Poverty row Lugosi films getting more respect nowadays

Essay by Doug Gibson

I love the book, Poverty Row HORRORS, by Tom Weaver, published originally in 1993. I earlier reviewed it here and interviewed Weaver here. Weaver can be a bit mean in his criticism (he uses the term "lowly hacks" to describe Steve Sekely and Frank Wisbar. That's bad enough. But he even snarks that the term "maybe" applies to Edgar G. Ulmer! Come on!

Nevertheless, he does love the poverty row films, and his pre-Internet book is a fantastic source, with detailed production notes, analysis and various reviews of the era. There is also an exhaustive filmography for dozens of actors who performed in the low-budget horrors; and a great index.

Although he can criticize Lugosi, Weaver understands that Lugosi is a major reason there is fandom for the poverty-row era. His PRC film, Devil Bat, and the nine Monogram films he made are the linchpin of this genre. George Zucco of PRC and John Carradine, who worked for multi poverty-row studios, can't compare to Lugosi's' efforts. As Weaver notes, Zucco could come across as mean and Carradine too often gave passive, or downright goofy (think Voodoo Man) performances.

But Lugosi gave it all in these five-day productions. He took it as seriously as if he was starring in Dracula. You can appreciate Lugosi's pride in his craft by watching Boris Karloff give less than his best effort in low-budget films (a good example is Karloff in Monogram's The Ape).

I digress to read passages from a couple of publications of that era that also recognized Lugosi's value to poverty row and why it has an impact today.

From Midnight Marquee Actors Series Bela Lugosi (1995) Gary Svehla writes, "Bela ... approached every movie as though each film performance was as important as the one before. Good films, bad films; good characterizations, cliche roles simply were not part of Lugosi's vocabulary. The only thing that seemingly mattered was the next film and the next performance. Approach the current film as being the ultimate chance to display your talents and perhaps you would have the opportunity to act again. Or, to state the philosophy more succinctly, an actor is only as good as his last film."

Here is an excellent assessment of the Monogram films from Michael Copner, formerly of Cult Movies magazine, writing in the 1990 publication, Bela Lugosi: Then and Now (also known as Cult Movies 1): "If you go into it expecting the nice atmosphere and music of the Universal productions, if you expect the thing to actually make sense, you're going to be in trouble. These movies are the pulp novels of the screen; their only purpose in the world is to make money. So you must watch them in the same way -- just a string of meaningless events going on until Bela Lugosi can come back on the screen again. That's why we're here. If you do that, you will actually begin to enjoy the cheapness a bit, and develop a new appreciation of what  Bela was able to do with absolutely nothing to go on. If this were Michelangelo, forced to create something with a single crayon on a sheet of cardboard; or Paderewski, having to perform on a baby's toy piano, you'd give them this same consideration, wouldn't you? Take this attitude the next time you watch The Corpse Vanishes and you will be amazingly rewarded."

I took Copner's advice and have been rewarded by these films for generations.

At the back of Weaver's book, he has 26 genre experts rate the nine Monogram films 1 through 9. The reviewers include Forrest J. Ackerman, Richard Bojarski, Buddy Barnett, Copner, Weaver, Svehla, Richard Gordon, Joe Dante, Arthur Lennig, and William K. Everson. A lot of these reviewers died in the ensuing years.

The cumulative results are not surprising for almost 30 years ago:

1) Invisible Ghost
2) The Corpse Vanishes
3) Voodoo Man
4) Bowery at Midnight
5) Return of the Ape Man
6) Black Dragons
7) The Ape Man
8) Spooks Run Wild
9) Ghosts on the Loose

I think today, more than 25 years later, that Invisible Ghost (a screen shot is seen above) is still the technically best film. It's probably not the funnest film, though. I'd go with The Corpse Vanishes, and then Black Dragons. Other fun films are Bowery at Midnight and The Ape Man. In my opinion, Voodoo Man and Return of the Ape Man would be second and third on the list. I think they have gained more respect the past decade or so, primarily because Lugosi's performances are so strong. His mad scientist, Professor Dexter, in Return of the Ape Man, is almost as good as his Dr. Richard Vollin in The Raven. And the East Side Kids films are still 8 and 9, although Spooks Run Wild is three times as good as the dismal Ghosts on the Loose, which really wastes Bela. Here I go:  My list:

1) Invisible Ghost
2) Voodoo Man
3) Return of the Ape Man
4) The Corpse Vanishes
5) Bowery at Midnight
6) The Ape Man
7) Black Dragons
8) Spooks Run Wild
9) Ghosts on the Loose

Be aware, that my choices for 4, 5 and 6 are more or less a tie.

This pandemic spring I re-read Lennig's superb biography of Lugosi, "The Immortal Count." My only peeve is that Lenning really seems to despise Lugosi's Monogram films, although his barbs are perhaps mostly directed at the lazy writing, poor acting by co-stars, and direction. But these poverty-row films, as Weaver and others point out, are a major part of Lugosi's legacy today. Without them, I don't think his mystique and fan base would be as strong. Imagine what we'd think today if Lugosi had chosen to be a consistent seventh lead in an A level studio pumping out dramas in the 40s and 50s? Boring. I much prefer Bride of the Monster.

I've noticed this past year a resurgence, and increased respect, for the poverty-row films of the '40s, particularly Lugosi's. Recently, we have reviewed, from  BearManor Media, "Bela Lugosi and the Monogram 9," with critical essays from Gary D. Rhodes and Robert Guffey. And we have reviewed two short story anthologies based on Monogram and other poverty-row films. They are "The Monogramthology," from Arcane Shadows Press, and "Chillers: Tales Inspired By Classic Horror Films," (compiled by Brad Braddock), from Midnight Marquee Press. Authors in both those collections include genre writers Greg Mank and Frank Dello Stritto.

But again, no matter how "respectable" these films become, they are still thrillers to be enjoyed, to have fun with. Weaver's Poverty Row Horrors is a must for fans to possess. You can buy it here.

Creature Chronicles: The Black Lagoon Trilogy, a review

The Creature Chronicles – Exploring The Black Lagoon Trilogy - By Tom Weaver, David Schecter and Steve Kronenberg. (McFarland, 2018) McFarland's website is here. Order line: 800-253-2187. (Amazon link is here.)

Review by Steve D. Stones

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Any die hard fan of The Creature From The Black Lagoon and its two sequels will find The Creature Chronicles, by Tom Weaver, David Schecter and Steve Kronenberg, to be a book of exhaustive reference and research to all things related to the trilogy of films. Lots of photographs, interviews, and biographies of actors and production crew fill the 394-page book. Everything you could ever what to know about the Gill Man can be found in this treasure trove of a book. The information contained in this book is absolutely overwhelming and detailed.

A wonderful introduction to the book was written by actress Julie Adams, who plays the shapely Kay Lawrence in the film. Adams mentions her love of classic horror films as a child, such as the time she saw Frankenstein (1931) in her home state of Arkansas. Adams saw her role in The Creature From The Black Lagoon as just another paying acting job and didn't think the film would go on to be regarded as a great classic some sixty-plus years later. Many of Adams' experiences of starring in The Creature From The Black Lagoon are documented in this book and her autobiography – The Lucky Southern Star: Reflections From The Black Lagoon (2009).

Producer William Alland attended a party at Orson Welles' home in 1940, where he revealed his idea for “The Sea Monster,” which was an early treatment for The Creature From The Black Lagoon. The story was obviously borrowed from King Kong (1933) and the silent classic – The Lost World (1925).

Creature Chronicles shows the many treatments the story and script went through before it was filmed and delivered to the screen. While producer Alland and director Jack Arnold were making It Came From Outer Space (1953), the script for The Creature From The Black Lagoon was being adapted and refined. In the first treatment by Maurice Zimm, the creature is referred to as “Pisces Man.” By the time the film was made, the creature is referred to as “Gill Man.”

