Patron Saints of the Living Dead weaves a tale of voodoo, zombies through time and cinema

 

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Review by Doug Gibson

There's a passage in Frank Dello Stritto's new novel, "Patron Saints of the Living Dead," (Cult Movies Press, 2023), where our protagonist, Brent Marassas, dining with friends and acquaintances, begins to chat with an elderly lady, Madeline Short Parker.

Brett is on a quest his father sent him on shortly before dad, whom he calls "Papa," died. His father, raised without a traditional family, wants to know who his father was. A private investigator has uncovered some answers, and they lead toward the supernatural. Voodoo, zombies, living death, regeneration of life, raising of the dead, attempts to subjugate or control others via zombie-like efforts. 

Based on what Brent has learned, his father's origin likely derives from one of 13 scientists who were involved in research that mixed science with supernatural, life with death, and power with subjugation. 

One of those scientists was Assante "Murder" Legendre, the villain of the classic 1931 horror film,"White Zombie." And Brent soon learns that Madeline Short Parker is the bride Legendre turned into a zombie for a short while.

The now-elderly Madeline (the book is set more than a generation ago) recounts her horrifying experience as a virtual slave to Legendre, and the atrocities inflicted on her.

Through more than 500 pages, "Patron Saints ..." takes us through a journey of history, culture, books, newspapers and several score of genre films to weave a compelling tale of a man meandering his way through zombie, voodoo, crime, death, murder, mad scientists, and more, to find his roots. Dello Stritto has done this before, with novels about the traditional Universal monsters (Frankenstein's, Dracula, The Wolf Man), Carl Denham's "legacy" of giant apes, and the Mummy film genre. 

(I digress to note that I have helped proofread for style and grammar, nearly all of Dello Stritto's books. However, proofing is not the same as reading for pleasure, and I have read a second time all of these books prior to review.)

"Patron Saints ..." shows the maturity of the author's skills, as it weaves the coincidences a protagonist needs to encounter-by-chance (or fate?) dozens of surviving characters of films. From New York to New Orleans, to the Carribbean, back to the East Coast, through the United States, into the Intermountain West, to California and back to the Carribbean, every plot twist and scene sequence seems natural. The narrative flow works.

This is important because "Patron Saints ..." is a novel that readers unfamiliar with the voodoo/zombies' films genre can easily get into and enjoy. That's not to say his other works are lacking, but this one impressed me as a very enthusiastic recommendation to my family members and friends who -- unlike me -- haven't watched 1,0001-plus genre films.

However, genre fans will revel in how the plot moves from film to film and to characters we've enjoyed watching in theater or on screen. There are so many. They even include Carl Kolchak, the Night Stalker reporter. Readers in the know can spend time guessing the films that enter the plot; or the film producers: Monogram, Producers Releasing Corporation, '50s low-budget studios, the Halperin Bros zombies films, the film "Freaks," TV show episodes boomers loved, blaxploitation chillers from the '70s, and so on. 

Even Indiana Jones is mentioned in the novel, as research for Brent, who peruses an old academic journal of Henry Jones Jr.'s adventures in northern India -- in the "Temple of Doom" -- with the Cult of Kali Ma. Dr. Jones narrowly escaped a fate that put him in a "black sleep," ... Alive but like a nightmare," ... only able to follow the commands of high priest Mola Ram. (1)

There is one passage where Brent and his lady companion visit the decrepit home of the Incredible Doctor Markesan (from TV's "Thriller.") Our protagonist meets a survivor of that episode, who seems barely alive. He claims the house empty and that those sounds on the second floor are just the house being old. This was a passage that gave your reviewer goose bumps while reading.

Also, as in his other books, "Patron Saints ..." is full of film stills presented as historical artifacts -- either press or found -- that provide readers glimpses of the characters in the pages. Also, film scholar Dello Stritto has done impeccable research, providing art of practices described in the book, such as dissection, the work of grave robbers Burke and Hare, and even a 16th century print of a plague of uncontrollable dancing.

