The Amazing Colossal Man's New Year's Resolutions

On October 4, 1957, at a secret nuclear test site in the Nevada desert, Lt. Col. Glenn Manning was waiting with his colleagues for the detonation of an experimental plutonium bomb. When a civilian aircraft flew into the area and crashed, Manning heroically ran to the crash site to give aid, but then was caught in the test explosion.

Somehow still alive but horribly burned, the military doctors gave Manning little chance of survival. But miraculously, his skin began healing at a fantastic rate. At the same time, he began growing to the point where the army had to erect a circus tent to house him and bring in meat by the truckload to feed him.

Manning’s doctors soon found a new threat to his life -- the Colonel’s heart was not growing proportionally with his body, and the lack of blood flow to his brain would drive Manning insane before it ultimately killed him.

So, as you contemplate the hopes and challenges of a new year, consider the fate of Col. Manning, and try to imagine yourself in his shoes (size 70, 10xEEE).

In a Films From Beyond exclusive, we have unearthed Col. Manning’s journal from those amazing days after his accident, including his New Year’s resolutions for 1958. Surprisingly (or maybe not), they don’t differ much from most people’s resolutions, even in 2025.

1. Always wear sunscreen when strolling around the nuclear test site.

2. Ask doctor about Oozemplic® for weight gain problem.

3. Find a bigger apartment.

4. Deal with the gambling problem.

5. Look into anger management therapy.

Films From Beyond wishes you an Amazingly Colossal New Year, and may all your resolutions come true!

John Saxon vs. the Space Vampire: Queen of Blood

Now Playing: Queen of Blood (1966)

Pros: Dark, noirish sci-fi thriller that cleverly breaks from the conventions of the day
Cons: Most of the special effects consist of footage borrowed from an earlier Russian film; The mix of American and Russian-shot footage is not seamless

This post is part of the John Saxon Blogathon hosted by the distinguished and prolific duo of Gill at Realweegiemidget Reviews and Barry at Cinematic Catharsis. After you’ve paid your respects to the Queen of Blood, head on over to their blogs for more insights on John Saxon’s multi-faceted acting career.

John Saxon was way too cool for school, and his dark, brooding good looks got him a break in Hollywood that would last for six decades.

Born Carmine Orrico in Brooklyn, NY in 1936, the newly minted actor John Saxon started out his movie career in the mid-’50s playing smoldering teen delinquents for Universal. The period was a high mark for juvenile delinquent movies, and Saxon was so good doing the teen angst thing in films like Running Wild (1955, with Mamie Van Doren), Rock, Pretty Baby (1956) and Summer Love (1958) that he began receiving fan mail by the truckload.

Saxon’s career took a detour when he secured a plum supporting role in John Huston’s Western The Unforgiven (1960; with Burt Lancaster and Audrey Hepburn). For a short time it looked like he might spend the rest of his career riding horses, with The Plunderers (1960) and Posse from Hell (1961) following in quick succession.

While Saxon never became an A-list leading man, the versatile actor avoided being typecast or limited to any particular genre. And in his long career, he had the privilege of appearing in some truly remarkable and influential films.

Not content to hang around Hollywood, like a number of other contemporary actors he traveled to Europe to make films (the fact that he was fluent in Italian and had some proficiency in Spanish helped a lot. Wikipedia.). In Italy, he made The Evil Eye (aka The Girl Who Knew Too Much, 1963) with Mario Bava, which most regard as the first Giallo film.

A decade later, Saxon put his karate and judo expertise to good use, appearing with Bruce Lee and Jim Kelly in the mother of all martial arts films, Enter the Dragon (1973). A short while later he appeared in yet another seminal genre film, playing a police detective in Bob Clark’s pioneering slasher Black Christmas (1974).

Saxon's likeness didn't always make it onto the posters, but
he appeared in quite a few fun and influential genre films.

Fast forward another decade, and Saxon played yet another detective in the first of the phenomenally successful A Nightmare on Elm Street movies. The horror genre, always lurking around the corner during Saxon’s long career, gave him his one and only opportunity at directing, when he took over the reins of Death House (1988) after the original director withdrew. (While the reviews for Death House are not good, Saxon is on record as saying the producers and he differed in their vision for the film, and the producers won. IMDb.) 

Saxon’s sci-fi credits are not as numerous, but there are some interesting projects here and there. The actor’s first stab at sci-fi came while he was overseas. In the UK production The Night Caller (aka Blood Beast from Outer Space, 1965) Saxon plays a scientist battling aliens bent on kidnapping earth females for breeding purposes (where have we heard that one before?). Despite the ambitious premise, the low-budget film is very set-bound, with limited special effects.

More interesting is the TV movie Planet Earth (1974) that he made for Gene Roddenberry. The movie was Roddenberry’s second attempt to sell a series about a Buck Rodgers-like protagonist, Dylan Hunt, who wakes up from suspended animation into a very different, post apocalyptic world (Alex Cord played the hero in the first pilot, Genesis II, broadcast the year before). Alas, Planet Earth became yet another in a string of failed pilots for Roddenberry in the ‘70s.

With almost 200 acting credits spanning six decades, chances were good that a genre character actor like Saxon would find himself working for the most prolific of all B-movie producers, Roger Corman. And indeed, the actor appeared in several Corman productions, including what many regard as the best of all the Star Wars imitators, Battle Beyond the Stars (1980).

The Queen is pleased by what she's seen after sitting through a John Saxon movie marathon.

Star Wars upped the ante considerably for cinematic sci-fi, so Roger felt compelled to spend more than ever before -- around $2 million -- loading up his epic space opera with such stars as George Peppard, Robert Vaughn, Richard Thomas, Sybil Danning, and of course Saxon. And contributing to special effects that were a distinct upgrade for a Corman production (and that would be reused in multiple later films), was none other than a young James Cameron! [IMDb]

But back in the Queen of Blood’s day, the mid-60s, it was still possible to make sci-fi on the cheap -- and there was no one better than Roger Corman for squeezing a nickel until it begged for mercy.

Reading Queen of Blood's plot synopsis, with all its sci-fi bells and whistles, you’d think, after having seen one bloated, effects-laden epic after another steamroll their way through the 20-teens and twenties, that you couldn’t possibly pull off something like that for less than millions (even accounting for 1960s dollars).

Indeed, it’s nothing if not ambitious. The film is set in 1990, a year that, from the perspective of the ‘60s space race, was far off but not too far off, with more than enough time to ensure the conquering of the moon and the nearer planets. (Ah, the vagaries of fickle public support for piloted space exploration, and the meager NASA budgets that followed… but I digress.)

In Queen of Blood’s 1990, humanity has established moon bases, and Mars and Venus are next on the agenda to be colonized. The Astro Communications division of the International Institute of Space Technology has received messages from a mysterious, advanced civilization beyond the solar system that they will be sending an ambassador to Earth.

