The Mistresses of Dr. Jekyll

One of my sci-fi/horror/fantasy reviews written 50 years ago: Directed by Jesus Franco; Produced by Marius Lesoeur, released on American television as "Dr. Orloff's Monster" by American-International TV. Screenplay by Jesus Franco; Photography by Alfonso Nieva; Edited by Angel Serrano; Music by Daniel White. Starring: Hugo Blanco, Agnes Spaak, Perla Cristal, Magda Maldonado and Pepe Rubio.

Spanish horror sequel to director Franco's "The Awful Dr. Orloff" which is even crummier than the first outing, as Orloff's human-like robot minion terrorizes pretty babes again. Featuring white nightgown action.

If you've suffered through some of the hack work Jess Franco cranked out in the last two decades, you may find it difficult to believe that he once took some pride in his craft and evinced a certain mastery of cinematic technique, as well as a modicum of discipline. "Dr Orloff's Monster" is a case in point. Despite the title, it bears no direct relation to the creepy and perverse opus, "The Awful Dr Orloff", which put the director on the map back in the early 60s. However, it shares the same doom-laden aura -- with the expected (but always riveting) kinky asides -- that so resemble that earlier picture as well as the German Edgar Wallace 'krimi' series which was reaching its peak at the same time.

The picture is rife with carefully-executed camera angles and atmospherics, something that would become anathema to Franco's slash-and-burn methods of the 80s. The best scenes are reminiscent of (dare I say) Lewton and Franju. It builds up a strong pathos for the title character, thanks to a subtle, wordless portrayal that evokes Cesar in 'Cabinet of Dr Caligari' and Christiane in 'Eyes without a Face' (such homages were a Franco specialty). There is a particularly poignant sequence in which the zombie stumbles about near his own tombstone in a bleak, wintry cemetery. No matter what depths Franco's movies plunged to, they always offered a few wonderfully oddball cabaret scenes in smoky jazz or rock bars, and this is no exception. One singer performs a wacky, rhythmic Latin ditty that must have sparked the imagination of the members of the retro band 'Les Rita Mitsouko'. (These cabaret scenes were a welcome staple of the Euro-thriller genre of the 60s, also perking up the krimi series, several of the campier works of the Italian Gothic revival, and especially the outlaw melodramas of Jose Benazeraf.)

There are already foreshadowings of the director's latter-day carelessness -- a few too many zooms, cutting from the middle of one scene to another, and a general neglect of motivation. And, of course, he'd end up doing the revenge plot to death. But overall, this one (along with the much more perverse 'Sadistic Baron von Klaus') comes highly recommended for Franco skeptics and genre fans alike. Surprisingly, this film was immediately followed by his magnum opus, the delirious 'Succubus' (aka 'Necronomicon'), which in its pseudo-sophisticated Radley-Metzger-like style is miles removed from the Gothic horror of his early work.

The teenager Melissa (Agnès Spaak) travels from her small town in Austria with the Spanish Juan Manuel (José Rubio), who flirts with her, to the creepy castle of her uncle Dr. Conrad Jekyll (Marcelo Arroita- Jáuregui) in Holfen to spend Christmas with him and her aunt Inglud (Luisa Sala). Melissa's father Andros (Hugh White) has mysteriously died at the house of his brother Conrad sometime ago. Now she has just reached majority and Conrad intends to transfer the inheritance to her. Melissa is received by the servant Ciceron (Manuel Guitián) and she meets the strange Inglud. Then she meets Conrad in his laboratory, where he secretly carries out a sinister experiment. Melissa wants to get information about the death of her father but she is ignored by Conrad and Inglud. In the past, Andros and Inglud had a love affair and Conrad surprised them and killed Andros. Now, Conrad has turned Andros into a killer zombie controlled by ultrasonic radio wave and uses him to kill women with easy life. Inspector Klein (Pastor Serrador) is investigating the murders but has no clue. Will Melissa find the truth about her father?

