The Man Without a Body

Hilariously, profoundly awful, The Man Without a Body (1957) really does need to be seen to be believed. A cheap-as-can-be sci-fi / horror B-movie, produced in Britain but certainly bearing marks of American-made drive-in flick influences, it stars George Coulouris as a volatile, bad-tempered industrial mogul who discovers he has a malignant brain tumour; consulting with experimental scientist Robert Hutton, he discovers the only way to save his own life is to undergo a brain transplant, so with an admirable 'aim high' mentality, he decides the only brain that will do the job is that of the four hundred years-dead French seer Nostradamus. Following a spot of grave-robbing and an unclear laboratory process whereby the long-decayed tissues of Nostradamus' head are totally re-generated ready for grafting onto Coulouris' shoulders, the lusty carryings-on of his unfaithful mistress (From Russia With Love's Nadja Regin) and the crafty disembodied head's own plan to bankrupt the businessman result in the death of Hutton's assistant Sheldon Lawrence, after which his body becomes the recipient of the psychic's bonce and goes on perhaps the most uneventful monster rampage in film history. Nostradamus might have been able to see into the future, but I bet even he didn't predict his eventual fate would be to have his severed noodle swinging from the bell ropes of a Twickenham church tower…

One of the first attempts by a different production company to capitalise on the nascent UK horror boom spearheaded by Hammer's The Quatermass Xperiment (1955) and The Curse of Frankenstein (1957), this totally barmy film has far more in common with US-made trash like Frankenstein's Daughter (1958), in that it is completely impossible to take seriously. Written by somebody called William Grote (given that this individual has no other credits at all, I would assume the name is an alias of some collection of random contributors) and supposedly co-directed by Billy Wilder's brother W. Lee and the unsung Charles Saunders (Tawny Pipit), the legend is that Saunders actually had no hand in this mess at all, and was merely hired to be present on set to satisfy quota regulations ensuring a certain number of films made in the UK were actually employing Brits. Coulouris, a respected actor and colleague of Orson Welles who had appeared in Citizen Kane (1941) and whose filmography contains a sprinkling of other classics, must have wondered what the hell he had got involved in with this shocker; in terms of special effects and scare-value it makes its sister film Womaneater (1958), from the same stable and again starring Coulouris, look like The Thing (1982) by comparison. The veteran actor gives it his all, and Regin's nympho routine is convincing enough, but they were never going to carry the film; I mean Raging Bull-era DeNiro couldn't have made this insanity fly all by himself.

This is well worth a watch if you want to pee yourself laughing, though; The Man Without a Body is unsurprisingly not available on DVD, though it is on YouTube in a poor-quality upload.

Absolutely incredible! Not only are there head grafts, but they manage to graft Nostradamus' intact head onto a person's body! Imagine his confusion. Terrible movie, but mercifully short, and so unbelievable it's worth a stare.

I defy anyone to find a 1950's film more off the wall and unpredictable than this. Even Nostradamus himself wouldn't be able to do it! Calling this campy trash is taking the easy way out. The film has more original ideas than a dozen big budget Hollywood films from the same period that cost a hundred times as much. If you have never seen "Man Without A Body" before, find it on Youtube, where it is presented in complete and pristine form. Then sit back and get ready to be amazed by the entertaining absurdity of it all.

To cover the basics of the plot, an egomaniacal millionaire in the vein of Charles Foster Kane and Howard Hughes is diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor after he has head pains and starts answering phantom phone calls. Veteran actor George Coulouris plays Karl Brussard with lots of vigor. Of course Brussard cannot contemplate his own end, so he hooks up with renegade scientist Dr. Merritt, who has found a method of keeping long dead monkey heads alive and in perfect condition.The crazed Brussard has the idea to imprint his mind and personality upon the head of the greatest man who ever lived...the French prophet Nostradamus! After a grave-robbing expedition, the dessicated head of Nostradamus is brought back to life and asks Dr. Merritt and company: "Have they burned all my books?" Despite the cheesy effects, there is something quite eerie about the ease with which Nostradamus adapts to his new situation, saying "I have always lived in the future". Soon Brussard tries to brainwash Nostradamus into thinking he's Brussard, leading to one of the craziest scenes ever filmed.

