Reviews

A number of reviewers praise this very low budget production from Republic Studio as being unusually literate and serious. Okay, it is unusual in its unusual take on the origin of a vampire--but there's nothing remotely eerie or chilling or mysterious about the central figure who claims he's a vampire and that's that.

We see nothing to suggest this except he doesn't appear in mirrors. He comes across as just an ordinary guy who lives a long time and sometimes he bulges his eyes.

One of my fave Republiv heroines, Peggy Stewart, has the femme role but unfornately, doesn't do herself any favors. She's best in her cowboy and serial roles.

With a juicy title like this one, I expected a fun hour but instead nearly fell asleep.

When we first meet Dr. Rose Cotter, she's dressed strangely in slacks that are too short, big shoes, an ill-fitting blouse and seems so nervous, hyper, breathless and scattered that we could easily mistake her for a patient in the hospital where she works.

As the movie progresses, her attire reflects her inner turmoil and fears so that she resembles a bag lady you might find in some alleyway. Ragged jeans, tattered tops, a wild disregard for her attire which may have been the point of her deteriorating wardrobe by director Parker Finn.

Right at the beginning she encounters two very disturbed patients that she doesn't seem to be able to treat, with one of them ending up in a horrific situation. As the story progresses, we learn that there are "smilers" who can devastate our world. But who are they and why are they doing this?

This VERY slow-moving story is technically well done: sharp photography, music, editing, acting. But you have to be in a certain mood to really stay with it to the end.

I, for one, have never understood the boyfriends in these horror flicks who always stick with these highly neurotic heroines who often go off the deep end, leaping from their beds, shrieking, quivering, gasping and who never verbalize to these close companions what's bugging them.

Now, that I've seen SMILE, i have no interest in re-watching it again but if you're looking for something just to fill up two hours of your free time, this might do the trick but as far as scares are involved, I've seen better.

Made in 1975, the creators of this film tried to present to your average movie goer of that very closeted era that a gay bath house rocked with laughter and edgy humor that didn't offend anyone.

Trying to watch THE RITZ today is an exercise in cringe-worthy futility. The cast isn't very attractive. The main character played by John Weston spends all his time in open-mouthed, eye popping expression--as if he can't believe he's actually in a--Gay Bath House. He wears a hideous wig that he keeps misplacing and we wonder why this is a sight gag exploited throughout the film.

The usually reliable Rita Moreno spits out every word of dialogue in high drama, rolling her eyes, gritting her teeth, twisting her mouth and wildly over-playing her role as an entertainer. She's like a cartoon character who you wouldn't want to be around after a minute or two in her arch and artificial company.

It's like everyone is silently screaming: Look at Me! I'm Brilliantly Funny! I visited several gay baths during that time. Even the smallest ones revealed handsome, well-muscled hunks from small towns. In this movie, even the extras look as if they'd never visited a gym. If looking for vintage beefcake, you won't see anything pulse pounding here.

Then there's the case of the handsome, talented Treat Williams. For reasons we don't know, he is forced to talk in a high infantile voice which the film makers probably thought hysterical--but it just becomes tiresome after awhile.

The gay house phenomena at that time is one loaded with story possibilities--from high drama to earthy humor. The AIDS epidemic closed most of them although urban areas now have them again but they've been drastically changed because of the Corona Virus and more attention paid to safe sex.

The humor here is heavy and witless and the drab, miscast performers certainly don't help.

THE RITZ is better appreciated as a relic of its time: seen once and then hopefully forgotten.

I really wanted to like this movie.

Just from the first few scenes, I could tell there was intelligence and talent involved--smooth photography, intelligent looking femme lead, the believable looking cabin she's using for her writer's getaway.

The fact that she is also deaf adds a touch of originality to the mix. But as the movie continues and we see a chilling looking face watching her from a window, my attitutde began to change to a--oh, no!

And as the story moved along and the killer is obviously determined to injure or murder the poor heroine for reasons we don't know, I had to roll my eyes as we watch the endangered woman do one stupid thing after another.

My main gripe: if you're deaf and you decide to stay in a very isolated log cabin in the middle of a thick wood, wouldn't you have some type of weapon to defend yourself? Our heroine finally grabs a small butcher knife mid-way during her cat-and-mouse battle to stay alive. But I would think even an ordinary non-violent type would have something a hell of a lot more menacing to fight her assailant. Even a baseball bat, a poker, a hammer would be kept in easy reach for most ordinary mortals to protect ourselves against danger. After all, we know there are wild life species such as bears and mountain lions and the dangerous eccentric hermits that inhabit such thick woods.

The rest of the film is the usual story of a frail woman trying to stay alive by not doing some of the basic primitive things that even a deaf author would have done in real life.

Yet I would recommend this moviie to those who are not as nit-picky as I am and it would be an excellent exercise in amusement to watch on a snowy, wintry night.

When movie horror legend, Lon Chaney Sr. Was asked what was the most terrifying image he could imagine, he said "a clown at midnight." And when you think about it, seeing a bizarre figure, wearing white make-up, buling black eyes and a huge red grin beneath a full moon, could scare the beejesus out of even the most brave male or female.

In TOURIST TRAP, instead of seeing clowns in the dark, we're presented with a whole series of mannequins which do the job quite well of scaring our pants off in the way they become the source of sheer terror.

We see them barking and bellowing in dark, hoarse voices as their jaws drop down and their eyes roll.

In this neat, very-well produced little gem, a group of teenagers come across a deserted service station to seek help as the result of car trouble.