Apparently, Queen of Blood's space program can also afford colossal statues.

The Institute’s senior scientist, Dr. Farraday (Basil Rathbone) assembles all the staff, including astronauts Allan Brenner (Saxon), Laura James (Judi Meredith), Paul Grant (Dennis Hopper) and Tony Barrata (Don Eitner) to reveal the momentous news.

But, as in all things involving B-movie space travel, the best laid plans always go awry. The institute picks up an alien probe that landed in the ocean (what, the so-called advanced aliens couldn’t aim better than that?), and after viewing footage from the aliens’ flight log, determine that the ambassador’s spacecraft has crash-landed on Mars.

Things get frenetic and complicated as Farraday and staff set up shop on their moon base, and a rescue ship, the Oceana, with Laura, Paul and Commander Brockman (Robert Boon) on board, is dispatched for the Red planet. (Wait, no handsome and intrepid Allan Brenner on the pioneering flight? Don’t worry, read on…)

To while away the time between missions, Allan and Dr. Farraday decide
to start their very own podcast.

The Oceana's instruments are damaged by an abrupt solar flare, but the astronauts manage to land near their target, where they find the crashed alien ship, but discover only one human-looking body and no ambassador. With the Oceana questionable and the ambassador still missing, Allan and Tony propose piloting a second ship to Mars with search satellites to help in hunt for the missing alien dignitary.

A-OK, except, as Farraday points out, the second ship doesn’t have the fuel capacity to get them to Mars and back. Thinking quickly, the brash space jockeys propose landing the second ship on the tiny Martian moon Phobos, and from there take a shuttle craft down to the Martian surface, where they’ll hook up with their colleagues and return on the Oceana.

As luck would have it, when Allan and Tony arrive on Phobos, they find yet another crashed ship -- the aliens’ emergency shuttle craft, complete with a very much alive alien dignitary (played by Florence Marly) -- conveniently near where they’ve set down. But then luck turns on them when they realize there’s only room for two on their own shuttle that will take them down to the Oceana, which is their ticket home. And, to add salt to the wound, the Oceana doesn’t have the fuel to pick up any lingering astronauts on Phobos and still make it home.

The daring space jockeys come to the alien Queen's rescue.

Tony gallantly insists that Allan accompany the ambassador (the consequence being that Tony will be marooned on Phobos until a relief ship can be dispatched to rescue him... sure, sure they will.).

Little do the astronauts know that, while the trips to Mars and Phobos were tense and hazardous, the trip back to Earth with their alien guest will be a doozy! At first the crew bend over backwards to keep their guest comfortable. It helps that, while her skin is a subtle shade of green, the alien is quite easy on the eyes in an exotic, outerspacey kind of way. She seems to have an aversion to earth women, glaring at Laura, but she takes quite nicely to dashing Paul, who acts like a smitten schoolboy as he helpfully shows her how to drink through a straw.

"It's called a Big Gulp, your highness, and everyone on Earth is addicted to them."

Commander Brockman takes his scientific curiosity a bit too far when he tries to draw the alien’s blood and she forcefully demurs. Brockman idiotically ventures to guess that she has a low threshold for pain (the consent thing seems to not have occurred to him).

But no worries, the Queen will soon turn the tables and draw blood from the earthmen -- she’s got a thirst, but not for scientific knowledge!

To say the least, that is a lot to cram into a 78 minute sci-fi B movie destined for the drive-in circuit. But this was child’s play for executive producer Roger Corman, who was extremely adept at making meager resources go where no resources had gone before.

Laura and Allan discuss how they're going to break it to the Queen that
they already gave at the office blood drive.

One tactic was to offer directing gigs to talented new and aspiring filmmakers who would jump at the opportunity and be willing to work cheaply. Corman hired Curtis Harrington to write and direct. At this point, Harrington had only one other feature film under his belt -- the dark and moody (and critically well-received) Night Tide (1961, starring Dennis Hopper). But the art house-adjacent Night Tide hadn’t opened many doors in Hollywood, so Harrington was happy for the opportunity even if he didn’t have complete artistic control.

Another tactic was to let skilled artists and technicians on other films do your effects work for you. Harrington, in his memoir Nice Guys Don’t Work in Hollywood, relates,

“The film would make use of some spectacular special effects footage from a Russian film to which [Corman] had acquired the American rights. Corman owned many of these films, and it seemed to have been a wise investment. I was to devise my own story that would incorporate scenes of a space station on the moon (from the Russian footage) with scenes of an alien spaceship stranded on one of the moons of Mars (which we would shoot).
  The Soviet film, Mechte Navstrechu [1963], was a fable about the world’s natural fears of the nature of aliens, and the discovery at the end of the film was that the ruler of the aliens simply wants to be friends with us. I turned my film, Queen of Blood, into the exact opposite of this. I devised a tale in which the queen of the aliens …is a vampiric creature who seeks a new food source for her dying planet. The food source, as it turns out, is the human race.” [Curtis Harrington, Nice Guys Don’t Work in Hollywood: The Adventures of an Aesthete in the Movie Business, Drag City Incorporated, 2013, p. 109]

(Alright, be honest, which movie would you rather see -- one about overcoming xenophobia and prejudice to unite with our spiritual brothers and sisters from another galaxy, or one about an evil alien monster in disguise stalking trusting, innocent humans and drinking their blood? I thought so.)

If there were just one or two scenes with the inserted footage, it would be one thing, But Queen of Blood relies extensively on the Soviet film for any sort of long, establishing shots, spaceships taking off, exteriors of moon bases, and weird, alien landscapes. The Mechte Navstrechu footage is dark, soft-focused and beautifully surreal, with reds and greens predominating, making the transition to the brightly lit American-shot interiors jarring.

I don't suppose the Soviet filmmakers ever imagined that their beautiful work would be sold as fodder for an American capitalist exploitation flick.

But as the tone of the film changes from one of triumph at rescuing the alien VIP, to suspicion and then disgust and horror at the monster in the astronauts' midst, Harrington’s scenes get progressively darker, with the ship’s interiors taking on a blood-red hue. Harrington also adds a subtle buzzing to the soundtrack as the alien stealthily moves around the ship, emphasizing that despite her appearance, she has more in common with a queen bee than a human being.

Not only does Harrington upend the tropes of Soviet Socialist filmmaking, he also slyly subverts those of his fellow American B moviemakers. In so many B sci-fi movies leading up to Queen of Blood, scientists were often first responders who discovered and tried to understand the threat, but it was the military that had to step in and take care of it. The granddaddy of such films was The Thing from Another World (1951), in which the tough military guys in bomber jackets shove aside the effete scientists who just want to communicate with the alien visitor, and roast the Thing like a big, humanoid marshmallow.

