The Living Coffin

"The Living Coffin" (1958) is, I would imagine, a fine example of that most curious of subgenres: the Mexican cowboy/horror movie. Reuniting director Fernando Mendez, actor Gaston Santos and cinematographer Victor Herrera after that same year's "The Black Pit of Dr. M," the film is, I regret to say, a far lesser achievement. Whereas "Dr. M" is a beautifully shot B&W masterpiece, this picture is--though surprisingly filmed in color--a much more pedestrian affair. In it, lawman Gaston, his bumbling compadre Coyote Loco, and Rayito, the smartest horse you'll ever encounter this side of Trigger, Silver and Mr. Ed, come to the aid of a hacienda in which corpses are being stolen from their tomb and the legendary Crying Woman is heard to wail at night. What horror elements there are chiefly consist of eerie close-ups of the Crying Woman's attractive but corroded face as she flits through the darkened corridors, but the picture also features a nifty bar fight, a good quicksand sequence, a few shoot-outs and some lame comedy (but certainly not enough to torpedo the film). Santos himself, sans mustache and in color, is practically unrecognizable from the role he essayed in "Dr. M," and Herrera's talents are much more obvious in that earlier picture. Still, "The Living Coffin" makes for a reasonably entertaining 70 minutes, and might even be appropriate to watch with the kiddies, especially when the film's "Scooby Doo" aspects come into play. However, viewers interested in seeing a real Mexican masterpiece dealing with the Crying Woman of legend should check out 1963's, uh, "The Curse of the Crying Woman," a film that I just love. And oh...this Casa Negra DVD looks just fine, as always, but what's the deal with the microprint on the essay extras? You'll need one of those 102" TV screens to read these, I'm afraid!

Living Coffin, The (1959)

** (out of 4)

Mexican film that mixes the Western and Horror genres while at the same time connects the main villain to The Crying Woman character of various other Mexican films. Two cowboys show up to help some ranchers rid their curse, which appears to be the work of the ghost The Crying Woman. I was shocked to see how fast this 71-minute film flew by. A lot of these Mexican movies move rather slowly but that wasn't the case here. The look of The Crying Woman is very cheap but effective and the performances aren't as bad as you'd think and in fact they manage to be pretty good. The horror elements work very nicely but the Western stuff never really takes off too well. The ending is also a major disappointment and comes over very badly but overall this isn't too bad of a film but I'd recommend starting with a different Mexican film. Original title: Grito de la muerte, El.

1958's "The Living Coffin" (El Grito de la Muerte or The Cry of Death) was a sequel of sorts to the previous year's "The Swamp of the Lost Monsters," again scripted by the prolific Ramon Obon and starring the Western duo of Gaston Santos and Pedro de Aguillon. Doing a superior job at the helm than Rafael Baledon was "El Vampiro" director Fernando Mendez, breezing through Old West cliches to highlight the horror in living color, right from the precredits sequence where a dying man collapses next to some skeletal remains. A pair of carved idols puts Gaston and his trusty horse Rayo de Plata on the scent of the sculptor, a recently deceased mother who channeled her grief over losing both sons to the fearsome swamp into their creation. Now her weeping ghost is said to haunt the ranch as 'La Llorona' (The Crying Woman), and indeed reappears to claw a few unsuspecting victims to death, such as the doctor who owned the second idol, his corpse found hanging above the roaring fireplace. This would indicate a more corporeal threat at work, and with villainous Quintin Bulnes among the henchmen, the solution may come off as routine, but careful camera setups coupled with light and shadow manage to overcome script limitations to deliver genuinely atmospheric chills. Bulnes would soon essay his best known genre role as the zombie master in Benito Alazraki's "The Curse of the Doll People," going on to work opposite Boris Karloff in both "Snake People" and "House of Evil," while splendid leading lady Maria Duval balanced a popular singing career with acting in various low budget projects, from early Santo to John Carradine in starring vehicles for Mil Mascaras, "Las Vampiras" and "Enigma de Muerte." Her character initially comes off curt and a little suspicious, but soon sets the action in motion by the removal of a knife held in place to signify the death of her spectral aunt, elements of Poe's "Premature Burial" in place to maintain a level of tension once a second coffin vanishes from the crypt despite its constantly ringing bell to signify catalepsy. The ghastly makeup on the ghost is simple but effective, the attack scenes granting this the edge over its earlier companion piece. Of course there's a barroom brawl where no punch seems to actually land, and a curiously impassive Gaston Santos is easily outshone by his gallant steed, rescuing his master from quicksand after fooling the villains into believing a hidden posse is shooting at them (the less said about the comic relief the better). Rafael Baledon himself would tackle the legend of La Llorona with 1963's "The Curse of the Crying Woman," while Ramon Obon's 1964 "100 Cries of Terror" played off this film's original Mexican title.

The most famous of the 1950s/1960s horror flicks came from the US, but Mexico also made a number of them. One example is "El grito de la muerte" ("The Living Coffin" in English). Fernando Méndez's movie has the feeling of the average Vincent Price movie while incorporating the story of La Llorona (the weeping woman). Like the average Vincent Price movie, "The Living Coffin" makes no pretense about what kind of a movie it is. It looks like the sort of movie that they probably had fun making. I suspect that many people in Mexico likely think that the makers tried too hard to make the sort of movie that the United States would have made - as opposed to a movie focusing on issues affecting most Mexicans - but isn't it OK to occasionally make a movie whose sole purpose is to entertain? All in all, a fun movie.

Not much to recommend here: this motion picture has a few elements reminiscent of "El vampiro" (the ghostly woman walking through dark corridors, the evil surrounding the sets of the dark hacienda in contrast to the sunny exteriors, humor combined with terror) but director Fernando Méndez and screenwriter Ramón Obón were not up to that previous collaboration. Obón would still write a few fine horror scripts (as "El mundo de los vampiros" and "La loba"), but Méndez stopped directing movies two years later, after making a routine western diptych and a formulaic melodrama. The leading man (swinger Gastón Santos, rich son of the big señor of his hometown, in real life) is prettier than the whole cast, but everybody acts better than him. He plays some kind of lone ranger and detective who arrives at a gloomy hacienda where an old woman (Hortensia Santoveña) lives in fright of her dead sister's spell, objecting all intents by her young niece (María Duval) to make life happier in the country side. The few persons remaining in a once prosperous town now live in fright of the vengeful Llorona (Crying Woman), who is somehow connected to the town doctor, two statues sculptured on a strange stone, a deadly swamp and killer cowboys. Santos is a good rider though and his horse Rayo de Plata also plays a key role in the plot, while Pedro de Aguillón plays Santos' sidekick in the lines of a Sancho Panza, adding lines and slapstick here and there, intended to be funny. Unfortunately the action lacks the right spirit, be it comedy or horror, in spite of Gustavo César Carrión's funny effort to add galloping beats to his score. Nothing said if you care for stiff terror westerns with intelligent horses and haunted swamps. Then this is for you.