Planet of the Vampires

(1965) Directed by Mario Bava; Written by Ib Melchior, Alberto Bevilacqua, Callisto Cosulich, Mario Bava, Antonio Roman, Rafael J. Salvia, and Louis M. Heyward (English version); Screen Story by Ib Melchior Based on the short story “One Night of 21 Hours”: by Renato Pestriniero; Starring: Barry Sullivan, Norma Bengell, Ángel Aranda, Evi Marandi, Franco Andrei and Federico Boiso; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ***½

“Do you know what that mysterious planet in Terrore nello Spazio was made of? … A couple of plastic rocks – and I mean ‘two’: one and one! – that were left over from some mythological picture made at Cinecittà. To assist the illusion, I had to fill the set with fog!” – Mario Bava 

“I'll tell you this, if there are any intelligent creatures on this planet... they're our enemies.” – Captain Mark Markary (Barry Sullivan)

Mario Bava had a knack for making low-budget movies look much more expensive than they really were. Undoubtedly, his prior experience as a cinematographer informed his directorial decisions, regarding the film’s appearance with a critical eye. Planet of the Vampires (aka: Terrore nello Spazio), a co-production with American International Films, is no exception, with imagery that could have been in a multi-million-dollar Hollywood production, instead of a movie made for a scant $200,000. Reflecting the international flavor of the production, Planet of the Vampires* boasted an international cast, including American actor Barry Sullivan,** his Brazilian co-star Norma Bengell, Spanish actor Ángel Aranda, and a host of Italian performers. The title (imposed by American International) is a misnomer, since there are no vampires in the film. As many have pointed out, a more accurate title would have been Planet of the Zombies, although in all fairness, either title indicates the sci-fi/horror hybrid that we’re about to see. 

* Fun Fact #1: Before it was known as Planet of the Vampires (or its Italian moniker, Terrore nello Spazio), the film’s title went through multiple iterations, including: Planet of Terror, The Shadow World (Bava’s preferred title), The Haunted World, The Outlaw Planet, The Warlords of the Outlaw Planet, and The Warlords of Planet 7. 

** Fun Fact #2: Mario Bava was reportedly unhappy with AIP’s insistence on casting 53-year-old Barry Sullivan, whom he considered too old for the lead role.

Two spaceships, the Argos and Galliot, answer a distress call from an alien planet. After Captain Markary (Barry Sullivan) loses contact with the Galliot, he and his crew land on the fog-shrouded planet.* But from the moment Markary and his team touch down on the barren, mist-covered wasteland, there seems to be a malevolent intelligence guiding their actions, prompting fear, anger and belligerence between the astronauts. The crew members manage to rein in their impulses long enough to investigate the condition of the Galliot and its occupants, only to discover that their counterparts are dead, including Markary’s brother. The corpses are buried, but to Argos crew’s horror they begin to reanimate, propelled by an unseen force. Before too long, the Argos crew begin to experience the fate of their sister ship, with confusion, violence, and death. Looking for answers, Markary launches an investigation of a nearby ancient alien spacecraft. They explore the derelict spaceship, discovering its fossilized pilot within, along with a voice recording from countless centuries ago.** Markary soon learns about the invisible alien intelligence that first lured the abandoned ship, along with the Gallion – a dying race known as the Aurans. Living on a different plane of existence, they embed their consciousness in the living or dead. Led by Markary, the dwindling crew of the Argos attempt to fend off their zombie comrades and Aurans long enough to escape the planet. 

* Fun Fact #3: The landing scene was shot in an aquarium filled with water. Colored chemicals were added to the water to simulate dust clouds. 

** Fun Fact #4: Bava and crew cobbled together many of the set pieces from found objects. One piece of “alien” equipment in the derelict spacecraft was the taillight from a 1956 Clipper (Packard). 

Over the ensuing decades, there’s been debate ad nauseam about how Planet of the Vampires inspired Alien,* but little agreement about how much was lifted from the original film. After years of dancing around the subject, Alien scribe Dan O’Bannon later confessed that the derelict spacecraft and its skeletal pilot provided the idea for the latter film’s “space jockey” sequence. Director Ridley Scott, on the other hand, adamantly denied he ever saw Bava’s film. Whatever extent was copied or who allegedly saw what, it’s safe to say that Planet of the Vampires’ DNA is in Alien. But that doesn’t necessarily imply that Alien is a “rip-off,” if we look at the history of movies (especially genre films) as a continuum, consciously and unconsciously recycling specific themes and imagery. Both Planet of the Vampires and Alien differ significantly enough in most respects to ensure that seeing one doesn’t guarantee you’ve already watched the other. 

* Fun Fact #5: While there’s much open to debate, there is one indisputable link between the two films. The 20-inch model ship (used for both Argos and Galliot) was fabricated for the shoot by effects maestro Carlo Rambaldi, also responsible for constructing the xenomorph for Alien (1979). 

Although few would attest that Planet of the Vampires is a paragon of performances, plotting, or story, few would deny it’s a great looking film. The costume design for the Argos crew is particularly memorable, with their black, high-collared uniforms that exude a cold, authoritarian appearance. The spacecraft are filled with cavernous gothic spaces – impractical where room would be at a premium, but effective from an artistic standpoint (if you think of the Argos and Galliot as flying castles, not scientifically accurate spaceship designs). Likewise, the surface of the planet takes on an unworldly aura, with its tentacle-shaped rock formations on the surface of the planet appear to have been alive at one time. The pervasive unsettling atmosphere running throughout the film reaches its apex in a scene when the reanimated corpses of several crew members rise from their graves, covered in ghostly plastic shrouds. 

