THE GAMMA PEOPLE 1956
Paul Douglas (Mike Wilson), Leslie Phillips (Howard Meade), Walter Rilla (Boronski), Eva Bartok (Paula Wendt), Michael Caridia (Hugo Wendt)
Directed by John Gilling
"A thing without a mind is nothing... an unfortunate failure."--the hypocrisy of the villain, Boronski, who controls people via his Gamma Ray machine and through oppression.
The Short Version: This barely discussed bit of Quatermass-lite British science fiction from the late 50s is a curious blend of quasi-horror and comical repartee between its "Odd Couple" leads and the arrogant genius of a pint-sized brat -- the creation of an evil Hitlerian mad scientist. Among this sinister doctors creations are an army of mindless goons that have seemingly had their memories wiped, acting as brutish automatons. It seems the filmmakers were at odds as to what sort of picture they really wanted to make. Gilling's bizarro concoction works in spite of its peculiar plot and frequent comical moments resulting in a generally satisfying little B-movie programmer.
Two reporters--one American and one British on assignment to cover a Salzburg music festival, end up stranded in Gudavia, an unmapped Eastern European village lorded over by a dictatorial mad scientist. By using gamma rays to turn people into mindless automatons, the effects of the rays also create a small army of pint sized geniuses with potentially dangerous inclinations.
This obscure British science fiction oddity comes from the same hand that guided Hammer horrors THE PLAGUE OF THE ZOMBIES, THE REPTILE (both 1966), and THE MUMMY'S SHROUD (1967) a decade later. But unlike those films, what little horror there is in THE GAMMA PEOPLE is derived from using science to create a super race of beings, and to turn people into mindless goons, or living zombies. One gets the feeling the filmmakers may have been trying to replicate the success of Britain's Quatermass film series here. However, the potentiality for suspense and terror is undermined by numerous comical scenes and chases; and therein lies the conundrum of this movie.
Gilling's B/W curio almost defies description. It's one part sci-fi and one part comedy with a bit of post WW2 socio-political commentary. Overall, it's an overly silly, if fun, and wholly entertaining movie.
A lot of this has to do with the lively script (co-written by Gilling) packed with goofy banter between the odd couple reporters; two men who stumble into investigating strange goings on in this tiny totalitarian town. Just shy of 79 minutes, there are some plot points that could do with some fleshing out (the main villain, in particular, and we could see more of the zombie slaves), but the performances are engaging enough to look beyond minor details.
Arguably the best thing about Gilling's GAMMA PEOPLE is the bratty genius, Hugo (Michael Caridia). He does a fabulous job of playing a tiny terror, but one with an unusually high intelligence and propensity for devout sarcasm. Three of his best moments are his introductory during a piano scene, a chess playing exchange between him and co-lead Phillips and again with Phillips while little Hugo embraces "the child in all of us".
The devilish, diminutive, brainy brat is just one among a motley clutch of creepy kids seen here. This other bunch are seen only sparingly, but grouped together, they evoke slight imagery, and look forward to the classic VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED from 1960. However, only two of the children (Hugo and a child piano expert) are seen as possessing uncanny abilities.
The success of this forgotten 'B' programmer is owed to a large degree to the unlikely duo of the two lead actors, Douglas and Phillips. Their interactions with each other just prior and during their unwitting arrival in the mysterious town of Gudavia display numerous low key comical moments. They also play very well off of each other even if they don't look like your typical sci fi movie heroes.
The tyrannical villain Boronski appears modeled partially on Hitler and Mussolini. The Cold War era totalitarian system is also a sinister presence; yet it, too is undermined by a lack of concrete danger brought on by the intermittently jovial tone. Boronski not only controls his zombies with his gamma ray machine, but uses fear and oppression to control the townsfolk as "zombies" of another sort. Once these two interlopers enter the fray, the subtext of a free society vs. dictatorial rule seeps into the narrative and remains there till the end.
Working with what is obviously a low budget, the mad scientist lab and other villainous accouterments have an Ed Woodian look to them. This, too, offsets any serious atmosphere the film may have wanted to incur. A Frankenstein mentality is introduced late in the picture once we finally see Dr. Boronski's headquarters, which is revealed to be situated within a European castle. He has turned this oldeworld fortress into a hi-tech facility complete with electronic doors built into its medieval architecture.
The B/W photography by Ted Moore (of James Bond fame) is also worthy of mention. Frequently the actors are dwarfed by the majesty of the European countryside. Some of the opening shots (and others spread out over the course of the movie) reflect a stark view of isolation and entrapment that adds an air of believability that this Hitlerian mastermind could rule over a small populace with an iron hand virtually unnoticed. Flanked by mountainous terrain and a pervasive overcast, this adds much scenic splendor as well as a gloomy aura to a movie that unfolds with two different styles simultaneously.