"El secreto del Dr. Orloff" is one of the best movies by Jess Franco in the earlier stage of his uneven filmography. The story is simple but makes sense; the acting is not bad but unfortunately Marcelo Arroita- Jáuregui is weak for a villain; and the black and white cinematography and the camera angles are top-notch. The music score by Daniel White is perfect for the atmosphere of this film. My vote is six.

Title (Brazil): "As Amantes do Dr. Jekyll" ("The Mistresses of the Dr. Jejyll")

The second "Orloff" movie is apparently unrelated to the first (a re-acquaintance with which will follow): in fact, this name is omnipresent throughout Franco's filmography; anyway, it is more or less on the same level of THE SADISTIC BARON VON KLAUS (1962) – even if I watched ORLOFF in English rather than French (or, for that matter, the original Spanish language). Again, Franco shows to be fairly adept with genre conventions and even manages to blend them relatively easily with a modern-day setting – still, he cannot help being himself and resist incorporating nightclub performances (in fact, this rather lazily makes the artistes themselves the victims so that we get a song every 20 minutes or so!) and, inevitably, erotic overtones.

Incidentally, Howard Vernon (the actor most associated with the Orloff role) is sorely missed here – the character himself is only of secondary importance and appears very briefly – but the memorable Morpho figure, a disfigured zombie-like creature obeying its master's will (not unlike Cesare from the German Expressionist landmark THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI {1920}), is now assumed by Andros. The latter – played by Hugo Blanco, the villainous latest member of the Von Klaus family and whose brooding good looks suit his mute stalker here – is perversely turned into a monster (hence the title, though the print actually bears the absurd moniker DR. JEKYLL'S MISTRESSES - which would, in any case, have better suited Walerian Borowczyk's masterful 1981 film, DOCTEUR JEKYLL ET LES FEMMES!) by his own scientist brother (Vernon's bearded, rather gruff replacement and saddled with the peculiar surname of Fisherman) when he catches him in bed with his own wife (she, of course, also pays for her infidelity by being driven to the bottle).

However, the plot this time around is decidedly contrived: we never learn why Andros (who sleeps upright in a class cage, as Cesare himself did albeit in a wooden-box) is sent on a murderous rampage – after being revived, and subsequently controlled, by sound-waves – every once in a while (most effectively when he nonchalantly moves through a crowded nightspot following yet another attack). The "Digitally Obsessed" website review suggests the reason for the various killings is because Fisherman wanted to get even with his spouse…but this is hardly EYES WIDE SHUT (1999), is it?! Similarly, the heroine – the monster's daughter, whom she believed was dead and buried (at one point, he even visits his own grave!) – turns up to stay with the central family only so that we get the obligatory damsel-in-distress and add an admittedly refreshing touch of pathos to Andros' condition; Agnes Spaak, sister of the more famous Catherine(!), appears in this part. On the other hand, the girl's bland male counterpart is extremely annoying, and the presence of the Police basically only serves to keep the audience abreast of the villains' eventual apprehension.

Although made on a shoestring budget and as a sequel to The Awfull Dr. Orloff, this is a very enjoyable flick and a fine example of early Southern European horror. It's actually better than it's predecessor.

The plot is not real important (it contains a zombie-like creature, a castle and a mad scientist). What makes this movie is the mood, the often beautiful camera-angles, the art direction and the hints of later Franco movies.

For example, there's several scenes with women performing, often in erotic scenes, with men watching - which is exactly the kind of voyeuristic cinema Franco would turn to in later years (Vampyros Lesbos, Demoniac).

There's - of course - quite some nudity, which must have been considered quite risque in 1964. And there's a small cameo for the director himself, as a pianist who seems to be blind.....

Also of interest is the use of electronic devices used to make the zombie a murderous weapon, they give a strange effect to the movie and reminded me of early 50's sci-fi B-movies.

All in all, recommended for Franco fans and b/w horrormovie fans. If you've never seen a Franco I suggest starting with Vampyros Lesbos or Female Vampire.