The owner, Mr. Slausen--played by a terrific Chuck Connors--welcomes them and assures them that he can help them out--except each of the visitors gradually vanish in all sorts of weird ways.

The first hideous murder starts off the movie in the very first sequence when a young man rolls his damaged tire to the station for a repair only to find the station empty.

When he hears a strange moaning from a room behind the counter, he checks it out only to find a weird figure hidden beneath a blanket. Suddenly, this creature springs up, bellowing and cackling in a chilling way and laughing. Suddenly, other mannequins appear, all animated by a hidden force and the boy becomes victim number one.

The other members of the visiting group all succumb to the wiles of the insane owner with the help of a small army of grinning, smiling mannequins who all become alive when it's time to murder.

Mr. Slausen has a brother, Davey, who hides away in the big white house behind the station. He treats the mannequins as his friends and he enjoys impersonating them. This adds to the suspense of trying to figure out when Davey begins and his impersonation begins.

The cast of young thespians are all outstanding, the editing is top-notch and the haunting musical score by Italian meister, Pino Donnagio will stick with you and greatly enhances the growing terror.

And that final seqence with the car will jolt you out of your seat or bed. The main heroine, Jocylyn Jones is greatly effective especially with those large, expressive eyes.

This is no straight-to-video exericise in cheap thrills and little imagination. Some true experts were behind this exercise in the macabre and it shows.

This is a masterpiece of horror that will remind you of PSYCHO, TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE. Almost forgotten over time, TOURIST TRAP is being re-discovered by a new generation of horror fans and they will not be disppointed when they curl up to shiver and delight in this gem of suspense and terror.

Someone got darn rich from this Youtube video that looks as if it were filmed in a few hours in someone's private home after work on a Dollar Tree budget.

Made for $14,000, this effort went on to make nearly $200 milion dollars basically because of smart video and social platform advertising.

I remember paying $10.00 to see it in a jammed auditorium, filled with mostly teenagers who were powerfully primed to be scared out of their wits. And they did scream and cower at every shadow and sound.

The whole movie looks, as I mentioned, like it were filmed in just one house so there was no cost for scenery or location shooting. There was certainly no one in charge of wardrobe. Our heroine, played by Katie Featherston wore a pair of greasy jeans and a tee shirt through the first part of the movie and her husband wore a uniform of jeans and tee shirt so they probably just reached into their closet and threw it on when it came time for taping.

And, oh, yes, those "shock" moments came down to one scene where the blanket is pulled off the bed (many screams and cries and gasps) and then that very last one in the final seconds of the movie which had everyone, except me, shrieking and hollaring and afterwards there were those from the audience seen in the lobby, hyperventilating, surrounded by others who sought to calm our nervous wrecks and bring them back to normalcy.

I've seen countless independent horror films and a surprising number did good jobs on tiny budgets. I'm thinking of THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT.

But this pathetic zero budget production should never have left its Youtube origins where we could have sat back in our chairs and watched it for free and wonder about those movie-goers who swore they fainted in some parts of this home video and others who swore they were unable to sleep for many nights as the result of--as they call it--"the scariest movie since THE EXORCIST."

In 1934, "Moss Rose" was published under the pen name of 'Joseph Shearing' but whose real monicker was Gabrielle Margaret Long who also used numerous other psuedonymns in a celebrated career in which she penned nearly 160 novels and story collections.

As Joseph Shearing, the author wrote several brilliant masterpieces of evil and murder based upon actual historical murder mysteries. For "Moss Rose," a famous 19th unsolved murder case of a London prostitute was used for an extraordinary thriller that dazzles the reader with its rich atmosphere, plotting and characterization.

In 1947, a movie version was made, starring Peggy Cummins as the cold-blooded dancer, Belle Adair who discovers the corpse of a murdered neighbor and glimpses the killer before he leaves the sleazy rooming house where Belle lives. She also finds a German Bible From there, Belle plots a future where she will blackmail the suspect, a German pastor, and escape her life of misery and poverty. What she doesn't plan for is a shocking ending.

If you're a great admirer of this extraordinary novel, then the movie version will come as a shock because of its transformation from its original brooding, haunting quality The studio produced atmosphere of nineteenth century London is okay but the totally unnecessary addition of several main characters and the complete change of the shocking ending doesn't do us readers any favors.

If you can get a hold of this hard-to-find classic, then read it first, as I have many, many times, and then sit back and compare it to the movie. You might enjoy both, but to me this novel demands a remake where the creators follow the novel and thus showing us modern Joseph Shearing addicts what could be done with a literary masterpiece.

I just happened to turn on TCM this morning when it began this all-star cast in a movie musical I'd never heard of: STAGESTRUCK.

This in itself was unusual since I had prided myself on knowing all the musicals from this studio during the 30s and I was unaware this production even existed. But as the movie progressed, I began to understand why: this ramshackle production was a disaster on every level--from miscasting, to botched script development, to the zero musical flash that the studio's musical productions always created.

The starring role is that of Joan Blondell as a madcap heiress who produces a Broadway show using her own money. But Joan portrays her throughout as this eye-rolling, mocking, hyper nightmare creature who never for a moment comes across as believable. Her whole portrayal is cartoonish as if she's trying to do a parody of someone but completely goes overboard.

She really looks out of her depth and I can hear the director screaming at her: "Roll your eyes more! Give us more fake laughs and snide remarks." But the real killer is the casting of an unknown named Jeanne Madden, as the Broadway star wannabe. She looks drab, colorless and sings one number in a piercing voice and I read later that she was "discovered" by studio mogul Jack Warner. But after two more movies, she "retired" because she had all the movie sparkle of an old bagel.

