Showing posts with label Little People. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Little People. Show all posts

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Gothic (1987): or, The Young Romantics are TRIPPING BALLS

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 19!

In the summer of 1816, in Sweden at the Villa Diodati, one of the most legendary gatherings of literary heavyweights in history is about to take place. One of England's most famous young poets, Percy Bysshe Shelley (Julian Sands) is to be the guest of one of its most infamous, the Mephistophelean Lord Byron (Gabriel Byrne). Shelley is accompanied by his beautiful future wife, Mary Godwin (Natasha Richardson)--not yet Mary Shelley, since the poet is still technically married to his first wife--and Mary's fiery, slightly unhinged stepsister Claire Clairmont (Myriam Cyr). Byron's sole companion is his physician, Dr. Polidori (Timothy Spall), a creepy little man with a more-than-professional interest in Byron's body. Once gathered, the group immediately engages in an orgy of free love, laudanum-fueled licentiousness, and nightmarish visions that will drive them to the brink of MADness, and will also give birth to one of the enduring horror myths of all time.

Warning: if you're in the mood for a Merchant Ivory-style biopic about the girl who wrote Frankenstein, this is NOT the movie you're looking for.

I had seen Gothic (1987) before, many years ago, but somehow I had forgotten how relentlessly, jaw-droppingly INSANE this movie is. Director Ken Russell--a man not particularly well-known for his even hand and cool restraint--takes the famous historical event as a springboard into a Phantasmagoria* of frenetic debauchery and borderline-surrealism. Everything is turned up to 11: the dialogue is overblown and operatic--literary references and quotes are dropped repeatedly and with great force. The music (by Thomas "She Blinded Me with SCIENCE" Dolby!) is hyperactive and intrusive, going from 80s synth rock to symphonic tempests to the Diodati Disco.  And the images...dear God, the images!

*Yes, I know.

A fish flopping helplessly (and pointlessly) in a stone birdbath. A writhing python draped around a suit of medieval armor. A merkin-jerkin' automaton. A demonic dwarf crouched on Mary's chest. Byron's menstrual vampirism. Claire's constant CRAZYFACE. Mary's visions of her dead baby. And Percy meeting a dream woman who never has to say, "Hey, my eyes are up here."

None of it makes very much sense, but Russell is clearly not interested in any sort of accurate historical representation--it's all about seeing how many beautiful, nightmarish images he can cram into 90 minutes. Turns out, the answer is "A Metric Shit-Ton."

The acting here is hard to judge. I said it was operatic, and it's true--there's lots of grand gestures, wild expressions, and screaming on key. Byrne really makes a meal of this diabolic version of Lord Byron, and Richardson is vulnerable and passionate as the future Mary Shelley. Cyr is a force of nature, with her wild black hair, huge, almost Steele-ian eyes, and a sensuality so raw it's almost bleeding. On the down side, Sands seems to have been hired solely for his (admittedly uncanny) resemblance to the actual Percy Shelley--even taking into account the over-the-topness of the script, he is uniformly terrible here.

Themes of birth, death, creation and destruction form only the thinnest framework for the unstoppable fever dream that is Ken Russell's Gothic--a movie so incredibly insane, if it were a person, you'd have to lock it up in the interest of public safety. This is, of course, the highest of recommendations. 3 thumbs way up!

This was exactly my facial expression during the entire runtime of Gothic.It will be yours too.

MORE MADNESS...

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Murders in the Rue Morgue (1971): or, Phantom of the Monkey Suit

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 2!

Jason Robards, of all people, stars in this AIP version of a gothicky thriller, EXTREMELY loosely based on the famous detective story by Edgar Allen Poe--by which I mean, even less tightly than the 1932 version with Bela Lugosi. Which is to say, not really based on it at all. 

Robards plays Cesar, the manager of a Grand Guignol-esque troupe who are performing their smash hit, The Murders in the Rue Morgue, at a theatre actually located in the Rue Morgue in Paris. All is going swimmingly until one night, the actor playing the ape Erik is brutally murdered, and his killer takes his place in that night's performance, which no one realizes on account of the monkey suit. It's only later they realize how meta things have become, as they have a murder at the Murders in the Rue Morgue,  IN THE RUE MORGUE. You see what they did there?

Things are twistier here than our old pal Eddie ever imagined, though, as what follows is less a faithful retelling of his pioneering tale of ratiocination than a mash-up of the Rue Morgue, "The Premature Burial", and The Phantom of the Opera, with a little Bloody Pit of Horror thrown in for good measure. A-List baddie Herbert Lom (later famously of Peter Sellers' Pink Panther series) here reprises his Phantom role from 1961 (with almost exactly the same makeup), playing former theatrical star Rene Marot, disfigured in a freak accident on stage and later a presumed suicide. Of course he hasn't stayed dead, and along with his dapper dwarf assistant Pierre (Michael Dunn), he sets out to wreak vengeance on those who wronged him, and to win the heart of Madeline (Christine Kaufmann), the daughter of his former lover (Lilli Palmer), which is of course not creepy at all.