Although Dello Stritto's topic is zombies, he makes it clear that there are no "Romero-inspired" flesh-eating zombies in the novel. The book is an attempt to reclaim the zombie genre to its roots, in films such as "White Zombie." From Dello Stritto's Notes to Readers:

"Like Voodoo, zombie (or "zombi") is more complex than portrayed in popular culture. The original meaning was a spirit or ghost, but in the Caribbean and in popular culture a zombie is the living dead, an animated corpse. Before the mid 1960s, western popular culture portrayed zombies in their traditional role, as toiling in plantation fields or sugar mills, as the mindless slaves of their overseers. For the past half century, zombies in popular culture have been portrayed as hordes of carnivorous, infectious fiends. That recasting perhaps, is the unkindest cut of all.

"But zombies do exist."

I end this review with a fun, memorable anecdote. I re-read this novel recently on vacation in Hungary, where our family owns a Soviet-style condo.

One day we visited the city of Pecs, which is only about 36 miles from the Croatian border. It was a hot day, and I took a brief time out under trees in a park. While reading, I came to page 363, where it tells more about the history of the three "Legendre" scientist brothers.

It reads: 'Richard Marlowe and Paul Renault, the younger two of the Legendre brothers, both attended the University of Pecs in Hungary."

Indulge me, but it just seemed really cool, and unique, to be reading that passage in a park in Pecs Hungary. I think I can easily claim to be the sole reader with that experience ... so far.

1) In the 2023 film, "Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny," Dr. Jones says he was previously "tortured by voodoo," forced to drink the blood of Kali.

Becoming Dracula: Volume 1 excellent scholarship from authors Rhodes and Kaffenberger

 

Review by Doug Gibson

"Becoming Dracula: The Early Years of Bela Lugosi: Volume 1," (BearManor Media, 2021) is an absolutely superb targeted biography of Lugosi's first 38 years, from the son of a baker-turned-banker in Lugos, Hungary (now part of Romania) to late 1920, when the already acclaimed Budapest/Berlin thespian arrived penniless in New Orleans, La. 

Authors Gary Rhodes and Bill Kaffenberger have collaborated before on Lugosi books. They pored over well-over-century-old documents to unearth many new facts on Lugosi's early life and career, and they clarified and corrected information -- not completely accurate -- due to fanciful press interviews. Also corrected is some long-used incorrect information, including where Lugosi performed as Jesus Christ. He did not debut in The Passion in Debrecen, Hungary, but in Budapest in 1912.

Readers accustomed to thinking of the former Bela Blasko as only a creature of the night will enjoy the authors' account of Bela's steady rise through the Hungarian acting community. He started very small, gained stature in the provinces, playing a wide variety of roles. He did not get the call the first time he auditioned to perform in Budapest. But he gained great provincial acclaim as a talented, very handsome actor in cities such as Debrecen, and Szeged. After 1912, he became a frequent Budapest actor, with a very large fan base.

He performed in so many play adaptations. Here's just a few: Trilby, Romeo and Juliet, Anna Karenina, The Tragedy of Man, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Taming of the Shrew, Richard III, and, of course The Passion. He even eventually played -- in a film -- a "vampire," but it was not the undead type. It was the mortal, devious seducer type.

As the authors note, he did not always play the lead, or even a supporting role. Hungary's thespian community was one where actors played multiple types of roles, even extras. The authors hypothesize that some of Bela's roles may have been as obscure as a face in a crowd. But he did play many major roles, and the scores of newspaper articles gathered by the authors underscore his popularity and notoriety. He was at times criticized for overacting, or over-emoting.

The authors describe a pre-World War I Budapest that must have been thrilling for those within and interested in the arts and politics. The cafes of the city were places for passionate discussions of the arts and politics. Reading Rhodes and Kaffenberger makes me yearn to go back in time just to traverse the Budapest of that era, enter a cafe, and listen to a verbose and very opinionated Lugosi hold court on the arts and politics.

World War I stymied the arts for a while, and also tempered the fervor of many Hungarians who fought for Germany, including the officer Lugosi, who was wounded. According to the authors, he convinced doctors he was mentally unstable, and needed a discharge. Lugosi may have suffered from what we now know as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He did have lasting physical wounds. As the authors note, he had a lifelong empathy with veterans of war.

