this historical time, when his career was declining, is always compelling, even tragic here as a man whose love for his wife sadly has led him to what he should not be doing. His performance does carry over some emotional weight to this, even if in the end this is a silly movie, and that is something of a testament to him as a charismatic figure and his acting skills, the reason actors like him, especially in genres viewed as disreputable, gained cult audiences over the years after. Voodoo Man is a ridiculous movie, but for these various reasons, it was a pleasure to see, and as I sample more of this era, their simplistic natures, working around limited sets and clichés, become jumping boards to appreciate the people in front and behind the cameras trying to squeeze out the material in an entertaining way even if for a pay check.

The Living Dead Girl (1982)

 

Director: Jean Rollin

Screenplay: Jacques Ralf and Jean Rollin

Cast: Françoise Blanchard as Catherine Valmont; Marina Pierro as Hélène; Mike Marshall as Greg; Carina Barone as Barbara Simon

A Night of a Thousand Horror (Movies) #252

 

You're gradually abandoning death.

Out of Jean Rollin's career, The Living Dead Girl comes off as one of the bleakest and melancholic. At first that may prove deceptive due to the establishing prologue. Two men, one drinking on the job to add insult to injury, are secretly storing dangerous chemical waste in a family crypt of the long gone Valmont family, whose manor is on sell. Deciding to add grave robbing to their sins, they unfortunately find themselves in the midst of an earth tremor, which leads to not only their demises but also a barrel to spill next to the tomb of Catherine Valmont (Françoise Blanchard), the last of the family who passed, resurrecting her. The Living Dead Girl is gruesome when it needs to, as the younger of the grave robbers gets his eyes exploded by finger poke, but strained in a depressed sadness, and an extreme naturalism for the fantastique director, the film eventually becomes a sobering piece for the French auteur even if it is with this gruesome violence and nudity.,

It is instead a tale of friendship, of two girls in childhood who bonded and even had a blood pact. One was Catherine, a ghoul now slowly regaining her memories as she wanders her family home, the other Hélène (Marina Pierro), who learns something has transpired and comes to help Catherine. Even if it means getting sacrifices, women, to be mutilated and killed by Catherine to drink their blood, Hélène's love for her will mean helping in any way. This proves an issue as, regaining her mind and voice eventually, Catherine herself views her undead state as a personal hell she wishes to escape. With an American woman, on vacation, having spotted Catherine in the distance and become fascinated by her, the dramatic catalyst for tension to appear in the narrative, this is a film about this friendship, a very emotional plot thread, which will become heartbreaking.

It is a great film from Rollin. It is also distinct with a noticeable change for him in that, whilst he used very real French locations a lot in his films and made them part of his work's dream logic, this is stripped of his oneiric style which has a striking result. Entirely set in land, so with his trademark use of beaches no existent, baring the manor having a gothic aesthetic, alongside the family crypt underground, this is entirely grounded with a stark naturalism. Alongside the lack of music in the score either, this has a fascinating atmosphere especially when, in the world disconnected to Catherine's trauma and Hélène, the world of the nearby town is, even if dated fashions, insanely modern even decades later to see. A local town where you see a French outdoor market, and a musical concert at night as a set piece, Rollin documenting ordinary France even by accident is a very idiosyncratic change of pace, especially as this period for him had a lot of experimentation with his style - The Escapees (1981) was his attempt at a drama, whilst The Sidewalks of Bangkok (1984) was an attempt at an old pulp serial on a low budget, whilst he began the decade with The Night of the Hunted (1980), effectively (including the cold modernist aesthetic) when Jean Rollin tried a David Cronenberg movie in tone.

The mood is emphasised by how nasty the film gets, as Rollin's films introduced more violence as they went on, the red of the fake blood contrasting the stark aesthetic of normalcy or that, rather than the female vampires of earlier films, "ghoul" is apt for Catherine. Even if fake guts and offal are involved, her breaking open of victims, even biting their fingers off, to get to their blood like a feral animal whilst they die screaming slowly is absolutely horrifying. Far from pleasurable as gore scenes can be for viewers in horror movies, it is here painful, meant to force a viewer to experience what agonising mutilation this all is. The violence's extremity does not detract from the emotional core but arguably emphasises it as, with Catherine eventually viewing herself as a monster when she gains clarity again, this is a tragedy of her friend Hélène refusing to let her go again. Even if it may lead to something horrible, the greatest of tragedies which ends the narrative comes from Hélène's love and friendship.