Several writers wrote their own treatment of the story, as the book points out. Harry Essex was one of the writers who contributed a treatment. Both he and Arthur Ross contributed to the final script that made its way to the screen. Director Jack Arnold tried to take a lot of credit for the script, but Ross and Essex claim he contributed nothing to the final draft used in the film.

Plans to shoot The Creature From The Black Lagoon in color were being considered, but never came to fruition. Producer William Alland admitted many years later that The Creature From The Black Lagoon, along with other Jack Arnold-directed films such as Tarantula (1955), would have looked better in color. I happen to disagree with this analysis. The black and white treatment of Arnold's films, particularly The Creature From The Black Lagoon, give a look and feel that is unique for the time in which they were filmed in the 1950s.

It's interesting to note that the book points out that buxom brunette beauty Allison Hayes did a test screening for the role of Helen Dobson in the sequel - Revenge of The Creature (1955). The role was given to blonde actress Lori Nelson, who was barely out of her teens at the time she took the role.

Being a big fan of Hayes, I would have liked to see her in the Helen role, although I'm not sure the chemistry between her and actor John Agar as Professor Clete Ferguson, the animal trainer, would be very convincing. In my opinion, Hayes is a much better actress than Nelson. Although I have to admit that I do like Nelson in Hot Rod Girl (1956).

A critic of Agar once said: “I have to confess that John Agar was never one of my favorites. He always seemed . . . well, a little goofy. The awkward, stiff smile looked forced.” Revenge of The Creature was Agar's first science-fiction film. Agar also appeared in many other 1950s cult classics, such as Tarantula (1955), The Brain From Planet Arous (1957) and Invisible Invaders (1959).

I've always considered the third film, The Creature Walks Among Us (1956), to be the weakest of the three entries. This is usually the case in any trilogy of films. I've always found it a bit silly and bizarre that the creature at one point in the film walks around in what appears to be prison clothes or pajamas. It just doesn't seem to work. The design of the gill man in this film greatly deviates from the original design by sculptor Millicent Patrick used in the first film. The earliest design of the gill man was jokingly referred to as “The Pollywag,” and was later rejected for the Patrick design that we see on screen.

If you're a fan of The Creature From The Black Lagoon and its sequels, I highly recommend the book Creature Chronicles – Exploring The Black Lagoon Trilogy. The photographs in this book alone are worth the price of the book. Happy Reading.

Dracula's Daughter the latest Scripts From the Crypt offering

Review by Doug Gibson

The latest BearManorMedia Scripts From the Crypt offering, "Dracula's Daughter" (buy it here) continues the high quality of the cult films books' series. Penned mostly by Gary D Rhodes, it satisfies a constant of our genre fans: it breaks new ground. New nuggets, big and small, of scholarship are unearthed. And, as with all the books, you have Tom Weaver's observations and opinions. Love them or hate them, they are unique and the product of an original mind. There's also an introduction and essay on the music of the film from contributors David Colton and Michael Lee.

The best reading comes from Rhodes' exhaustive treatment of the film's creation. Early on, he discusses the role of women in vampire lore, using Theda Bara and other vamps to explain that vampire once meant a woman who sucked the heart and soul out of their doomed male lovers. This is relevant because later we learn that early treatments for the film included a female vampire who was sexually aggressive and delighted in the torture, degradation and dissipation of her male captives. (I am assuming blog readers have seen "Dracula's Daughter." If not, do so now.) Gloria Holden's sympathetic yet resolute Countess emerged as a result of the watering down of the plot's actions.

As Rhodes' notes, "Dracula's Daughter," a 1936 release, emerged as the moralistic production code was gaining strength. Scripts and treatments for the film endured rough seas with the censors. John Balderston, Kurt Neumann, and RC Sherriff all had their hands on the typewriter. Eventually Garrett Fort's subdued, more sanitized script became the film. Milton Carruth, who edited "Dracula," also impacted "Dracula's Daughter" with his editing, Rhodes notes.

Some of the early treatments would have been interestingly daring. The Countess as a man hunter, entering the film after already killing a lover/slave. She nearly physically, spiritually and mentally destroys the hero before succumbing. Screenwriters assured the Laemmle overlords, soon to lose the studio, that a woman conducting such sexual sadism on men would pass code approval. Witness what Balderston wrote in his treatment: "The use of a female vampire instead of a male gives us the chance to play up SEX and CRUELTY legitimately."

At one time James Whale was slated to direct. He might have been able to convey such a film in a subtle manner to fool the censors. Lambert Hillyer, a talented, workmanlike, solid director who eventually got the role, lacked the Whale magic to do that had he even tried.

We learn that Bela Lugosi was once considered to be in the film. He was even paid $4,000. However, a reading of the fascinating screenplay excerpt, from Sherriff, of a prologue that would have featured Lugosi creating his daughter, is so bizarre and sexually depraved that I think it would have trouble getting made even in the pre-code era. Lugosi, and a bunch of sadistic companions terrorize the peasantry, kidnapping women, and with exaggerated faux grotesque courtesy, torturing and murdering them. "Dracula's Daughter" is made a vampire by the Count.

But that is not the "Dracula's Daughter" that we watch today. It's a fine film with a haunting performance by Gloria Holden. Otto Kruger and Marguerite Churchill are a better hero couple than David Manners and Helen Chandler. Kruger and Churchill actually have romantic chemistry. Irving Pichel is very creepy as Holden's mortal companion, and presumably her lover. His quiet rage at watching Holden prefer Kruger to him as an immortal companion is suitably sinister. Nan Gray (Grey) is great as a poor girl, perhaps streetwalker, who eventually dies, we assume due to the Countess' unquenchable thirst. And Edward Van Sloan is back as Van Helsing, inexplicably called Von Helsing in the sequel.

Yes, Dracula's Daughter is an above-average film. The book informs us that it received generally good reviews and appears to have done well at the box office. But as Weaver rather shrewdly notes, one can watch "Dracula's Daughter" and not be convinced that the title character is really a vampire. We know she is only because that is the script's design. But this is a bloodless film. As Weaver points out, she is killed by an arrow shot through her heart; anyone would die of that.

"Dracula's Daughter," as much as I enjoy it, is neutered by the production code. It's respected within the genre, but never will it be placed anywhere near the pedestal that say, "Bride of Frankenstein" has. "Dracula's Daughter" is not a film that takes risks or tries to pierce our deepest obsessions or fears as James Whale does. It's a worthy entry at a time when Universal was still making at least A-minus budgeted horror flicks. Perhaps its finest moment is that it takes the action back to Transylvania in the final reel, something that "Dracula," still a better film, did not do.

Lest anyone think I am ungrateful, let me reiterate my deep appreciation for writers such as Rhodes and Weaver, and others, as well as thanks to BearManor Media for publishing these types of books. They are manna for me and I'm sure so many others. So much minutiae to eagerly wade through -- we love it! We learn, for example, the salaries of the stars. Holden, incredibly, only received $1,450 for a performance that is almost iconic. Kruger did a great job, but really, $9,583.30 is out of whack compared to Holden. Churchill received $1,250, Van Sloan $2,400, Pichel, who really earns it, $2,950, and unbelievably, Nan Gray (Grey), who probably is second-most remembered due to the much-debated lesbian overtones to her scene with Holden, received a paltry $200!

