THE GIRL HUNTERS (1963)

Director: Roy Rowland

Writers: Mickey Spillane (adapting his novel), Robert Fellows, Roy Rowland

Producer: Robert Fellows

Cast: Mickey Spillane, Shirley Eaton, Lloyd Nolan, Scott Peters, Hy Gardner (as himself), Guy Kingsley Poynter, Larry Taylor, Kim Tracy, Charles Farrell, Murray Kash, Benny Lee, Bill Nagy, Hal Gilili, Clive Endersby, Larry Cross, Ricardo Montez, Robert Gallico, Tony Arpino, Nellie Hanham, Michael Brennan, Grant Holden, Frances Napier, (and uncredited cast) Pauline Chamberlain, Charles Adcock, George Holdcroft, Jim O’Brady

New York City private detective Mike Hammer (Mickey Spillane) has been a “drunken bum” for seven years. Hammer was devastated by the abduction and disappearance of his beloved secretary Velda while she was assisting on one of his cases. His former friend, Police Captain Pat Chambers (Scott Peters), brings in Hammer to get information from a dying sailor named Richie Cole (Murray Kash). Chambers wants Cole to identify who shot him because ballistics determined that the same gun also recently killed Senator Knapp, but Cole will only speak privately to Hammer. Cole tells Hammer an assassin called “the Dragon” shot him and that the killer’s next target is Velda. This shocks Hammer into sobriety and leaves him determined to find Velda before the killer does.

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By 1963 writer Mickey Spillane’s bestselling hero, private eye Mike Hammer, had already been portrayed in various films and television programs. Much to the irritation of Spillane, these productions never portrayed his character and stories faithfully, but that all changed with Spillane’s involvement in the film The Girl Hunters. Spillane himself stars as Hammer and wrote the script based on his recent novel.

This story takes place at the height of the Cold War and deals with concerns about communism. As in many of Spillane’s Mike Hammer novels, we see how the broadest threats can intrude into the life of one man who will react in the most direct and violent manner possible. This bold individualism is what appeals to the Mike Hammer fan and Hammer’s violence vents a lot of real world anxieties for Spillane’s readers.

In his stories Hammer is not only self-righteous and overbearing, but it seems that he could be a dangerously unstable individual. He certainly is dispensing lethal justice to the kind of fiends that really deserve it, yet there are times when Hammer himself seems unhinged. I actually think this is an effective ratcheting up of the kill-or-be-killed mindset that would probably be the result of anyone facing the dangers that Hammer often does. Although I suspect that Spillane himself would have denied it, it has been suggested that World War II veteran Mike Hammer may be suffering a form of shell shock.

I recall that the very first time I saw this film Spillane’s performance impressed me very much. I thought that the man was not acting. That is a true compliment. Spillane obviously knows his character inside and out; therefore, he does not need to affect any sort of pose or work to project an attitude. He has confidence in his performance because he has an intimate understanding of Mike Hammer. As the closing credits of The Girl Hunters state: “Mike Hammer is Mickey Spillane.”

The other most famous member of the cast would be the striking blonde Shirley Eaton as Laura Knapp, the widow of a senator killed by the same gun that shot Richie Cole. Despite Hammer’s devotion to the missing Velda, he is enticed by the all too present allure of Laura Knapp’s bikinied beauty. She combines class and carnality with a nice sense of humor. Whew! What more could any guy ask for? This was just one year before Shirley Eaton would achieve screen immortality as the “golden girl” in the James Bond epic Goldfinger (1964).

Lloyd Nolan provides great support as Rickerby, the federal agent that is pressuring Hammer to help him find Richie Cole’s killer. Rickerby has a personal vendetta to avenge Cole’s death just as Hammer also has a personal stake in finding the Dragon to save Velda. The two characters are initially rather antagonistic, but they soon develop an opportunistic respect for each other.