Meanwhile, there's a lot more going on. Brussard's sexy nymphomaniac mistress Odette, whom he treats like an annoying pet, has hatched a plot to murder the old man with the help of Merritt's assistant Lou. At the same time, Merritt's female assistant Jean tries to get this frosty egghead to thaw out and return her advances. Finally, in an amazing scene, Nostradamus is transformed into a Frankenstein-like monster with a giant paper mache blob encasing his head. This crazy creature goes on the rampage in search of the now-fugitive Brussard, whose company has been ruined due to false stock market advice given by the prophet.

The ending is very abrupt, yet quite appropriate. It seems Nostradamus had foreseen everything all along, resulting in a satisfactory resolution where everybody gets their due.

Despite the cheapness of the production, "The Man Without A Body" holds you in a spell from the get go, with better direction than you would think. This film is begging to be discovered! I wonder if the real Nostradamus could have ever foreseen his participation in a movie like this?

Also known as "The Movie Without An Actor," "The Film Without a Plot," and "The Screenwriter Without a Clue."

Hilariously bad brain-transplant movie. George Coulouris plays a rich scumball who is dying of a brain tumor. He gets wind of some novel experiments being conducted by a brain surgeon, played in mind-numbingly dull fashion by Robert Hutton. After visiting Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum (where the rest of the cast apparently was found), Coulouris hits on the idea of digging up Nostradamus' head and making use of the prognosticator's brain.

Coulouris manages to get the head through customs. If it had been 12 ounces of toothpaste, he would have been wrestled to the ground. Hutton is curious about the head's identity. However, that doesn't seem to deter him, or his two assistants Jean and Lew (their real names are unimportant), from trying to restore the brain to life. This is one of the many flaws (I lost count) in this movie. These medical people are absolutely sane, calm, dedicated, and see nothing odd about what they are doing. They have a monkey's head and a floating eye in their lab. Meanwhile, the audience is screaming, "HEY, ARE ALL YOU PEOPLE NUTS?"

In a typical subplot, Lew takes up with Coulouris' French tart, Odette, who wants to see her sugar daddy offed so she can cash in. Will Lew cave? What do you think?

From here on, the film becomes a collection of badly edited scenes, where people just seem to appear out of nowhere and do crazy things. Meanwhile, Nostradamus' beard is growing, and his head introduces himself to Hutton in perfect English. I suppose if you can buy the idea that Nostradamus' head is alive, then you'll swallow anything that follows (I'd suggest cyanide).

In the finale, Nostradamus' head gets transplanted onto Lew's body and the creature wanders around the streets for a few minutes. The authorities see nothing unusual in this. Eventually, Coulouris catches up with "it." I won't give away the ending, but let's just say Coulouris takes the fall, while Nostradamus and Lew go their "separate" ways.

The only interesting part of this film, besides the French tart, is when Nostradamus' head gets onto Coulouris (figuratively) and decides to wreck his financial empire. Seeing Coulouris in an undershirt also provides some camp value. This could have been a decent piece of schlock, but no.

Why did this film need two directors? Because while one held the megaphone and yelled "Action!" the other held his barf bag.

A wealthy business man discovers he has a brain tumor and seeks medical help. The business man finds a scientist experimenting with transplanting monkey heads on different monkey bodies.

How can you go wrong when Billy Wilder's brother directs? You simply cannot. Especially when he has a nice scene that acts as free advertising for Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum.

What I find most interesting about this film is that it implies the French have discovered the secret to keeping corpses fresh. You would think that after a few hundred years, Nostradamus' head would be nothing more than a skull (if that). Yet, he is hardly rotten at all and even has his vocal cords in working order.