Nothing in this movie works and everytime Joan or Jeanne Madden came on, I muted the sound. They made a cringe-worthy entertainment a disaster.

This is a real curiosity for fans of Warner Brother musicals. It'd be interesting to find out the backstory about the filming of this fiasaco and why so many bad choices were made in terms of casting, script and behind the scene chaos.

Universal Studio in 1943 was still taking care of its iconic creation, Count Dracula. In this top-notch, A plus production, the studio went all out to give war time audiences a delicious treat with this beautifully production chiller--that looks even better today to many of us horror fans than perhaps it did to audiences in 1943.

The major asset as usual with Universal was its top-notch gallery of talented thespians. There's the lovely louise Albritton playing the morbid heroine, Kay, who is under the spell of the vampire king.

There's even better the outstanding Evelyn Ankers as Kay's sister, Claire, who enhances every role she plays with her true blonde beauty and intensity.

But best of all is Lon Chaney who gives us a very macho, powerful and sinister performance as the son of the immortal Dracula. Let's be thankful they didn't cast the frail, non-menacing John Carradine who was later cast as Dracula. Chaney conveys evil and menace and with his muscular torso suggests you'd better not mess with him. Carradine gave us a far too elegant monster who never even suggested evil.

Director Robert Siodmark brilliantly infuses this horror tale with some unforgettable sequences--especially the one when the count is seen standing on a coffin that's been buried in swamp water and it heads to the awaiting heroine.

Also, the count suddenly forming into shape from a cloud of mist is another chilling innovation.

One can't say enough about the outstanding interiors and sets, the wardrobe, the lighting and photography which make the Universal product so outstanding today. And as usual, that dynamic musical score underscores the dynamics of a tale of horror.

After World War II, the demand for horror movies supposedly weakened and Universal shut down its legendary B Unit in 1945 which turned out all those memorable chiller classics that we now watch and have in our collections.

Rejoice that SON OF DRACULA was so well made by masters and artists that looks even better today than ever--thanks to VHS and discs and streaming.

How I wish we still had a Universal Studio creating even more classics today--rather than the dreary parade of sequels, reboots and grade Z redo's of horror champions of old.

Norma Talmadge.

Say her name today to younger film buffs and you'll get a look that says: who's that?

She was the Meryl Streep of the Jazz Age, one of the super stars whose name on the marquee of a theater would guarantee millions of movie goers around the world to flock to her films.

That's why I was so eager to see her "talkie' debut in this 1929 production because nearly all of her film work has vanished. Or, the very few surviving films of her's are never shown, not only on TCM. One has to scour Youtube or search other film sources to even find a Norma Talmadge movie and when you do, it's so scratched and deteriorated as to be almost unwatchable.

But at least we can both see her and HEAR her in this exciting, very beautifully produced movie that Norma produced herself.

For 1929, the story is typical because MGM's 1929 production of BROADWAY MELODY--which also won the Oscar for Best Picture--set the deluge of backstage musical dramas/comedies.

Here we find Norma playing the wife of a musical composer, Gilbert Roland, whose too fond of drink and partying to be faithful to her. She discovers he's been two-timing her and so she finally throws in the towel and vows to become a party girl to make up all those lonely nights and sacrifices she's made for him over the years.

The movie gets off to an exciting beginning in the very first frame when we find ourselves in a racing police car through the streets of Manhattan. From there, the story speeds along with very few lulls. And we finally see Norma giving an outstanding performance as the dispirited wife. Her voice is fine and she gives off electricity, especially in her big dramatic scenes. She uses her outstanding facial expressions, gleaned from two decades in movie making, to convey her emotions. There's nothing old-fashioned about her performance. She's beautiful, intense and believable. She's also helped greatly by her outstanding wardrobe in the latter part of the film when she's become a good-time gal and attends a party where there's wild dancing and singing and entertaining.

What adds to the enjoyment of this movie are the striking interior sets created by William Cameron Menzies who won a special award for GONE WITH THE WIND. The moody, dramatic photography is by celebrated Ray June.

What makes Norma Talmadge such an iconic performer is that she began making films as a child in 1910 while her mother was taking in laundry to pay the bills. By the late 1900s and especially through the 1920s, both Norma and her blonde sister, Constance, reigned supreme among the silent screen's small handful of super stars that included Mary Pickford, Gloria Swanson, Clara Bow and Greta Garbo.

While Norma was notable for her dramatic performances, her sister, Constance, was the bubbly, enchanting good-time girl in her box office successes.

But NEW YORK NIGHTS proved to be a huge box office bomb, as did Norma's second "talkie" and with that she retired permanently from movie making. Legend has it that her sister Constance--who never attempted a single sound picture--telegraphed her sister to give up the movies and "be thankful for the trust funds Mama made for us." Yet, another legend has it that one day, in 1930, Norma was leaving the famous Brown Derby restaurant in Hollywood when several fans rushed her as she was leaving. Before getting into her chaffeured limousine, Norma pushed their eager pens and pads away, saying: "Get away. I don't need you anymore." Her failure to succeed in the new era of sound has been falsely attributed to her voice but that's totally untrue. In NEW YORK NIGHTS her vocal abilities are normal and rich and vibrant.