Lugosi resumed acting on the stage, and also moved to film acting, initially under the name Arisztid Olt. The authors merit respect for tracking down reviews and plots of many Lugosi Hungarian films. Only a fragment of one film exists today. 

Lugosi, long a matinee idol, also married for the first time, to Ilona Szmik, the daughter of a bank attorney. 

Lugosi became politically radicalized after the war. He supported communist government leaders. He was a communist. When one leader was pushed out by a more extreme communist government led by Bela Kun -- who was a puppet of Russia's Lenin -- Lugosi unwisely embraced Kun. He became a labor leader for the new government, in an era of increasing political violence. 

While Lugosi appears to have eschewed violence, the inevitable overthrow of Kun by a rightest alternative, and inevitable reprisals, placed Lugosi in real danger. He and his wife fled to Vienna. Soon afterwards, Ilona's parents, opposed to Lugosi's politics, persuaded their daughter to leave Vienna, return to Budapest and divorce him. In what seems unfair, the divorce was granted on claims that Bela had deserted Ilona

Bela could not chance a return to Budapest. Based on a mistaken-identity warrant, he was charged with serious crimes. The actual perpetrator had a similar name and was also an actor. The warrant was not withdrawn until the mid 1920s, with Lugosi already in the United States. 

Lugosi relocated to Berlin, and re-invigorated his career. As the authors note, post-World War I Berlin was a "Babylon" of sorts, with a culture of promiscuity (Lugosi enjoyed his share of that) and a more permissive attitude among the arts. Although not always the star, Lugosi was very active, appearing in more than a dozen German films. One, heavily edited for U.S. release from 1920, survives under the title "Daughter of the Night." It can be viewed on YouTube and other streaming services.

Why Lugosi abruptly left for the United States, without much funds, is open to debate. Perhaps he was still worried about being arrested? The authors suggest maybe a love affair went bad. More likely, they opine, is Lugosi was depressed after Ilona filed for divorce in June of 2020. 

I look forward to Part 2 of the book, slated for summer release. It's another must-have book from Rhodes and Kaffenberger. Due to the very large amount of new information unearthed through old-fashioned, shoe-leather reporting and research, I list it, along with "Vampire Over London: Bela Lugosi in Britain: Second Edition," by Frank Dello Stritto and Andi Brooks, as the two best targeted biographical works on Lugosi.

Drakula Halala -- the first filmed Dracula

Recap by Doug Gibson

"Drakula Halala," a 1921 Hungarian/Austrian film, is considered the first "adaptation" of the Bram Stoker novel. The film is lost; all that remains are stills and news reports, including a small novelization of the film. Above are the stars of the film, Paul Askonas as Drakula, and Margit Lux as Mary Land, the young lovely he menaces.

Scholar Gary D. Rhodes has the past several years become the man who fills in the pieces of a 50,000-word puzzle of the history of Dracula, Bela Lugosi and Ed Wood. Rhodes recently wrote an essay on the history of "Drakula Halala," which more or less means "Dracula's Death." He also translated the novella from the Hungarian.

I've always been fascinated with this film, and I am appreciative of Rhodes' essay, which will be the template for this post. The essay is part of a new book that Rhodes has co-edited with Olaf Brill, Expressionism in the Cinema, published by Edinburgh University Press.

Rhodes is the postgraduate director for Film Studies at the Queens University in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Brill is a German writer on film with an impressive resume. Rhodes notes that from his research, it seems that "Drakula Halala" was an expressionistic film. In what makes one ache to see this lost film, he sees similarities with "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." Certainly, the novella compares to Caligari in plot.

I urge readers to buy Expressionism in the Cinema and learn more about "Drakula Halala." I will present a short recap of Rhodes' translation of the novella and afterwards mention a few facts unearthed by Rhodes in the chapter.

The melodrama, suffering, despair and pessimism that is ingrained in the Hungarian culture is represented in Rhodes' translation. Mary Land lives alone, a seamstress working long hours to support her father, confined to a mental institution after the death of his wife. The family was once happy and wealthy, but all that is gone. Mary's boyfriend, a woodcutter named George, implores her to rest but Mary will not.