In Harrington’s contrary film, it’s the nerds in lab coats who win the day, overruling -- you guessed it -- our man of the hour, John Saxon, who, as the very straight-laced, all-American Allan Brenner, is repelled by the enigmatic Queen from the get-go (and very nearly loses his life to her).

Allan reacts in disgust at the sight of the blood-gorged alien Queen... or is it his meager paycheck?

SPOILERS: In spite of all the death and destruction the Queen has caused, the surviving astronauts (with the exception of Allan) are like automatons programmed to execute The Plan: defend and preserve the visitor at all costs for the benefit of scientific knowledge. When the ship returns to port, the scientists swarm around like kids in a candy store, collecting the eggs that the Queen has laid all over the ship (Ugh!). It’s a dark, cynical break with past tropes, and a harbinger of sci-fi to come.

As Harrington puts it in his memoir: “Some years later, it was very flattering to realize that I had created the prototype for a whole series of science-fiction movies dealing with monstrous creatures from outer space, beginning with Ridley Scott’s Alien.” [Harrington, p. 109]

A Space Institute scientist serves up a tray of the Queen's special holiday deviled eggs. (Played by Forry Ackerman, founder of every Monster Kid's favorite mag, Famous Monsters of Filmland.)

Where to find it: Streaming | DVD

The 2024 Shocking Image Holiday Gift Guide

These are hard times for holiday catalog enthusiasts. The double whammy of Amazon and lockdowns dealt a crippling blow to brick-and-mortar stores, and ubiquitous online access has put the print catalog on life support.

Just as I was about to give up on getting a Sharper Image catalog this year, a slimmed down one magically showed up in the mailbox. It makes a nice coffee table companion to the dog-eared Hammacher Schlemmer I received a couple of months ago. Compared to the venerable Hammacher Schlemmer (which I affectionately call Hamburgler Schlepper), The Sharper Image is a Johnny-come-lately. HS claims that it’s been offering “the best, the unique and the unexpected” for over 175 years.

Back in its heyday, HS distinguished itself by listing at least one truly unexpected (and obscenely expensive) item in every catalog mailer. One year it was a lifesize, animatronic replica of Forbidden Planet’s Robby the Robot for $40K or thereabouts. Another catalog featured a personal submarine for the multi-millionaire who has everything (and guess what, it’s still there online, if you happen to have several million bucks lying around).

HS has long since dispensed with the super-luxury items for the print catalog -- it’s now almost indistinguishable from The Sharper Image, with the usual assortment of “timeless” artifacts: massagers, portable photo printers, sleep sound machines, DVD storage cabinets, holiday yard decorations, etc.

The Sharper Image and Hammacher Schlemmer catalogs may be mere shadows of their former selves, but in that alternate universe to which Films From Beyond has exclusive access, The Shocking Image catalog is a thriving holiday institution. Here’s a sampling of truly unique and unexpected gifts for lucky mad scientists in the upper income brackets (and they're all on sale!):

Captured Soul Lava Lamp

Our competitors' lamps feature the usual waxy blobs in clear fluid, and quite frankly, they get boring really fast. Using a special process exclusive to The Shocking Image (pat. pending), we capture souls at the precise moment that they leave deceased bodies, and trap them in specially designed display containers. The antics of these souls are endlessly entertaining! Also makes a great night light for the kids! (Captured souls may vary in color and appearance.) 54” H x 20” W. (120 lbs.)

Item 1313666. Special Black Friday Sale Price: $369.99 $272.49

Personal Earth-drilling Juggernaut

A Shocking Image exclusive! Humanity has explored every corner of the earth's surface and its oceans, but still very little is known about the earth beneath our feet. Be the first on your multi-millionaires' block to explore the earth's mysterious core! This one-of-a-kind Juggernaut, with a roomy cabin for 4 adults, moves 36 tons of dirt and rock per minute as you drill down to reveal lost underground worlds full of ferocious dinosaurs and the last surviving Neanderthals! (Special conditions and shipping rates apply; Launch ramp sold separately.) 74.2' L x 15' W x 12.4' H. (112,796 lbs.)

Item 1366613. $5,367,846.99 $4,620,112.99

Combo MRI Machine / Air Fryer

Creating a creature from scratch is incredibly time consuming. You constantly have to use imaging equipment to check on the internal integrity of your creation, leaving little time for meals. The innovators at The Shocking Image have solved the dilemma with a one-of-kind device that can be used to take detailed images of your creation's internal organs, then, when it's time to eat, a simple touch of a button turns it into a super spacious air fryer, capable of cooking up to a dozen large turkeys or hams at a time. Great for mollifying irate, torch-bearing villagers with a quick, lip-smacking hot banquet. 9' L x 4.5' W x 5' H. (1,765 lbs.; Call for special shipping rates.)

Item 6661313. $679,354.89 $587,287.15

Combo Surgical Laser / Tanning Ray

Let's face it: with all the cutting, dissecting and suturing you do to create artificial life, you just don't have the time to go outdoors and get some sun on that deathly pale skin of yours. Fret no more, because with the exclusive Shocking Image Surgical Laser and Tanner, you can have it all! After slicing and dicing your creation with the precise laser, adjust the setting and turn it on yourself for an indoor tan that simulates an afternoon in the sun without all the harmful UV rays. And once you've revived your creature, give it the tanning treatment to turn that corpse-grey skin into a healthy, glowing bronze color! 48” Diam. x 54” H. (87 lbs.)

Item 1666313. $2,187.99 $1,512.25

3D People Printer

It's a never-ending problem -- your work in things that are better left alone is immensely complicated and time-consuming, and it's so hard to get good help! Even when you're lucky enough to find a capable assistant, the work seems to multiply, and you end up wishing you could clone him or her. But cloning is messy and a huge investment in time and resources. Wish no more. Just put your assistant in one of the patented printer cylinders, fire up the machine, and then marvel at the exact replica that is ready right then and there to do your bidding. Your lab will become so efficient, you may find time to wreak horrible vengeance on the clueless colleagues who ridiculed you and banished you from polite society. (Human subjects not included.). 96" H x 120" W. (943 lbs.)

Item 6136136. $17,834.89 $16,901.15

Extending Halloween at the November Monster Bash Convention

Back in 2019, I attended my first Monster Bash convention in the Pittsburgh area. Bash organizer (and Creepy Classics proprietor) Ron Adams is an original monster kid, and he and his dedicated crew have been Bashing in Pennsylvania for nearly 30 years. Ron and company put on great events, and the Bash is unique in its emphasis on classic monsters.

Some familiar characters stand guard at the November Monster Bash.

The attraction in 2019 was the announcement that four Hammer horror alums would be guests of honor: Martine Beswick (Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde, One Million Years B.C.), Veronica Carlson (Dracula Has Risen from the Grave, The Horror of Frankenstein), Caroline Munro (Dracula A.D. 1972, Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter) and Christopher Neame (Dracula A.D. 1972). Unfortunately, Caroline Munro had to bow out due to health issues.