The restored print is lovely to behold, with its saturated colors and noirish shadows (red and green gels create an eerie, atmospheric look). It’s easy to appreciate Mario Bava’s eye for aesthetics and endless ingenuity, making Planet of the Vampires look like an expensive production, despite using mostly in-camera effects. It’s unfortunate that the same attention wasn’t applied to other aspects of the production. Considering the number of screenwriters associated with the movie, the film is noticeably thin in the characterization and dialogue. Characters exist to move the plot along, but accomplish little else, with few standouts in the performances. Barry Sullivan looks suitably authoritative as the commander, however, and co-star Norma Bengell manages to bring glamour and gravitas to her somewhat underwritten role. Ultimately, I admire the film more than love it, but in the same breath can’t deny its impact on the genre. Faults be damned, it just looks cool, and few have done it as well as Mario Bava. Planet of the Vampires is a master class on doing more with less, and one of the most notable Italian sci-fi films of all time. 

 

Sources for this article: Radiance Blu-ray commentary by Tim Lucas; “Mario Bava’s Chthulucene - Terrore nello Spazio (Planet of the Vampires) from H.P. Lovecraft to Donna Haraway,” by Alessandro Brunazzo, Science Fiction Film and Television (Volume 16, Issues1-2, 2023)

 

 

In the Dust of the Stars

 

(1976) Directed by Gottfried Kolditz; Written by Joachim Hellwig and Gottfried Kolditz; Starring: Jana Brejchová, Alfred Struwe, Ekkehard Schall, Milan Beli, Silvia Popovici, Violeta Andrei and Leon Niemczyk; Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Rating: ***½

Akala (Jana Brejchová): “Our first law asks that no human may oppress another.”

Chief (Ekkehard Schall): “A nice thought. But the Turi have no culture. You see, by the time you are on your way home, the Turi will believe they were dreaming. Gods descended from heaven, they were friendly, and then they disappeared. They will likely pray to these gods. Their modest lives may become a little brighter. Nothing More. But that is a great deal.”

East Germany’s state-owned DEFA studios produced films in a wide variety of genres, including fantasies, westerns (no, really!), dramas, and a handful of science fiction movies. Their best-known production was probably the lavish (at least by East German standards) The Silent Star (aka: First Spaceship on Venus) (1960), which provided a visually impressive, albeit sterile vision of the future. Towards the tail end of DEFA’s small cycle of sci-fi movies was In the Dust of the Stars (aka: Im Staub der Sterne),*/** directed by Gottfried Kolditz (best known for his East German westerns). The 1976 East German/Romanian co-production begins conventionally enough, before veering off the rails, creating an experience unlike anything that preceded it. 

* Fun Fact #1: In the Dust of the Stars was the end-product of the DEFA Futurum group, an organization dedicated to creating films that were accessible to a wide audience, envisioning a positive future. Only two feature films (neither of which were well-received by critics at the time) were produced under DEFA Futurum: In the Dust of the Stars (1976) and the fountain-of-youth-themed Das Ding im Schloss (1979). 

** Fun Fact #2: Although not considered a success at the time, In the Dust of the Stars drew 800,000 East German filmgoers in the first 13 weeks.

A team of cosmonauts from the planet Cynro respond to a distress signal from the planet Tem-4, nearly crashing their spacecraft in the process. They meet with Ronk (Milan Beli) a representative of Tem-4,* who informs them that the signal was a mistake. While Captain Akala (played by Czech actress Jana Brejchová)** accepts an invitation to a party in their honor, her second in command (and love interest), Suko (Alfred Struwe), stays behind to test his doubts about the Temians’ sincerity. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew enjoy the wild celebration, including scantily clad dancers, drugs in aerosol spray cans, large snakes, and a feast fit for royalty. Suko determines that the party was an attempt by the Temians to divert the crew from the grim reality of the situation on Tem-4. The Temians are not the original inhabitants of the planet, but the peaceful Turi (who covertly initiated the distress call), have been enslaved to mine raw materials.*** Akala and her crew are faced with a dilemma: intervene between the Temians and Turi, or return to Cynro without taking action. 

* Fun Fact #3: Much of the film was shot on location in the otherworldly region of Pâclele Mari, Romania – home of the Berca mud volcanoes. 

** Fun Fact #4: Jana Brejchová was once married to the famous Czech director Miloš Forman.

*** Fun Fact #5: The Slănic salt mine stood in for the underground quarry where the Turi labored.

Most of the characters are not fully fleshed out, but archetypes to illustrate their differing ideologies. Captain Akala is conflicted about the correct path forward, doubting herself and their mission. Suko, harbors a healthy dose of skepticism about the Temians, Crew member Miu (Regine Heintze), who does an impromptu erotic dance (tastefully depicted in shadow), sides with the rest of the crew, seemingly content to enjoy herself and remain neutral about the Temian situation.

If you think the characters are too vanilla (minus Miu’s dance, of course), hold onto your hats, because you won’t be prepared for the Chief, played with zeal by noted East German stage actor, Ekkehard Schall.* The flamboyant Chief (who makes James Bond’s most memorable foes seem humdrum by comparison) represents a vision of capitalist decadence, enjoying the fruits of the Turi’s labors. In contrast to the enslaved race, he indulges in a hedonistic lifestyle with disco-punk aesthetics, sporting alternating hair colors to mirror his capricious moods and wearing costumes that would make Elton John jealous (I wish an entire movie had been dedicated to him and his wacky exploits). When he’s not barking orders to his lackey Ronk, he orchestrates extravagant music and dance displays** with his electronic console.   

* Fun Fact #6: Schall was married to Barbara Berg, daughter of noted playwright Bertolt Brecht.