It is a bleak narrative as a result to sit through, but with Rollin, who viewed himself less as a horror director based on the idiosyncrasies of his work, this is something absolutely admirable, as he was gaining more and more emotion to his work as he went alongside his pulp influenced storytelling. It is for him a brilliantly executed and beautiful piece.

Violence Voyager (2018)

 

Director: Ujicha

Screenplay: Ujicha

(Voice) Cast: Aoi Yûki as Bobby; Shigeo Takahashi as Akkun/Yakkun; Naoki Tanaka as George; Nao Hanai as Kyoko; Daisuke Ono as Takaaki; Hitoshi Matsumoto as the Narrator; Tomorowo Taguchi as Koike; Saki Fujita as Yoshiko/Sayaka

A Night of a Thousand Horror (Movies) #251 / A 1000 Anime Crossover

 

A film I had anticipated since I first heard about it, and leading to my introducing to the idiosyncratic figure of Ujicha, this is not traditional "anime". You can argue it is not even "anime", as it is categorised as an entirely different animation type the director-creator has christened "geki-mation", paper cut-out animation drawn and cut out by himself, moved with his own hands, and with liquids and even real fire if need be used per scene. Contrasting already a unique production type, Violence Voyager is a pretty twisted and perverse film, of horrifying secrets in an amusement park in the mountains, which is not for the weak of heart even if just told with paper models. In fact even that does not prepare you for how odd this is. It is, however, a compelling work I am glad to have finally seen.

 

For the full review, follow the link HERE.

Revenge of the Zombies (1943)

 

Director: Steve Sekely

Screenplay: Edmond Kelso and Van Norcross

Cast: John Carradine as Dr. Max Heinrich von Altermann; Gale Storm as Jennifer Rand; Robert Lowery as Larry Adams; Mantan Moreland as Jeff Jackson; Veda Ann Borg as Lila von Altermann; Barry Macollum as Dr. Harvey Keating; Mauritz Hugo as Scott Warrington; Madame Sul-Te-Wan as Mammy Beulah; James Baskett as Lazarus; Sybil Lewis as Rosella

A Night of a Thousand Horror (Movies) #249

 

Nothing of what I've seen came out no bottle!

"Presented in HorrorScope", least in the public domain DVD release I saw, I can proudly include a Monogram Pictures Corporation film into my reviews even if, after all these years, I only learned much later this is meant to be a sequel, to King of the Zombies (1941), if with only a tentative connection and only two returning actors. The legendary studio even got a credit from Jean-Luc Godard at the end of his debut Breathless (1960), their productions varying from crime pictures to horror movies. Moody is thankfully a word I can use here as much as for a crime film, revisited this film fresher eyes than previous times before. Even a public domain copy like the one I have grown accustomed to is still gaining a new atmosphere upon revisiting it. Also worth raising is how this is a nineteen forties film which is, yes, about zombies. This is specifically the Haitian zombie lore, where in real life, people were drugged in a way presumed dead, to be dug up and become forced labour for those who paid for their "zombification". Obviously, alongside some issues to talk of, this is cultural appropriation and is part of the greater issue with how films appropriated Haitian beliefs, and the likes of Voodoo practice, in negative forms. It is also fascinating to know that, when George A. Romero created a fictional form of the zombie which would dominate what that word meant in the modern day, once beforehand, you would have to reach out to this form which, even if used in troubling appropriation, was actually based on real history.