Dark secrets, gothic settings, and batshit plot twists make this one a real barn burner. If you love the old "man in an ape suit" trope (and if you don't, let's face it, YOU'RE DEAD INSIDE), there's plenty to love here, including ape-man bending the bars of his cage, ape-man holding up decapitated head, and even ape-man swinging Errol Flynn-style from a chandelier! In addition, we get multiple acid-disfigurations (including a particularly nasty one with Eurobabe Maria Perschy, who would later co-star with the Mighty Mighty Molina in The Hunchback of the Morgue, Exorcismo, and Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll), some stylishly filmed, borderline surreal dream sequences, and even some Shakespeare allusions via Punch and Judy shows, administrated by the aforementioned dapper dwarf. Really, it's an embarrassment of riches.

The movie might strike some as a bit slight, but I admired its energy and complete dedication to throwing everything it could at the lens to see what would stick. Robards is a bit miscast, but the rest of the troupe do well, with Kaufmann almost Adjani-esque in her "am I crazy or what?" innocent role, and Lom excellent as always in the villain slot. With more than a couple of inventive twists near the end, this one stays entertaining until the final Dummy Death curtain call. Lush production values and period costumes round out the package, earning this one a 2.5 thumb rating. Fun stuff!

"WHO'S YER MESSIAH NOW?!"

MORE MADNESS...

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

The Devil Within Her (1975): or, The Little Things Hurt the Most

In case you're not aware of the fact, dear parishioners, the inimitable and irrepressible Emily I. has been hosting a ♥February of Horror Shorties♥ over at her wonderful webstop, Deadly Doll's House of Horror Nonsense (which if you're not already following, I suggest--nay, INSIST!--that you do so right now). In this shortest of months she's been paying tribute to the shortest of killers, be they implacable infants, demonic dwarfs, eeevil elves, or the titular deadly dolls. (I can only assume Malevolent Mannequins and Grumpy Golems are disqualified due to height limits.) Since I have a soft spot in my withered, blackened briquette of a heart for little people of the sinful variety myself, I could not pass the opportunity to throw my own comically tiny hat in the ring.

As luck would have it, Netflix instant offered up a doozy for me, a previously unknown-to-me flick from the seventies that not only boasts the formidable acting talents of Donald Pleasence, Joan Collins, and B-Movie royalty Caroline Munro, but also offers TWO tiny terrors for the price of one! Ladies and gentlemen, hold onto your pram handles for the wild 1975 killer kiddie flick with a difference, The Devil Within Her.

The liquor waited patiently. "Soon," it thought. "Very soon."

We open to find former exotic dancer and socialite Lucy Carlesi (Collins) in the midst of an extremely difficult labor. Thrashing, sweating, and howling like a bear-trapped she-wolf, Lucy writhes under the watchful eye of the world's creepiest OBGYN Dr. Finch (Pleasance, natch), who, try as he might, just can't dislodge the bundle of joy from his patient's uterus. An exasperated nurse sponges the doctor's brow and asks, pointedly, "What's wrong, sir?" To which Dr. Finch replies sagely, "This one...DOESN'T WANT TO BE BORN!"* Which opinion I'm certain went miles toward relaxing the vaginal death-clamp Lucy had on the little tot up to that point, what?

*This line of dialog reflects the film's original title, I Don't Want to Be Born, which I assume was scrapped because nothing in the subsequent story supported the idea that the baby baddie was anything but thrilled with its nativity. Still, that title makes more sense than the official IMDb title of the film, Sharon's Baby--since not only is the mom's name Lucy, but no character named "Sharon" appears anywhere in the film in ANY capacity. A rose by any other name?

Did I say "little" tot? Well, that is perhaps an error. Finally wrenching the infant free with a set of heavy-duty, chrome-plated forceps (*ssshhhhhhhmmmPOP!*), the doc immediately sees what the problem was: the kid's the size of an 18-month-old toddler! Still, all's well that slides shrieking through the Glistening Gates of Life, and with the mother out of danger and the child dutifully decanted, Doc Finch stumbles out into the waiting room to give new father Gino Carlesi (Ralph Bates, veteran of such Hammer horrors as Taste the Blood of Dracula, The Horror of Frankenstein, Dr. Jekyll & Sister Hyde, and Vicar-ious formative influencer Lust for a Vampire**) the good news.

"Banged Joan Collins, did you? Good show, old chap!"
**It is solely Bates' good fortune at having stood next to Yutte Stensgaard at one point in his life that prevents my holding his truly awful Italian accent in this film a cockpunchable offense.

