Gamma People, The (1956)

... aka: Dokter Boronski's Geheimen (Doctor Boronski's Secret)

... aka: El monstruo del rayo gamma (The Gamma Ray Monster)

... aka: Les secrets du docteur Boronski (Secrets of Doctor Boronski)

... aka: O Monstros do Raio Gama (The Gamma Ray Monsters)

Directed by:

John Gilling

American newspaper reporter Mike Wilson (Paul Douglas) and British photographer Howard Meade (Leslie Phillips) are headed to an assignment to cover a music festival in Salisbury when their car gets detached from the rest of the train. They instead end up rolling into a small (fictional) village called "Democracy of Gudavia," which is so small it doesn't even show up on their map. They're immediately apprehended by Commandant Koerner (Philip Leaver) and his troops, who accuse them of being spies and promptly throw them into prison. They're soon let go on orders from a higher-up but discover that getting out of Gudavia may be much more difficult than getting in. It's against government policy for trains to go through there, there are no cars and no ways to communicate with the outside world, despite there being a telegraph office (staffed by a clerk who refuses to send out a telegraph) and working phones (operated by someone who refuses to connect a call outside the village). Just what have the duo stumbled into here?

Mike and Howard are put up in a hotel for the night and immediately notice strange things are afoot and the entire town either seem to be trying to cover up something or are too scared to talk about that something. A hysterical woman screaming outside their room is disregarded. At night, the streets are empty aside from packs of running children, as well as zombie-like men dressed in black who aimlessly roam about. Hotel maid Anna (Jocelyn Lane) passes along a note to the reporters given to her by defector scientist Bikstein (Olaf Pooley) warning that the town must be exposed and children are in danger. Soon after, Bikstein is found dead.

Gudavia is being run by a mad scientist / pseudo-dictator named Dr. Boronski (Walter Rilla). Boronski was once a respected biologist named Dr. Macklin but has since changed his identity and is now posing as a schoolmaster. In his spare time, he's been exposing "the immature brain" of children to gamma ray radiation, which can be used to either enhance their intelligence or turn them into imbeciles. Their precocious prized pupil, Hugo (Michael Caridia), is an ill-tempered and cocky little shit who would have been right at home leading a local chapter of Hitler Youth, but not all of the kids have turned out evil. There's also little Hedda (Pauline Drewett), a piano prodigy with a kind nature who hopes to escape the village along with her father, Lochner (Martin Miller). The black-clad zombie men have all had their brains fried with radiation until they're reduced to easy-to-control goons Boronski can order to do his dirty work. Not that the non-experimented-with local police are much better as they gladly just go along with Boronski.

At first, Mike and Howard just want to leave but their inquisitive nature soon gets the best of them and they find themselves too immersed in the mystery to just run off. They find a few unlikely allies along the way, starting with Boronski's assistant Paula Wendt (Eva Bartok), whose father had also worked for the mad doctor and who may be blackmailed into helping him. The widow (Rosalie Crutchley) of the murdered scientist also provides key information and eventually all of the scared villagers decide to finally fight back against the authoritarian figure who's taken over their once-quaint village.

Science fiction? Lighthearted adventure-comedy? Serious horror flick? Political commentary on the dangers of rising authoritarianism in certain Eastern Bloc nations? Well, this is basically all of the above, which is both part of its charm and, for certain viewers, part of the film's undoing. For me, this was an uneven but ultimately delightful little yarn with some laughs, an intriguing and engaging plot, surprisingly potent horror scenes and just enough sociopolitical red meat factored into the equation to maintain some interest beneath the surface. The pacing is agreeable, it strays away from wallowing in expository dialogue, on-location filming in Austrian makes for a scenic backdrop and there's seldom a dull moment in here, which all combine to tilt this up a notch in my scoring. Whether or not you will find this strange brew as charming as I do is entirely up to your own personal tastes but, either way, this is certainly offbeat enough in tone and execution to stand apart from similar 50s sci-fi programmers.

First announced way back in 1951, this Columbia release went through a number of stop-start pre-production stages, with different stars (John Garfield, Brian Donlevy, Dick Powell, Virginia Grey and Patricia Medina) announced but then dropped, before finally being filmed in 1955. Robert Aldrich (of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? fame) had written the original story treatment, though he's not credited on the film (Louis Pollack is). The production team is pretty upscale for this type of film. It was very nicely shot by Ted Moore just a few years before he won an Oscar for A Man of All Seasons (1966) and this also features lavish art direction from John Box, who'd win four Oscars over his nearly 50-year-long career, starting with 1962's Lawrence of Arabia. 