The entire script as shot is in the book, and as I have mentioned, the many treatments are included. There's a section on contemporary reviews the movie received; there's a fascinating press book. As mentioned, the whole back story of the film is captured, including even a "Junior" Laemmle-inspired treatment for the end. There's dozens of photos, and a tender heart-wrenching letter from Holden late in life to film fan David Del Valle, in which she stoically talks about the tragic death of her son, We even get a treatment for an adaptation of "Carmilla," another female vampire tale. This one wasn't filmed

I could spend many more paragraphs detailing what's in these pages. But just go buy the book. It's a gem. I can't wait for the next one, which is slated to be about two unrealized films from "Dracula" director Tod Browning.

Ed Wood and the Lost Lugosi Screenplays more Scripts From the Crypt reading

Review by Doug Gibson

The more devoted fans of Ed Wood's years with Bela Lugosi have long salivated for more information on scripts Wood wrote for Lugosi that he just couldn't get to the screen. The main reasons were money and clout; Wood had neither with even second-tier producers at Allied Artists or the then-new American International.

I count myself among those who long wished to read the scripts of "The Ghoul Goes West" and "The Vampire's Tomb." "Final Curtain" intrigued us for years, even if James "Duke" Moore played Lugosi's role, but we finally got to see that a few years after the one-man "Twilight Zone" wannabe pilot was re-discovered and restored.

In fact, "Final Curtain" joins "The Ghoul Goes West" and "The Vampire's Tomb" in the latest BearManorMedia's Scripts in the Crypt offering, "Ed Wood and the Lost Lugosi Screenplays," If you're a fan who loves the minutia presented in an easy-to-read style, get this book. It will satisfy your needs; the lion's share of the book is the three scripts, presented in the wonderfully nostalgic manner of copying Wood's own copies. It's kitschy but cool to see Wood's notes, misspellings, typos, scribbling, and even planned cast members' names for "Tomb", including Lyle Talbot, Loretta King, Dolores Fuller, the aforementioned Moore, etc.

Before we get to the scripts there are are several essays, all entertaining, informative, and at times poignant for genre fans. Lugosi biographer Gary D. Rhodes, in the most historically valuable essay, reviews the ultimately unsuccessful efforts to get "Ghoul" and "Tomb" produced. Besides Wood, his then-partner Alex Gordon was pitching the scripts. Originally, talk was for a three-picture deal, including a film called "Dr. Voodoo." Studio reps from Allied Artists and AIP would eventually kill these deals, asking for changes, an executive producer, fewer films, and script rewrites before ultimately saying no.

Rhodes has gathered an impressive history of press release puffs for "Ghoul" and "Tomb" that made it into trade pubs and newspapers. They would announce stars, then filming dates, and after that date passed the PR process would repeat itself. According to Rhodes' research, Boris Karloff was ready to do a single film with Lugosi. But Steve Broidy, Allied Artists' head, passed on everything. 

A real treat for readers is a reproduced review of "Plan 9 From Outer Space" from a San Diego newspaper. It's very interesting reading a viewpoint that didn't consider "Plan 9" one of the "all-time worst films." 

Tom Weaver does his usual great job in providing a synopsis of the films, with various comments on plot inconsistencies, a dose of snark, and pointing out other films that served as inspiration for the scripts' plots. (More on that later).

ED WOOD IN OBSCURITY

Leo Eaton, a former writing colleague of Wood's when both were churning out adult fiction in the early 1970s, and Robert Cremer, author of "The Man Behind the Cape," an official Lugosi biography, provide two short but powerful reminisces of Wood when he was an impoverished alcoholic. Eaton's tells of his condescending relationship with the middle-aged Wood, who would disapprove of the writers at the porn house wasting time with games. Eaton admits he didn't take Wood's claims of working with Lugosi seriously. 

The short introduction shows that Wood, even in the twilight of his career, took his work seriously. Several years ago, a low-circulation press published a collection of Wood's later, adult fiction. It was more gory adult than sex; perhaps a re-publishing is merited? 

Cremer's essay is the more powerful. It recounts 36 hours of paid interviews he conducted with Wood in preparation for "The Man Behind the Cape." (I'd sure like to see the complete transcript.) There are surreal moments of Wood's ups and downs, how a wad of bills lifts his spirits and he becomes the man who can entertain and buy the booze, and the crashes, where the penniless man sitting in an empty apartment with a wife usually in bed, regrets doing the interviews because he is the one who knew Lugosi best, and should be writing the biography.

Wood's late-life personality is captured well, when he giggles about upsetting grave markers for a "Plan 9" shoot and stealing shots without permission. In the most interesting section of he essay, Wood invites Cremer to watch his copy of "Plan 9," which he filched from a university library, with several of the stars, including Vampira, Talbot, Criswell and Paul Marco. 

They view the film with proprietary love, frequently congratulating a beaming Wood on scenes, ignoring any inconsistencies. At one point, to Cremer's amazement, Marco is impressed with the realism of the air jet's cockpit. While watching the film, they talk eagerly of more films; the elephant in the room -- the money to do so -- is not mentioned. By the next morning, the once-high, now dissipated Wood is back in the blues.

I want to note that despite his personal and professional descent, Wood was prolific to the end. He never stopped writing. His last screenplay, "I Awoke Early the Day  Died," was produced only a generation ago. He was working on a Lugosi biography, which is apparently lost. Wood-scripted films keep popping up, the latest is "The Revenge of Dr. X" "Venus Fly Trap).  Frankly, I think a lot of Ed Wood scripts and films are yet to be discovered.

Wood never gave up. He wrote, even if it was porn. And he always harbored comeback dreams. According to Rudolph Grey's Wood oral biography "Nightmare of Ecstasy," the late John Reynolds claims Wood was submitting films, and seeing them rejected, to major studios. 

From what's in this book, it's clear we need a more comprehensive, traditional biography of Wood. We need to track his descent through the 1960s and 1970s, falling further off the Hollywood road despite the frantic writing of scores of books, thousands of short stories and many scripts.

THE SCRIPTS

Someone once said that there are only seven plots and books and films follow them in some variation. "The Ghoul Goes West" and "The Vampire's Tomb" are derivative of other films, but they are smart, even lean mystery programmers (I think "Tomb" might have gone less than an hour.) I enjoyed reading the scripts, particularly "Ghoul," although "Tomb" is the deeper read. 

I won't give the exact plots away, but as Weaver notes, there's a lot of "Bride on the Monster," in concept more than specifics, in "The Ghoul Goes West." But it's primarily a poverty-row "oater" western dressed up as a mystery/horror with Lugosi as mad scientist undertaker, Dr. Smoke, trying to create giants he can control. As Weaver notes, and I agree, that it's a western makes the dialogue a little more relaxed, even snappier. Wood was having fun, you can tell.

Much has been said that Gene Autry was supposed to star in "Ghoul" and backed out, killing the project. I have to say, if Autry had done the film, I don't think he'd have disgraced himself. It's a pleasant time-waster with some genuine twists. 

I wonder if Wood gave a rueful smile when the "Curse of the Undead" western/horror was released by Universal in 1959, or when Circle Films' horror oaters featuring Dracula and a Frankenstein monster were released in the mid 1960s.

"Tomb of the Vampire," as Weaver correctly notes, is a sort of remake of Browning's "London After Midnight" and "Mark of the Vampire." Weaver adds that there's a lot of "The Cat and the Canary" and I'd add "The Old Dark House and "The Monster Walks" as inspiration as well.

There's more of the Wood melodrama in "Tomb," with characters anguishing, scheming, regretting, and killing. Lugosi has a great part as "Dr. Acula," a sinister detective rather than a fake vampire. The fake vampire was to be played by an actress named "Devila." No one knows who Wood had in mind; we only know Vampira wasn't interested. 

Lugosi's Dr. Acula" is a crackerjack part. He has great lines and takes on a Van Helsing type of role. The conclusion allowed rooms for sequels with Dr. Acula and it would have been an intriguing TV series. 