In this case, admittedly, these zombies are now bulletproof, which is not a common aspect of this earlier lore, and it is a surprise to revisit the film and hear a piece of dialogue know, almost predating those modern Romero influenced zombies, that these zombies are entirely as powerful as they are due to their brains controlling them. The man creating these ones is Dr. Max Heinrich von Altermann (John Carradine), a Nazi scientist undercover in the swamps near Louisiana wanting to create a new race of super men as soldiers. The brother of Ottoman's wife, Lila von Altermann (Veda Ann Borg), has abruptly died, comes to the manor with help, eventually between them learning what von Altermann has been doing alongside the fact Lila is now a zombie as well. This is squarely of its time, mid World War II, their b-movies as much as Hollywood also was involved in the American war effort. Beyond this however, this is purely a pulp narrative, lower budget and just close to an hour long, part of the many churned out by Monogram and others. These later films from the forties for me yet feel different even from the Universal movies of the thirties, a form of pulpy genre filmmaking which is creeping ever closer to the b-movies of the fifties onwards, its own era of genre filmmaking, alongside the others made by Monogram and those that fell in the public domain like Revenge of the Zombies, that has its own culture for me.

There is one issue that is entirely of this older period of cinema however, and always has been something for me to contend with for Revenge of the Zombies, and that is how the African American cast is depicted. Ironically, the two actors who returned from King of the Zombies are among this side of the cast, Mantan Moreland replaying a character named Jeff Jackson, who is the driver for the leads, and Madame Sul-Te-Wan playing another character, a maid in von Altermann's house with an extensive knowledge of zombie techniques. This is a film with a larger African-American cast for such a small film, but all playing staff at von Altermann's house or Moreland's Jee being a driver. Truthfully, the biggest issue for me is with Mantan Moreland and his character, as he slides into a stereotype common in these older films of comedic black characters whose comedy, including being scared easily, was deemed insulting to African Americans¹. Spike Lee, when he covered these archetypes alongside other racist iconography from the United States' past in Bamboozled (2000), explicitly referred "Mantan" in reusing his first name in that film, and when these types of roles were deemed as more and more inappropriate, unfortunately a double edged tragedy came about alongside these problematic images existing in the first place, in how actors like Mantan Moreland worked far less. Going from a lot of roles in the forties, and barely appearing in films in the fifties onwards, I realise this remembering how he has a small cameo in Jack Hill's Spider Baby (1967), and how in the background to his casting, as a postman unfortunately caught up in the homicidal family he knocks on the door of, including Moreland being out of work as the most prominent detail. Even if he kept making films into the seventies to his death, unfortunately his own career was likely marred by these roles in his career as a buffoon¹.

Mantan Moreland is providing the broadest of roles here, which adds a greater shame as he has a good comedic timing. His character is a case of a patronising role, not necessarily in the character here by himself, but in how the roles from this time from actors including him how common these portrayals were proved a concern. The film in general though, even as pure pulp, proved more complicated in terms of all the other depictions even if by pure accident.  Yes, the black actors here are playing a driver or maid, yet paradoxically none of them are demeaned and, whilst in the background to the main narrative, everyone gets a prominent moment even in a film just nearing only an hour. No one is on von Altermann's side either. The youngest maid there hates working there, his own driver has been turned into a zombie slave, to lead the other zombies, and Madame Sul-Te-Wan despite being the stereotype of the older black woman with occult knowledge is not on his side either, in fact helping the protagonists with the mechanics of how the zombiefication works and watching as, to von Altermann's surprise, his own wife despite being turned into a zombie has a will of her own.

Even factoring the actors themselves complicate this as, to consider them as working individuals, you have figures who stand out with greater meaning whether their roles are seen as problematic or not. Madame Sul-Te-Wan is a really good example I only learnt of through this film: to go on a slight tangent, she is a fascinating figure, working since the 1910s in cinema, including D.W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation (1915), with even her pseudonym (born Nellie Crawford) as much of note both as a way to market herself and as a mark of confidence to avoid being patronised. In her era, already a theatre actress before cinema and working for decades, she was held with great regard as an actress by African American viewers back in this era². Particularly with roles which can be seen as problematic in older cinema, such as how African Americans were depicted, black actors who took these roles raise a complexity as one is reminded they themselves were working figures, Sul-Te-Wan well regarded in spite of likely having to take on roles like in Revenge of the Zombies a lot. Look no further, for a surprise example for me too, as James Baskett, who plays von Altermann's zombified driver Lazarus and is virtually unrecognisable, with his shock of white hair, to playing Uncle Remus in the contentious Disney film Song of the South (1946), the epoch of this era of cinema and difficult issues of how portrayals and archetypes have to be dealt with.