Her failure may well be that movie fans wanted fresh, new faces for this new sound medium. Granted, a handful of silent screen favorites did cross over and did well, like Joan Crawford, Norma Shearer, Clara Bow and Greta Garbo. I think Norma could have succeeded with the right properties but she was already showing her age in this first talkie of her's and there's nothing more deadly for a movie career for a female performer in that era than to show signs of aging. Besides that, both she and her sister were already enormously wealthy, thanks to their mother's shrewd investments in real estate, and some other reviewer noted, the sisters owned nearly all of San Diego.

One wishes some writer or reporter had interviewed both her and her sister for a real sit-down interview to discuss their careers in depth.

Tragically, there's almost nothing to find about Norma today.

At least she gave us NEW YORK NIGHTS to show us what she could do before a camera--and it was magic.

Adele Rowland was among the most popular singers of American vaudeville during the Roaring Twenties.

Her singing style was that of a "belter"--meaning she threw her whole body, especially hands, into belting out her tunes. In this delightful Vitaphone short, we see her at her peak, where she demonstrates her special singing gifts in four songs: "White Wings Carry Me Home," "Little Tiu Shy", "There Must Be Somebody Else" and her final tune, "Swanee Shore." She instantly catchers our attention as she dashes from the right of the camera onto an usually dreary looking set of just a piano, a chair, a swath of drapery. She wears a beautiful, eye-catching coat of gleaming material which instantly gives her an image of glamour. When she removes the coat, her party dress stuns--a shimmering creation of sequins and bangles which perfectly suits her appearance.

She sings strongly and emotionally, throwing her whole body into her performance. She's certainly a lot more arresting than many of the male and female crooners caught on Vitaphone who demurely sing their songs with barely a movement of body.

One reviewer attacks Adela for sounding bad. But that's the charm of these Vitaphone shorts is that the singers sang straight into the camera, with the orchestra performing behind the camera. There was no way to gloss over or fine tune the voices. Only after advances in movie sound did singers certainly sound more "carmelized"--or perfected into a glossy sound.

Another reviewer here was sooooo distressed that Adele had placed a negative connotation on Asian people while singing the satirical song, "Little Tui Shy" and oh, wow, another word used for Negroes popped up in "Swanee Shore." What rock is this critic living under? This is a l00 year old vaudeville act! These acts in those days were packed with ethnic jokes, bawdy routines, very irreverent joking and singing. How can one apply a 21st century filter of accepted social do's and don't to a totally different world back in 1928? I've seen this same twisted attitude being applied to old movies, especially by those reviewers who are "shocked" that people smoked and drank so much back then!

Ironically, by making this Vitaphone short, Adele and all her vaudeville cohorts destroyed their future in vaudeville. Theater patrons could now pay five cents to 25 cents to walk into a movie theater and catch these stage performers on the screen, watching them over and over, rather than paying one dollar to five or ten dollars to watch them perform on stage.

Adele vanished mostly from the scene after 1928 and performed in uncredited film roles in forgotten movies. I'd love to know what she was doing during the passage of all those years. We know from another intrepid reviewer that she was involved in a messy divorce case during the late 20s when the wife of celebrity Conway Tearle sued Adele for alienation of marital rights. Adele ended up marrying Conway until his death in the late 1930s.

Elsie Janis was one of the most popular and energetic entertainers of the early 20th century but she's now only known for an occasional mention in entertainment history--forgotten by the world as time moves on.

Here, however, we see her at her peak, entertaining with great enthusiasm a military brigade who eagerly join in the high spirits of their hostess. Everyone from Elsie to the men are so natural and at ease in this video it's like revisiting a time capsule on a sunny afternoon--either on stage or out in the open somewhere.

She brings up a British and a French soldier to help her serenade the men and they are both highly entertaining.

What fascinates about this 1926 Vitaphone short is there's nothing rehearsed or planned and you see this especially in the background where the soldiers are in good humor and lounge around the piano.

Elsie doesn't try to be glamorous or theatrical. We see now why American soldiers adored and worshipped her for keeping their spirits high as she joked and laughed and sang and we see it all in this time capsule from 1926.

Throughout this seemingly never-ending extravaganza of long-forgotten faces and bodies, I tried to imagine myself, sitting in one of those fabulous movie palaces in 1929 and experiencing this avalanche of marquee names.

It wasn't easy and it begins like a military army drill with dozens of female dancers all dolled up in uniform, tapping and revolving and moving in formation. This went on and on and although I was impressed with the number of performers on the screen, I've never cared for watching military parades.

And then began the tsunami of film personalities engaged in everything from pirates at sea sketches, singing duos, comedy routines, a ukulele playing expert, a longggg sequence involving sister acts, vaudeville entertainers.

The glaring obstacle to really enjoying this type of star cavalcade is that we have no way of knowing whose who. John Barrymore is easily identified, as is comedian Ben Turpin. But nearly all are just moving, anonymous figures. Also, my copy of this movie suffered from a serious sound weakness. It was impossible to understand most of the dialogue.

After watching this mish-mash, one realizes that almost no one appearing here were around just a year or two later. None were really suited for "talkies." And yet, we see them all, many desperately, working their hearts out to prove themselves ready for the microphone.

One really misses the original color prints that 1929 audiences saw, which may have enhanced their enjoyment. Frank Fay performed as master-of-ceremonies and he's not bad. What's interesting is that Fay was married to an unknown actress at that time, Barbara Stanwyck. When she agreed to make a screen test that year and to eventually star in a movie drama, her star began to rise, while Fay's career took a nose-dive and he was forgotten by the mid-1930s.

One familiar face that stood out was that of silent screen star, Richard Barthelmess who looked amazingly modern and whose voice sounded very good for "sound." Also of interest was the parade of "sister acts". A real stand-out were Natalie and Delores Costello--the latter stunning with her natural beauty.