** Fun Fact #7: The film’s standout outdoor dance scene was filmed at Romania’s Măgura Sculpture Camp.

It’s unfortunate that In the Dust of the Stars concludes on a less-than-satisfying note, raising more questions than answers: Did the workers start a successful revolt? What will happen with Akala, who stays behind on Tem-4? Will the remaining crew return with military reinforcements from Cynro? Don’t bother looking for answers, since no sequel ever materialized. Ultimately, the film’s parts are better than the sum: notably, Ekkehard Schall’s over-the-top performance, eccentric costume designs, and spirited dance sequences. Despite (or maybe because of) its initial critical and box office underperformance, In the Dust of the Stars should have been the perfect candidate to become a cult movie, running the midnight movie circuit. While it has yet to make much of an impact on audiences, it’s never too late to discover this amusing curio from a bygone era. 

 

Sources for this article: Blu-ray commentary by Rolland Man (presented by David Melville Wingrove); DEFA at the Crossroads of East German and International Film Culture, Edited by Marc Silberman and Henning Wrage; “East Germany's Werkstatt Zukunft: Futurology and the Science Fiction Films of defa-futurum,” by Sonja Fritzsche, German Studies Review (May, 2006, Vol. 29, No. 2)

 

 

Viva Mexico Month II Quick Picks and Pans

 

Rapiña (1975) Porfirio (Ignacio López Tarso), a poor woodcutter, witnesses an airplane crash in the mountains near his home. He picks through the bodies and wreckage for valuables, hording his collection in a nearby cave. He brings his brother-in-law, Evodio (Germán Robles), to the crash site, to gather more of the dead’s belongings before the authorities arrive. Porfirio’s lofty ambitions for his family quickly erode into madness, as his greed gives into paranoia and eventually murder. Much like his brilliant later film, Poison for the Fairies (1982), writer/director Carlos Enrique Taboada has constructed another insightful, mesmerizing study of the worst aspects of human nature. 

Rating: ****. Available on Blu-ray (included in the Vinegar Syndrome box set, Mexican Gothic: The Films of Carlos Enrique Taboada) and DVD (Out of print)

Museo (2018) In this fictionalized account of a real-life incident, two bored 20-something ne’er-do-wells, Juan and Benjamin (Gael García Bernal and Leonardo Ortizgris, respectively) perpetrate a heist of several priceless artifacts from the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City. The initial thrill turns into desperation as they unsuccessfully attempt to sell the hot items, while evading a nationwide manhunt. Beyond the ingenuity of the initial heist, it becomes clear that they’re completely out of their depth. Director/co-writer Alonso Ruizpalacios focuses on the dynamic between the two young men, with Juan as the dominant mastermind and Benjamin as his reluctant accomplice. This compelling character study is much less interested in trying to answer why they did what they did, choosing instead to explore the ramifications of one bad decision after another.   

Rating: ****. Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Scherzo Diabolico (2015) Aram (Francisco Barreiro), a meek accountant, is tired of being a doormat for his dead-end job and estranged wife. One day, he succumbs to the pressures of his unfulfilling life, hatching a scheme to get even with his boss. He kidnaps the boss’s teenage daughter, setting a chain of strange events in motion. As his boss’s life crumbles, Aram’s fortunes improve, with a promotion (his boss’ old position), a bigger salary and a fling with his secretary. But hell hath no fury like a captive teenage girl, who unleashes her revenge against him and his family. What begins as a pitch-dark comedy gradually devolves into a blood-soaked horror thriller. Depending on your tastes, the visceral third act will either suck you in or turn you off. Tread carefully.   

Rating: ***½. Available on Blu-ray (Region B), DVD and Tubi

Shadow of the Pepper Tree (aka: Wild Blue Moon) (1992) Co-writer/directors Francesca Fisher and Taggart Siegel present a cautionary tale, set in rural Mexico, circa 1968. Luna (Mayra Serbulo) the daughter of a powerful village witch (Socorro Avelar) sets out on her own when her mother refuses to instruct her on the ways of magic. She establishes her own practice and falls in love with an ex-patriot American artist (Thom Vernon). He abandons her when he learns she’s pregnant, becoming involved with a dancer in town. She plots her revenge against him and everyone else in his circle, but as she soon learns, evoking black magic comes with serious consequences. Mayra Serbulo impresses in her nuanced performance as a young woman whose ambitions exceed her grasp of the power she wields. 

Rating: ***½. Available on Tubi

The Bat Woman (1968) Gloria (Maura Monti) is a wealthy socialite who moonlights as the masked luchador/crime fighter Bat Woman. She battles her archenemy Dr. Williams (Roberto Cañedo), a mad scientist who wishes to create an army of unstoppable fishmen.  I have no idea how this got made, considering the obvious parallels to the Batman series, but I’m sort of glad it exists (her skimpy outfit clearly mimics the costumes worn by her American counterpart, albeit with about 70 percent less material). Despite the obvious copyright infringement, it’s harmless, silly fun.

Rating: ***. Available on Blu-ray 

Night of 1,000 Cats (1972) René Cardona Jr’s horror thriller plays like a twist on Bluebeard and The Most Dangerous Game, with a Euro-horror flair. Hugo Stiglitz stars as Hugo, a millionaire playboy with a disturbing hobby. He seduces young women, luring them to his sprawling estate and killing them, so he can keep their heads as trophies. The leftover bits are fed to the titular cats that he keeps locked up in a pit (I think you can see where this is going). It’s predictable and not terribly original, but worth a look for the audacious plot and Stiglitz’s deranged performance.   