If anything, from once being jarred by the film's portrayals, it is entirely Moreland's exaggerated comedic performance, as he is scared by everything, instead that is still an issue returning to the film that is still an issue. It also cannot be helped but be read into, because it is not even subtext whether accidental or not, that this is a horror film about a Nazi scientist turning people, his zombies cast with people of multiple ethnicities, into subservient drones stripped of their humanity. Even if this has stereotypes to consider, they are not as prominent and as bad as they could be, whilst here in the middle of World War II, we thankfully have a reminder even in ridiculous pulp to always the Nazis were villains and will always make perfect villains for that reason.

A film like this, breezy to sit through, is not a masterpiece. Made with limited locations, quickly paced and simple, these are the sort of movies if you watched a few of that could become an obsession for a viewer in terms appreciating their mood and style of storytelling with the exception of key titles of well regard. Even how films from this period have a very specific type of orchestral score have become the little traits that cause them to grow in greater interest for me, even though this may not even be considered a great film from Monogram Pictures' dalliances with horror cinema. As much of this review's positivity is this having been one of the first I had a real acquaintance with, seen a few times thanks to the wonders of public domain DVDs, especially when this shared the disc (befitting earlier references to George Romero) with Night of the Living Dead (1968). The pair together, even if likely slapped together as two "zombie" films, was befitting, as Romero's film was seen as a huge moment in horror cinema, not only in terms of a sub-genre which would dominate even the mainstream, and led to countless films being churned out, but being viewed as a stark reflection of the times politically even as a horror film first. The older film in comparison, though built in with real history as pulp archetypes fight a Nazi, is a warm blanket in comparison, but with both of worth, now returning to Revenge of the Zombies I can see myself diving further into this area of horror cinema now with delight.

 

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1) A more detailed biography on Mantan Moreland can be found here.

2) A more detailed biography on Madame Sul-Te-Wans, which I partially drew on but barely scratched, can be found here.

Who Killed Daigorô Tokuyama? (2016)

 

Director: Keisuke Toyoshima, Tomoyuki Furumaya and Kôta Yoshida

Screenplay: Yasushi Akimoto, Kôji Tokuo, Kôhei Kiyasu and Ryôichi Tsuchiya

Cast: Nijika Ishimori; Yui Imaizumi; Rina Uemura; Rika Ozeki; Nana Oda; Minami Koike; Yui Kobayashi; Fuyuka Saitô; Shiori Satô; Manaka Shida; Yûka Sugai; Miyu Suzumoto; Nanako Nagasawa; Neru Nagahama; Mizuho Habu; Aoi Harada; Yurina Hirate Akane Moriya; Nanami Yonetani; Rika Watanabe; Lisa Watanabe; Kyûsaku Shimada; Noriko Eguchi; Kazuyuki Aijima; Ryô Iwamatsu; Hiroki Konno

Ephemeral Waves

 

That's rude to the cart. Apologise!

Regardless of the whole mini-series, which was still a pleasing experience, this Japanese murder mystery's first episode alone, nay, even just the moments before the first time the opening credits play in the series is how you start a narrative off brilliantly. Going to an all-girls school, Class 3-C's students come in at the start of the week in the morning only to find their titular homeroom teacher Daigorô sat dead at a desk with a knife in his back. Already, with cheery female vocals on the score and someone prodding him with a broom end to check if he is dead, this mini-series already did not beat around the bush with its premise and showed a sick sense of humour.

And said first episode gets better. When one girl, the MVP of the series with her space-headed sweetness and carrying a stuffed toy to class, takes a selfie with him (one of many throughout the show) and the class is contemplating whether you can commit suicide practically by stabbing yourself in the back. The score has already gotten idiosyncratic at this point with blaring saxophones, only to suddenly turn into a late era Tom Waits tribute, with a gruff vocal tribute of a man who smoked cigarettes to the point he got that voice, joining in. Daigorô is going to mellow out in the series, and contort itself in contrived ways with its ultimate mystery, as much as a show to promote the large female ensemble cast, to make everyone sympathetic. That proves not surprising as this is media to promote an idol group, specifically Keyakizaka46, a spin-off sister group to Nogizaka46, the "official rivals" of AKB48, an idol group that some readers may recognise just the name of. Alongside being a rare toe-dip into this culture as an outsider, this toe-dip for me in Japanese television already won me overbefore you even got to the opening credits.