If you can stick it out until the end, you may feel a touch of sadness. This was the last time the majority of these performers were ever seen, except for minor movie roles. But here, at least, we have them permanently enshrine forever on celluloid where they can continue to bore or excite future generations of film buffs..

We film buffs who delight in silent movies are always delighted when we find a complete print of a popular title from 1920. SEX is one that thrilled me because the print I saw from Grapevine Video and its appropriate musical sound track, was a real revelation on many levels. The black and whites and grays were ideal and the titles delightfully witty and wise.

I had watched only one of the handful of movies made by Theda Bara's main competitor--Louise Glaum--THE TIGER WOMAN and was impressed with her screen personae and talent.

In SEX, she has a starry, meaty role as Adrienne Renault, the sensational star of the Frivolity Club where she brings down the house nightly when she does her Spider Dance.

She also has an army of male admirers and is having a strong affair with a married man while his wife stays home nightly. Louise runs the gamut of emotions as the entertainer but she also captivates. Although she may give off the impression of being jaded and world-weary, there's a sweetness to her, too, although she does offer her protogee, Daisy, played very effectively by long-forgotten Peggy Pearce, on how to snare a sugar daddy.

Fred Niblo brilliantly directs this fast-moving, witty and very lavish production, with numerous interiors, shots of audiences, backstage life, and some striking costumes for its femme cast members. Louise's Spider Dance is wonderfully modern and very watchable even today.

In watching this entertainment, I often thought of how incredibly fast the art of movies had progressed by 1920--from movie-olas to short features, to full length features by 1915.

SEX is slick, lush, beautifully photographed and edited with a colorful script and knock-out performances by its cast, but especially the enchanting Louise who faded into obscurity by the early 1920s. She's remembered by some film historians for her "special mannerisms" in using her hands. You can see her doing this in several scenes when her hands convey certain ideas and emotions very effectively.

I've read she became a drama teacher over the decades and a popular social matron. A real tragedy is that these early silent screen stars were never interviewed in later years or given televised one-on-one's like Robert Osbourne did on TCM. What a wealth of stories and details on how these early movies were made!

It would be wonderful if SEX had a restoration, promoted so that a new generation of film buffs can see what movie-goers were being treated to in 1920 and beyond.

By the way, SEX was not surprisingly, a great movie title to bring in the crowds and they did come, according to records. But in some cities the moralists demanded the title be changed. So it was but it still didn't stop patrons from mobbing the ticket office.

This 1945 sumptuous monster rally was the last one for Universal--until it was tried again in a comedic diversion in ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN.

In the very first few frames, we're immediately drawn into the dark, shadowy fantasy of the story line when we see a monstrous bat flapping its way to a huge mansion on a cliff overlooking a glittering ocean. Dracula has come to visit Dr. Edelmann to help him survive in a modern world.

And then we meet the doctor who has fallen asleep in a chair in his den and he's awakened by Count Dracula. I have to strongly disagree with many other reviewers who praise John Carradine as "new" type of Dracula compared to Bela Lugosi. Carradine is the worst one. He looks emaciated, skinny with no sense of evil or strangeness. All he does is widen his eyes to convey danger. However, Onslow Stevens gives a show-stopper of a doctor/scientist who seems to be at ease treating not only Dracula but eventually Lon Chaney as Larry Talbot, aka The Wolfman, and later the Frankenstein Monster played by Glenn Strange.

Enhancing the talented cast is Martha O'Driscoll as Miliza, the beautiful nurse assistant to the doctor. She's very sympathetic, lovely and has a marvelous scene with Dracula as she plays the Moonlight Sonata on the piano as the count tries to put a spell on her and turn her into female vampire.

What really helps this movie along are the marvelous character actors. Who populate Universal's stream of horror gems. The movie moves rapidly and the sudden transformation of the doctor into a hybrid Wolfman/Dr. Jeklyl creature is a delightful surprise.

As usual with Universal's gallery of monsters, we appreciate the outstanding photography, lighting, interiors, locales, musical scoring and editing that makes them perfect viewing on the small screen.

This is indeed a fun scare flick to watch on a rainy and cold night with the doors locked.

Before I turned on TCM tonight to watch THE BISHOP'S WIFE from 1948, I glanced at the movie schedule of films playing the local multiple cineplex here in Asheville, NC. There was the l4th sequel to HALLOWEEN, the 20th sequel to GODZILLA, yet another reboot of GHOSTBUSTERS, a comic book extravaganza, etc. Not one of these productions had any appeal to this elderly filmgoer and certainly not enough interest to drag me out into a wintry scene and treacherous roads to navigate.

But then I curled up with a glass of wine with the wind and the rain howling outside my window, the fireplace crackling and became lost in the glorious, beautiful world of old black and white filmmaking when a group of brilliant masters collaborated to create a magical movie like THE BISHOP'S WIFE.

From the first frame to the last, one witnesses outstanding artists at the top of their game--from the sublime production values, i.e, interiors, sets, costumes, script--to the magnificent performers who knew how to act their parts.

The result is an unforgettable masterpiece that will delight viewers for decades to come while the uptenth remake of movies like HALLOWEEN will long be forgotten.

One cannot praise enough the gorgeous cinemaphotography by the great Greg Toland, the masterful script by Robert Sherwood and Leonard Berovic, the soaring musical score by Hugo Friedhofer, the interiors by Perry Ferguson and George Jenkins and of course the inspired direction by Henry Koster. Samuel Goldwyn was the powerful producer of this holiday delight. He proved over the decades that he wanted only the best talents for his films--and he certainly delivered with this gem.