Ted Moore also was DP on the last two Harryhausen Sinbad adventures, and also CLASH OF THE TITANS (1981). His other genre work includes THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS (1962), PSYCHOMANIA (1973) and ORCA (1977).
Director John Gilling also helmed some Hammer adventure pictures like THE PIRATES OF BLOOD RIVER (1962) and THE BRIGAND OF KANDAHAR (1965); and other horror pictures such as THE FLESH & THE FIENDS (1960), BLOOD BEAST FROM OUTER SPACE (1965) and his last, the troubled CROSS OF THE DEVIL -- a film originally to have starred Paul Naschy.
While I wouldn't recommend this to diehard horror fans, or anyone expecting monsters and overt seriousness, THE GAMMA PEOPLE is a very interesting film, especially on the second viewing. For nostalgia merchants and less stringent viewers of old fashioned science fiction, this nifty little 'B' picture delivers 79 minutes worth of breezy, if off kilter entertainment.
COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE 1972 aka EL GRAN AMOR DEL CONDE DRACULA aka CEMETERY GIRLS
Paul Naschy (Count Dracula/Dr. Marlowe), Rosanna Yanni (Senta), Haydee Politoff (Karen), Mirta Miller (Elke), Ingrid Garbo (Marlene), Vic Winner (Imre Polvi), Jose Manuel Martin (Vampire)
Directed by Javier Aguirre
***WARNING! This review contains images of nudity***
"For this Gothic tale I transformed the terrifying Transylvanian Count
into a Romantic vampire who destroys himself for the love of a beautiful
mortal woman."--page 111 of Naschy's Memoirs of a Wolfman.
The Short Version: Javier Aguirre's incoherent vampire tale is a perfect example of style and (lots of) sex over substance. Its main vein lies in its thick Gothic atmosphere and erotic encounters, but is totally drained when it comes to plot and logic. Despite his size, Naschy looks fine as the Count, even if the script writes him as possibly the most anemic Prince of Darkness ever put to film. This Spanish Dracula is a hopeless romantic who INfrequently does what vampires do to remind us that we are in fact watching a Dracula movie. Curiously, the Brides and the male bloodsuckers enjoy sampling the Sangria more than the title fiend. The dubbing is more silly than usual, and the Dracula narration (in the dubbed print) doesn't help matters. The ending mimics BLACULA's, but feels forced as opposed to an attribute of the script. It's a mixed bag, but Naschy and Euro horror lovers will want to stake this one out.
Five travelers are stranded after their coach loses a wheel and the driver is seriously injured by one of the horses. With a storm and the cloak of darkness looming, the group decide to make their way to a nearby palatial sanitorium recently bought by a Dr. Wendell Marlowe. This spooky castle has a sordid history behind it that includes a devilish mad doctor and also a certain Transylvanian Count. Forced to stay for several days, they accept the hospitality of Dr. Marlowe. Later bearing witness to some frightening sights and diabolical happenings, the weary travelers discover they're actually the guests of Count Dracula.
As a movie, Naschy's sole effort playing Count Dracula is a mostly mediocre affair. There's virtually zero plot, and what little there is (cropping up late in the film) is summarily dropped from the narrative barely ten minutes later; by then, the movie is almost over with. The plot -- when it makes its sudden appearance -- involves Dracula reviving his daughter Rahdna by the bewildering process of torturing a virgin then mixing her blood with that of a woman that has fallen in love with him.
About five minutes later, Dracula suddenly decides against reviving his daughter, desiring to spend his everlasting days with a human bride named Karen, who loves him. But with scant few minutes remaining, the idea of being a vampire doesn't sound very appeasing to her. So what's a lovelorn vampire to do but take his own life; and so Dracula stakes himself, committing suicide. Much was made of this unusual scenario even though William Marshall did the same thing in BLACULA (1972) from the same year, but it had meaning there. In Naschy's film, Dracula's suicide feels almost like an afterthought.
"The Prince of Darkness will not acquire the true potential of his
bewitching power until he encounters a true virgin that will fall in
love with the vampire in a natural way... giving herself to him without
the need of his diabolical powers."--a scripting addition to the Dracula
character that doesn't make a whole lot of sense.
There's also this bizarre Dracula narration (see above quote) that dominates the latter portion of the movie. According to Naschy's memoirs, he lost his voice for a time, so possibly this narration is on both the dubbed and Spanish versions. Up to this point, Naschy's interpretation of The Count has been unlike any ever seen, and not particularly in a good way.