For those who have never read a Mike Hammer story, The Girl Hunters film gives them an absolutely faithful rendition of one. Many dialogue passages are presented on film word-for-word from the original novel. One great rant that is shortened in the film is Hammer’s mansplaining to Laura Knapp about the consequences of her careless firearm storage. Those lines are typical of the kind of brutal energy in Spillane’s prose. In this film Hammer is dressed and behaves exactly as Spillane envisioned him. Perhaps just as importantly, not only for Spillane but also for his readers, is that at long last Hammer is using his weapon of choice: a Colt .45 automatic.

One of the best bits in The Girl Hunters film was not in the novel but is a reenactment of a true incident in Mickey Spillane’s life. Spillane told director Roy Rowland about his encounter with an ice pick-wielding tough in a New York City bar. The director was so impressed that he insisted they use it in the film. It is one of the all-time greatest tough guy intimidation scenes.

There are those that think this film spends too much time in dialogue scenes. We see Hammer being interrogated or repeatedly meeting up with people to find out background and facts he needs to follow the trail he hopes will lead him to Velda. Impatient, modern-day movie viewers may refer to this condescendingly as exposition. To be sure, there is a lot of info traded back and forth to keep track of in order for Hammer to fit the pieces of this deadly puzzle together. That’s why it’s a mystery, folks. That may not seem dynamically cinematic, but it settles me into the reality of this world Hammer must travel in to find a killer and hopefully his lost love. Along the way there are plenty of brutal reminders of the dangers involved in Hammer’s quest.

In true Mickey Spillane fashion, The Girl Hunters has an absolutely uncompromising badass climax at the very last minute. Spillane always thought that the final page of the story should not only reward the readers for the effort they spent getting there, but that a socko finish would leave them eager for the next novel. The finish to The Girl Hunters is classic Spillane and one of the nastiest film finales ever.

TOMBS OF THE BLIND DEAD (1972)

Director: Amando de Ossorio

Writers: Amando de Ossorio, Jesús Navarro Carrión

Producers: José Antonio Pérez Giner, Salvadore Romero

Cast: Lone Fleming, Maria Elena Arpón, César Burner, José Thelman (as Joseph Thelman), Verónica Llimerá, Maria Silva, Rufino Inglés, Simón Arriaga, Francisco Sanz, Juan Cortés, Andrés Isbert, Antonio Orengo, José Camoiras, Carmen Yazalde (uncredited), Pedro Sempson (uncredited) 

In the 13th century town of Berzano along the Portugal/Spain border, there was an occult order of knights that held the region in a grip of terror. They abducted virgins to torture and drink their blood in rituals meant to endow the knights with eternal life. Eventually, the knights were condemned to death for their evil deeds and executed. The knights’ bodies were not buried until crows had eaten their eyes. In the modern day, a young woman named Virginia White (Maria Elena Arpón) spends the night in the abandoned ruins the knights once inhabited. Her presence seems to rouse the desiccated corpses of the knights from their graves to stalk the living and feed on their blood. 

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Tombs of the Blind Dead is the first in a four-film series by Spanish filmmaker Amando de Ossorio. It introduces the ongoing menace of the Blind Dead that is surely de Ossorio’s lasting claim to fame among horror fans. While it is tempting to say that this film was inspired by George A. Romero’s revolutionary classic Night of the Living Dead (1968), there is a very different take on reanimated corpses happening here. Unlike the ambiguity of reason for Romero’s dead to return to life, this film gives us a clearly defined old world supernatural horror. The appearance and behavior of these Blind Dead are quite unique. They are skeletal creatures with empty eye sockets in hooded robes brandishing swords and riding horses. They hone in on their prey with hearing so acute that they can even detect a frightened heartbeat. They are without expression or voice but have established an iconic image as synonymous with the Spanish horror film as Paul Naschy’s werewolf Waldemar Daninsky.

I suppose that to many American sensibilities the story is frustrating because we always want to see characters taking charge of a situation and furthering the plot. However, in this story everyone is unprepared for what they are encountering. Frankly, that is probably a more realistic, if simplistic, take on horror. Unless there is a lot of foreknowledge and experience that people have to cope with dangerous situations, they are probably not going to fare well. 