I'll digress here to opine that Lugosi's stint in rehab and subsequent poor health may have also played a role in the inability of these films to get made. To me, it's debatable he had the strength in 1956 to play anything other than the mute Casimir in "The Black Sleep."

TOO LATE FOR POVERTY ROW

Reading these scripts shows that Wood, had he been born 10-plus years earlier, would have been perfectly capable of settling into a screenwriter on poverty row, maybe graduating to B major studio films and perhaps even becoming a director. Both "The Ghoul Goes West" and "The Vampire's Tomb" would have been very acceptable productions for Monogram or PRC before 1946 or so. 

Wood was writing films in the 1950s that were no longer popular. Maybe if Lugosi had been healthier, Wood's youthful enthusiasm and prolific writing talents might have gotten Lugosi roles, perhaps a studio would have budgeted "Ghoul" or "Tomb" without Wood as director. After Lugosi died, alcohol likely tightened its vise on Wood after "Plan 9." "Night of the Ghouls" would not be released in his lifetime. His last mainstream directing job was "The Sinister Urge."

I have meandered on long enough for this review. Buy the book; what's in it is worth the price. I'll mention that Lee Harris, an accomplished veteran of the entertainment industry who narrated "Flying Saucers Over Hollywood," one of the first "Plan 9" docs, has an interesting essay on the discovery of "Final Curtain." He points out that "Final Curtain" was earlier screened in 1981 at a film festival in Southern California.There's also the screenplay of the short, TV pilot included. 

Rhodes and Weaver do their excellent research and observations and Eaton and Cremer, as mentioned, provide more information on Wood's final years. I'd still love to see the transcripts of the 36 hours of interviews with Ed Wood, Mr. Cremer.

Tom Weaver talks Poverty Row Horrors with Plan9Crunch

Interview by Doug Gibson

At Plan9Crunch, we are pleased, and indeed honored, to present an interview with Tom Weaver, who over the course of a couple generations has written scores of books and articles detailing in-depth research into many areas of cult films. Of his books, Weaver has done groundbreaking research on many topics, including films of John Carradine, the Universal horror films of 1931 to the late 40s, and poverty-row horrors of the 1940s.

It's that final subject, Poverty Row Horrors, that Weaver has been kind enough to answer several questions we had regarding his wonderful book, "Poverty Row Horrors" (McFarland), that he wrote with research assistance from Michael and John Brunas. It's a fascinating look at that magical era (1940 to a bit past World War II) in which Monogram, PRC and Republic made low-budget films of the Universal-type horror films. Ironically, around the time the war ended, the Universal horrors were starting to resemble the Monogram and PRC horrors.

-- RELATED: Our review of "Poverty Row Horrors," by Tom Weaver

Bu we digress, here is the interview with Mr. Weaver:

PLAN 9 CRUNCH: Monogram, PRC, Republic, how did they see these B movies in terms of stars, artistic quality, plots and perhaps most importantly, economics?

 Weaver: I started interviewing Hollywood old-timers and writing about old movies in the early to mid-1980s, by which time most of the people who made the Poverty Row horror movies were long gone, so I never got to ask them questions like that. I don’t know that anyone else ever did either. I assume – and assuming is all I’m doing – that they saw that there was a market for these movies, based on the success that Universal was having with their “franchise monsters,” and tried to cut into the pie. “Artistic quality,” “plots,” all those considerations … I’d also bet that only a few of them, like Edgar G. Ulmer and Frank Wisbar, gave those things much thought. The “average” Monogram writer or director probably didn’t much care if his next assignment was a comedy or a horror movie or a Western, as long as the checks cleared. I hope that doesn’t sound cynical but I’ve talked to lots of TV writers and they were in it for the bread, and almost none of them had the episodes they had written in their home video collections – if they even HAD home video collections! In the 1940s, Sam Katzman himself called his horror movies “moron pictures” and said he couldn’t understand why people wanted to see them!

PLAN 9 CRUNCH: Of the horror genre stars who played in these films (I'll omit Karloff) who was the most successful artistically, and economically for the producers?

Weaver: Well, Bela Lugosi was the most successful from a standpoint of getting people to watch the movies – he made movies for Monogram on and off for about ten years, so obviously they were popular. And then they were popular on TV and now they’re popular on home video, and if really good-quality prints of his Monograms turned up in 2015, I’m sure a lot of fans would buy them even though they’ve probably bought all of Lugosi’s Monogram movies ten times by now, in various formats. Were any of them successful “artistically”? Well, you’d have to define “artistically” for me before I could answer that. “Artistically,” Carradine and Lugosi and Zucco would probably rather be working in any other movie then being made in Hollywood, then in something like RETURN OF THE APE MAN. These WERE good actors who’d been on the stage and been in fine movies, and they probably considered it a little embarrassing to work for the smallest Hollywood studios in movies that probably even kids laughed at. I’m sure they were happy for the work, happy to be making a living … and they’d have probably been happy if their next movie wasn’t going to have a Flying Serpent or a guy in a gorilla suit starring in it.

PLAN 9 CRUNCH: You mention in the book that Monogram budgeted these films to have a profit of less than $2,000. What were the budgets and cast salaries for these films generally. Name star? Non-name stars? Supporting people, such as Frank Moran, Minerva Urecal, etc.

Weaver: No one would love to know the answers to those questions more than I would. But if there’s paperwork for these movies anywhere, I don’t know where. I was able to find out that John Carradine made $3,000 a week on VOODOO MAN, which probably TOOK a week. That’s not bad – heck, if somebody offered me a $3000-a-week job now, 2015, I’d crawl over broken glass to get it, so imagine what that was like in 1944. But I’m sure the no-name supporting players got Screen Actors Guild scale, whatever that was at the time. In the 1930s the Weiss family had to be the cheapest producers in Hollywood, and recently someone dug up a lot of their records. They paid some of their minor actors just a few dollars a day, in the depths of the Depression.

PLAN 9 CRUNCH: What non-name actors do you think distinguished themselves in these low-budget films? And among directors and crew, who were some of the better professionals?

Weaver: I’m no huge fan of either BLUEBEARD or STRANGLER OF THE SWAMP but I think it’s obvious that their directors, Edgar Ulmer and Frank Wisbar respectively, tried to give ‘em a lot more TLC than the average Poverty Row horror director. Also Joseph H. Lewis, who directed Lugosi’s INVISIBLE GHOST. Performance-wise I’ve got some favorites that nobody talks about: Henry Victor as a Lugosi-like villain in KING OF THE ZOMBIES, Ralph Morgan as the victim of acromegaly in THE MONSTER MAKER, maybe a couple more. And I also enjoy leading ladies who are a bit brighter and/or spunkier than the norm, which would be Joan Barclay in BLACK DRAGONS, Louise Currie in THE APE MAN, Jean Parker in BLUEBEARD. Although maybe that’s as much thanks to the writers as to the actresses. Another reason that not-much is known about these movies behind-the-scenes, beyond the fact that the moviemakers were pretty much all dead before anybody started asking ‘em questions, is … they were made so quickly that, decades later, the people involved barely remembered them. Every Poverty Row actor or actress I talked to … they were good for one or two anecdotes, MAYBE, and that was IT. And that’s understandable. When I’m 80, and somebody asks me about a job that took me three days when I was 30 and hadn’t thought about since, they ain’t gettin’ NUTHIN’ out of me, I promise you!

PLAN 9 CRUNCH: Why did the genre falter after World War II? Perhaps as importantly, why were they successful during World War 2?