Rating: ***. Available on DVD and Tubi

Halley (2012) Alberto (Alberto Trujillo) suffers from an unspecified degenerative disease that’s causing his body to decompose. He works as a security guard at a gym, where his sickly, emaciated form contrasts sharply with the health-minded people working out. His boss (Luly Trueba) takes an interest in him, vainly trying to enjoy life’s simple pleasures. The film moves at a deliberate pace, which seems to match Alberto’s slow movement. It’s a painful portrait of a man incapable of enjoyment, which doesn’t spare us the sordid details of his condition. While difficult to watch, it features an excellent, fearless performance by Trujillo (He was so convincing, I had to check online to see if he’s all right. Don’t worry, he’s okay.). It’s not a film I would readily recommend, unless you’re a connoisseur of misery. 

Rating: ***. Available on Tubi

Don’t Panic (1987) Here’s another head-scratcher from writer/director Rubén Galindo Jr. the same director who brought us the bonkers Cemetery of Terror (1985).* Michael (Jon Michael Bischof) is an ordinary high school student whose birthday party goes wrong in a hurry. Some friends bring out a Ouija board, summoning demonic forces. One of his classmates embarks on a killing rampage, while Michael sees visions of the murders (his eyes glow red). No one believes him, as he runs around in dinosaur pajamas, screaming like a banshee. None of this makes much sense, but it’s entertaining throughout. There’s always something to doubt your sanity over, including the bizarre twist ending that might just make your head explode. 

* Fun Fact: If you haven’t seen Cemetery of Terror, don’t worry, the filmmaker manages to throw in some scenes from his previous movie. 

Rating: **½. Available on Blu-ray

Cronos

 

(1993) Written and directed by Guillermo del Toro; Starring: Federico Luppi, Ron Perlman, Claudio Brook, Margarita Isabel and Tamara Xanath; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ****

 

“The first movie articulates your universe. To me, Cronos contains the essence of what I want to do. I always was interested in the stories of familiar relationships that are either decomposing or decomposed. Even in the short, “Geometria,” [an early film school project] that’s there – the idea that the family either implodes or destroys itself, or finds union in the imperfections. It’s in every movie I do. Every one. Even the most commercial ones.” – Guillermo del Toro (from 2010 interview)

“When filming Cronos, his first big movie, Guillermo was very humble about the responsibility he was charged with. And being somebody who has a true passion and reverence for the medium, he put a lot of pressure on himself. But once he started filming, it seemed like he had been doing it his whole life. The minute I saw the imagery, I knew I was dealing with somebody in the same class as Luis Buñuel and François Truffaut.” – Ron Perman (excerpted from his essay, “Resurrection,” Guillermo del Toro – Cabinet of Curiosities)

If vampire-themed literature and films have taught us anything, the path to immortality comes at a terrible cost. The selfish pursuit of abnormally extended life is often fraught with disastrous results, at the expense of the innocent, and the forfeiture of our humanity. Sadly, in recent years, the concept of vampirism seems to have shifted from fantasy to reality among the ultra-wealthy. Filmmaker Guillermo del Toro’s debut feature film, Cronos, explores the pitfalls of such a perilous and ultimately hollow pursuit. It’s an innovative take on vampire lore, in which the word “vampire” is never used.* 

* Fun Fact #1: This was an intentional omission on the writer/director’s part, who felt that audiences already knew enough about vampires to deduce what the main character became. 

In the film’s prologue, we learn about the origin of the Cronos device, created by a 16^th century alchemist who fled to Mexico to escape the Spanish Inquisition. Skip to present-day Mexico City, where Jesus Gris (Federico Luppi), an elderly shopkeeper, runs an antique store. He uncovers the artifact hidden inside the base of an archangel statuette and inadvertently activates it. The gold clockwork device, resembling a giant scarab, latches onto his hand, drawing a copious amount of blood (an interior view of the mechanism reveals a series of gears and an insect trapped within). */**/*** Angel (Ron Perlman), an American living in Mexico, purchases the statuette unaware that it’s now missing the coveted device. He brings it back to his ailing industrialist uncle, de la Guardia (Claudio Brook), who’s less than elated with the absence of the artifact. The enraged de la Guardia sends his nephew back to the shop to retrieve the Cronos device.  Meanwhile, Jesus finds his body changing. Despite his initial reluctance, he’s drawn to the device – the more he uses it, the younger his appearance. But there’s a price for employing the Cronos device, a craving for blood. At his uncle’s urging, Angel will stop at nothing to retrieve the ancient alchemist’s creation, including badgering, intimidation and physical violence. But death doesn’t come so easily for someone under the influence of the Cronos device. 

* Fun Fact #2: According to del Toro, the idea for the Cronos device originated from a curious fad in 1960s/1970s Mexico, in which shiny metallic beetles were encapsulated and worn as living jewelry. 

** Fun Fact #3: The film’s producers wouldn’t approve additional funds to depict the device’s inner workings, so del Toro sold his van for money to create the VW Beetle-sized interior replica, using gears from a 19^th century textile machine painted gold, and cow innards for the insect. 

*** Fun Fact #4: 13 gold-plated devices were created for the movie, with working mechanisms created by del Toro’s father-in-law. Sadly, all the originals were stolen.