What little story there is in Tombs of the Blind Dead seems almost inconsequential. There is just enough character conflict to prompt people to place themselves in positions of jeopardy. This film’s primary effect is to create an atmosphere of uncanny dread. The people involved are merely there to react to the awesome horror confronting them and to stir that fear in us. 

Virginia is the only character motivated by any emotional turmoil in this story. This results in her rash action that seems to be the catalyst for the horror to come. She has an unexpected reunion with Bet (Lone Fleming), the girl she had a lesbian relationship with in college. Virginia gets jealous that her friend Roger (César Burner) is showing Bet a lot of attention. Whether she is jealous of Bet or of Roger or of both of them is never made clear. Virginia impulsively jumps off of the slow moving train the three of them are traveling on and hikes up to the nearby ruins of Berzano. Then the Blind Dead show their lovely guest the most appalling hospitality. 

All of the other characters are presented with a bit of attitude or no personality whatsoever. Character arcs and backstories are not what this film is concerned with. Bet and Roger only become involved in the horror by trying to find their friend Virginia. That’s almost all that we ever get to know about these two. 

Two other characters that are probably the most interesting because they are so sleazy are the couple Pedro (José Thelman) and Maria (Maria Silva). The gorgeous Maria gets some of the best lines as she is always horny, jealous, or both. Pedro is the smuggler and conceited stud that you really hope gets what he deserves. His sense of afterglow is lighting up a cigarette after rape and offering one to his victim. That inappropriate bit of etiquette is as repugnant as the Blind Dead themselves. 

The simplicity of this story lets the imagery of those great Berzano ruins and the undead horde of bloodthirsty knights make the strongest impression. There are also creepy scenes in a morgue, at Bet’s mannequin factory, and aboard the old steam engine train. This film’s focus is on visually interesting settings and horrific situations that present its unique menace to the best advantage. Tombs of the Blind Dead makes its audience experience a wide-awake nightmare.

PANIC BEATS (1983)

Director: Jacinto Molina (Paul Naschy)

Writer: Jacinto Molina

Producers: Augusto Boue, Julia Saly

Cast: Paul Naschy, Julia Saly, Frances Ondiviela, Lola Gaos, Silvia Miró, Manuel Zarzo, José Vivó, José Sacristán, Salvador Sáinz, Charly Bravo

Paris architect Paul Marnac (Paul Naschy) relocates with his wealthy wife Genevieve (Julia Saly) at his childhood home in the French countryside. Clean air and tranquility are prescribed to help cope with Genevieve’s heart condition. However, the Marnac family home was built upon the grounds where once stood the castle of Paul’s notorious ancestor Alaric de Marnac. Legend has it that the 16th century nobleman killed his unfaithful wife and returns every 100 years to claim the life of another wife of the Marnacs. 

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Ten years after introducing perhaps his most evil character of Alaric de Marnac in Horror Rises from the Tomb (1973), triple threat Spanish filmmaker Paul Naschy revives him in a very different sequel. Naschy writes, directs, and stars in Panic Beats. As in many of Naschy’s scripts, this has strong influences from other films while laced with even more pessimism than most of his stories. It also has a circular and ironic narrative making it unique and completely different from the previous Marnac film.

Panic Beats opens on a surreal and violent note in the 16th century with the evil Alaric de Marnac (Paul Naschy in a dual role) in full knight’s armor on horseback pursuing his unfaithful, naked wife (Carole Kirkham) through a weirdly lit forest. This stylized flashback has a nightmarish feel that is appropriate to the subsequent unpleasantness that occurs in the modern day. These contemporary events are often meant to make us question the reality of the situations presented. We wonder if they are actual or imagined on the part of the characters involved. Almost anything seems possible if you accept that the evil of Alaric de Marnac may still be infesting the Marnac homestead.

One of the advantages of someone writing scripts that he will star in is that the writer’s character gets to get it on with beautiful women. Naschy’s architect Paul Marnac is erecting more than buildings at more than one site in Panic Beats. That should give you some idea of the slippery morality that mires many characters in this film. The ripples of deceit and evil just keep spreading and the surprises keep coming until that last horrible and fitting denouement.