Weaver: Universal made horror popular again with SON OF FRANKENSTEIN, which made a LOT of money for a horror flick, and then THE CAT AND THE CANARY and THE GHOST BREAKERS with Bob Hope were hits that inspired more horror-comedies, and then the Val Lewton movies did unexpectedly well. They were good escapism for blue-collar types and kids and, if a studio didn’t put too much money into ‘em, they were assured a profit. It’s weird, it seems like all the studios were always following Universal’s lead when it came to the horrors: DRACULA and FRANKENSTEIN were hits so the other studios started making them. In the mid-1930s they were getting LESS popular and civic groups were complaining about horror pictures here and abroad and Universal stopped making them, so everybody else stopped too; and in the mid-1940s Universal merged with International Pictures and decreed no more horrors, no more Westerns, no more B-pictures, and again all the other studios ALSO dropped the horrors.

PLAN 9 CRUNCH: Republic's films seem to have higher production values but lack traditional horror elements? Why was that?

Weaver: There were great, efficient crews working at Republic and they could make their cheapies look darn good, and did. I don’t think too many people at Monogram or PRC were sitting up nights trying to figure out how to make their movies look better. In fact, PRC movies HAD to look cheap – I’m told that to save money, they used the cheapest kind of film, film that newsreel cameramen used, so the movies probably looked old and dupey when they were brand new. As for the horror elements in Republic movies, it seems to me that their writers just weren’t cut out for monsters. They TRIED to come up with “something a little different” sometimes – a vampire in Africa who walks in sunlight and gets into fights; a Catman, a vampire-like joker they called a zombie, etc. They’d establish these offbeat horror characters and then didn’t know what to DO with them, so they have ‘em get into fights and chases, as if they were still writing a serial or a Western. Weird!

PLAN 9 CRUNCH: You're harsh at times in your assessments but fair. Do you think these films are overrated due to honor bestowed to stars and genre. What's the best Poverty Row offering in your opinion, from artistic and entertainment values?

Weaver: My favorite is probably THE DEVIL BAT because I like the murder-a-reel plot, I like the monster even though it’s the next thing to a kite I guess, and Bela actually seems like he’s having a good time playing the villain. I know that’s not the answer you’re “supposed” to give, I know BLUEBEARD and STRANGLER OF THE SWAMP have the best reps – and there ARE good things about them. But they’re so somber, no fun. And so cheap-looking. Both are PRCs and both look like they’re from 1919 because of the film stock, because they’re so dark, because they’re so drab. They make a Republic movie like LADY AND THE MONSTER look like an MGM super-production!

And this last question is from my co-blogger at Plan9Crunch, Steve D. Stones.

PLAN 9 CRUNCH: Mr. Weaver, you often are very critical of the films and directors you write about. Even though some of your criticism is warranted, do you still find some entertainment value in many of the bottom of the barrel films you write about? Since art and entertainment is very subjective, would you ever admit that there is something hip and unique about finding "bad movies" entertaining and worth one's time to view them?

Weaver: I find things to like in just about all of these movies, or (obviously!) I wouldn’t want to write about them. Who sits down and says to himself, “I hate B-Westerns” or “I never like musical comedies” and then their next thought is, “I should watch a ton of them and spend a year writing a book about them!” But when I actually sit down and have to critique these things, sometimes scene by scene, it CAN come out sounding pretty negative. Yes I kinda like THE APE MAN because Bela’s first scene is kinda funny and the scene of him running around town with the ape is darn funny and the ending, in its penny-ante way, is halfway exciting. Fine, there’s four minutes that I really like. But you’ve also got to write about the movie’s OTHER 60 minutes which I don’t think ANYbody much likes! So, yes, sometimes I’m sure my enthusiasm gets washed away by the tidal wave of complaints.

I love finding good things in a “bad” movie, or finding an unheard-of movie with a lot to recommend it, and sharing my opinions with other fans so that maybe they’ll give the movie another look. When people who buy my books contact me, there are two things they can say that I especially like hearing. Number one, that I wrote about a movie in such a way that it got them to rewatch it. That’s kinda what it’s all about, if you ask me. I love it when I’m reading a book and the discussion turns to a movie that I’ve seen, but not in a long time, and the writer writes about its best scenes and best performances and enthuses about it in such a way that after a while I have the attitude of “Forget about reading this book, I’m gonna go watch those movies.”

The other thing I love hearing is that people read my books in the bathroom. Maybe every writer won’t admit this, probably doesn’t LIKE admitting this, but – that IS the highest compliment you can get!

We'e grateful for Tom Weaver for taking the time to share his cult films expertise with our readers.

A veritable scrapbook of all things Ed Wood and 'Bride of the Monster'

Review by Doug Gibson

I thought I knew all there was to know of “Bride of the Monster,” Ed Wood’s deliriously entertaining thriller that places Bela Lugosi in his last starring role, the last time he carried a film, that the plot and film’s success relied on his performance. I’d read several books with information on “Bride of the Monster” and perhaps three times as many articles. 

I was wrong, though. “Ed Wood’s Bride of the Monster,” part of the Scripts From the Crypt collections edited by Tom Weaver, published by BearManor Media this year, is a literal — in fact intentional — scrapbook devoted to all things related to the iconic “Bride of the Monster,” which is generally the third-most popular Ed Wood film, after “Plan 9 From Outer Space” and “Glen Or Glenda.”

The film’s synopsis, as well as the script (an actual copy) is included in the book. The film involves an exiled mad scientist, Dr. Eric Vornoff, trying to make atomic supermen in his home, by a swamp and a lake, near a city in Florida. A woman reporter, (Loretta King) her boyfriend detective (Tony McCoy), and other police try to put a stop to it. There’s also a government agent, Professor Strowski, (George Becwar) presumably from a communist country, trying to kidnap Vornoff. The mad scientist is helped by a very large mute, Lobo, whom he found wandering in Tibet's wilderness. Lugosi plays Vornoff and Tor Johnson plays Lobo.

Film scholar Gary D. Rhodes presents a very interesting essay on the film’s history. Here are some things that I learned. “Bride of the Monster” was once a part of a package of films that Wood and film producer Richard Gordon hoped to sell to Allied Artists. Besides Lugosi, another star of a film was to be Boris Karloff. Eventually, these hopes were reduced to one film, “Bride of the Atom,” that would have starred Karloff, Lugosi and Lon Chaney Jr. That would have been an excellent teaming of three legends, but in the early 1950s, not many were impressed with the idea.

In the Allied Artists scenario, Karloff would have played Vornoff, Lugosi Strowski, and Chaney Jr. Lobo. Eventually, Allied Artists nixed the whole idea and left Wood scrambling to seek funding as well as he could, eventually getting the lion’s share of the funds from star McCoy’s father. 

Another tidbit of information I learned is that “Bride of the Monster” appears to have been ... drum roll ... a box office success. Of course, Ed Wood never saw a cent of the profits, having signed it away. But the film, with capable distribution and successful people in the industry behind it, including Samuel Arkoff, was handled effectively. It was in distribution for years, and about a year as a first-run feature. In one article, Bride’s share of receipts for a week in Los Angeles are tagged at $8,000-plus. The history of the film’s distribution is covered in detail, and it shows a film that was always in theaters in the mid 1950s, in double features, triple features and as part of live spook shows. The film was even paired with the Raymond Burr version of “Godzilla.” This information, a treat for fans, was gathered by Dr. Robert J. Kiss.

I recall reading, probably in “Nightmare of Ecstasy,” Rudolph Grey’s oral history of Wood, someone mentioning that if any Wood film made money, it was “Bride.” The information in this scrapbook provides strong evidence that is accurate.

The scrapbook also includes dozens of pages with small, paragraph-packaged facts on the film, compiled by Weaver, who, along with Rhodes, has a long list of previous literary accomplishments covering genre films. Weaver does offer an interesting take on who might have written most of “Bride of the Monster.” Some say Wood; others say Alex Gordon. Weaver favors Gordon, arguing that Bride’s “companion films,” “Plan 9 From Outer Space” and “Night of the Ghouls,” have certain Wood trademarks (lectures about violent youth, overwrought narration) that are absent from the tighter, more disciplined “Bride” script. Weaver also reminds that if you pay attention, you can see an unbilled Conrad Brooks behind a window early in the film.