Beswick, Carlson and Neame joined independent filmmaker Joshua Kennedy at the 2019 bash for the world premiere screening of House of the Gorgon, Kennedy’s homage to Hammer horror (and which featured all four Hammer alums; see my review of the convention and the film here). Sadly, Veronica Carlson passed away in 2022. (See also my review of The Horror of Frankenstein, which includes a tribute to the multi-talented Carlson.)

This year Monster Bash gave fans a big post-Halloween present by bringing in four (count ‘em!) Hammer alums: Beswick, Munro, Pauline Peart (Satanic Rites of Dracula) and Victoria Vetri (When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth). (James Bond fans take note: Beswick was in two films, From Russia with Love and Thunderball, and Munro unsuccessfully tried to kill Roger Moore’s Bond in The Spy Who Loved Me.)

Caroline and Martine provide backup for Zach Zito as he performs Edgar Allan Poe tales.

Martine Beswick

Featured Film: Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell (1978)

The Bash’s choice of the TV movie Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell might not have been most people's first choice to showcase Martine’s talents (Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde anyone?), but having only known the film by reputation up until the screening, I was both bemused and entertained.

The film, directed by B horror maestro Curtis Harrington, is basically a send-up of the mega-hit from two years before, The Omen, substituting a German Shepherd puppy named Lucky for little Damien the Antichrist. Beswick, who is only in the first 15 minutes or so of the movie, seems to be having great fun vamping it up as the high priestess of a Devil worshiping cult (or make that Devil-dog worshiping cult) who secures a champion breeding dog to mate with Satan’s favorite Hellhound. The demonic breeding ritual is a cheesy sight to behold, and I’m guessing it didn’t get any seals of approval from the SPCA (I’m also guessing that no animals were harmed in the filming, but that’s not to say dog lovers’ heads weren’t aching after seeing the movie.)

Cult members then go about distributing the litter of unholy puppies to unsuspecting suburbanites, including the wholesome, all-American family headed by Mike and Betty Barry (Richard Crenna and Yvette Mimieux). As cute little Lucky grows into a big, strapping German Shepherd, strange things start happening around the house: housekeepers and neighbors start dying in freakish ways, and even Betty and her innocent teenage daughter and son begin shedding inhibitions and morals under the baleful gaze of the cursed canine.

Only Mike is immune from Lucky’s malign influence, and he slowwwly puts two and two together. Credit Richard Crenna and the rest of the cast for playing it absolutely straight (although Beswick’s performance as the high priestess is deliciously ripe, as well it should be). A German Shepherd hovering in the background as things go very south for the Barry family doesn’t generate a lot of suspense, but Mimieux takes advantage of a great opportunity to turn from a warm, loving wife and mother into a hard-bitten, amoral femme fatale under Lucky’s spell.

The Devil Dog reveals his true appearance at the climax, which again is played very straight, and will elicit either appreciative smiles or derisive guffaws, depending.

Beswick Q&A

Martine’s subsequent Q&A ranged from reminiscences about her Bond girl days, to starring in Oliver Stone’s first feature film, to being cast as Sister Hyde to Ralph Bates’ Dr. Jekyll, to working with Klaus Kinski on the set of the spaghetti Western A Bullet for the General (1967).

In her first Bond film (and second feature film), From Russia with Love, Beswick plays a gypsy girl who fights a rival for the affections of a handsome young man. Over the years, the legend has grown that there was no love lost between the two actresses, and that much of the fight captured on film was for real. Martine downplayed the legend, saying that rather than being spontaneous, the fight was rehearsed like a complicated dance routine for 3 weeks (although she did admit that some of the film crew, who were not especially enamored of the other actress, egged Martine on to give it to her for real).

Asked about her experiences on the set of then novice filmmaker Oliver Stone’s first feature film, Seizure (1974), Martine recalled it as being like part of a “mad family.” (In this uneven horror film, Martine plays one of three nightmarish characters who materialize out of the fertile imagination of a best-selling horror author played by Jonathan Frid, and trap and torture Frid, his family, and guests at a remote summer house.)

Beswick said that the whole cast and crew stayed at the house during the shooting. Much of the film equipment was stored in Frid’s room, which made him grumpy. To add insult to injury, the house’s plumbing was old and noisy, so no one could go to the bathroom or run water during filming, which was very inconvenient. Of her character, the Queen of Night, she smilingly confessed that she “loved to kill everyone” -- on film of course.

As for working with Klaus Kinski on A Bullet for the General, Beswick paid Kinski -- a legendarily intense and difficult actor who had epic fights with directors and fellow actors -- a compliment by saying that he went out of his way to stand up for the cast of extras, whom the director and crew mistreated.

The author with Martine Beswick.

Caroline Munro

Featured Film: Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter (1974)

Captain Kronos is very late Hammer horror, and represents something of a hedging of the studio’s bets, falling back on period costumes and settings after trying to update Christopher Lee’s Dracula to late 20th century London in Dracula: AD 1972 and The Satanic Rites of Dracula (1973).

Kronos (Horst Janson) is a dashing former soldier and master swordsman who has taken up hunting vampires. Accompanied by his assistant, the hunchbacked professor Hieronymous Grost (John Cater), and an alluring peasant girl, Carla (Munro, whom the pair rescued from humiliation in the stockades), Kronos arrives at a village where, according to resident Doctor Marcus (John Carson), local girls are mysteriously being drained of their youth.

Dr. Marcus is friends with the local wealthy family, the Durwards (Lady Durward is played by Wanda Ventham, son Paul and daughter Sara by Shane Briant and Lois Daine). Marcus had treated the family patriarch for an illness which eventually killed him. Lady Durward herself is not in such great shape, being frail and bedridden. After a visit to the Durward estate, Marcus is accosted in the woods by a mysterious hooded figure, which, he soon finds out, has turned him into a vampire.

Kronos and Grost must deal with Marcus, and they find out that this species of vampire can only be killed with iron or steel. After fashioning a sword out of an iron cross recovered from a cemetery, they’re ready to take on the vampiric plague. Beautiful Carla is enlisted to provide a diversion as Kronos investigates the Durwards. SPOILER ALERT: Lady Durward proves not to be so bedridden after all, and the Lord of the manor not so dead. Kronos has to think quickly in order to defeat the aristocratic vampires.

The ending leaves room for further Kronos adventures, which were not to be. Despite being yet another Hammer vampire horror film, there is no Christopher Lee or Peter Cushing, the tone is more on the adventure side with a dash of tongue-in-cheek, and the film plays around with vampire mythology (in Kronos’ universe, there are different species of vampires, some feed on youth instead of blood, and some can only be killed with iron).