Eventually, Mr Land's death appears near and Mary and George travel to the asylum. Left there by George, Mary talks with Dr. Tillner. Left alone she is accosted by several of the inmates, including a sadistic man, Drakula, who believes he is immortal. Another, who laughs, is called the "Funny Man." Mary visits her father, who dies. Overcome by sorrow and the fear of Drakula and other inmates who visit her and pretend to be doctors, Mary is advised to spend the night in the asylum.

That night, alone, Mary is kidnapped by Drakula and taken to his castle, where he says, they will be married. Mary's revulsion, her cross and the light push Drakula away from her. He promises to return for their wedding when night comes. That evening there is an elaborate wedding ceremony prepared with other brides of Drakula. It's a strange ceremony, with elaborate lights, shrill music and flowers flowing from the ceiling. Just before Drakula kisses her, Mary pushes the cross toward him. Everyone flees, including Mary.

Outside the castle, Mary is rescued by a family. An attempt by Drakula to recapture her fails. A real doctor cares for her until he is led away on a fool's errand by Drakula. He returns to Mary before any harm can come to her. Nevertheless, thoughts of Drakula torture her in her bed, and seeking relief, she runs out of the house and into the cold snow.

We then cut back to the asylum, where Dr. Tillner is conducting his rounds. Mary is sleeping. The nurse informs the doctor she's had a terrible night of bad dreams.

Mary's kidnapping, attempted marriage and flight was all a dream.

Outside, in the courtroom, the mental patients are gathered. The "Funny Man" has a gun. Seizing an opportunity to prove his immortality, Drakula goads the "Funny Man" into shooting him. He does and Drakula dies.

George returns to gather Mary. They return home to a lifetime of happiness.  Mary requests that no one ever speak of Drakula, and asks that a manuscript of his be burnt. (Below is a still of the wedding scene in "Dracula Halala.")

The film, if the novella is correct, is hardly Stoker's "Dracula." Maybe they wanted to exploit the Dracula cultural sensation without paying any royalties to Stoker's widow, Florence. In later years, she would shut down "Nosferatu" and nearly destroy every print due to copyright violation.

The director of "Drakula Halala" was Karoly Lajthay, who acted in films with a young Bela Lugosi. It was shot mostly in Vienna but created by Hungarians. Interiors were shot in Budapest. Askonas had also played the sinister, mesmerizing Svengali in a 1912 version of "Trilby." Lux has appeared in the Mihaly Kertesz co-directed "Alraune."

Kertesz later became the famous director Michael Curtiz. He worked with Lugosi, his future expatriate, in Hungarian cinema. Curtiz was one of three screen writers credited for "Drakula Halala."

Rhodes' recounts publicity and advertising efforts for the film. There were expectations of a long showing of the film in Hungary. But that didn't happen. The film premiered in Vienna in 1921 but only played briefly in Budapest during the spring of 1921.

It's anyone guess as to why the film had a limited showing. Rhodes merits our appreciation for unearthing the information he has discovered. It may be that tucked away, forgotten in an Eastern European film vault, exists a print of "Dracula Halala." Only time well tell. Rhodes, nevertheless, has intrigued us enough to want to know more about the "first Dracula film."

Deconstructing ANTZ

A Tale of “Antz” meant more for adults than just the kiddies

Essay by Katalin Gibson

Our toddler daughter loves shows about animals big and small, so when we decided to watch the animated movie “Antz” a few nights ago, it had promised to be an entertaining evening for kiddie and a restful one for the by then worn out parents. However, after a few minutes the interest of our little one started to wane--maybe her taste refined by repeated viewings of Barney and Elmo has not prepared her for ontological monologues in the Woody Allenian vein. Mommy, on the other hand, started to be sucked into the movie as it unfolded the fable of an Orwellian ant colony. It strangely reminded me of my childhood spent behind the iron walls of communism, the old parroted slogans (“In unity is force,” “Nobody is irreplaceable”), and the workings of a society marked by overbearing state control.

