Cobra Woman

Must be seen to be believed. This is a classic! The cobra dance will have you on the floor, guaranteed. Note that the deus ex machina is a chimpanzee. Fabulous performance by Maria Montez as good and evil twins with able support from Sabu, John Hall, and the old lady who plays Maria's grandmother. "Joo meen, Joo arre my grandmother!" Favorite moments: Bad twin's procession to the bathing site, all scenes with Sabu, "the Fire Death Hymn". But NOTHING can top the cobra dance. And you'll love the headwear. Don't miss it!

If the term Camp had never been created, then we'd have to come up with it to describe this deliriously awful, delightfully irresistible trash-masterpiece from the 1940s. Maria Montez (the queen of Camp) plays a pair of sisters, one good and one bad, who vie for control of a voodoo island. In dazzling color, the bad sister dances wildly as the natives all beg for pity, as they know that any one she happens to point to will be executed to satisfy her lust for blood. Jon Hall, later Ramar of the Jungle on TV, is the goodguy, with Sabu as his sidekick. Absolutely hypnotic in its chromotic silliness, and a must-see for all fans of films that truly are so bad that they're good.

I once showed part of this film to a friend (now deceased.) who said testily that he'd seen it a long time ago. But once the Universal-International dancers' Cobra number got going, he said he was hooked and was literally rolling on the floor having forgotten how truly great it was! (This was, no doubt due to the consummate klutziness of these dancers!)

One Maria is great but two are truly great and maybe she and her costar Jon Hall should have been cast in the infinitely greater "Thief of Bagdad" which did at least have Sabu. (Now maybe these two couldn't really act but then neither could the actual leading couple in "Thief".)

A camp gem with the Queen of Technicolor.

This, for me at age 9, was not so much a film as an absolutely terrifying experience, the memory of which kept me awake at nights for weeks afterwards (seen on Tuesday 13 February 1945 at the Empire Cinema, Glossop). The jungle, the volcano with its flames reflecting on the faces of the actors, the snakes, the extraordinary and frightening costumes, the sinister drumming music, the bright colour with green costumes and orange flames, the terrifying and evil expression on the face of the Queen, Kado's blowpipe - all these made up a cocktail of complete terror, and I stayed in the cinema only because I was with friends and was ashamed to show my feelings. I was far too young to be aware of any niceties in the way of crudities of dialogue or acting technique, and the whole thing was simply an unbelievable cinema experience, which can never, never be forgotten. What a shame if this remarkable creation is lost to us for ever!

"No drug-fevered brain could dream up the horrors of Cobra Island!" But, apparently, two Universal Script-writers could. This immortal camp classic stars the sublime Maria Montez as twin sisters - one Good, one Evil. Considering La Montez could not even play one part convincingly, her dual role is something of a stretch. She may not be able to act, but she does look gorgeous trying.

The action takes place on one of those Technicolor South Sea islands where a volcano is always rumbling, gongs are always banging for the next human sacrifice and a supremely irritating chimpanzee is always gambolling about in a pair of Paisley-pattern diapers. Lon Chaney Jr is on hand as a deaf-mute priest. Lucky man, he doesn't have to speak any of that dialogue!

As the aged Cobra Queen, Mary Nash looks a tad bewildered. Wasn't it only yesterday she was playing Katharine Hepburn's mother in The Philadelphia Story? Lo, how the mighty are fallen! Sabu beams away in his role as Hollywood's favourite racist/colonial stereotype. Jon Hall spends his time looking for excuses to unbutton his shirt and show off his muscular chest. I for one am not complaining.

Still, nothing and nobody can ever upstage our Maria. As the depraved sister Naja, she writhes about wickedly in her Cobra Dance - clad only in a floor-length silver lame evening gown, with matching silver f**k-me shoes. (Uncharted this island may be, but every drag-queen in the world seems to go shopping there.) And lest we in the audience harbour any lingering doubts about her acting skills, she follows up every speech with the deathless words - "I HAVE SPOKEN!"

The insipid good sister Tollea really is no match. In this part, Maria does little more than pose beside the nearest pond or palm-tree - gazing into the Technicolor sunset and dreaming of better scripts. (Believe it or not, Jean Cocteau offered her the role of Death in his film Orpheus, but couldn't afford her fee!) Yet it's fascinating to see director Robert Siodmak sketching out the schizo psychology he would explore fully in films like The Spiral Staircase and The Dark Mirror.

Appalling as much of it undoubtedly is, Cobra Woman may still be the greatest film of its kind...and if anyone can work out what 'kind' that is, please write and tell me.