But the cast is also magical. Cary Grant as the angel, "Dudley" had first been cast as the bishop, played by David Niven, but when Koster saw the early rushes, he sensed that Grant would actually be the perfect "Dudley" so the roles were switched. Loretta Young is the perfect wife of the bishop. She's warm, natural and radiant. The rest of the cast are all the best character actors to be found in the film colony at that time: Catherine Nesbitt, Elsa Lancaster, Sara Haden, James Gleason and Monty Wooley. But it's Cary Grant who proves the standout in his unforgettable performance as the wise and charismatic angel who visits this part of the world to create harmony and happiness. How lucky that he chose to interact in the lives of the bishop and his wife.

This is an unforgettable gem to be savored throughout the year but especially at Christmas to bring hope to all viewers during these truly troubled times.

It might also bring that rare tear to the eye but in a most happy way. You will be thinking about this movie long after you've seen it. It might also bring a happy smile, something that rarely happens to us in the year 2021!

I made the mistake of watching EDEN LAKE last night on my tablet just before I went to sleep. Big problem: I could hardly sleep. This grim, dark thriller was so stark and bloody that I hardly slept at all.

The story is simple: a loving couple--played by Kelly Reilly and Michael Fassbinder--plan a getaway at a popular vacation area named Eden Lake. We know they're loving because there are several scenes of them loving each other, accompanied by loud kissing sounds as they make contact.

But they incur the wrath of a small gang of thugs who are partying nearby and the Mr. Nice Guy asks politely if they could turn down their radio which they refuse to do. Big mistake number one.

The thugs make it very clear they don't want him interferring with their beer drinking and cursing and threaten him.

Instead of moving to a different part of the shoreline, our couple stays on--which is the major mistake number two.

Very soon, our adorable thugs step up their brutality and our lovely couple are running for their lives. I won't give out the details here but soon the pranks become life-threatening as the thugs capture the couple, torture them with knives, box cutters, barbed wire, etc.

The girl manages to escape and after several blood-curdling incidents, she finally makes it to the home where a party is going on. She's finally found safety--she thinks.

Throughout this film, as I've felt in nearly all of these survivalist movies, I kept silently screaming for the heroine and the hero to find a weapon of some kind to protect themselves. This does happen--but usually too late. Although Kelly Reilly gives a bravura performance as the heroine, she merely winces and tears up towards the beginning when her lover is being roughed up and tortured. I think I would have done SOMETHING, like picking up a strong rock or a sharp tree branch or anything to help defend him.

I didn't find unbelievable at all the terror of these young creeps. Here in the USA, our news showcases weekly incidents of where seemingly all-American kids casually murdering some school teacher or relative just because the killer got angry at something. The latest incident was of a son murdering his parents and brothers and sisters because the father and mother wouldn't buy him a new iPhone.

This movie, though, was relentlessly grim, dark but suspenseful. Although you wished the young couple had used more common sense in dealing with these young terrorists, you admire the young girl FINALLY waking up and acting like a flawed heroine. Director James Watkins does an outstanding job in giving us this polished, beautifully edited and photographed nightmare that will stay with you for a long, long time.

I'm a great fan of Robert Massie's definitive bio, NICHOLAS AND ALEXANDRA and was greatly excited at a chance to see what this would look like as a movie.

I mean, this time in world history had everything: a grand marriage, Russia on the verge of revolution, a truly mad Monk, Rasputin, then the horrendous end of it all in the cellar at Ekaterinberg. Sadly, this movie is much too reverent to its subject matter. It's as if the movie maker was terrified of offending anyone in the audience and the result is like a washed-out version of this dynamic true life story made by Wal Disney.

The interiors all look as if they had just been put together an hour before. Nothing looks shabby or aged but instead, everything gleams bright and pristine. The two leads are polite to each other, often show affection, but there's no spark of the great love between two such mismatched souls.

The girls look as if they had just posed for a modern magazine. Rasputin is aloof and distant and it's hard to understand that legendary charisma and personal magnetism that even his enemies discussed.

And as to that ending--while one wouldn't expect a spectacle like this to suddenly turn ghastly and gory, it totally lets down the horror and tragedy of how the family was exterminated. According to Massie, it wasn't just the family who were executed. There was a doctor and a lady's maid and perhaps one or two other people murdered.

All we see of this horror is just a blood-spattered screen. No screams, curses, sobbing, nothing. It's this ending of the Romanov dynasty that gives this period in the Riussian revolution such gravitas. There should have been something much more shocking.

I missed the hard-drinking, hard-living partiers of the Russian aristocracy, the vulgar and the gossipy. Instead, the main characters all behave themselves and sometimes frown to show worry or apprehension. As for Alexandra, she described herself in a letter to a friend at that time as completely gray-haired and her face starting to wrinkle. The girls had all cut their hair short but in the movie, Alexandra remains the same physically throughout and her daughters look as if they can hardly wait to pose again for a 1970s magazine cover.

Wolf Creek II is a slick, fast-moving killer of a movie but it doesn't make much sense and you have to wonder at the idiocy of the characters--or rather, how could the script writers have created victims who were so wanting to die.

We have John Jarrett back again as the lunatic maniac who goes around Australia back country just knocking off people as casually as a hunter would knock off wild life without a second thought.

The fact that he's never caught or even a suspect makes you wonder what world this can happen to?

