The Diabolical Dr. Z

 

(1966) Written and directed by Jesús Franco; Adaptation and Dialogue by Jean-Claude Carrière; Starring: Antonio Jiménez Escribano, Estella Blain, Mabel Karr, Howard Vernon, Fernando Montes, Marcelo Arroita-Jáuregui, Cris Huerta, Guy Mairesse and Jesús Franco; Available on Blu-ray and DVD.

Rating: ***½ 

“I don’t think I have a definitive film. Such a thing is not possible for me. But if you’re curious about which film I would save from a fire, I should tell you Necronomicon (Succubus), Black Angel (Venus In Furs), and Miss Muerte (The Diabolical Dr. Z). They are the most sincere. They are the most close to my previous idea to do it, you know what I mean? I like the style of black cinema. I like the style of expressionisimo, and they are the most of myself. I don’t say that I love it, though, because I don’t...” – Jesús Franco (from 2009 A.V. Club interview) 

Jesús (“Jess”) Franco was an incredibly prolific filmmaker, credited with directing more than 200 movies (considering how many titles he directed under a pseudonym, we may never know the true count). Franco was so prolific that it’s easy to see how rumors spread about shooting more than one film at a time.* The Diabolical Dr. Z (aka: Miss Muerte) an unofficial adaptation of Cornell Woolrich’s 1940 novel, The Bride Wore Black, was itself re-made by Franco (sort of) several years later as She Killed in Ecstasy (1971). The French/Spanish co-production was filmed in and around Madrid.   

* Fun Fact #1: Although Tim Lucas perpetuated this rumor in his DVD commentary, Franco himself denied ever directing more than one film at a time, stating in an AV Club interview, “I never made two or three films together. This is impossible! I only have one head. It is impossible for me to think about two films at the same time…”

Set in Austria, the film takes place in the same universe as Franco’s earlier film, The Awful Dr. Orloff (1962). Dr. Zimmer (Antonio Jiménez Escribano),* who’s a disciple of the eponymous mad scientist (sharing his theories about good and evil residing in the nervous system), meets with the International Neurological Congress to present his findings. Unbeknownst to his fellow scientists, Dr. Z has already taken the step from animal to human experimentation. Presumably subscribing to the adage, “Ask for forgiveness, not permission,” Dr. Z requests clearance to use a human subject, which goes about as well as you’d expect. The subsequent shock of rejection by his peers is too much for him to take, but before he dies, he implores his daughter/assistant Irma (Mabel Karr) to continue his work. In Irma’s case, that means using her father’s experiments to take revenge against the men who discredited him. After faking her own death using a hitchhiker (Ana Castor)** as a stooge, Irma sets out to eliminate Dr. Z’s detractors. Using her father’s invention (a cool-looking but impractical device with flimsy mechanical arms), she brainwashes Miss Death (Estella Blain), an unassuming exotic dancer with freakishly long nails, to carry out her bidding.   

* Fun Fact #2: Despite being the title character, Dr. Zimmer only appears in the film’s first 12 minutes. 

** Fun Fact #3: According to film historian Tim Lucas, Castor was Franco’s first pick to play Irma.

Thanks to Alejandro Ulloa’s* gorgeous cinematography, The Diabolical Dr. Z is quite possibly one of the best-looking films Franco has ever made. Although Franco reportedly lamented the fact that many of his earlier films were filmed in black and white, it’s hard to imagine color enhancing the overall experience. Ulloa imbues Dr. Z with a noirish appearance, typified by long shadows, fog-drenched streets, and imposing low-angle shots. One of the film’s highlights is Miss Death’s sexy/creepy dance sequence on a spiderweb, foreshadowing her lethal mind-controlled escapades in future scenes. 

* Fun Fact #4: This film would prove to be Franco’s only collaboration with Ulloa, who would go on to lens Horror Express (1972).

As with many of Jesús Franco’s films, The Diabolical Dr. Z is akin to a waking dream, with logic taking a backseat. But considering the excesses of Franco’s later efforts, Dr. Z shows surprising restraint, most likely enforced by the censors of the time (Miss Death’s revealing costume notwithstanding). Besides the film’s neo-noir leanings, Dr. Z features some excellent performances by Mabel Karr’s as the icy Irma and Estella Blain as the aforementioned Miss Death. Franco himself has a nice semi-comic turn, in the (uncredited) role of the perpetually exhausted Inspector Tanner, who constantly complains about his triplet babies keeping him awake at night. Is The Diabolical Dr. Z proof to the Franco naysayers that he could make a good movie? Well, some naysayers are going to “nay,” no matter what. Those with an open mind (Francophiles and horror fans alike), however, might be pleasantly surprised by this stylish horror thriller.   

 

Sources for this article: Tim Lucas DVD commentary; JessFranco (interview), by Sean O’Neal, AV Club (2009)