Not that “Antz” is about Hungary in the 1970s and early 80s--rather, its model seems to be universal: the pattern of dictatorship. It could take place just about anywhere, from an ant colony to the Soviet Union or ancient Rome, with leaders like Mussolini or Darth Vader. The genre of “Antz” is somewhat reminiscent of Orwell’s “Animal Farm,” told from a slightly aberrant and neurotic but otherwise average ant worker’s point of view. “Z” is the classic Woody Allen from “Bananas,” just as clumsy and oddly charming, an unwitting revolutionary leader who manages to overhaul the ‘milit-ant’ leader Mandible’s burgeoning autocracy. And, as someone would expect from the hero of a tale, he becomes the new and just leader and marries Princess Leia, I mean Bala--a charming little story, where evil gets thwarted and good prevails.
So far this should be an ideal children’s story--adults have already become too cynical to believe in fairy tales anyway. In fact, it wasn’t the storyline that gained my attention, shame on me. Rather, some elements that drew provoking parallels between the everyday drudgery, the lopsided musketeer world of the ants, where all is for one but the one couldn’t care less about the many ordinary nonindividuals--and my once familiar world of communism with the Labor Day demonstrations, planned society, indoctrination and indistinct masses.

I remember being taught unwavering loyalty to the Party and their doctrine, to look at the West as the source of all evil, and to mechanically do whatever was prescribed. Divergent voices were stilled and resistance sprouted underground--another image befitting “Antz.” And, of course, this forbidden land of the West, only known from fabled accounts became our Insectopia, the land of plenty and bliss. Not many were permitted to travel, especially beyond the western borders (or, to the Soviet Union, for that matter--although I think they tried to protect the Soviets from the too liberal East Europeans in that case), and the ones who came back had tales of wonders to tell and backed their stories with 5-pound product catalogues.

Utopias are very attractive if you live in a society you find grossly lacking in perfection. You may look at stories of other lands as a proof of a real paradise. But in “Antz,” Insectopia turns out to be a garbage can: the rotting waste shared with other, jovial insects exemplifies bounty that you don’t have to work for. I guess, it would look extremely inviting if I’d had to slave in a mine every day to get my allotment of food. Otherwise, the appeal might stem from ignorance and you’ll have to be careful not to get completely lost.

Because in this new land unknown dangers lurk for the inexperienced travelers--like a piece of gum for Z and Bala, but you could also mention unemployment, menial and low paying jobs, or a lack of knowledge of the land’s culture. Maybe it is for this fear of the unknown, together with the restrictions imposed on travel (let alone the ridiculously low amount of money you were able to exchange for hard currency: $50 person for a trip--you could maybe cover the gas from it...) that most Hungarians didn’t travel much.

The workers felt safe in “Antz,” and there is something safe in your homeland, regardless of the government over you. For the average people, the monotony of everyday work and life in Hungary alternated with the occasional diversion of state-sanctioned holidays with the inevitable parades, through sunshine and rain, even in the aftermath of the Chernobyl explosion. In a strange way, this type of planned economy and society provided a source of security: things went so routinely that change would have been just as upsetting for the average worker as for the leader. The lifestyle was kind of accepted, and no one thought that things would dramatically change practically overnight. (When they did, and a more competitive type of economy was introduced, the effect came like a shock to the majority of people, who felt suddenly really lost in their newly found freedom.) And needless to say, the Antz-type instantaneous improvement in society just isn’t going to happen. I don’t know, what causes it, but while things look so simple from the average person’s stand point, when you get to be in charge, you find yourself in a huge maze of interests and conflicts, and you objectivity suddenly disappears.

Here may lay the secret of a happy ending: it is not the story that ends, but the chances of a perfectly happy resolution. Good luck to “Z” figuring out classes, just distribution, or freedom of speech in the new ant-land.

These are questions for a different genre, however. It can be refreshing to willingly “suspend our disbelief” in perfect political systems and just enjoy a little tale of little creatures, identify with the suspense of being stuck in chewing gum, and rejoice when all ends well. Maybe adults are the ones, who really need tales.