Federico Luppi (who would later appear in del Toro’s The Devil’s Backbone) portrays a painfully believable and sympathetic lead – a kindly old man who falls into a situation far beyond his reckoning. There’s something profoundly unsettling about the device, but he uses it anyway. The promise of turning back the clock is far too enticing, becoming an addiction he can’t shake. As de la Guardia smugly points out to Jesus, there are rules (but what those rules precisely are, remain unknown). When he revives from what should have been a fatal car accident, he experiences an existential crisis, grappling with what he’s become.* There’s a refreshing tenderness to Jesus’ relationship with his granddaughter, Aurora (Tamara Xanath).**/*** When he returns from the dead, the first person he returns to is Aurora. She appears unfazed by his pallid, zombie-like appearance (somewhat resembling Christopher Lee’s creature in Curse of Frankenstein). Unlike countless other horror films, she doesn’t recoil in fear, but feels elation in seeing her grandfather again. She does what she can to make him comfortable in his compromised state,**** never once regarding him as a monster. There is something oddly endearing about how she prepares her toybox as a makeshift coffin for her beloved grandpa. 

* Fun Fact #5: The scene where Jesus reads his own obituary was based on an incident from del Toro when he was 21, in which he read an obituary in the paper for someone with the same name. 

** Fun Fact #6: Del Toro modeled the grandfather/granddaughter relationship off his own relationship with his grandmother. As indicated in the end credits, the film is dedicated to his grandmother, Josefina Camberos. 

*** Fun Fact #7: In a nod to Night of the Hunter (in which stolen money was concealed inside a little girl’s doll) Aurora hides the Cronos device in her treasured stuffed toy, a teddy bear. 

**** Fun Fact #8: The sequence where Jesus reaches inside a gash in his belly parallels a similar scene in David Cronenberg’s Videodrome.

Del Toro referred to his villains in Cronos as “capitalist vampires.”* There’s never any doubt about who the real monsters of the story are. De la Guardia feeds off the less economically fortunate, while Angel can’t wait for him to die, so he can inherit his uncle’s vast wealth. As described by del Toro, de la Guardia is literally a “hollow man.” De la Guardia lives in a sterile chamber, surrounded by life support equipment, with his diseased organs preserved in jars.** Vampirism is a fitting metaphor for a man who lives in a state worse than death but paradoxically desires more life. Besides being del Toro’s first film, Cronos also marks the filmmaker’s first collaboration with Ron Perlman. As de la Guardia’s nephew/henchman, Perlman delivers a nuanced, idiosyncratic performance, making his character surprisingly sympathetic. We feel bad for him, enduring constant abuse from his hateful, unscrupulous uncle. Fun little quirks make him more than a mere stereotype (Angel wants to get a nose job, but can’t quite decide on the right nose). We don’t want him to succeed, but we can’t help feeling a little sorry for him at the same time.   

* Fun Fact #9: Del Toro purposely depicted them as somewhat cartoonish as payback for Hollywood’s often less-than-flattering portrayal of Mexican characters. 

** Fun Fact #10: In his commentary, del Toro revealed that he based the character of de la Guardia on a real-life case of a recluse who lived in Jalisco, Mexico. After the untimely death of his wife, the man accumulated jars of his nails, hair and various excretions over the course of 45 years.

Despite being an early piece of work, Cronos exhibits all the hallmarks that we have come to associate with a del Toro film, incorporating Catholic imagery and concepts, deliberate color schemes, shrouded antiquities, clockwork devices, and a wealthy antagonist with a warped sense of morality. A common thread throughout his work, clearly articulated here, is that people in positions of unchecked power often possess an elevated sense of importance and invulnerability which ultimately becomes their undoing. There’s a lovely attention to detail in the visuals and story in this multi-layered film, which rewards upon repeated viewings. Like the eponymous device, everything is more than it seems. Guillermo del Toro’s penchant for artistry and innovation with a meager $2 million budget (not a small sum for a Mexican independent film) would set the stage for bigger projects with loftier budgets, but one doesn’t need to look any further than Cronos to appreciate the depth of his talent. 

 

Sources for this article: Criterion Blu-ray commentary by Guillermo del Toro; Cabinet of Curiosities, by Guillermo del Toro and Marc Scott Zicree; 2010 Interview with Guillermo del Toro (Criterion Blu-ray)   

Santo vs. the Riders of Terror

 

(1970) Directed by René Cardona; Written by René Cardona and Jesús Murcielago Velázquez; Starring: Santo, Armando Silvestre, Julio Aldama, Mary Montiel, Gregorio Casal, Ivonne Govea and Carlos Agostí; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ***

 

“Being locked up in there was like being buried alive. It’s hardly a life at all. We want to die in the open air. That’s all.” – José (Gregorio Casal)

“There’s an even greater danger, doctor – mass hysteria amongst the townsfolk, those people infecting other pour souls, and not being able to do anything to stop it.” – Santo

Even if you know nothing about Santo, lucha libre, or professional wrestling in general, you’ve doubtlessly heard of Santo, the silver masked man. Santo (real name: Rodolfo Guzmán Huerta) enjoyed a prolific film career* outside the ring, starring in more than 50 movies from the late ‘50s to the early ‘80s. Over the years, he faced a diverse array of adversaries, including Frankenstein’s monster, vampires, werewolves, Martians, and international spies. In Santo vs. the Riders of Terror (aka: Santo Contra Los Jinetes Del Terror), our hero** faced a different kind of antagonist: ignorance and fear. There was also a spicier “international” version under the curious title Lepers and Sex (aka: Los Leprosos y el Sexo), but more on this in a moment… 

* Fun Fact #1: Although Santo was the most famous lucha libre star to make the transition from ring to screen, he was initially reluctant to appear in movies. 

** Fun Fact #2: While Santo made his mark in the wrestling arena and films as a hero (aka: “técnico”), he initially started out as a “rudo,” or villain.