Not so fast, though: as soon as Lucy attempts to nurse her newborn son, the tyke repays her motherly leanings by clawing blood from her face! It appears that in addition to being abnormally large, the baby also possesses the strength of TEN BABIES! Which is still not much, I guess, but hey. The befuddled parents wisely switch over to bottle-feeding and install their child in a truly hideous yellow-and-brown themed nursery. The kid makes his displeasure known by biting the housekeeper Mrs. Hyde hard enough to draw blood, and thereafter trashing the room like a member of Mini Kiss! Shocked that a less-than-month old baby could rip the head off a Raggedy Andy doll and toss the changing table around from the confines of its crib, the parents start looking for explanations.

From JC Penney in 1975: the Charlotte Perkins Gilman Wallpaper Collection

Now this is where things get a little wacky.

Over afternoon cocktails and cigs with her BFF Mandy (Munro, looking SMOKIN' HAWT as usual), Lucy relates via ponderously voiced-over flashback some strange events that occurred just before she left England to marry Gino in Italy. Lucy used to be a showgirl before Gino made a (more-or-less) honest woman of her, and regularly brought in the crowds shakin' her money-maker(s) while sharing the stage with her partner Hercules--A DWARF. To give you an idea of the level of sensual artistry we're talking about here, check out Lucy and Hercules in full regalia, giving the people what they want:

In the Jingle Jangle mornin', he comes murderin' you...
SASSY, isn't it?

On the night of her farewell performance, Lucy is bidding adieu to Hercules, when the Little Person starts getting Big Ideas of a sexual nature. These he acts upon, feeling up Dame Collins with his dexterous little hands. She admits that, "Maybe, for an instant, I was fascinated!" and thus indulges Hercules so far as to cup a bit of side-boob. When the novelty of tiny fingers wears thin, she rejects the little Lothario with extreme prejudice and banishes him from the fleshy delights of her undercarriage for good. Then she promptly invites club owner Tommy (John Holmes-lookalike and Sleaziest Man in Britain 1974 finalist John Steiner) into her un-dressing room for a little slap-and-tickle before she's off the market in Rome.

Lucy's a bit of a slut, you see.

Open for Business
 As might be predicted, Hercules does NOT take this well. When Lucy stumbles in a drunken, post-coital stupor from the club for the last time, the dwarf steps out of the shadows and pronounces this curse: "You will have a baby--a monster that grows in your womb! As big as I am small, and possessed by the Devil himself!"

Which explains a lot, you'll agree.

Only Lucy seems to forget her story immediately upon telling it, and begins searching instead for a genetic explanation for the baby's giantism and muscular prowess. Since she and Gino obviously come from pure upper-crust breeding stock, she settles on the only scientifically plausible hypothesis: the baby is Tommy's, and thus she has to find out what genetic abnormalities her former lover may have planted when he strewed his seditious seed in her fertile gynecological garden. Because that will help, somehow.

"...so I says to the bird, 'Weasel? I fought it were a bluddy paintbrush!' HAW-HAW!
...
Anyway, that's when they slapped the cuffs on."



Of course the child is no genetic freak, but is actually supercharged with the awesome power of a sexually frustrated dwarf--because Little People can do that, apparently. As Lucy, Gino, and Gino's sister Albana (Eileen Atkins)--who is actually Sister Albana, a nun--try to figure out what (the fuck) is wrong with the baby, this pre-verbal Pazuzu goes on a horrific, adorable rampage. He wrestles a priest, trashes his room a few more times, bloodies Tommy's nose, drowns two expendable extras, drops a dead rat in Mrs. Hyde's tea, and somehow learns to tie a noose and sharpens a shovel blade to razor-keenness! All without his parents ever quite catching on! Though to be fair, being rich AND English AND parents in the 1970s, they do both seem to stay drunk most of the time.

They're all there, thank God.

There's so much to talk about with this movie, I'll never encompass it all--but here are a few things that made me happier than they should have. For one, we never actually see the baby in full-on It's Alive rampage mode--we only see the tragic, hilarious consequences, which I found even more satisfying than an animatronic tot could possibly have been. Joan Collins overacts as much here as she did in any full season of Dynasty, emoting with such emphatic projection you can almost see the spittle fly. Director Peter Sasdy's TV career focus comes through as well, since the movie often feels like a made-for-TV affair--though a rather lengthy sex scene between Gino and Lucy late in the game gives the lie to that presumption. The director does manage a rather disturbing nightmare sequence though, and if you can't appreciate little touches like Lucy periodically hallucinating Hercules in the crib instead of her child, well, all I can say is you must be made of stone.


The movie does raise some unanswerable questions however. We never figure out exactly how Hercules was able to command the powers of Satan, or if in fact he was in league with the devil at all. For all we see, his curse's efficacy might simply be the result of some dread power Little People have tamed that we full-sized folk could never harness. For his part, Hercules seems to have forgotten all about his curse, returning to work at Tommy's club where he gets to cavort nightly among half-clad Cockney girls; nice work if you can get it, so long as no Italian nuns who minored in Dwarfen Exorcism at St. Olaf's Cloister and Finishing school take it in their heads to start fighting your mojo.