While Christopher Lee’s Dracula didn’t quite cut it in 1970s London, the retro adventurer Kronos also failed to win over many critics or fans at the time (although the film’s reputation has steadily improved over the decades). It was either too far ahead of its time, or too old fashioned (in her Q&A, Munro goes with the former).

Munro Q&A

During her Q&A, Caroline Munro related a number of stories about various hazards that can come out of nowhere during filming. On location shooting for The Spy Who Loved Me, the scene called for her to spend a portion of the time standing on a boat as it was running, then sit down as the boat neared its destination. While she was standing, she heard a strange buzzing sound that she attributed to the engine. However, when she sat down, she immediately felt a burning sensation in her “bum.” When the scene wrapped, Caroline discovered that she’d been stung by a bee, whereupon Roger Moore jokingly offered to “kiss it to make it better.” Munro said that sharp-eyed viewers can spot exactly where in the scene she was stung from her facial expression.

Hazards also lurked on the set of the sci-fi adventure film At the Earth’s Core (1976). In one scene featuring man-sized mutant telepathic birds (rulers of the lost world that the protagonists discover), stunt men wearing costumes were made to fly with an elaborate set-up of pulleys and wires. At one point the system was off by a hair, and one of the stuntmen clipped Munro as he swooped down. She said that co-star Doug McClure scarcely broke character as he came to her aid. Later, during a shoot involving pyrotechnics, the heat from the blast was so intense it singed the hair on her arms.

The author with Caroline Munro.

Pauline Peart discusses her experiences as a vampire girl in The Satanic Rites of Dracula.

Halloween House of Dracula

The Count (and Films From Beyond) bids you welcome, and wishes you a...

In all the annals of living horror, one name stands out as the epitome of Evil!

Magic mirror on the wall, who is the most terrifying one of all?: The Witch’s Mirror

Now Playing: The Witch's Mirror (El espejo de la bruja; 1962)

Pros: Very spooky atmosphere; Effective visuals and great production value for a low budget film
Cons: The mash-up of old school witchcraft and mad science (which takes over the 2nd half of the film) may not be everyone’s cup of witch’s brew

This post is part of the 3rd Annual Spooky Classic Movies Blogathon, hosted by Kristen at Hoofers and Honeys. If you need any more last minute recommendations for your Halloween viewing, be sure to check out the blogathon entries at Kristen’s place.

In my last post (“In Praise of MMA, Part Two: Masked Mexican Athletes vs. the Monsters”), I wrote about how, in the late 1950s, actor/producer Abel Salazar started a Gothic horror trend in Mexico with his hit, The Vampire (El vampiro, 1957), which may in turn have influenced Hammer to try its luck with the genre.

While Hammer went all in on reinterpreting Universal’s classic monsters after their breakout hits The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) and Horror of Dracula (1958), Salazar kept busy stocking his monster movie-verse with more vampires (The Vampire’s Coffin/El ataúd del vampiro, 1958 and The World of Vampires/El mundo de los vampiros, 1961), a cursed pianist who is turned into a monster after trading his soul for otherworldly musical talent (The Man and the Monster/El hombre y el monstruo, 1959), a 300-year-old warlock who returns as a brain-eating monster (The Brainiac/El barón del terror, 1962), and an ultra-creepy variation of the vengeful, ghostly La Llorna from Mexican folklore (The Curse of the Crying Woman/La maldición de la Llorona, 1963).

To this Mexican monster mix, The Witch’s Mirror (also produced by Salazar) adds an eclectic mix of its own, including a vengeful witch, demons (who are mostly unseen, adding to their eeriness), and a classic mad doctor hell-bent on restoring the ruined looks of his new wife, no matter the cost.

But make no mistake, the witch of The Witch’s Mirror is no garden-variety B movie sorceress. She isn't burned at the stake, and she doesn’t do anything drearily mundane like returning from the dead to inflict horrible retribution on her executioners and their descendents. Rather, she is Sara (Isabela Corona), the seemingly prim and proper housekeeper for the estate of Dr. Eduardo Ramos (Armando Calvo), and godmother to Ramos’ beautiful young wife Elena (Dina de Marco).

Sara looks to a higher, diabolical power to keep things running smoothly at the casa.

Sara takes her godmothering responsibilities very seriously, and at the beginning of the film, she is worried for Elena’s well-being. With Elena in tow, Sara turns to the main witchy tool she has at her disposal -- a magic full-length mirror through which she can communicate with the spirit world.

The mirror reveals that Elena has a rival for her husband’s affections, and that her life is in mortal danger. That evening, Eduardo poisons Elena’s bedtime glass of milk, which the troubled woman dutifully drinks. In another part of the house, Sara begs the spirits to protect her goddaughter, but she is told that nothing can be done, Elena’s fate is sealed.

With Elena conveniently dispatched, Eduardo brazenly brings his new wife Deborah (Rosita Arenas) to the manor, where Sara is playing it diabolically cool, pretending nothing is amiss. Unbeknownst to the happy couple, she is also communicating with Elena’s spirit, promising to avenge her.

As Sara looks grimly on, Eduardo and Deborah find out there’s Hell to pay (although poor Deborah seems blissfully unaware of the crime that elevated her to mistress of the house). The new bride suddenly finds herself playing a piece on the piano that she has never heard before -- to Eduardo’s great discomfort, since it was a favorite of Elena’s.

Deborah and Eduardo react to a special spirit-powered piano that plays itself.

The first half of the film is all high Gothic spookiness full of disturbing, fog-shrouded images in the occult mirror, sepulchral spirit voices (or are they demons?) talking to Sara, statues in deep shadows that seem to move, almost imperceptibly, flowers that unaccountably wilt in seconds, and pianos that play by themselves.

Just at the point where we’re wondering what other tricks the spirits have up their sleeves for the unhappy couple, The Witch’s Mirror takes a hard turn, leaving Spooky Town for the bright, garish lights of Mad Doctor-ville.

The precipitating scene is as shocking as it is surprising. Deborah, seeing Elena’s ghost in the haunted mirror, promptly faints. Eduardo, rushing into the room, also sees Elena in the mirror, and throws the oil lamp he’s carrying at the specter. The lamp smashes the mirror, but then caroms onto Deborah, setting her on fire. All the stunned Eduardo can do is bolt after his wife as she runs screaming from the room, completely ablaze. For her part, Sara impassively watches the grisly scene play out.

Elena practices being spooky in front of the mirror.

A blurb on the back of my CasaNegra Entertainment DVD copy penned by David Wilt of the Mexican Film Bulletin reads:

“Chano Urueta’s The Witch’s Mirror is an exercise in pure cinema, in which countless allusions to previous movies and a virtual catalog of special effects techniques are used to illustrate a delirious tale of witchcraft vs. mad science.”