It’s fun to read the script, because frankly, it presents a more exciting film that ended up on the screen. Obviously, budget limitations and a very limp octopus prop hampered what’s on the screen. But it is sad that the film does not have the promised battle royal between a atomic giant Vornoff and the monster octopus as depicted in the script. In the film, Lugosi’s double submits weakly to the octopus. Again, it's likely due to costs and a poor monster prop.

Besides what I have mentioned, this scrapbook contains many photos, an excellent essay on the career of character actor Ben Frommer (the drunk in “Bride of the Monster) , an essay on the music score (Bride had an original score!), as well as very interesting interviews with ”Bride“ star Loretta King, Wood’s last wife, Hope Lininger Lugosi, and a 1970s interview of Wood by Fred Olen Ray. I have seen all of these before in the now-defunct Cult Movies magazine, but it’s fun to have them in the scrapbook.

Also gathered are the script from Lugosi’s Las Vegas act in the 1950s and his testimony before Congress, shortly before his death, on his long struggle with drug abuse. (A page of that testimony is missing from the book, though). Also, ”Bride’s“ very small press booklet is included. There are copied recollections of Wood and Lugosi from the Gordon brothers and an interview with Richard Sheffield (also missing a page), the last person to see Lugosi alive. There's even a playbill from an "Arsenic and Old Lace" touring company with Lugosi as Jonathan Brewster. And even more ... but get the book!

We who love the minutiae of our cult films obsessions salute this book. Like ”Nightmare of Ecstasy,“ it’s a collection we will pore over hundreds of times over the years, reading a little, or most of the volume if we have a long weekend. Re-read, re-read, re-read, we do what we can to feed our love of Ed Wood, Bela Lugosi, ”Bride of the Monster,“ and more. How fortunate we are to have books like this, that respond to our needs.

More art from Steve D. Stones along with a couple of reviews

At Plan9Crunch we've always used co-blogger Steve D. Stones' iconic art to go with blog articles. In the last month or so we have done it frequently and I hope it continues. The first art (above) is Steve's Kiss art. Accompanying it will be this blog review of Kiss Meets the Phantom in New York, one of the most kitschy TV movies ever made. Here's an excerpt:

Gene Simmons in particular left an impression on me with his long tongue and demon headed boots. Kiss Meets The Phantom of The Park greatly suffers from a thoughtful script and production values. Hanna-Barbara Studios, creators of Scooby Doo, produced the film. Guitarist Ace Frehley had a hard time showing up for work in make-up at 7 a.m. from partying the night before, and drummer Peter Criss had his lines dubbed by another actor because his dialogue was difficult to decipher. A stunt double was used for Frehley’s action sequences because he was so unreliable on the set.

 Our second art by Steve (above) is the Bride of Frankenstein, It's a scandal but we have never published a review of that great film (we will one day). In any event, we link to our review of scholar Tom Weaver's wonderful book, "Universal Horrors," that reviews all of the Universal films of its golden era, including "Bride ...'

Here is an excerpt from my review (buy this book, it's on Kindle too):

Highly regarded directors, such as Tod Browning, James Whale and Earle C. Kenton were eventually replaced with by-the-numbers guys such as William Beaudine or Jean Yarbrough. It's also interesting to track the reviews through the 15 years. The earliest classic Universal monsters received grudging respect by the major newspapers (think New York Times) but gradually over time the reviews became -- appropriately -- pans. It's amusing to read the deliberate snide pans over the years from one New York Times film critic, the amusingly named Bosley Crowther!

Poverty Row Horrors remains, despite the snark, a great achievement for Tom Weaver

By Doug Gibson

I re-read a genre book that's been around a long time, "Poverty Row Horrors," by Tom Weaver, with help from Michael and John Brunas. It's a marvelous work of film scholarship that covers -- in depth -- the output of Monogram, Producers Releasing Corporation and Republic studios during the first several years of the 1940s. It was a certainly a golden era for cult film buffs with stars such as Bela Lugosi, George Zucco, John Carradine, and even Boris Karloff, working in the C-film horror trade.

Weaver is, to use a cliche, a treasure. Besides his interview books, he has done work, with associates, on the Universal horror films, the films of John Carradine, and of course this book, that frankly may not be equaled. The depth of the research is superb. Everything you want to know about, say "The Mad Monster," "The Invisible Ghost," or "The Vampire's Ghost," etc., you are liable to find in this volume.

In the era of the now-defunct "Cult Movies" magazine, I always looked for a Tom Weaver film review and read it first, for the sole reason that I knew it would have far more genre-intensive information than the other film reviews.

But there is a less attractive feature to Weaver in his writing; he can be snarky, particularly to Bela Lugosi ad his fans. Here's an example from "Poverty Row Horrors" in "The Devil Bat chapter: "According to another PRC 'scoop,' 'Bela Lugosi says that for sheer dramatic tension and unadulterated horror, Devil Bat far outshines Dracula (cue to Weaver's snark) (There may be more truth to that statement than traditionalist horror fans will want to admit!)"

Sigh. Anyone who has read Universal Horrors has to put up with the Bela-bashing to enjoy that otherwise superb book. But one aspect of reading Poverty Row Horrors will be the periodic snarky jabs at directors, actors in these cheap but memorable films. Although these jabs are a small price to pay for the scholarship Weaver uncovers, one wishes he could see these films in the way that Cult Movies once opined, as "Rembrandt with a crayon." We are all aware of the plot holes, inconsistencies, and low budgets of films such as "The Corpse Vanishes," "Dead Men Walk," "Ghosts On the Loose," and others, but it's odd to hear a writer of this genre unleash his inner-Bosley Crowther (the fussy New York Times critic of that era) in meticulously criticizing Poverty Row cinema.

Enough of my rants, though; Weaver does acknowledge the fun factor of these films, the ability of these crazy plots of films such as "Bowery Over Midnight" or "Return of the Ape Man" or "Isle of Forgotten Sins" to provide entertainment, to be successes due to the charisma, mixed with outlandishness, that a Lugosi can provide. I agree with Frank Dello Stritto that these poverty row horrors did not really scare audiences; they were a combination of relief and nostalgia, escape for audiences wearied by the Depression and World War II. Also, Weaver seems to be a good sport, willing to take opposing viewpoints. He wrote a gracious introduction to the recent book "Tod Browning's Dracula," by Gary Don Rhodes, even though he disagrees with Rhodes' take on "Dracula."

If I have a real beef on a film's quality with Weaver it's probably his take on Frank Wisbar's PRC masterpiece "Strangler of the Swamp." Although I agree the later PRC version is not as good as Wisbar's German effort "Ferryboat Woman Maria,' it's still a superb film with amazing atmosphere for having a swamp on a stage. And Charles Middleton as the Strangler, with his methodical steps and dead eyes, is the closest poverty row came to creating legit scares. Weaver claims that many of Strangler's fans are merely echoing William K. Everson's praise in "Classics of the Horror Film." I disagree; I never read Everson's book and still loved "Strangler," among the first Poverty Row films I saw. I agree with Weaver that Wisbar bored us later, including with "Devil Bat's Daughter," but he scored with "Strangler in the Swamp."

(Frankly, an example of genre fans being swayed to one side is the excessive praise for the Spanish "Dracula" a generation-plus ago when it was located. Too many declared it superior to Browning's "Dracula," an incorrect assessment that is slowly being corrected.)