Gamma is also noteworthy as an early genre effort for director Gilling, who'd later go on to make a name for himself with respectable genre films like The Flesh and the Fiends (1960), Shadow of the Cat (1961), The Reptile (1966) and The Plague of the Zombies (1966); the latter two for Hammer.

Here in America, this played theaters in 1956 on a double bill with Michael Anderson's George Orwell adaptation 1984. RCA/Columbia first released it on VHS in 1986, and it was reissued on video in 2004 by Goodtimes, but it has yet to get a legit DVD release.

★★★

Flesh and the Fiends, The (1960)

... aka: Fiendish Ghouls, The

... aka: Mania

... aka: Psycho Killers

Directed by:

John Gilling

Unpleasant, extremely atmospheric and very well-acted retelling of the Burke and Hare "West Port Murders" serial killings, which took place in an eighteen month period between 1827 and 1828 in Edinburgh, Scotland. Outwardly-respectable doctor/ anatomy teacher Robert Knox (Peter Cushing) isn't content with only occasionally getting the corpses of executed criminals, so he secretly employs shady Irish grave-robbers Burke (George Rose) and Hare (Donald Pleasence), who go about murdering drunks, bums and prostitutes who frequent a local tavern to procure fresh corpses for their employer. Knox doesn't ask too many questions about where the bodies are actually coming from, nor does he seem to particularly care where they're coming from, but his assistant Dr. Geoffrey Mitchell (Dermot Walsh), who has just begun dating Knox's niece Martha (June Laverick), begins to voice suspicions that fall on deaf ears. John Cairney co-stars as a flunky med school student involved in a doomed romance with a brassy bar girl played by Billie Whitelaw (that evil nanny from The Omen, in an early role) and Renee Houston plays Hare's sour wife, who casually assists the men in the killings. Though the horror fan in me wants to single out Cushing and Pleasence's contributions to this film, it's futile to do so since everyone listed above does equally fine work here and it's really the entire ensemble that drives home this material.

Another of the films great strengths is its evocative period detail, with John Elphick's elaborate art direction, Monty Berman's sharply dark / inky photography and Laura Nightingale's costuming combining to create a seedy, grimy, impoverished environment; a believable breeding ground for casual killings for profit. The contrast between the elite few of the upper class and science community with the depressing living conditions of your everyday average Joe is well played, and the film raises issue to some interesting topics involving medical ethics and whom one might deem worthless or disposable within a given society.

The Burke and Hare incident would go on to inspire many books, stories and films over the years. The first known TV adaptation was a 1939 BBC production titled The Anatomist. Later episodes of the American TV shows Alfred Hitchcock Presents and The Twilight Zone were also dedicated to the same subject. The first theatrical film to directly take on the real-incident was 1948's Crimes of Burke and Hare, starring Tod Slaughter. Unfortunately, the British Board of Censors rejected the film and forced the filmmakers to re-dub and remove all references to Burke and Hare before it would issue a release certificate. The film was then re-titled The Greed of William Hart in the UK and Horror Maniacs in the US. Following that were THE ANATOMIST in 1956 (part of the ITV Play of the Week TV series in the UK), The Horrors of Burke and Hare in 1972, The Doctor and the Devils (a virtual remake of Flesh and the Fiends) in 1985 and others. In addition, Burke and Hare inspired Robert Louis Stevenson's short story "The Body Snatcher," which itself would be filmed several times, most notably in 1945 by Robert Wise (which was produced by Val Lewton and starred Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi).

Copyright date for this film is 1959; though it wasn't released until 1960 (the U.S. theatrical title was Mania). It will be making its debut on my Top 10 list for 1960 at #9.

★★★

Plague of the Zombies, The (1966)

...aka: Zombies, The

Directed by:

John Gilling

Review coming soon.

★★1/2

Reptile, The (1966)

Directed by:

John Gilling

Review coming soon.