Santo’s* latest adventure brings him to the old west. How did he get there? Did he invent a time machine to fight injustice in the 19^th century? Or is he the original Santo, first in a long line of Santos? So many questions, so few answers (perhaps we should just move on). The peace in a small town is disrupted when several individuals suffering from leprosy escape from their hospital compound. Panic ensues amongst the townspeople, as the patients make their way through the residents' homes, searching for food and supplies. It doesn’t take long to realize that the real villain of our story is Camerino (Julio Aldama), stirring up fear and distrust within the community, setting up the escaped patients as perfect scapegoats. Camerino’s rhetoric about taking matters into their own hands doesn’t sit well with Dario, the sheriff (Armando Silvestre), who might be in over his head. Thankfully, hope has arrived in the form of our silver-masked hero Santo, who brings his own brand of frontier justice. Meanwhile, Camerino hatches a scheme to manipulate the leprosy victims for his own selfish ends. Can Santo protect the town, prevent the senseless murder of the patients,** and defeat Camerino and his gang of outlaws? Hint: If you didn’t answer “yes,” you’ve likely never seen a Santo movie. 

* Fun Fact #3: Even if you watch a Santo movie in Spanish (as nature intended), you’re not hearing his actual voice. Santo was dubbed by several different actors over the years, with Óscar Morelli providing his voice for Santo Contra Los Jinetes Del Terror. 

** Interesting Fact (Spoiler Alert): At the film’s conclusion, Santo proclaims that a cure exists for leprosy. The only problem is that a reliable treatment (requiring a combination of drugs) wasn’t discovered until the early 1980s, roughly a century after the events depicted in the movie (Perhaps my theory about Santo being a time-traveler from the future wasn’t wrong).

Compared to some of his other adventures, you’d think people suffering from Hansen’s disease (leprosy) might not be the most compelling adversaries, but I’d blame the misleading title. While Camerino presents the leprosy patients as a boogeyman to the already frightened townspeople, he pretends to be the patients’ ally, only to implicate them in the murders and thievery inflicted by his gang. What he didn’t count on was our hero, who relies on his ingenuity (and formidable wrestling skills) to right wrongs. Since this is a Santo movie, you can bet there will be a wrestling match or two, but this time around, Santo’s wrestling scenes appear more contrived than usual. Film historian David Wilt speculated that the film might have been originally envisioned as a stand-alone western, before Santo was shoehorned into the plot. It’s tough to disagree with this position, considering Santo’s opponents in two fight scenes likely wouldn’t be more than a mild annoyance to the seasoned luchador.

Producer Guillermo Calderón jumped on the bandwagon for a short-lived trend in late ‘60s/early ‘70s Mexican filmmakers, who created versions exclusively for export.* Consequently, Calderón and director René Cardona added six minutes of sex scenes to the family-friendly Santo vs. the Riders of Terror, resulting in the more adult-oriented, Lepers and Sex.** Apparently fearing Santo’s status as a Mexican cultural icon wouldn’t translate to international audiences, Calderón added some enticement beyond the silver-masked man to sell movie tickets. Whether you think it’s a shrewd or cynical business move, the alternate cut indisputably exists (thanks to the deluxe Blu-ray edition from Indicator). Do these scenes help the plot, or move the story forward? No, not really, but not to “yuck” anyone’s “yum,” if you prefer your Santo movies a little more picante, this alternate version might fit the bill. Regardless of which one you prefer, after years of seeing poorly dubbed prints or versions with unwelcome snarky commentary, it’s a bit of a revelation to have not one, but two complete, unadulterated versions for your viewing pleasure. 

* Fun Fact #4: Prior to Riders of Terror, Calderón production of Santo in the Treasure of Dracula (1969) experienced a similar treatment, with a softcore export version (El Vampiro y el Sexo). 

** Fun Fact #5: The decision to create a softcore version was not without some controversy, with rumors that Santo didn’t know about what was going on behind the scenes (Santo, himself, never appears in the sex scenes), but this just doesn’t hold water. Considering that he was one of the co-producers, it’s unlikely the decision was made without his knowledge or input.

Don’t look for moral ambiguity in Santo vs. the Riders of Terror. As is de rigueur for the silver-masked man the heroes and villains are clearly delineated, with Santo and sheriff Dario standing for what’s good and just, and Camerino representing the evils of society. Despite the lurid, misnomer-laden title, the film takes a surprisingly even-handed approach to the unfortunate characters suffering from leprosy (perhaps a more representative title could have been Santo vs. Public Ignorance). As Santo’s only western (not to mention the aforementioned alternate cut), Santo vs. the Riders of Terror is a bit of an outlier, but an otherwise worthy entry in the luchador’s filmography.  

 

Sources for this article: Commentary by Film Historian David Wilt; “El Santo vs. Mystery Science Theater 3000,” by Emily Rauber Rodriguez, The Velvet Light Trap (Number 85, Spring 2020); The World of Lucha Libre, by Heather Levi

 

July Quick Picks and Pans

 

Brewster McCloud (1971) But Cort stars in the title role, as an odd, reclusive young man who lives in the basement of the Houston Astrodome, and dreams of flying like a bird. Sally Kellerman is Brewster’s guardian angel Louise, with wings tattooed on her back. Shelley Duvall (in her first film role) plays Suzanne, an eccentric young woman who befriends Brewster. The film boasts several bizarre supporting performances, including Margaret Hamilton as Daphne Heap, a tone-deaf socialite who attempts to sing the National Anthem (she does a parody of her Wicked Witch character). Stacy Keach also appears as a 99-year-old wealthy curmudgeon, and the story is told by Rene Auberjonois as the Lecturer, a college professor with a tenuous grip on his sanity. Amidst the mayhem, the police search for a serial killer who anoints his victims with bird poop. Director Robert Altman keeps a lot of threads going in this whimsical comedy/drama that almost defies description. It wasn’t a hit with critics or audiences, but I enjoyed its quirky vibe. 