"Is it-a hott in-a here, or is it just-a ME?"

Horror-wise, The Devil Within Her touches on several raw socio-cultural nerves--young parents' fears that something might be wrong with their baby, the age-old Otherness of the Differently Sized, the battle between medicine and religion, and the wages of past sin repaid in the present. It also provides buxom showgirls, costumed dwarf dancing, baby on the rampage, and Joan Collins shedding her top and swallowing the scenery whole. One could ask for more, I suppose--but that would just be greedy.

So what are you waiting for? Get to Netflix Instant and queue this one up. You'll be glad you did. 2.75 thumbs. And thanks to Emily I.--everyone's favorite Horror Shorty! ;) --for being my dwarf-addiction enabler!

"Yay! Breastfeeding time!"

A few more photos from The Devil Within Her (1975): 

"All right, it's true--I've been hitting the bottle."
"I must break you."
"I'm afraid I'll be home late, my dear. I have some reports to sodomize. What?"
Sister Albana goes merkin-shopping.
Bedside lamp, or death ray?
Everyone's crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed dwarf
"OMG Vicar! Put it away!"

MORE MADNESS...

Monday, January 17, 2011

XTRO (1983): or, Like Father, Like Son, Like Hell

Some people are just natural-born Givers. If you go to them looking to borrow a cup of sugar, they give you the whole bag. You ask for the repayable loan of an egg, and they respond by handing you a chicken and a year's worth of feed. You send them a thank-you note for their generosity, and they reply with a thank-you for the thank-you together with a year's paid membership in the Scrumptious Chocolates of the Month club. These people give and give and give, often expecting nothing in return but the acceptance of the offered gifts. All they want is the opportunity to be the vehicle on which you ride to the sunny climes of Happiness.

Of course, these people often also have serious psychological issues.

If it were a human being, the British sci-fi WTF-stravaganza Xtro (1982, dir. Harry Bromley Davenport) would be one of these people.

We open at a country cottage not far removed from the bustling heart of London, where nurturing nice-guy dad Sam Phillips (Philip Sayer) is playing fetch with his adorable son Tony (Simon Nash) and their even-more adorable border collie Katie. Perhaps hoping to recreate his favorite scene from 2001: A Space Odyssey, Sam hauls back and launches the stick high over the roof of the house. He succeeds better than he could have hoped, as the stick explodes in a shower of sparks and the sky is immediately filled with blinding lights and sci-fi noises of the most sinister variety. As the sky darkens and an unnatural wind sweeps him toward the light, Sam urges his son to run for it, which (being the obedient sort) he does. Long moments later Sam is gone, leaving his son an orphan and his wife Rachel (Bernice Stegers, previously of Lamberto Bava's Macabre [1980]) back on the market.

This dog refused screen credit for this picture.

Three years pass in a jump-cut. Rachel believes Sam's disappearance to be a classic case of Spousal Abandonment, but still has filed neither a missing person's report nor divorce papers. She has not let the sheets of the marriage bed get cold, however, as she now shares her London apartment with her boyfriend Joe (Danny Brainin), a successful commercial photographer and former friend of her disappeared hubby. The lovebirds largely leave the care of young Tony to their French au pair Analise (future Bond Girl Maryam d'Abo, in her debut movie role), whose main job qualifications seem to be a terrible accent and her undeniably smokin' hawtness.* For his part, Tony has never accepted that his father just up and run-oft, and constantly looks forward to the day they will be reunited.

*Nota bene: Maryam D'Abo is the cousin once-removed of Olivia D'Abo, who made her debut as the spoiled princess in Conan the Destroyer (1984), and whom I had previously erroneously assumed to be Maryam's twin sister.

Unluckily for everyone involved, the little moppet's wishes are soon to be granted. Back in rural England, a familiar blinding light falls from the sky, depositing a pool of goop in the woods which soon coagulates into one of the freakiest extraterrestrials it's ever been my pleasure to see on the screen. You want a little practical FX post-Giger nightmare fuel? Check out THIS bad boy:

Xtrordinary
 As you might imagine, that anatomical configuration is not a particularly agile one; as a result, the space beast is quickly smacked by a CitroĂ«n doing about thirty-five down the country road. Of course the drivers--one of them sporting one of the most magnificent New-Wave Brit Mullets ever--get out to see what got all up in their grille, with predictably messy results. None the worse for wear, the creature crab-walks to a nearby cottage owned by a thirtysomething spinster. There it gains entry (apparently by teleporting into the kitchen cupboard) and rams its ovipositor in her face before collapsing in a heap of denatured ickiness, which the lady's dog helpfully starts to clean up. (Eww.)