And the pilot episode is perfect. Irrationally, but keeping in tone of the show's intentional (and even unintentional) sick sense of humour, the girls decide not to tell the authorities their homeroom teacher is dead but hide him in one of their lockers, the one owned by Neru (Nagahama Neru), who was not coming to class only to do eventually later on. Even then, the first episode the first lessons on the Monday, as one of the their class Hirate (Hirate Yurina, as most of the Keyakizaka46 group have characters named after their real ones) wants to "bust the crime", is taken up with the issue that the locker until someone kicks it on afterwards keeps opening mid-lesson. Already you are having a mass paper-rock-scissor game to determine who should try to give him mouth-to-mouth, and the ethical question that, despite deserving his killer punished, Daigorô himself was likely a sex pervert spying on his classmates, least going to a brothel with a schoolgirl theme a lot in his off-work time. Eventually the class will have to worry about him already starting to smell, having to bury him only to dig him back up when school ground redevelopment is about to transpire, and in spite of the mini-series clearly pulling back its punches later on, to be sweet and promote this ensemble cast of idols, Daigorô as a show is still won me over for knowingly playing a twister and openly strange tone. There will be only one actual dream sequence, one joke that will be lost on many, one member who speaks only in Yamagata-ben dialect that a classmate has to translate, and more of the surreal contnet is in the opening credits. But this show's nature is going to be deliciously perverse whilst also wholesome. There is also the fact that Daigorô is seemingly texting the entire classroom beyond the grave, so this show does not rest its laurels in racking of the tension for the students...

This is a lower budgeted production, as you only have a few locations, all in a real school, never seeing outside beyond a couple of aerial shots. You never see the students' home lives and it exists as a narrative in just a single week, where the adults and outsiders phase in and out of the students' class where most of the narrative transpires. Large amounts of the show are shot in a blue tint or a strong autumn yellow for afternoon scenes predominantly. One of the really distinct touches beyond this is that, communicating to each other by phone to secretly gossip on their situation, the classmates all have their own cute symbols representing them displayed onscreen. You see no other classes, just Class 3-C, but this narrative, a mystery full of red herrings, is entertaining in its own hermetically sealed form.

More so when you factor in the adults themselves, who in contrast to the students, baring a couple, are usually corrupt or weird. The meek head principal, who is obviously sinister, ultimately caught out for being bribed entry, or the janitor who sweats profusely and emphasises with objects like carts and the air conditioner, even demanding the class apologise to them for abuse they have suffered. One-off figures weave in complications and questions, like Daigorô's wife, who brings coriander grass and macaroons to try to trap a student, under the preteens that her husband's affair, including his favourite brothel being not just a schoolgirl based one but a peek-a-book one, means he has a student as a mistress. The adults here in this world, of Shinjuku North, come off as absurd, selfish and/or misguided. One exception, a slight spoiler is that in this show's convoluted narrative Daigorô has a twin brother, a meek onion farmer who still looks up to his twin, and helps provide empathy for the murder victim, regardless of his behaviour. Or the French art teacher, played by a Western actor speaking French with Japanese subtitles, who no one understands, because they cannot understand his language, until he reveals he has been able to understand and speak theirs.

The show, as mentioned, mellows. Everyone in the class learns to become a better person - such one accepting her entry into the school was bought, even if it means having to contradict it, revealed to the student that she passed the entry exam in a scene afterwards. Even when the killer revealed gets into some deeply silly content. ([Huge Spoiler Warning] - Natural causes, with the perverse fact one of the schoolgirls, the lovable one with the plush toy, is secretly a psychopath only guilty of desecrating a corpse. [Huge Spoiler Ends]). It is a testament however to the show that, even in how Daigorô's corpse is eventually brushed aside with that plot point, this show is sweet for all its grimness. Intentionally and unintentionally, it has a deeply sick sense of humour. It is not even a spoiler to reveal the final twist is that another random corpse appears, turning into a Groundhog Day scenario, as it just emphasises the show's virtues in the whimsically macabre.