October Moth

An interesting rather than entertaining B feature starring Canadian actor Lee Patterson who specialised in villains. The main problem with this film is the deafening music composed by the experienced Humphrey Searle. It constantly intrudes. Wonder if that was the directors idea?

This early production by the enterprising team of Leslie Parkyn and Julian Wintle's company Independent Artists was Lana Morris' final film role except, appropriately, for Bryan Marshall's neurotic mistress in 'I Start Counting' (1969).

In this stark rural melodrama she's unrecognisable as the bright-eyed young ingenue of the fifties as Georgina to Lee Patterson's Lenny; a hulking simpleton who shouldn't be allowed near sharp objects let alone shotguns, and has a mother fixation to rival Norman Bates.

A hugely talented, and versatile writer, maestro scrivener John Kruse is, perhaps, a name some thriller fans may not be all that familiar with, having had a great many successes on TV, writing many fine scripts for 'The Saint', 'The Avengers', 'The Zoo Gang, 'The Persuaders', and the excellently robust screenplay for 'Hell Drivers', Kruse, somewhat curiously, only directed one feature film, and considering how uncommonly thrilling it is, this remains an entirely baffling anomaly. His sole directing credit is the darkly menacing, unnervingly claustrophobic psychodrama 'October Moth', while a sadly neglected work remains a terrifically tense, immaculately performed British B-Picture, wherein the gimlet-eyed, persistently paranoid Finlay (Lee Patterson) zealously, and wholly misguidedly guards an injured middle-aged woman he obsessively maintains is his dead mother, Finlay's protective, increasingly anxious sister Molly (Lana Morris) is desperate to protect her mentally disturbed sibling while attempting, somewhat dangerously, to get the ailing woman out of their isolated farm and to safety. For its lean running time Kruse's doomy 'October Moth' ably provides ample distraction, and along with its palpably oppressive atmosphere, one of the film's most impressive qualities is the stark, moody chiaroscuro photography by the gifted director of photography Michael Reed, being better known for his equally sterling work on 'The Gorgon' (1964), and 'Rasputin: The Mad Monk' (1966). When the forlorn Molly stands mercilessly buffeted by a chill, spectral wind, dejectedly stating the bleak maxim, 'When no one needs you, you're nothing!', it certainly struck a rather uncomfortable chord with me.

A very poor and low budget B movie.

Dreadful sets and very bad acting.

In an isolated Yorkshire farm house, a deranged young man imagines a car crash victim is his long deceased mother. Meanwhile, his sister Molly attempts to summon help for the unconscious woman, but against her brother's wishes.