The ickiness is just beginning, however: upon awakening an hour or so later, the woman finds herself the subject of a time-lapse short on the wonders of childbirth, as her belly swells to full 40-week distension in a matter of moments. The strain on her system is too much: she collapses on the floor, dead. Just as well, for this spares her the pain and horror of seeing a full grown man climb out of her vagina, dragging most of her meaty innards with him before gnawing through his umbilical cord with his own teeth! The filmmakers do not skimp on the caro syrup nor the sloppy sound effects, making for a gloriously gross moment of WTF.

Worst party favor ever.

Of course the newborn manchild is Sam, who has been a resident alien on the alien planet since his abduction. ("I had to be...changed...so I could live there!" he later explains.) Now back in roughly human form, he quickly finds his way back to London and insinuates himself into his estranged family's life, claiming no memory of the intervening three years. Tony is the only one happy to see him. Rachel is understandably torn, and Joe struts around taunting his rival with public displays of affection toward his wife, like an alpha dog marking out territory. Still, Rachel thinks, no sense involving medical professionals (or the POLICE) in all this; instead, she invites Sam to stay at the apartment with them until they can sort things out.

This gives Sam the opportunity to start working on his real objective: apparently he's more than happy being a Double-Jointed Killbeast from Planet Yog, but can't go another space year without his dearly beloved son at his side. Left alone with the boy, Sam gives Tony a love bite on the neck--a visual that would be icky even if it weren't for the body-horror effects--which imparts to the boy some of Dad's alien abilities. What kind of abilities, you may well ask? Well, how about the ability, through simple concentration, to make anything he can imagine become real?** Talk about your fringe benefits!

Submitted without comment.

**This explains, one assumes, how Sam was able to teleport into his doomed baby-momma's house earlier--though it sheds no light on why, this being the case, Sam didn't just concentrate on coming to Earth already in human form, or better yet simply imagine Tony on the alien ship with him and have done with it.


The Xtro train has never had a firm grip on the narrative rails since the stick exploded in scene one, but here it really jumps them for good--or rather, points the engine upward and rockets straight into the outer BatShittosphere. Little Tony quickly crosses over into "It's a Good Life" territory, bringing his toy soldier to life to wreak vengeance on a meddlesome neighbor, materializing a live panther in his room, and animating a wooden clown to be his accomplice in evil! (The "real" clown is played by Peter Mandell, a Little Person in exactly the type of role Peter Dinklage hilariously vented on in Tom DeCillo's Living in Oblivion [1995].)

Even though this is far afield from the story's beginnings in Alien Abduction territory, it actually fits in to film better than you'd think. The whole movie has had an odd, otherworldly quality. Scenes shift from day to night and back with abandon. Night scenes are lit brightly from impossible sources. Chunks of context are missing or never existed. Murders happen, and no one seems to notice or care, much less phone the police. Characters speak their lines in a somnolent daze, and motivation is the merest afterthought, when it's thought of at all. In a way, the entire movie has played like an extended dream sequence--like Twilight Zone without restraint, or Tim Burton without horizontal stripes.

"If only Olaf could see me now!"
Tired of her waffling, Joe moves out in a huff, leaving Sam and Rachel to salvage their interspecies marriage. Those two head out to the cottage where it all began, leaving Tony with Analise. Using his alien mind powers and dwarf-clown henchman, Tony kills his keeper's boyfriend and knocks the French girl unconscious before infecting her with his alien cooties in another uncomfortably sexual, age-inappropriate scene. Becoming more and more alien, Tony cocoons Analise up in the bathroom and makes her a Cronenbergian egg-laying machine, then tricks Joe into taking him to the cottage.

Meanwhile (and with absolutely no buildup other than a jump-cut), Sam and Rachel are rekindling their physical relationship (like rabid minx). Unfortunately Sam's alien physiology  causes him to have an allergic reaction to Rachel's sex stank, the symptoms of which include ruptured back lesions and acute horrifying ugliness. Joe shows up and is dealt with via sonic scream, and the reunited father and son walk into the woods, sloughing skin as they go, to be taken back into the mother ship. Either in shock or not too bothered (it's hard to tell), Rachel goes back to the London apartment, where a dwarf, a live panther and one last icky surprise await her. And Fin.

"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me."

Parishioners, Xtro is a movie that delivers the goods, and throws in a bunch of extra snack crackers you didn't even know you  were hungry for. The effects are all practical and wonderfully disgusting, and the creature design is pretty great too. The acting is nothing to write home about, though the actors themselves are probably less to blame than the writer and director on that count. Still, even though the script is all over the place, there's just so much happening at all times it's hard to get too upset about. All the actors seem admirably committed, though, with special props to Maryam D'Abo, who provides some high-quality nekkidity more than once. The sythesizer score (also by director Davenport) made me want to puncture my own eardrums with Q-Tips, but given the unrelenting weirdness of the piece, I wondered if perhaps this was by design.

In closing, if you can just shut off your logic centers and let the MADness wash over you, you'll have a great time with this one. Gory, crazy, entertaining and never dull, Xtro deserves a place at the table with 80s scifi insanities like Inseminoid and Galaxy of Terror. 3 Thumbs. Seek it out, and let Xtro make you happy. That's all it wants!