One obvious allusion is to the French horror film Eyes Without a Face, released a couple of years earlier, which jump-started the Eurohorror trend of guilt-ridden mad surgeons trying to restore the disfigured faces of wives, girlfriends and daughters with the help of unwilling live donors. (1962 was a banner year for the theme, with Jess Franco’s The Awful Dr. Orlof and another Spanish horror film, Face of Terror, joining Witch’s Mirror in the face grafting frenzy. Later entries include Corruption, 1968, with Peter Cushing; The Blood Rose, 1970, from France; and Faceless, 1988, with Jess Franco returning to the theme.)

While Eduardo’s profession is only hinted at in the first part of the movie, in his extreme guilt he goes full blown mad doctor in the latter. An assistant, Gustavo (Carlos Nieto) suddenly shows up, who helps him steal bodies from the town morgue and a funeral parlor for the er, um, raw material that he needs to restore Deborah’s looks. Meanwhile, Deborah, swathed in bandages like a mummy, wanders zombie-like around the mansion, as Sara hovers.

Poor Deborah is caught in middle between her crazy husband and the malevolent housekeeper.

Before it’s all over, a prematurely buried body will be dug up (shades of Edgar Allan Poe!), the police will become involved, Eduardo will attempt to transplant new hands onto Deborah (shades of The Hands of Orlac!), and witchcraft will ultimately frustrate the designs of mad science.

The sudden thematic shift midway through not only contributes to cognitive whiplash, it reinforces the film’s surreal qualities.Viewing The Witch’s Mirror is like sleeping through one nightmare, waking up briefly, then plunging into a new nightmare, while your unconscious mind keeps the same cast of characters for economy’s sake.

The one character that you can rely on, so to speak, is Sara. She seems as old as the manor itself, and her loyalty to her goddaughter Elena is total, even after death. Eduardo is the completely amoral newcomer to the household, willing to do anything (including murdering his wife) to get his way. He is arrogant when things are going his way, superstitious and desperate when they’re not. His “science” is no match for Sara’s occult arts.

Deborah is a pitiful figure. There’s nothing to suggest that she was in on the murder plot -- instead, she appears to be an innocent tragically caught in the mortal struggle between the new world (mad science) and the old (witchcraft). After being horribly burned, Deborah is outfitted with head bandages so thick, they almost look like a paper mache fright mask. She has become a sacrificial lamb and a grotesque reminder of Eduardo’s criminality and hubris. We feel for her, but she never stood a chance.

Rosita Arenas (Deborah), was the daughter of noted Spanish actor Miguel Arenas, who helped her break into the movies. During her lengthy career, she appeared in a lot of varied movies and TV, but of most interest to readers of this blog are the horror films she was cast in starting in the late 1950s, including three Aztec mummy movies (The Aztec Mummy, The Curse of the Aztec Mummy, and The Robot vs. the Aztec Mummy), and The Witch’s Mirror and The Curse of the Crying Woman (1963) in association with Abel Salazar (whom she would eventually marry).

-"Tell me Rosita, how many Aztec Mummy movies did you make?"
-"Well let's see, there was The Aztec Mummy, then Curse of the Aztec Mummy, and then..."

Armando Calvo (Eduardo) was also a second generation Spanish actor who broke into the theater business at a very early age. From the mid-40s through the early ‘60s he worked steadily in the Mexican film industry, primarily in Westerns (although he did appear in The Hell of Frankenstein in 1960). Shortly after The Witch’s Mirror he returned to Spain to work in the theater, but ended up back in Mexico for good in the 1970s. The CasaNegra DVD bio states that he often portrayed characters with “a certain edge” -- as in ruthless, crooked, ethically compromised and obsessive. As Eduardo, he’s all that and more.

The Witch’s Mirror appears to be the only horror film on Isabela Corona’s (Sara) lengthy resume, consisting primarily of romances and costume dramas. At first glance, Corona doesn’t appear to have much to do in the role -- Sara is mostly a hovering, malignant presence. But she makes this singular role her own with subtle facial expressions that reflect vengeful triumph as the lives of Eduardo and Deborah come crashing down.

Perhaps the real stars of the show were the people behind the camera, who, whether it involved the supernatural or crazy mad science, created an exceedingly creepy atmosphere on a very low budget. All the action takes place on one set used many times before by other productions, but so much is going on that you don’t notice (or care about) all the little economies.

By this point in his career, director Chano Ureta knew how to get the most out of limited resources. Rear projection is employed in some of the mirror scenes, but mostly it’s live actors performing within the mirror frame that provide an effective illusion. Sara’s transformations into various creatures of the night -- an owl and a black cat -- consist of simple camera dissolves. A scene in a funeral parlor is accomplished by redressing one of the mansion corridor sets. (CasaNegra DVD commentary by Frank Coleman).

Never fear dear reader, that is not a real severed head on the table.

Jorge Stahl Jr.’s cinematography, emphasizing deep shadows and otherworldly light sources, adds an eerie gloss to the production. Gustavo César Carrión’s music hits the right somber notes without intruding. And the production design and set decoration (by Javier Torres Torija and Dario Cabañas, respectively) lend an air of mystery to the proceedings, especially in scenes where Sara, surrounded by witchy paraphernalia, is communicating with the spirits. The various statues, icons and other obscure, ominous-looking items that dress-up the witch's environs seem to have their own dark tales to tell. 

Finally, mention should be made of the film’s elaborate pre-titles sequence, in which a narrator solemnly intones on the history of witches and their evil doings against the backdrop of a series of surreal, witchcraft-themed drawings by the Spanish painter Francisco Goya (1746-1828). The sequence, which sets a morbid tone for what is to follow, was excised from the dubbed U.S. version of the film.

“To use their diabolical powers, witches resort to special potions, brooms, skeletons of children and animals, every kind of untanned hide, flasks and vessels of every shape, secret powders and dreadful poisons, and an infinite variety of lethal herbs. All this is used by an average witch. But only a superlative witch, endowed with a genuinely profound knowledge of the occult, can make use of a magical object of infinite powers and properties… the mirror!” [from the pre-titles sequence]

Fortunately, those interested in staring into The Witch’s Mirror have access to a diabolical tool: video streaming (not to mention DVD for old school occultists).

Where to find it: Streaming | DVD/Blu-ray  

In Praise of MMA, Part Two: Masked Mexican Athletes vs. the Monsters

Back in August, I conducted a poll on X.com to gauge interest in themes for my October blog posts. The options were:

• Monster rallies
• Sinister healthcare
• Terrifying Travel
• Mexican horrors

In a spirited race, Mexican horrors started out strong, and managed to win with 38.2% of the vote despite a surge for Monster rallies. I decided to indulge myself with a post on Universal’s monster rallies in September, but now, with the advent of October and the official Halloween season, a promise is a promise, so now I turn to Mexican Monster Action.