As Paul Marnac, Naschy seems more relaxed than in many of his other roles. Of course, almost any character would be less tormented than his signature role of werewolf Waldemar Daninsky. While Paul Marnac has his share of concerns, he seems to be one pretty cool customer. That’s probably perfectly appropriate for him once you figure out just where this strange tale is heading.

Naschy’s frequent co-star and this film’s co-producer Julia Saly should have all of our sympathies as Paul’s ailing wife Gevevieve. We don’t find out a whole lot about her background and their relationship except for what Paul relates about her to other characters. This makes us wonder with whom we should be empathizing throughout the course of this story. 

As soon as Paul gets an eyeful of Julie (Frances Ondiviela), the sexy and restless niece of his country home housekeeper Mabile (Lola Gaos), we know that infidelity may become a recurring complication in the Marnac line. Julie has a troubled and disreputable past and speaks her mind without much sentiment or tact. We are never sure how much of a disruption she may cause in this new, seemingly idyllic setting for the Marnac couple. 

As Mireille, Sylvia Miró fills out her leopard print loungewear with awesome aplomb. She also has some lines and stuff like that but I was panting too hard to hear most of them. She really is there to provide another sexy complication. This naked sleeping beauty is the most magnificent comforter to ever cover a bed. 

Once seasoned fright flick fans get most of the way through Panic Beats, they may think that they have seen it all before. Then they are in store for something that may seem out of left field and inappropriate. A lot of Euro-horrors seem to veer off down delirious detours just for effect. However, in this film the weird climax has been justified as Panic Beats closes in a vicious circle resulting in an ironic finish.

HOW TO MAKE A MONSTER (1958)

Director: Herbert L. Strock

Writers: Herman Cohen, Aben Kandel (as Kenneth Langtry)

Producer: Herman Cohen

Cast: Robert H. Harris, Paul Brinegar, Gary Clarke, Gary Conway, Paul Maxwell, Eddie Marr, Dennis Cross, Malcolm Atterbury, Morris Ankrum, Walter Reed, John Phillips, Robert Shayne, Heather Ames, Pauline Myers, John Ashley (as himself), Rod Dana, Joan Chandler, Jacqueline Ebeier, Thomas B. Henry, Herman Cohen (uncredited) 

When the new owners of American International Studios decide that the “horror cycle” is over, they layoff Pete Dumond (Robert H. Harris), the film studio’s monster makeup artist. After 25 years of loyal and profitable service for the company, Dumond is bitter and wants to strike back. Using a special drug-laced foundation cream of his own invention, Dumond can bring two actors he is making up as the Werewolf and Frankenstein under his hypnotic control. Ironically, Dumond uses monsters that he creates with his makeup to enact his murderous revenge. 

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Once again producer Herman Cohen and writer Aben Kandel have a middle-aged genius turn youths into monsters in How to Make a Monster. They had used this plot template three times before in 1957’s I Was a Teenage Werewolf, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein, and Blood of Dracula. They would employ this story device again in 1959’s Horrors of the Black Museum. Teen angst and terror seemed to be a winning combination. Cohen and Kandel knew that their teenage audience would appreciate young characters as sympathetic monsters exploited by the older generation.

Despite this proven formula in How to Make a Monster, I find myself rooting for the fanatically dedicated makeup artist Pete Dumond. Of all the Cohen/Kandel evil crackpots, his motivation is the most relatable. The very interesting dynamic in this story is that Pete Dumond’s well-being is being threatened by others’ career advancement. Unlike the other villains in the earlier Cohen/Kandel films, Pete Dumond is not trying to prove a scientific theory or achieve academic glory. The poor guy just wants to keep his job. While I have always thought that one should work to live and not live to work, if someone cut off my source of income I would be itching for some payback. In Pete Dumond’s case, those incurring his wrath are such smug bastards that they are practically begging to be butchered.