More photos from XTRO (1982):

Xtro Alpo

Didn't figure on this much action

"DWARF FROM ABOVE!"

"You know the rules, Sam. You lost at Connect Four. Get suckin'!"

"What the fuck am I doing here?"

"Mommy! Give us a kiss!"


Indecent Xposure
 
"OBEY!"

MORE MADNESS...

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos (1970): or, Now THAT'S a Main Event!

More and more these days--as Time's Winged Chariot drags me inexorably closer to the shadowy bourne of that Undiscovered Country, and the vistas of Future Possibility shrink and close around me like the heavy gray walls of an Inquisitor's tomb--I find myself wishing that I'd come into contact with certain things earlier in my life. For instance, I was fully fifteen years old before I first read Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, a book that would have stood me in much better stead before I'd followed the philosophical dead ends of its protagonist Raskolnikov. (I ended up getting my watch back, though, so no lasting harm.) Similarly, I discovered the cinema of Paul Naschy as a slightly past middle-aged adult (if we calculate the middle as half the "threescore years and ten" of verse)--a fortunate discovery, but one, had I made it earlier, would have afforded me that many more years of grinning, face-beaming joy.

In recent years I've added another item to that "wish I'd met you earlier" list: Lucha Libre movies. One of the unique cultural contributions to Western society of the great nation of Mexico, the Lucha Libre subgenre grew out of the immense populatity of professional wrestling south of the U.S. border, and the colorful, larger-than-life characters that peopled its ring. Many (if not most) of the professional wrestlers in Mexico are traditionally "los enmascarados," or masked men. While many of the masked wrestlers in US wrestling tend to be "heels" or villains, in Lucha Libre they are more generally like superheroes, their glittering capes and colorful cowls symbols of their commitment to justice and fair play. In the comic books and films that these characters inspired this commitment is taken to the logical (?) extreme, as los enmascarados do battle against gangsters, aliens, mythological creatures, and yes, b-movie monsters.

El Santo Rocks the Turtleneck
When I was a kid, I was heavy into both professional wrestling and the Universal horrors, so it's a damn shame I didn't discover this combination back then, this Reese's Peanut Butter Cup of awesomeness that combined the two great tastes I loved. But then I might have changed my life goals and tried to become a crime-fighting luchador instead of a priest of obsolete video formats, so maybe a greater Plan was at work, after all. Maybe it's best, in a way, that I'm only now seeing Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos (1970, dir. Gilberto MartĂ­nez Solares) for the first time.

But I kinda doubt it.

The most famous of the film luchadores is without question El Santo, the Man in the Silver Mask. In a ring career that spanned five decades, Santo became the most famous and beloved luchador in the history of the sport, and between 1958 and 1982 starred in over 50 feature films. In many of these he was paired with his in-ring rival but filmic mejor amigo Blue Demon, and together they comprised the most dynamic crime- and monster-fighting duo Mexican cinema has ever seen. The films range from quickies that seem to have been shot in a single weekend between matches to well-lensed, respectable b-features, but all share a mix of grappling, intrigue, and contagious glee that's hard not to respect and enjoy. (The films are also pretty family-friendly as a rule, so if you've got a monster-loving kid who's sick of Godzilla movies, the genre is a good next step.)


Blue Demon: These Nipples Don't Run
Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos begins with what amounts to a main-event introduction, as the music plays and the principals come out with their names plastered across the screen, a low-angle shot making them all look 10 feet tall and bulletproof. In this corner, El Santo, posing on a hill in a forest in full ring attire (like you do) and his tag-team partner, Blue Demon! And in the other corner, the cavalcade of monsters!

  • La Momia! (The Mummy, looking more like an elderly burn victim than a resurrected pharoah!)
  • El Ciclope! (The Cyclops, a hulking brute with a flashlight eye and a puppet head!)  
  • Franquestain! (Frankenstein's Monster, Mexican version, complete with pencil-thin bandito moustache!)  
«El fuego es malo...¡MUY MALO!»
  • El Hombre Lobo! (The Wolf Man, a barefoot homeless dude with fangs! Or as I like to call him, El Hobo Lobo!)  
  • El Vampiro y La Mujer Vampiro! 
  • And of course the Mad Doctor Bruno Hadler, the man responsible for all the carnage we're about to witness.
It's not a diss to say the plots of most of the lucha libre movies I've seen have a certain "childlike" quality, as if two movie-loving, hyperactive playground buddies were sitting behind the typewriter pounding out everything that entered their sugared cereal-addled brains. Symbol stands in for substance--there's no need to establish the wrestlers as heroes, since they're CLEARLY heroes, and likewise the monsters and mad doc as villains. These groups are in the same movie, so they're gonna fight, right? So what are we waiting for? Let's get ready to rumble!