In a brilliant move, I thought I would have my cake and eat it too by following up my last post with one about Mexican Monster Rallies -- and there are a surprising number of them to choose from (please, no thanks are necessary!).

In 1957, at the very height of American B movie makers' infatuation with all things science fiction, a Mexican movie producer, Abel Salazar, swam against the tide, releasing a high Gothic horror film, El Vampiro (The Vampire), starring Germán Robles. The film, heavily influenced by the Universal horrors of the ‘30s and ‘40s, itself may have sparked the worldwide resurgence of Gothic horror in the late ‘50s. According to film scholar Doyle Greene,

“El Vampiro’s commercial and critical success in Mexico not only provided the impetus for the increased production of Mexican horror films throughout the next two decades, but Christopher Lee reportedly stated that El Vampiro, a popular and critical success in Europe as well as Mexico at the time of its original release, was a major source of inspiration for Hammer Studios’ glossier Horror of Dracula (1958, made one year after El Vampiro) -- a film instrumental in launching the Hammer dynasty of horror films.” [Doyle Green, Mexploitation Cinema: A Critical History of Mexican Vampire, Wrestler, Ape-Man and Similar Films, 1957-1977, McFarland, 2005, p. 8]

Corresponding to the flood of Hammer horror films, El Vampiro spawned a mini-universe of Mexican monsters, including vampires, werewolves, man-made monsters and mummies that would have felt right at home on Universal’s backlot. Salazar, knowing a good thing when he saw it, went on to produce (and even act in) some of the better, surreally frightening Mexican horrors, all of which have earned passionately loyal fans: The Vampire’s Coffin (El ataúd del vampiro, 1957), The World of Vampires (El mundo de las vampiros, 1961), The Witch’s Mirror (El espejo de la bruja, 1962; which I will be reviewing later this month), The Brainiac (El barón del terror, 1962, with one of the craziest monsters of them all), and Curse of the Crying Woman (La maldición de la Llorona, 1963), among others.

Around the same time that Salazar was creating his monster mini-universe, the enormously popular masked luchador and folk hero El Santo (born Rodolfo Guzmán Huerta in 1917) was lured into making films by a fellow wrestler. After playing the hero’s sidekick in his first two films, Santo’s movie career took off when he became the main hero and star of Santo vs. the Zombies (Santo contra los zombies) in 1961. Santo would eventually complete 53 movies before hanging up his distinctive silver mask. [Wikipedia]

In the course of his film career, Santo went up against every type of monster, as well as more conventional adversaries like crime bosses and spies. And he wasn’t always alone. His fellow luchador (and rival in the wrestling ring) Blue Demon (Alejandro Moreno) -- who would branch out into his own solo movie career -- joined Santo to fight evil in a number of films. Crime bosses are one thing, but a gang of monsters calls for teamwork.

Bless their heroic hearts, in the early ‘70s, at a time when Hammer had just about exhausted its reinterpretations of the classic monsters, the masked luchadores were just getting started battling bargain basement versions of Dracula, the Frankenstein monster, the Wolf Man and the Mummy -- and sometimes all of them at once.

To those fun-loving fans who enjoy rummaging around in bargain basements, here are a couple of Santo-Blue Demon collaborations that maximize the monster mayhem, and are fine examples of Mexican monster rallies:

Santo and Blue Demon vs. the Monsters (Santo el enmascarado de plata y Blue Demon contra los monstruos; 1970)

In “real” life (meaning Mexican wrestling life), Santo and Blue Demon were bitter rivals. This carried over into the wrestler team-up movies, where Blue Demon was “particularly unhappy about being reduced to Santo’s sidekick in their film pairings.” [Greene, p. 86]

The tension between the two is perfectly reflected in this monster rally, via the plot device of the villainous mad scientist (Bruno Halder, played by Carlos Ancira) kidnapping Blue Demon and making a perfect duplicate of the wrestler, which obeys Halder’s every command.

In addition to duplicating people, Halder has perfected the art of reviving the dead, which he puts to good use, creating his own gang of burly, green-faced zombies. In an ambitious move, Halder next resuscitates a monstrous A-team of a top-hatted vampire, an overweight werewolf (hombre lobo), a Frankenstein monster knock-off (bewilderingly named Franquestain, complete with a mangy beatnik-style mustache and beard!), an anemic, emaciated mummy, and a Cyclops creature that can live underwater (bargain basement Creature from the Black Lagoon anyone?).

For all this effort, Halder’s primary goal seems to be nothing more than to destroy his brother Otto (Ivan J. Rado), an academic who works for good instead of evil, and his beautiful niece Gloria (Hedi Blue), who just happens to be Santo’s girlfriend. But before he dispatches them, Halder wants his family members to witness his awesome powers in assembling a monster army (Bwwwahhhahahahaha!).

If you’re going to do a monster rally, then gosh darnit, the monsters should rally! And rally they do, not once but several times (with Blue Demon’s evil twin leading the way) -- in the woods where they ambush Santo, in the wrestling arena where they interrupt a match, in a fancy nightclub, and finally at Halder’s castle for the final confrontation between Good and Evil.

The kitchen staff at Halder's castle wondered what happened to their salad bowls.

This being a low-budget affair with a limited runtime, the script skips any background on how Halder assembled his gang of classic (sort of) monsters -- it’s enough that they’ve reported for duty and are subject to his every command. Writer/producer Jesus Sotomayor Martinez’ heart was definitely in the right place in this homage to the Universal monsters, but for purists it’s a sort of backhanded compliment.

Dracula’s stand-in (David Alvizu) is never without his hat, even in flight (or in his coffin), which provides for some unintentional (?) laughs -- it seems to be affixed to his head with some form of supernatural superglue. Franquestain (Tinieblas) is highly reminiscent of Universal’s monster, so I imagine the stringy facial hair and idiosyncratic name were intended to provide some meager cover for a copyright infringement claim.

Franquestain is confident his disguise will fool Universal's lawyers.

Even more disappointing are the Wolf Man and Mummy stand-ins.These characters look like they were cast by randomly tapping passersby on the street. The portly Hombre Lobo (Vincente Lara), sporting a few tufts of hair glued to his face and plastic fangs, looks like he would be hard-pressed to take on the ring girls at a wrestling match, much less the muscle-bound luchadores. And his skinny compadre La Mumia (Fernando Rosales) definitely could use a hot meal and a place to crash (but at least this mummy got to party with his fellow monsters, which Kharis never got to do in the Universal rallies).

The Cyclops (Gerardo Zepeda) is a fish out of water, looking like a sad reject from Jim Henson’s workshop. A quick scene in which he’s shown hanging out underwater doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the rest of the plot, except to perhaps suggest that he’s a weird one-eyed cousin of Universal’s Gillman. During several fight scenes, the Cyclops is privileged with intermittent close-ups in which he stares skyward with his one red eye, his mouth opening and closing as if he were intently following every move of a lucha libre match. He is weirdly cuddly.