Rating: ***½. Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Amuck! (1972) Barbara Bouchet stars as Greta, a young woman searching for her missing friend Sally (Patrizia Viotti), in this sexually charged giallo from writer/director Silvio Amadio. Greta takes a secretary job with her friend’s last-known employer, a morally ambiguous writer, played by Farley Granger. His wife Eleanora (Rosalba Neri) takes an interest in Greta, with less than honorable intentions. The plot has some nice twists and turns as the writer and his wife constantly gaslight Greta as she approaches the truth. This well-paced thriller is full of enough red herrings to keep you guessing (not to mention Bouchet and Neri are easy on the eyes). 

Rating: ***½. Available on Blu-ray (Region B), DVD (Region 2), and Tubi

Death Line (aka: Raw Meat) (1972) Donald Pleasence plays Inspector Calhoun, a sarcastic, world-weary police detective investigating a missing high-ranking government official. His investigation leads him to a closed-off section of the London Underground which was the site of a late-1800s construction disaster. We learn the survivors, isolated from the surface world, developed their own society, along with a taste for human flesh. Christopher Lee has a short but memorable cameo as a haughty MI5 agent, but the real draw is Pleasence, who chews the scenery every chance he gets. The film is a bit too leisurely paced for its own good, but the subterranean scenes are appropriately claustrophobic and the gory makeup effects are very well done. 

Rating: ***. Available on Blu-ray, DVD, Prime Video 

 Challenge the Devil (1963) The only devilish challenge is trying to stay awake while watching this movie. Slow to start, the film doesn’t really dive into the main story until 20 minutes have elapsed. The rest of the movie is told in flashback by a monk who, in his earlier days, hung out with a bad crowd. The young delinquents stumble into what seems like an abandoned castle, only to meet its owner (Christopher Lee), an elderly man. They become trapped in his castle with no discernable escape. Top-billed Lee is barely on screen, the characters are uniformly unlikeable, and the film moves at a sloth-like pace. Everyone but die-hard Christopher Lee fans should probably skip it. 

Rating: **. Available on Blu-ray (included in Severin’s The Eurocrypt of Christopher Lee Collection), DVD (out of print), Tubi and Midnight Pulp 

 

Death Warmed Up (1984) Michael (Micheal Tucker) becomes the unwitting participant in a medical mind-control experiment, resulting in him killing his parents. Seven years later, he’s released from prison and out for revenge against the doctor (Gary Day) who altered his brain chemistry. He and his friends face an army of deadly mutants in the secret island compound run by the doctor. Most of the film consists of the characters running around dark corridors, while spewing various bodily substances. It’s a confusing experience with paper-thin characters and very little payoff. Don’t bother. 

Rating: *½ . Available on Blu-ray, DVD and Tubi 

 

 

Dead Ringers

 

(1988) Directed by David Cronenberg; Written by David Cronenberg and Norman Snider; Based on the novel, Twins, by Bari Wood and Jack Geasland; Starring: Jeremy Irons, Geneviève Bujold, Heidi von Palleske, Barbara Gordon and Stephen Lack; Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Rating: ****

“When was the last time a gynaecologist was in a movie, even as a figure of fun? There’s something taboo there, something strange and difficult. A lot of people say, ‘I suppose women find this movie much harder to take.’ The answer is, ‘Not really.’ For a lot of women, the opening scene of gynaecological examination is no big deal. Later on, when it gets weird, of course it’s uncomfortable. But, for a lot of men, that very first scene is the worst. They’ve never been there; they’ve never seen it; they don’t want to think about it.” – David Cronenberg (excerpted from his book, Cronenberg on Cronenberg)

Twins (especially identical twins) share an uncanny bond that few of us non-twins can fully comprehend. To the outside observer, their relationship seems almost supernatural, including thinking the same thoughts to sharing similar tastes or sensations. Considering David Cronenberg’s predilection toward themes of duality, it’s easy to see why a film featuring twins as the primary characters would be an appealing subject. Dead Ringers is not as readily classifiable as some of his earlier films, neither horror nor science fiction, but adjacent to both. The film was inspired by the real-life story of Cyril and Stewart Marcus, twin gynecologists*/** who were discovered dead in Cyril’s New York City apartment in 1975. Their real-life tragedy, in turn, inspired Bari Wood and Jack Geasland’s fictional account, Twins. For his rewrite of the script, Cronenberg was strongly influenced by the real Marcus twins, as well as the 1976 Esquire article “Dead Ringers,” about their strange and morbid tale. Getting the film made was a 10-year uphill battle with Cronenberg facing squeamish executives who were on board with the idea of twins, but protesting, “Why do they have to be gynecologists?” Considering Cronenberg’s inherent fascination with permutations of the flesh and sexual politics, depicting his twins in some other random occupation was out of the question.   

* Fun Fact #1: Although Cyril and Stewart were twins, unlike their fictional counterparts in the film, they were not identical. Because they looked very similar and dressed alike, the misconception was perpetuated. This carried over to their practice, in which one would sometimes pretend to be the other to fool patients.  

The opening scene depicts young Elliot and Beverly Mantle trying to recruit a neighbor girl for their “experiment” in reproduction (their proposal goes over about as well as you would expect). The scene establishes their attitude on the otherness of female anatomy and their clinical approach to something that is more than a simple biological function. Flash forward to the twins in medical school, when much to the chagrin of their professor, the twins are using a medical instrument created by Beverly (which would later become the so-called “Mantle Retractor”)* to examine a cadaver (their instructor comments that it would never work on a living patient). The story moves to the present day, in which Elliot and Beverly share a thriving practice, as well as an apartment. Their tendency to share carries over to sexual partners, which backfires when a patient, Claire Niveau (Geneviève Bujold),** enters their lives (Beverly is especially drawn to her when he discovers that she possesses a rare anatomical abnormality). When she becomes wise to their deception, it unleashes a chain of events that contribute to their downfall. While Beverly slips into a self-destructive spiral of prescription drugs and paranoid delusions, Elliot isn’t too far behind. 