El Fappo Grande
We open, as we almost always do in lucha films, with a good 5-10 minutes of in-ring action. In this case we watch a tag-team match between female mascaradas, which has some pretty priceless narration from the TV announcer on call. ("The physical strength is primitive to man...the elasticity of the movements and that feline agility in these beauties!") Santo watches from the backstage area, a scholar of the sport as well as a master. After the brawlin' beauties finish, Blue Demon and partner take on a couple of punching bags and make short work of them, establishing BD as one tough little hombre, and not a person upon whose Cerulean mask you'd be well-advised to tug.

Moving into the story proper, we find ourselves at the funeral of Bruno Hadler, a mad scientist of the first order who had successfully resurrected dead bodies by means of brain transplantation! (Why this was not a Nobel Prize-winning discovery I can only guess--perhaps he had yet to publish his findings in a peer-reviewed journal prior to his death.) Bruno's brother Otto is an upstanding member of the community, and also the father of Gloria, who happens to be la novia del Santo. Apparently Santo and Blue Demon had something to do with the mad doctor's misfortunes, since upon learning of his death Santo worries that he "made a promise before he died," one he might yet make good on.


He died as he lived: with a Cuisinart on his head

Of course he's right to worry, as the funeral is crashed by a gang of muscled-up thugs in badly applied green grease paint, obviously the doctor's zombie minions! They rush the shrouded corpse back to the lab, where Bruno's right-hand man Waldo--a scoleosis-stricken dwarf, naturally--fires up the ol' 12-volt and brings the doctor back to life! As a side note, along with Waldo and the zombies in the lab is this intriguing character:


Your guess is as good as mine

If you're waiting to find out what sort of monster he is, what his powers are, and how he's integral to the Mad Doctor's plan...well, don't. He just hangs out in the lab the whole movie and never does anything. Maybe he's a friend of the landlord's or something.

Thinking about what Santo said, Blue Demon decides to go on a little reconaissance mission, and of course drives directly to the huge Spanish castle/fort that the doctor is using for an inconspicuous hideout. BD batters down a drawbridge through sheer brute force and enters the subterranean dungeons (why? BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE THE MONSTERS ARE, of course!), and has a quick scrap with the zombies, who somehow manage to subdue him. Waldo wants to "experiment" on the luchador (ooer!), but Doc Hadler has bigger plans--he slaps BD into his tanning bed/human Xerox and runs off a perfect copy of Blue Demon, one that will follow his every command without question! THE FIEND!


It was at that moment--with a Hulk-beast to his left, a dwarf to his right, and an unconscious luchador right at crotch height, that Dr. Hadler finally understood what true happiness meant.

Out on a drive in the Silver Santomobile, Santo and Gloria are interrupted in the second chorus of "Besame Mucho" by the Doc's roving gang of zombies. This allows Santo to show off his fighting skills for the first time in the flick, tossing the zombies around and even executing a splash off the hood of his shaggin' wagon! It must be said that the choreography of the fights is a bit more realistic than in the kung-fu genre, which is to say it's less like a duel/showdown than a giant clusterfuck. Still, it feeds the need for ACTION--Gloria is kidnapped, Santo rescues her, and then we're able to move on.

In a sequence reminiscent of Assignment Terror, Blue Demon 2 and the zombies are dispatched on a nationwide monster hunt, and surprisingly make quite a haul. In a nondescript crypt somewhere or other they find the happiest Vampire in the World--a guy in evening clothes, cape, and London After Midnight-style top-hat who just cannot stop grinning. Thereafter they go to another crypt and find A FREAKIN' MUMMY--which I can only assume is of the Aztec variety, given the locale. Back at the lab Dr. Hadler has somehow acquired a block of ice containing The Cyclops, which he melts with a life-giving acetylene torch. Then they pull Franqestain and El Hobo Lobo out of their ASSES, because suddenly they're just there. A quick blast with the mind-controlling ECT machine, and Los Monstruos are ready to do the doctor's bidding!


"I'm a vild und krazee guy!"
The rest of the plot is basically a series of vignettes of three sorts. Monsters attacking people: El Ciclope takes out some fishermen, the Vampire acquires a couple of brides, Franquestain crushes an amorous couple under his metal boots, and El Hobo Lobo takes out an entire family. El Santo tracking the monsters: he can't find the castle BD1 drove straight to, for some reason, and has to hunt through the woods and lakes aimlessly. (A sequence in which he swims through a lagoon looking for the Cyclops--his mask still on, of course, as a luchador never unmasks, even while making out with muchachas--is wonderful not only for Santo swimming, but for the LITERAL FISHTANK effects to show the Cyclops underwater). And finally: Santo vs. the Monsters and BD2, which as I say are big clusters interspersed with shots of the Cyclops' puppet-head yowling. One thing just follows right after another, and while it's not exactly coherent, it never lets you get bored.