I do love this book, and no one should get upset at subjective differences of opinion. If you are a poverty-row horror film fan, this is a book that will last a lifetime as one reads chapters over and over. There is also an informative chapter on the music used in these films. A segment of more films with short synopsis, and a filmography for the many professionals who appeared in the films.

I favor the Monogram and PRC films, and particularly enjoy reading the Joseph L. Lewis and Edgar Ulmer directed films. I'm not as big a fan of the Republic poverty row films, but I do love the offbeat film "The Vampire's Ghost," and it has its chapter. You can buy this book via amazon here

'The Brute Man' marked a pathetic end to Universal's golden age of horror

By Doug Gibson

I love the 15 golden years of Universal Studio horror films, starting with Dracula and adding Frankenstein, Igor, The Wolf Man, two Mummies, various Invisible humans and assorted mad scientists, creatures and tortured professionals (think Inner Sanctum). But the final film of the genre, "The Brute Man," stinks. 

Rondo Hatton was a truly tragic figure. Universal's last "monster," he was "The Creeper," except he didn't creep. He more or less staggered. He suffered from acromegaly, which disfigured his face and badly affected his health. In fact, he died of a heart attack a couple of months after "The Brute Man" wrapped at Universal. It was eventually sold to Producers Releasing Company, not due to quality; Universal, in the midst of a merger, was shedding its B-film productions. 

"The Brute Man" involves a series of murders committed by "The Creeper," an ugly, tall figure who apparently can slither through the city and kill at will. The police, doing nothing, are badgered by the mayor to catch the Creeper. Meanwhile, in a risible plot development, the Creeper orders groceries to his shack by the waterfront and then kills the delivery boy when he gets too curious. 

Finally, the police gather that The Creeper is an embittered former college football star who was disfigured in a lab accident. He's getting revenge on his ex-college pals whom he blames for his predicament. One of the ex-pals is wealthy Clifford Scott, played by Tom Neal. Now, Neal is usually an interesting actor to watch; anyone who has seen "Detour" or "Bowery at Midnight" can see he has some screen presence. But not in this film. Befitting the boring story and drab direction from Jean Yarbrough, Neal is a bore sans charisma who is killed by The Creeper.

Meanwhile, in what film historian Tom Weaver has correctly tagged as a grotesque homage/parody to the superb "Bride of Frankenstein," the Creeper becomes infatuated with a beautiful blind piano instructor, played by minor starlet Jane Adams, (best known for being a hunchback nurse killed by mad doctor Onslow Stevens in "House of Dracula.") Despite the Creeper's declarations that he's wanted by the cops, Adams invites him to visit her as often as he can. Also, for a little while, the Creeper is unaware she's blind ...

Eventually, The Creepe" kills a pawnbroker and gives the blind woman, named Helen Paige, diamonds to pay for an operation to restore her sight. Naturally, when she tries to redeem them, the police inform her they are stolen. (This is as boring to write as it was to watch).

Eventually, the languid cops use Helen, having her publicly confess-- via the press -- that she knows who The Creeper is. (Why they wouldn't keep it secret and wait for another Creeper visit, when he wouldn't be angry and ready to kill, is beyond me.) Anyway, the Creeper learns that Helen "turned" on him and hurries to her apartment to kill her. There, he's intercepted by the police and captured. End of story.

"The Brute Man" runs under an hour. It's strikingly underscores how Universal's chiller Bs deteriorated in the last couple of years, with Spider Woman and The Creeper. Everyone attacks Rondo Hatton for his poor performance, and it is bad. He whines rather than talks and his attacks are poorly staged. But has anyone considered that poor Rondo Hatton was in the final months of his life. He was dying! I'm sure he could use the money in the final few years of his life but the use of him as The Creeper is creepy and exploitative.

Ironically, Hatton's grotesque visage has become very iconic. The now defunct Cult Movies magazine used it on its cover for years and the Monster Kid Classic Board, or whatever it's called, has annual "Rondo" awards for excellence in the genre. I supposed the iconic status of Hatton justifies using his face today, and I don't doubt the good will or sincerity of the fans today. But it still seems like one more bit of exploitation toward a man who suffered from a truly tragic disease that caused him great pain during his life. If any screen visage should honor excellence in the genre, it should be Lon Chaney's Phantom of the Opera. Watch "The Brute Man" below, via MST3K.

'Universal Horrors' is an incredible piece of research of a golden black-and-white era

By Doug Gibson

"Universal Horrors: The Studio's Classic Films, 1931-1946," 2nd Edition, from McFarland, is a simply incredible work of reference from genre writers Tom Weaver, Michael Brunas and John Brunas. Eighty-six films from Universal, spanning 15 years, are covered in so much detail that I can't imagine what can be added. Every film, whether "Frankenstein" or "The Spider Woman Strikes Back," receives near equal consideration and analysis. The authors deserve full credit for spending what must have been thousands of hours working on a project that likely yields more kudos than dollars.

I read the book over a two-week period and at times had to stop, frankly overwhelmed by the details in every film. The $55 book is meant as a reference guide, to be perused at one's leisure. Its use to prepare one to view a Universal film is invaluable. I recently watched and reviewed "The Old Dark House after re-reading the extensive research on the film provided by Weaver and company.

If one does spend a great deal of time with the book, one notes the gradual decline in Universal products, that begins more subtly in the late 1930s, gains steam in the 1940s and eventually leads to the studio that produced "Bride of Frankenstein" turning out films such as "House of Horrors" and "The Brute Man," efforts that were akin to poverty row studios. One notes the gradual decline in budgets from the 1930s monster films to under $100,000 efforts in the 1940s such as "Man Made Monster." In between the years it's interesting to see the studio's original, classic monsters slip into second-tier status in the 1940s' Kharis Mummy films and the "House of ..." monster-fests. Or watch its stars move from Lugosi and Karloff to Chaney Jr. and Carradine and eventually Rondo Hatten.

Highly regarded directors, such as Tod Browning, James Whale and Earle C. Kenton were eventually replaced with by-the-numbers guys such as William Beaudine or Jean Yarbrough. It's also interesting to track the reviews through the 15 years. The earliest classic Universal monsters received grudging respect by the major newspapers (think New York Times) but gradually over time the reviews became -- appropriately -- pans. It's amusing to read the deliberate snide pans over the years from one New York Times film critic, the amusingly named Bosley Crowther!

As mentioned, there are scores of films. The authors are liberal in their selections, including comedy farces, Basil Rathbone's Sherlock Holmes series and Lon Chaney Jr's Inner Sanctum soap operas. But more is a plus here, as each film contains a treasure chest of genre facts for the reader. Weaver & Co. can be snarky at times, particularly at Bela Lugosi fans (they suffer from a syndrome that prefers John Carradine over Lugosi as a screen Dracula) but these matter nothing, Universal Horrors is far too valuable a tome to refuse over a few critical differences. I loved it and will use it as a reference for a lifetime.

A review of "John Carradine, The Films"

By Doug Gibson

There is a anecdote, in "John Carradine, The Films," that perfectly sums up the helter-skelter career -- and life -- of the late actor John Carradine, a man who would take virtually any role, so long as the check would cash. As producer-actor Tony Cardoza relates to author Tom Weaver, he and his associate, Coleman Francis, were traveling down the Hollywood Freeway when they noticed Carradine, in a convertible sports car. Coleman, spotting an opportunity, yelled for Carradine's attention, asking him if he'd discuss acting in a movie they were going to shoot.

Carradine suggested they pull over and go to a diner. At the restaurant, a deal -- for $600 advance money -- was hatched and Carradine subsequently had a small part in "Night Train to Mundo Fine," a hideously bad film that bored the few who saw it then, and later was played for laughs on Mystery Science Theater 3000. Incredibly, for what I'm sure was a few hundred dollars more, Carradine warbled the film's title song. That placed him in the same schlock legendary status as fellow horror actor, Lon Chaney Jr., who sang the theme song to "Spider Baby." (a much better film)

The year "Night Train ...." was released, Carradine also acted in "Munster Go Home," for big studio Universal, "Billy the Kid Versus Dracula," for a tiny studio, and in "The Emperor's New Clothes," an early Bob Clark film shot in Florida that appears to be lost.