After the maniac savagely knifes a young male hiker for no reason, he then goes after the shrieking, helpless girl companion who does nothing but screech and bulges her eyes as she watches her boyfriend being knifed and butchered. One would think that if you're hiking in desolate country that you would have some type of primitive weapon for defense--like, say, a butcher knife, a screw driver, a heavy club. But the shrieking girl manages to go out to a road where she flags down probably the most helpless hero seen in torture movies. Ryan Corr portrays the hapless good samaritan who picks up the beaten up girl but then the killer follows them in his truck and blows a hole through the window that kills the girl.

Our hero manages to escape for a little while and places the girl's body beneath a canopy. All this time you knew that the killer would find him soon and sure enough, the villian comes crashing through in a new truck and our hero runs for his life.

For the rest of the film, we watch this cat and mouse game--the hero escapes barely--and the killer always finds him. By this time, we wonder again why our good guy never finds anything to defend himself. No rock, tree branch, no nothing. He just runs, cowers, is beaten up over and over again.

I believe that in real life, even the most meek and ordinary person would find a way of fighting back, grabbing some object to use as a weapon. I don't believe any modern girl would just sit and scream as she watches her boyfriend be stabbed and brutalized and she does nothing but bulge her eyes and recoil.

And the fact that madman seems to have a unlimited number of trucks to crash and burn does strain logic.

And that very last scene of our hero makes no sense at all. I won't describe it here but as I watched it and saw that this was the end, I angrily turned off my tablet and wished I hadn't wasted two hours of my life watching this.

Released in 1971, "Werewolves on Wheels" very probably played the drive-in circuit across America, even appearing in Europe--and then faded into obscurity. Very few of the cast and crew, if any, were known before and afterwards which is sad. Although cheap looking and grimly photographed by Isidore Mankofskly,, this biker movie has a certain charm because of its unpretentious cast members. Much of the film looks like everyone was told to ad lib and forget the camera.

What's surprising is one of America's most beloved child actors, Billy Gray, is among the leading performers. Billy will be forever known as the cute, precocious kid in the television series classic, "Father Knows Best." He's even more immortalized a the cute, very precocious and likeable boy in the true masterpiece, "Day the Earth Stood Still." Here, he's unrecognizable beneath a long, wild wig and make-up. Making the whole movie very watchable is the hot, sexy and charismatic Steve Oliver who leads the action.

Rough, primitive and gritty, he holds one's attention throughout. Sadly, he died at an early age of 63, as did, eerily the director, Michel Levesque who worked on a number of Roger Corman B-flicks like "Blood Mama." Before passing, he quit movie making altogether because his work was rarely recognized.

As for the scare quotient, there isn't any. We see two werewolves at the very end of this long and winding tale that never seems to find its center.

The make-up isn't bad. It's just that by the time we see these monsters, our interest has long faded away.

This is a curious time-capsule of a time in American films when movies like "Werewolves on Wheels" were being released and we have to admire the drive and the guts of movie-makers like Michel Levesque who really believed he had made a movie that would entertain the masses. In 2021, his wish came true when someone like myself can still find his film on the internet and enjoy his work and that colorful, untamable cast of wild-eyed young bikers.

My main reason for watching this so-called comedy is that doomed would-be starlet, Diana Barrymore, mentions it in her memoir, Too Much, Too Soon as her big break in Hollywood. She had grown up on Fifth Avenue, with a wealthy background but with a horrible, neurotic mother, Blanche Oelrich who fancied herself a great dramatist and wrote plays under the pen name of Michael Strange. Her father was Hollywood legend, John Barrymore, who had already descended into alcoholism by the time Diane met him in Hollywood. Diana did well in her Broadway debut and was instantly deluged with offers of contracts from all the major studios because the "Barrymore" name was still legendary around the world. Her aunt, Ethel, and her uncle, Lionel, had achieved triumphs on stage and movies.

Diana chose Universal Studio over all over because, as she told her father, "they offered me the most money." But Universal was notorious for never nurturing the careers of its female stars with the exception of Deanna Durbin and Maria Montez.

Her Hollywood career began with frenzied hype, "The most sensational screen debut of the century!" And she hadn't even made a movie yet. Which brings us to "Between Us Girls." This was to be Diana's big launching pad of her talent, a chance to show the world of her extraordinary acting abilities because, you know, she was a Barrymore!

Alas, although given a posh production, Diana is much too frenzied and over-plays her role as a young actress taking a break from Broadway. The most bizarre part of the movie is when she decides to dress up as a twelve year old girl to fool her mother's suitor. We're supposed to believe that Bob Cummings is totally fooled by her cringy performance as a babbling brat. She's as tall as Cummings and acts like a woman trying to act like a teenager. There's also something creepy about how this mature man seems to get the hots for this strange "little girl." None of the characters, except for Kay Francis, are very pleasant. Ethel Griffies (Mrs. Bundy in "The Birds") is so grim and mean it's impossible to feel any amusement at her stark, grim personality. Andy DeVine screams his dialogue because he's supposed to be the agent for Diana.

The worst sequence is towards the end, where Cummings FINALLY realizes what a fool he is as Diana pleads with him to forgive her for making him act like a fool. All this takes place in an interminable car ride that goes on and on with Diana becoming increasingly hysterical: D"Please, please forgive me, sir! I--I, please, please forgive me, will you, will you, huh?" Diana doesn't look like a talented movie performer. Her face was too pudgy and any starlet could have played her role, although she writes that this part was fought over by Ginger Rogers, Deanna Durbin and other major movie actresses.