In the most incredible (and awesome) development in the story, El Vampiro decides to take on Santo on his own turf--he challenges the Man in the Silver Mask to an actual wrestling match, right there in the arena under the lights! Of course Santo accepts, and the crowd rolls in, completely unfazed that the opponent for the night is AN ACTUAL FUCKING MONSTER. Even better, El Vampiro dons a mask for his match, even though he's never worn one previously--doubtless to cover the stunt double. But still, how awesome is that? Could it be more so?

"Get ready for The Hurting, boys."

The answer is YES: el Vampiro gains the upper hand in the match, but then is put off his game by a glimpse of the gold cross around Gloria's neck. This leads to a staple of pro wrestling, the "Run In" match ending--only in this case, instead of the heels running in to thwart the babyface wrestler's triumph, THE GANG OF MONSTERS RUNS INTO THE RING FOR AN IMPROMPTU BATTLE ROYALE! Frankenstein's Monster, the Cyclops, the Mummy, all bouncing off the ropes, fighting Santo and his friends from the locker room! If I'd seen this at age 12, my head would have exploded with glee. In fact, it might yet.

(Nota bene: I have to say, this is exactly what I was hoping for with my previous lucha libre experience, Santo y Blue Demon contra Dracula y El Hombre Lobo, but in that flick the monsters never climbed into the ring. It was a much better movie in all other respects, but I'm glad this flick righted that glaring omission.)

Of course eventually, somehow, we end up back at the lab, Santo discovers that Blue Demon has not undergone a heel turn but has just been cloned, and BD and Santo have a final confrontation with the monsters (complete with Santo braining zombies with a rubber morning star and Blue Demon wielding aGUN and a dangerous torch) that leads to a fiery cataclysm and widescale destruction of scientific machinery and historical buildings. Good triumphs over evil, the Luchadores beat Los Monstruos, and all is right with the world until next week's main event.


El Hobo Lobo

All right, so the movie has its problems. There is an awful lot of day-for-night stuff, especially when El Vampiro is on the prowl, that is among the worst such effect I have ever seen; I guess we're just supposed to assume it's night by virtue of the fact that the vampire is not going up in flames. Costumes are pretty weak, with the lower end being the embarrassing Mummy costume and nearly non-existent werewolf makeup--a hobo beard, while awesome, does NOT a wolf man make. (Though I admit I liked the ambition of the Cyclops get-up.) The score is pretty annoying bleep-bleep-bleep semi-carnival music, though my reaction to that may be more cultural than critical. Also, there's an extended nightclub/dance sequence in the last third of the film that goes on way too long, even though it's sort of entertaining in a Gene Kelley/Cyd Charisse rip-off way. And as I noted earlier, the plot developments are on a level with the 3-paragraph short story you wrote for your 2nd grade Halloween essay contest, meaning it's heavy on the non sequitur ACTION and light on poetry and character-driven drama.

But this is a genre of movie in which those latter problems can hardly be considered flaws. As in a well-choreographed wrestling match, this flick has its marks to hit, its set-pieces to execute, and it does so with a breathless energy that's easy to get swept up in. If you can turn off the adult portion of your brain, go back to your childhood and imagine seeing this on a Saturday afternoon and then going out and reenacting it all with your like-minded friends, you'll agree the scrapes and bruises would be well worth the joy.

2-Man Mob

Acting-wise, the film is pretty difficult to critique. Santo and Blue Demon are wizened performers, though their performance style is informed by the larger-than-life acting style of the wrestling ring, and thus perhaps more akin to silent movie acting than more modern methods. Still, the two have charisma to burn, even if it's obscured a little by the expressionlessness of their masks. Carlos Ancira as Dr. Bruno Hadler chews the scenery the way a Mad Scientist should, and his brother Otto, portrayed by Jorge Rado, is a good counterpoint/voice of reason, if such can be said to exist in the world of the film. Hedi Blue as Gloria is attractive but given little to do, and the dancer who becomes a vampires bride adds some welcome soft PG sex-appeal. Also, Mexican trash movie fans should look out for SantanĂ³n as Waldo the hunchbacked dwarf--the actor also appeared in one of Boris Karloff's last movies, the embarrassing to some/entertaining to others voodoo flick Snake People (1971).

Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos is not the best lucha movie I've seen--it's easily outdone by the dramatically and cinematically superior Santo y Blue Demon vs. Dracula and The Wolf Man--but I found it an endearingly naive and fun excursion into a world of wrestlers and monsters. 2.5 thumbs, and Vive El Santo!

"Hold me, Waldo...just hold me!"
Bonus Linkage: 

Still Yet More Images from Santo y Blue Demon Contra Los Monstruos (1970):

Monsters of Acne

"Wait, whut? you know OLAF?"

Besame Enmascarado
Scary, but not in the way they intended

Collect Them All

Squick!
He Only Dives from the Top Rope
Pecs of the Vampire

H.R. Puffnstuff: The Lost Episodes

Consider Yourself Pinned

"Vicar, NOOOOOOOOO!"

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