The most unique aspect of this film is its incorporation of the two previous Cohen/Kandel hits I Was a Teenage Werewolf and I Was a Teenage Frankenstein into this story as past films produced at this movie’s film studio setting. We see the Werewolf and Frankenstein characters as film actors in this story that are turned into assassins when made up as monsters by the mad makeup artist. This movie’s film company setting of American International Studios is a fictionalized version of How to Make a Monster’s actual production company American International Pictures. The film studio tour guide in the story even announces that they will visit the set of Cohen and Kandel’s next production, Horrors of the Black Museum. Here is an innovative example of the meta-story in horror films that long predates director Wes Craven’s New Nightmare (1994) and Scream (1996). 

As Pete Dumond, Robert H. Harris is not only the villain and center of the whole film, he the most sympathetic character in it. While the two young subjects in Dumond’s makeup chair are turned into his hypnotized hitmen, they are oblivious to their acts of murder and only mildly confused afterwards. Unlike the exploited teens in the earlier Cohen/Kandel horror films, we don’t spend a lot of time here with Larry (Gary Clarke) and Tony (Gary Conway), the Werewolf and Frankenstein actors, respectively. Old Pete Dumond is the character we spend the most time with and whose grievances really provide the story’s motivation and sympathy. Sure, he’s the bad guy, but he only becomes evil after being shit on by assholes.

At the top of Pete Dumond’s shit list are the film studio’s new moguls Jeffrey Clayton (Paul Maxwell) and John Nixon (Eddie Marr). They offer the dejected 25-year veteran makeup artist a measly week’s severance pay. The smug Clayton says that telling Pete in person that he is getting canned is “the human way.” Then Clayton is judgmental when Pete angrily refuses to accept the paltry kiss-off check and Clayton tells him that maybe he has been spending too much time with monsters. I can’t think of another horror film victim more deserving of their fate. 

Monahan (Dennis Cross), the movie lot security guard, is nearly as deserving of an untimely demise. After murder in the film studio, Monahan marches into Pete’s makeup room brandishing his “little black book.” He brags about all of the arrival and departure times of studio staff he has been jotting down. He also hints about other notes he thinks are incriminating and all but accuses Pete of murder. Then the anal asshole has the gall to boast to Pete that his undisclosed knowledge will be taken to the police and Monahan thinks it will result in his promotion to the head of security on the movie lot. Sure, this rent-a-cop is doing a thorough job, but the ambitious blowhard is getting off on this petty opportunity to intimidate the very person he implies that he can implicate. This dick must die!

 

Michael Landon, the original Teenage Werewolf, was not available for this flick. Gary Clarke plays the Werewolf actor Larry. However, the original Teenage Frankenstein himself Gary Conway returns to play Frankenstein actor Tony. It is fun to see these two in the makeup chair while old Pete is prepping them to be turned into his murdering monsters. Our actors-turned-teenage monsters are actually almost minor characters in this story. While they do come in handy for some of the rough stuff, old Pete is not afraid to get his hands dirty with more than makeup. 

Another AIP studio reference would be the filming of a musical number featuring John Ashley. He plays himself and was under contract to AIP at the time. He would star in other AIP films and had actually auditioned for the lead role in I Was a Teenage Werewolf. Ashley also starred this same year in the independent production Frankenstein’s Daughter (1958). 

Continuing the meta-story gimmicks, when the film switches from black-and-white to color, we see our mad makeup artist’s home shrine of his creations. Pete Dumond’s private museum is filled with masks of many monsters that horror buffs will recognize from other AIP films. Many of these were Paul Blaisdell creations while the actual creator of the teenage monsters in the previous films and in this one was Phillip Scheer. I must say that Scheer’s Teenage Werewolf and Teenage Frankenstein are two of my favorite movie monsters. 

On a final note, I not only empathize with the villain of How to Make a Monster, but I wonder if Universal Pictures’ dismissal of Jack Pierce, their makeup genius in the '30s and '40s, played any part in the inspiration for this flick. Like this film’s Pete Dumond, Jack Pierce’s innovative designs not only helped create big profits for his studio, he also created characters that are still horror icons. I suppose if Pierce had ever seen How to Make a Monster, he would have rooted for old Pete even more than I do.