She was in Hollywood for only two years before suddenly leaving it after Universal offered her roles that she felt were demeaning to the Barrymore name. One of them was a Sherlock Holmes movie which she felt insulted her because the Holmes movie were always the second feature of a double bill--yet, they were very popular and could have given her some popular exposure with fans.

In her memoir, she describes an already thirst for too much drink while in Hollywood and after she left it, she went through nearly a million dollars in trust funds, movie money and other resources before sinking into poverty. Her choice of male partners were certainly masochistic, with one of them breaking her jaw, knocking out her teeth--but she still went back to him.

Diana committed suicide at the age of 37 shortly after the publication of "Too Much Too Soon" and a big mystery that remains is why she didn't stick it out in Hollywood and become a respectable character actress in quality films. Acting was not really in her genes although she pretended it was as she lamented not being offered movie roles that were worthy of the Barrymore name. Her only claim to fame was that she was--a Barrymore!.

This independent little gem shows what brilliant movie-makers can create on a small budget but with a gung-ho cast and crew.

Chuck Smith portrays the title character who is always spit upon. We see him as a child being beaten up and bullied. In his career as a salesman and as a husband, he is once again being used and abused. But then comes this particular day we see him undergoing god-awful bad luck--from the time he gets up and tries to use the bathroom to prepare for work to his car giving out of gas on a deserted road, gets fired from his job and then has his head bashed in and left for dead by the boyfriend of his cheating wife.

He survives and is transformed into a man whose had it with being nice and accommodating and passive. He's ready to kill!

Chuck Smith is an overweight actor who has a sweet face and an adorable personality who you immediately feel sympathy for. I could find nothing about this star actor anywhere. It's like he was created just for this movie and then vanished. But we're with him all the way as he overlooks his wife's vicious indifference to him or his work as she primps in the bathroom as he continually pleads with her to let him shave and bathe and prepare for work. You instantly hate her. And then we see the husband dressing and tying his shoes as he still struggles to dress and head for his job. There's something pitiful about the way he ties his shoes and fixes his collar without benefit of a mirror--as if he's used to settling for defeat. Although his wife said she had filled up the gas tank from her shopping spree the day before, the poor guy gives out of gas on a lonely road as he heads to his job.

A vicious truck driver won't let him pass and knocks him off the road. Then a van full of kids stop by and offer him a ride but then race away as he tries to get on. More and more incidents pile on, especially his brutal boss and supervisor at work who tell him to drop dead and go to hell.

When he makes it back home, he finds his wife balling with her secret boyfriend and they attack him, convinced he's dead. But he's not. He survives the brutal beating and a new man emerges--this one dropping all of his apologetic armor and goes after everyone who mistreated him that particular day.

The way he murders each victim is gory--but fun. He does to these deadbeats what we've often wished we had done in the past to bullies or hostile coworkers or family members or classmates.

The cast look like they were gathered up from a neighborhood and told to act out the roles. The amateur coarseness of their performances adds to the authenticity of each scene. The "young people" all look pretty mature and repulsive. None are attractive and truly look like small town slobs.

Besides the dynamic performance of Chuck Smith, Christopher Hunt is good and repulsive as the boyfriend who beats up the husband.

This film was made by Brian Gaillard and Daniel Murphy who appear in a cameo dressed up as cops. We're all excited about what movie they'll make next. And it would be a cherry on top the cake if they could find a big, juicy role for the charismatic Chuck Smith who made such a memorable killer. He's got it all for major stardom.

In most sequels to hit originals, the quality usually devolves into a "C" production. In "Species III", however, a strong cast, some juicy transformation scenes make this a good thriller to fill up two hours of your time.

This time, a species mutation has been captured and is being nurtured by a scientist. It's no surprise, this unique creature soon becomes the monster we've seen before.

As usual, there is an abundance of female nudity--but you never see any of the abundant cast of male actors with their pants even halfway unzipped.

The transformation scenes are nicely gory and a little stomach turning. For this series, this is a better than average effort and if you enjoy seeing beautiful women with large bosoms, then it should be even more attractive because the two femme leads show us what they've got.

If you enjoy watching beautiful shots of Irish scenery, where it always looks as if a storm is coming, then this movie might find favor with you. But as far as a fascinating tale about a little boy who acts very strange after his mother finds him near a gigantic sinkhole, the size of Manhattan, this movie falls flat.

The whole movie revolves around the facial expressions of the mother, played on one note by actress Seana Kerslake. There are endless, very long shots of just her face as she stares into the camera, looks out the window, driving her car, sitting at her kitchen table, sitting up in bed and we're supposed to be fascinated by what's going through her mind as she wonders about the peculiar behavior of her little son, played by James Quinn Markey.

There's little action regarding his sudden change of subtle behavior after he's discovered at the pit. He continues to act quietly and nicely but to the mother, there is something wrong with him.

We keep waiting for something dramatic to show us that the boy really has changed since being discovered at the pit. With the exception of one scene, where the mother peers through a keyhole to see her son swallowing something strange, nothing else happens.

Also, it's hard to believe that even a brave mother would go racing through the forests in the dead of night and jumps into the sinkhole to discover its terrible secret and then somehow emerge quickly with no injuries.

The mother plays most of the movie in a pair of overalls and an unattractive sweater and only changes her attire in the last scene. The wardrobe department had an easy job on this production.

The movie drags slowly, slowly, like melting candle wax, and I quickly became bored of looking at endless close-ups of the face of the mother.

The actions of her son, going from normal to weird, didn't click because to the viewer, he hadn't really changed at all except toward the end where he proves to be from another world but there's little explanation explaining why and how this happened. Enjoy the Irish countryside.