* Fun Fact #2: The Mantle Retractor is based on a real gynecological instrument invented in Toronto, Canada by Dr. Donald Balfour (the “Balfour Retractor”). 

** You can bet that Cronenberg will invariably have one of his characters make an off-the-wall proclamation, and Dead Ringers doesn’t disappoint, when Beverly muses that instead of the usual beauty pageants that focus on the outside, there should be a pageant for beautiful insides (“Best Spleen,” anyone?).   

To help create the illusion that Irons was two separate individuals,* Cronenberg and crew went beyond traditional split-screen effects. Film Effects of Toronto employed an “invisible traveling soft split-screen,” which allowed Irons to move around the frame, with no visible split. The crew also employed a motion-control camera for some scenes, so Irons could act out a scene as one twin and retrace his steps as the second twin. 

* Fun Fact #3: There are approximately 14 shots where the twins appear together.

The greatest special effect in the film, however, lies in Jeremy Irons’ masterful, nuanced performance, as Elliot and Beverly Mantle. Irons achieves nearly the impossible, convincing us there are two separate, flesh-and-blood individuals. Irons doesn’t fall on the familiar good/evil tropes for his depiction of the twins. The differences are more subtle, but they’re there. Elliot, the dominant twin, is outgoing and forthright, whereas Beverly is shy, introspective, and emotionally sensitive. Elliot loves to clamor for attention, teaching and promoting his profession, while Beverly prefers to stay out of the limelight, content to work in the research aspect. Despite their differences, they have more aspects in common, suggesting a symbiotic relationship. They are bound to one another to the point, when push comes to shove, the fear of separation is palpable. Beverly illustrates their unique connection when he discusses the strange case of so-called “Siamese twins” Chang and Eng with his brother (when one died, the other subsequently died from fright over the loss of his sibling).  

A rift between the twins develops when Beverly becomes emotionally entangled with Claire. Compared to the twins’ warped attitude on relationships, Claire brings a well-grounded perspective. Her reaction to being passed around by the two brothers without her consent or knowledge, like community property, is a horrifying proposition. When she calls them on their subterfuge, she uncovers (perhaps for the first time) how dysfunctional their behavior has been. Unlike most people that encounter the Mantles, she can discern between the two, and her preference for Beverly is clear.

Beverly’s deteriorating mental state is most disturbingly illustrated in a scene when he tries using his retractor on one of his regular patients. As established in an earlier scene she trusts him implicitly, which only makes his betrayal of that trust more painful. Her resulting discomfort is ignored by Beverly, who argues there’s nothing wrong with his instrument, effectively shutting her down. When he silences her objections, it lays bare the blind trust many patients have with their doctors, but most telling is the skewed power dynamic between the male doctor and female patient. When questioned by his brother, Beverly responds, “The woman’s body was all wrong.” Instead of ruminating on his trespasses, the incident only prompts him to commission a metal-working artist (Stephen Lack) to create stainless steel instruments of his own design, for “operating on mutant women”

David Cronenberg infuses a level of unreality into Dead Ringers, revealing the Mantles’ twisted world. One of the most striking visual embellishments are the crimson surgical garments by costume designer Denise Cronenberg. Rather than being neutral or calming, they invoke quite the opposite effect. The colorful yet unsettling surgical gowns contrast sharply with the Mantles’ apartment, with its sterile, slate-gray walls and spartan furnishings. Another example is the nightmare sequence: we focus on Claire until the camera pans over to reveal she’s in bed with Elliot and Beverly, who are joined by a pulsing conduit of flesh. But perhaps Cronenberg’s icing on this fetid cake are Beverly’s instruments (based on designs by Cronenberg, of course), which resemble alien torture devices (You don’t have to be a gynecologist to understand these were never intended for human beings). Frequent Cronenberg collaborator Howard Shore’s melancholic score is another key component in Dead Ringers, matching the intensity and sadness of the tale at hand. 

* Fun Fact: Cronenberg had filmed a second nightmare sequence, featuring a scrawny, parasitic Elliot emerging from Beverly. He decided to cut the scene after test screenings, because he felt it took the audience out of the film.

 

Duality is a theme that David Cronenberg has returned to repeatedly, not because he likes to beat his audience over the head with a tired old theme, but because he has so much to say about it. From Shivers to A History of Violence, the idea of dual lives is a common thread throughout Cronenberg’s filmography, and Dead Ringers is among his most cohesive works. It’s a compelling character study of a complicated and ultimately self-destructive relationship, made credible by Jeremy Irons’ never-less-than engaging double performance.

 

Sources for this article: Shout Factory Blu-ray commentary by William Beard; Cronenberg on Cronenberg, by David Cronenberg; David Cronenberg: Interviews, Edited by David Schwartz; “Dead Ringers: A Bizarre Case of the Death of Twins,” by Ron Rosenbaum and Susan Edmiston, Esquire (March 1, 1976); “Visuals for Dead Ringers Inspire Belief,” by Nora Lee, American Cinematographer (December 1988); “Our Surgical Heritage: The Legends of Exposure,” by Rao R. Ivatury, Panamerican Journal of Trauma, Critical Care and Emergency Surgery (2021, Volume 10, Issue 1)