But that was a typical year for Carradine, always short of money, grabbing a few thousand wherever he could but still popular enough to to get cast in the occasional big-studio film. "John Carradine, The Films," from McFarland Press, (here) was published more than a decade ago but it remains the definitive work on the melodramatic hard-drinking thespian who traversed through Hollywood, and many other shooting locations, for almost 60 years. Weaver's book is fantastic, a true labor of love, since the odds are probably slim he's made a lot of money off this extensive research. He provides magazine-quality features and recaps of Carradine's hundreds of films. And he's enough of a sleuth to ferret out information on Carradine's most obscure films, the cheapo westerns ("Cain's Cutthroats," "Five Bloody Graves" ...) that are poor imitations of "The Wild Bunch", the south-of-the-border Mexican thrillers --  including a yet-to-be-marked cult classic with Basil Rathbone -- that have yet to be dubbed into English, and not-released, or plain lost crap, such as "... Emperor's New Clothes."

Carradine merits this attention from Weaver, as well as tribute essays from contributors Joe Dante and Fred Olen Ray, both directors who worked with Carradine, who never retiring, died in 1988 at age 82. Despite the poor quality of many of his films, Carradine's participation, however slight, marks them as films worthy of note. Virtually every director, or other film crew member, that Weaver managed to contact offers only praise for Carradine, his work ethic, as well as his candor, and even bluntness. The elderly actor, battling crippling arthritis and trying to keep a fee of $1,000 a day from the cheap-set independents that always sought him out, would carefully learn his lines, deliver them well, and then leave the film, unaware of the entire plot and likely never seeing the completed film.

As many interviewees relate, while on the set, Carradine would regale actors and crew members with anecdotes and tales of his half-century of experiences as a prominent actor. "Great stories told by a master raconteur," is how Dante put it. Dante, by the way, directed one of the better late films that Carradine acted in, "The Howling." Another great story collected in Weaver's book is how Carradine, spending a few days on the set of "Shock Waves," a slightly above-average 1970s horror tale about zombie Nazis, put himself in danger by allowing five shots of his "dead body" in the ocean to be filmed in a pool. On the fifth take, as Fred Olen Ray relates, Carradine's head collided with a wooden dinghy strategically placed over his body. He was quickly rescued, and Carradine, about 70 at the time, collected his $8,000 check and was off to a new film. One can only repeat -- what a trouper. Years later, Olen Ray noted that Carradine claimed no remembrance of the film.

As the reader may have guessed by now, I find Carradine's later acting years more fascinating. There were fewer big-budget films -- two exceptions were "The Shootist" and "Peggy Sue Got Married" -- but the countless films, with titles such as "Shock Waves" or "Vampire Hookers" or Hillbillys in a Haunted House" or "Beast of the Yellow Night," or "Doctor Dracula" ... and so on, the recaps and memories paint a fascinating portrait of a hard-driven old actor, alone despite his several marriages and well-known actor sons, indefatigably pressing forward, knowing he alone had the power to earn the money needed to pay alimony, feed his body, quench his alcoholic thirst, and find warm places to sleep.

Carradine's acting career began in earnest in 1930, when he lodged a small part in the sound remake of the silent classic "Tolable David." He claims he was tested by Universal for the Frankenstein monster role. Carradine's salad days in Hollywwod were the late 1930s and early 1940s, when he was a contract player for 20th Century Fox. He was in "Stagecoach," "Cleopatra," several well-regarded films about the James boys, played Mormon enforcer Porter Rockwell in the big-budget "Brigham Young," and is perhaps best known for his role as the radical, irascible preacher in the classic "The Grapes of Wrath."

One gets the impression that Carradine would have shucked his career in films on a moment's notice if he could have made it big on the stage. He tried, particularly with his second wife, actress Sonia Sorel, to start acting companies. The legends of Carradine, usually in his cups, quoting Shakespeare on Hollywood streets are true. However, there never was enough money to leave films, and money became more scarce after he was dropped as a contract player. One of his best films, however, "Bluebeard," was filmed at ultra-cheap PRC studios in the mid-1940s. It helped that the director was the great Edgar Ulmer, a friend who was also on the outs with the big studios.

Factor in an ugly divorce, an unwise second marriage, constant carousing with the bottle, and alimony and support problems that led to infrequent jail stays, and Carradine's final 40-plus years were basically a sprint of frequent films that were the means to stay ahead, however precariously, of the many bills he was faced with. In the mid-1940s, Universal flirted with Carradine, using him as Dracula in two monster-fests, but the horror craze died at that time. As mentioned, Carradine would take just about any role offered. In two films, "Voodoo Man" and "The Black Sleep," he's almost hilariously cast against type, playing a moron in the first and a mutated, insane theologian in the latter. No role was too offbeat for this character actor.

As Weaver relates, Carradine's career was so significant because some of his performances are iconic. He can be the eccentric preacher, later mixing this persona with a western bounty hunter role. He was Dracula, with an interpretation that is still debated against Bela Lugosi's. He was a mad scientist in several productions -- usually with Jerry Warren and other cheapo producers -- with the fill-in movie role of narrator/scientist, usually spouting scientific babble to pad up chopped-up older films.

Film historian Gregory Mank provides a 50-plus page small biography of Carradine. It's fascinating, with much of its focus on the actor's dysfunctional personal life, his wives and his relationship with his children. The biography, as well as Weaver's research, leaves many questions about Carradine's relationships with his wives, his sons, as well as his agents. In fact, as good as Weaver's book is, and it is a must-read for film fans, it underscores the need for a serious, in-depth scholarly biography of John Carradine. He needs what Bela Lugosi has -- a biographer with the talents of an Arthur Lennig to probe his interesting life.

End Notes: According to Weaver, Carradine liked to call "Billy the Kid Versus Dracula" his worst film. It wasn't. My guess is he was struck by the ridiculous title, and plot. In later years, Carradine was fond of telling people that he had long forgot about some of the films he had been in. No doubt most of those were of the level of his Al Adamson, Jerry Warren films. Late in his career/life, director Olen Ray took advantage of a day shooting Carradine to film scenes that were intended for several films. As a result, some of Carradine's "films" were released after his death. Some of my favorite Carradine films, besides "Grapes of Wrath" and "Bluebird," are "The Unearthly," for his mad scientist role, "Billy the Kid Versus Dracula," for his sheer hamminess, "The Wizard of Mars,' for its sheer lunacy and Carradine as the "Wizard," and "Cain's Cutthroats," an otherwise nasty low-budget revenge western where Carradine tears up the scenery as a Bible-quoting preacher/bounty hunter who collects his criminals heads as evidence he got them. If respect Weaver a lot and appreciate his work in film history and criticism. If I have one minor quibble with him, it's that Weaver often looks at cult films and/or low-budget films with a conventional critic's eye. As my co-blogger Steve D. Stones says, many of these films are malformed little puppies with a curious charm that one needs to watch often enough to love. The harsh criticism of a good Universal film, "House of Dracula," is a tad disconcerting, and even the grime heaped on a films such as "The Wizard of Mars" seems unfair. After all, Carradine is dealing with American General Films here, one step below even PRC and Banner Films of the 1940s. I recall something I once read in the now-defunct Cult Movies magazine, where Lugosi's Monogram efforts were compared to "Michelangelo working with a crayon." With that mindset, the films can become very rewarding and the same applies to Carradine, even if he's Dracula battling Billy the Kid.