The Cyclops is starstruck at being in the same film with Santo and Blue Demon.

Also strangely endearing are the breaks from monster mayhem to shoehorn in wrestling footage and a dance number or two. The film opens with a lengthy sequence featuring real (or real-looking) footage of a women’s tag team match, with a breathless announcer doing play-by-play, and punctuated by shots of Santo watching the match. Later, Santo, his girlfriend and her father take a break from monster hunting by watching a couple of elaborately staged dance numbers at a nightclub.

This is Old School with a capital O and S, reminiscent of the American movie-going experience of the ‘30s and ‘40s, in which an attendee could expect a newsreel (often covering sporting events), and at least one extended song or dance number inserted into a feature, regardless of genre (the lucha libre films saved time and effort by simply embedding the “newsreels” into the films themselves).

As Doyle Greene explains, heavy-handed government censorship at the time prompted the filmmakers to insert extended footage of wrestling matches (the dance numbers were just icing on the cake):

“This stratagem [insterting match footage] not only capitalized on the widespread popularity of lucha libre in Mexico, but, by placing the wrestling matches in the context of a horror or other film, it allowed movie producers to circumvent the television ban on lucha libre broadcasts enacted by the Mexican government in the mid-1950s and provide the Mexican public an opportunity to see Santo and other famous wrestlers in a mass media setting (film rather than television).” [Greene, p. 11]

Santo, Gloria and Otto enjoy dinner and a show between monster attacks.

Whatever its merits (or lack of them), S&BD vs. the Monsters was made by people who clearly loved the Universal monsters. In a lengthy opening titles sequence wherein each of the major cast members are introduced one-by-one, the monsters are introduced first, with the rest of the cast trailing behind, almost as an afterthought. Sure, we can quibble with the execution while still lauding the intent (let’s face it, the meager budget was stretched pretty thin with all those creatures). Much of it is goofy, but it’s also a lot of fun.

It's monster mayhem in the wrestling ring!

Bonus rally: Santo and Blue Demon vs. Dracula and the Wolf Man (Santo y Blue Demon contra Dracula y el Hombre Lobo; 1973)

Released just a couple of years after S&BD vs. the Monsters, Dracula and the Wolf Man, while retaining the grand goofiness of luchadores going up against Gothic monsters, at the same time has elements that make it seem like a movie from a different era.

Dracula/Wolf Man echoes its predecessor with the villain (the evil Count in this one) fixated on exacting horrific revenge on a family… and then possibly taking over the world if they have any time or energy left. It seems that centuries ago, a wise old alchemist by the name of Cristaldi created a holy dagger with which he killed Dracula (Aldo Monti) and his protege Rufus Rex (el hombre lobo, played by Agustín Martínez Solares) before they could carry out their evil plans.

In present day Mexico, a hunchbacked henchman, Eric (Alfredo Wally Barrón), who is apparently the latest in a long line of acolytes dedicated to serving the Count, sends a letter to Prof. Cristaldi (Jorge Mondragón), a direct descendent of the alchemist, threatening impending doom for his entire family. The professor has a lot to lose, including his widowed daughter Laura (María Eugenia San Martín), a granddaughter, and a niece, Lina (Nubia Martí), who happens to be Santo’s girlfriend. Fearing the worst, he asks Santo for help.

In an unguarded moment, Eric kidnaps the professor and takes him back to a cavernous lair where the bodies of Dracula and Rufus are interred. In a horrifying scene which pays homage to Hammer films and ups the bloody ante considerably, Eric strings up Cristaldi by his feet over the Count’s coffin and slits his throat to allow the blood to drip onto Dracula’s corpse, thereby reviving him. He rinses and repeats over the Wolf Man’s coffin, and voila, the terrible two are alive again to wreak havoc against the Cristaldi clan. (Hammer fans will immediately recognize this as the device that resurrects Christopher Lee’s Dracula: Prince of Darkness. For memories about seeing that scene and others like it for the first time, see my post, “I Can’t Believe My Parents Let Me Watch That, Part 2.”)

Suzi, realizing she was about to be sacrificed, was at least
grateful that the dungeon had forced air heating.

Dracula enlists Rufus, who is quite the ladies’ man when he isn’t growing wolf hair out of every orifice, to seduce unsuspecting Laura, with the ultimate aim of turning mother and daughter into slavish zombies. Meanwhile, Santo enlists Blue Demon in the search for the missing professor. They find him, but too late -- after being drained of blood, the professor suffers the final indignity of being zombified.

For all their legendary folk status, Santo and Blue Demon are particularly clueless in this one. Even when they’re supposedly on guard at the Cristaldi casa, evildoers come and go at will, stealing the magical dagger, menacing the granddaughter, putting the bite on the housekeeper, and generally traipsing through the place like they owned it. Where is that Ring doorbell when you need it? In one particularly egregious case, the wrestlers are preoccupied with a game of chess while Dracula hypnotizes Lina right under their masked noses.

And when they’re not letting their guard down at Cristaldis’ place, they’re blundering into traps. At one point Eric lures the pair to a warehouse where they’re ambushed by henchmen, Adam West Batman-style (only the Pow!, Thunk! And Zap! cartoon balloons are absent). Lina, disobeying Santo’s order to stay home, follows the pair, and saves their bacon by hopping on a forklift and plowing boxes onto the henchmen. (Score one for independent women!)

- "I forgot, whose move is it?"
-"Hey, where's Lina going?"

The final showdown takes place appropriately enough at Dracula’s lair, where Santo and Blue Demon encounter not only the Count and Rufus Rex, but gangs of wolf men and vampire women (make of that particular gender alignment what you will). The surreal fun is enhanced with a couple of rousing games of walk-the-plank over a pit of sharpened stakes. Ouch!

While the wrestlers of course prevail, the mood is much darker than the goofy 1970 monster bash, the heroes more flawed, and the final casualty count among the Cristaldi's is sobering. It's as if the outside world’s political and social upheavals had finally come home to roost in the minds of the filmmakers.

On the plus side, Lina is a scrappy, refreshing change from the typical helpless damsel in distress, saving Santo not once but twice! And in keeping with the darker tone, the look of Dracula and the Wolf Man are much more in line with their Universal counterparts (although Rufus in full make-up gets far too little screen time).

"Just wanted to let you know before we fight these guys, this shirt is dry-clean only."

If you only have the time or patience to see one Santo monster mash, Dracula/Wolf Man's fidelity to the spirit of the classic monsters (not to mention some surprisingly dark and bloody sequences) makes it a strong candidate.

Dracula and the Wolf Man play walk the plank with Blue Demon!

Abject apology: Since this post on Santo and Blue Demon took on a life of its own, look for Waldemar Daninsky in a new post, coming soon!