★★1/2

Night Caller from Outer Space, The (1965)

... aka: Blood Beast from Outer Space
... aka: Bloodbeast from Outer Space
... aka: Night Caller, The

Directed by:
John Gilling

Made at Shepperton Studios in England, this very talky black-and-white sci-fi horror effort (originally released to U.S. theaters as Blood Beast from Outer Space) seems at times like two different films combined together, but is a passable time killer nonetheless. The agreeable trio of good-looking, middle-aged scientist Jack Costain (John Saxon), be-speckled, head-scratching vet Dr. Morley (Maurice Denham) and analysis expert Ann Barlow (Patricia Haines) pick up something big and weird and "invisible to the naked eye" on the radar... and it's heading straight for greater London! Initially assuming "it" is a twenty-foot meteor, they (and the military) track it down to a rural area and discover only a small white sphere where they expected to find a giant crater. Research into the mysterious ball discovers it is made from an undetermined silicone material, has a temperature of 25 degrees below zero and it didn't actually fall to Earth, but was somehow guided there.

Spending a late night at the lab alone doing a report, Ann suddenly comes down with a headache, blurred vision and profuse sweating, hears heavy breathing coming from the room containing the (now-glowing) sphere and barely escapes with her life when a scaly, rubbery-looking monster claw reaches out and grabs her. She makes it to the alarm, but the military men who come to her air find nothing. The army major (John Carson) naturally scoffs at Ann's claim (saying it is a practical joke), but Jack discovers mud in the lab and a monstrous footprint outside that backs up her claim. So Morley decides to go into the sphere alone; hooked up to a microphone to call in his co-workers to help in case things get out of hand. He suffers the same physical pains Ann did the night before and encounters the same creature (which is blurred out), but he ends up dying of fright (or, keeling over with a heart attack; it's kind of hard to tell). The sphere (which is actually a portal for matter to be transferred from place to place) disappears into thin air and the evil alien then escapes, steals a car and escapes the military base, running over and killing the major in the process.

Three weeks later, over twenty young women have mysteriously disappeared and Scotland Yard (led by Alfred Burke as Det. Hartley) is investigating. It turns out that the alien, named Medra (Robert Crewdson) has set up a bogus modeling agency called Orion Enterprises and is luring ladies there with an ad placed in 'Bikini Girl' magazine. Medra, who now has something of a personality, is tall (6'5"), speaks with a cultured-sounding British voice, disguises himself with a black mask with the eyes cut out and leather gloves and is usually seen only in shadow. The women he calls in to his office are hypnotized with a light and sent back through the portal to his home planet Ganymede (the third moon of Jupiter), where they are used to help repopulate and phase out the aliens' more inhuman aesthetic qualities! Haines and Saxon also return to aid the police; she in an ill-fated attempt to go undercover to catch the creature and he to listen to the alien's snooty final commentary ("We from Ganymede knew that we were superior beings and had nothing to learn from you!") before it blazes back to his home planet.

Aubrey Morris (The Wicker Man) livens things up briefly as a creepy, grinning, effete bookstore owner where the alien retrieves his mail. He makes some hilarious facial expressions while eyeing Hartley, says "I like men with nice eyes, don't you?," and blows him a kiss as he exits the store! There are some minor attempts at comedy, involving a pair of goofy soldiers and Marianne Stone and Warren Mitchell as the bickering parents of a missing girl. Also in the cast is 'guest star' Jack Watson as Sergeant Hawkes.

When compared to some of the more visionary, intelligent and thought-provoking science fiction films and TV shows coming out of England at the time (Quatermass, Doctor Who, etc.), this seems pretty minor and forgettable, not to mention talky and slow-moving. However, it is still an entertaining film, with some care and imagination put into the story line, plausible dialog (Jim O'Connolly scripted from the novel by Frank Crisp), OK special effects and good acting. The appearance of the alien, when finally fully revealed at the very end, is something of a surprise; a good or bad one, depending on the viewer.

The version I saw opens with a copy of the British Board of Censors certificate ('This is to certify that 'The Night Caller' has been passed for exhibition when no child under 16 is present") giving it an "X" rating. And don't forget the theme song performed by some unknown chap named Mark Richardson, which is a laugh riot. It (sung with hilarious deep, dramatic vocals) goes "The Night Caller has a hypnotizing spell... Those who fight it never live to tell..." The Image DVD is a pristine, very good-looking print, but the only extras on the disc are scene selection and filmographies for Gilling and Saxon.

★★1/2