Turning the King of the Vampires into the lovesick undead sounds like a potentially enthralling idea; but not only does Dracula have cold hands to go with his warm heart, he's also something of a pushover. He's attacked and beaten up by those he's vampirized, and at one point, he's knocked unconscious(!) by Jose Manuel Martin's agitated vampire. Incidentally, the two male vamps seen in the movie look far more frightening than Dracula ever does; this may have been the intention of Naschy via his original work.
Aside from this peculiar treatment of Dracula, the film is filled with creepy visuals. These visuals act AS the story when there is none -- which is quite often. While the plot fails to materialize (Naschy wrote the story and screenplay with contributions by Alberto S. Insua and Javier Aguirre), the script compensates with scenes of
whipping and torturing by vampires, creepy slow motion shots of vampires
walking down fogged up corridors, or vampires battling each other for no reason
at all other than to pad out the running time.
Even more bizarre is the opening credits sequence. Apparently fearing we
might get bored watching the names of the cast and crew, the filmmakers
decide to replay the shot of the first pre-credits victim rolling down the steps
over and over again.
What makes the picture of greater interest is the incredible atmosphere the filmmakers were able to create. While fog machines and slow motion do their fair share, a lot of this ambiance derives from real locales, which were a vital component of European horror -- particular that of Spanish heritage.
Indoor (or to a degree, even outdoor) constructed sets lend an operatic feel to these movies, but for those that can't afford such luxuries, there's a certain mood that's captured by surroundings that live and breathe; that look like there's a great deal of history carved within their sometimes crumbling architecture. In the case of this movie, it's the home of 16th century nobility, the Duke and Duchess of Osuna and the surrounding grounds. Speaking of historical significance, the film does pay homage to both the mythical Dracula and the real one via some background told through dialog spoken by Vic Winner before our five ill-fated travelers end up at the castle-sanitorium.
The aforementioned look of the vampires -- the two other male ones -- is unique and very unsettling with their cat-like eyes. This look was later replicated for 1979s SALEM'S LOT; what this reviewer feels is still the scariest vampires ever designed. In fact, the vampires in Aguirre's movie are onscreen the bulk of the running time even when there's no motivation for seeing them all that time.
The amount of exposed flesh in COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE is also high. Euro horror tends to showcase at least two scenes of nudity in their movies. Spanish horror was, for its domestic releases at the time, forbidden to show sex and nudity so folks kept their clothes on; but took them off in scenes shot exclusively for the international markets. Naschy's Dracula opus contains more sexual content than usually found in these movies and it still packs an erotic wallop some 40 years after its release.
The statuesque Rosanna Yanni is the key ingredient to this films high sexual quotient. Her character of Senta is bursting at the seams with sexual energy. Her cleavage alone threatens to explode through her dress at any moment during shots of her bending over, or heaving her chest. Yanni is all too eager in her insistence to tease the camera and we, the viewers are happy to oblige whenever she disrobes, or is seen enjoying herself in a pool.
Sexy Senta is perpetually horny and when she's scorned after a lovemaking session with Dracula (she wasn't a virgin, after all, to which Drac fails to fulfill his vampiric potential according to his narration), the next time we see her, she's laid out on a tombstone being ravished by two of her now undead female companions. The two female vamps -- Elke and Marlene -- bite her on both sides of the neck then proceed to claw and suck at her breasts.
It's far more erotic and envelope-pushing than anything Hammer had done at this time; and despite its lack of cohesion, Aguirre's movie is far more engaging than anything Jean Rollin ever did -- a French director whose movies likewised lacked cohesion, but aside from sumptuous photography, were often great cures for insomnia.
Naschy's sole Dracula outing isn't as gruesome as the same years HUNCHBACK OF THE MORGUE (1972), but there's a lot of bloody violence and stakings throughout to deter from the lack of a plot. One of the films handful of creative moments showcases an unusual scene where a vampire stakes another vampire! One poor blood-drinker is impaled on a spiked fence; another is run through with a steel rod and one victim receives an axe in the head.
According to Naschy's memoirs, COUNT DRACULA'S GREAT LOVE was released in Spain in September of 1975, but a much earlier release date of December, 1973 is listed in the excellent, gorgeously mounted Naschy memorabilia compendium Muchos Gracias Senor Lobo. The film was reportedly a big success around the world. It was released in America in 1974 and also as a double billed shared with the Leon Klimovsky vampire spooker THE VAMPIRES NIGHT ORGY (1973). Naschy's vision of Dracula also played here as the exploitably titled CEMETERY GIRLS.
while it's far from being one of the man's exemplar works, it has things to recommend it to Euro cinephiles and vampire movie aficionados. Even so, it's often cited as a favorite among his devoted circle of followers. Viewing it as a movie, it's a relatively poor showing. With oodles of atmosphere, sex, nudity and blood, this neckbiter satisfies strictly on a visually entertaining level.
This review is representative of the Code Red DVD paired with VAMPIRE HOOKERS.
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