Tag Archive for William Castle

Scream If You Believe In… The Tingler!

April 24, 2015 RayRay In Memoriam

Venita Wolf and William Castle promotional photo

William Castle was born William Schloss, Jr. in New York City on this date in 1914. Schloss took the stage name Castle (translating “Schloss” from German to English) when he made his Broadway debut in 1922. At age 13, William was mesmerized by the Prince of Darkness himself, Dracula, played on Broadway by Bela Lugosi, just a few years before Bela reprised the role on film for Universal. On Lugosi’s recommendation, William Castle was given a job as an assistant stage manager, causing Castle to drop out of high school.

By 1941, Castle had acquired a knack for creative misrepresentation, having already posed as the nephew of famed Hollywood producer Samuel Goldwyn during his teenage years. With Orson Welles leaving his renowned Stony Creek Theatre in Connecticut to make Citizen Kane (1941), Castle seized upon the opportunity and convinced Welles to lease him the theater. Castle’s leading lady was the Berlin-born Ellen Schwanneke, but theater guild regulations dictated that German-born actors could only appear in plays originally performed in Germany. Castle responded by immediately conjuring up a fictional German play, Das ist nicht für Kinder (Not for Children). Ellen Schwanneke was invited to return to Germany by the Nazis, and this further fueled Castle’s hype machine. Promoting Schwanneke as “The Girl Who Said No to Hitler,” Castle used the telegram refusal as a press release of sorts. He even went so far as to secretly vandalize the outside of his own theater with swastikas to create additional controversy.

It was the first of what would become William Castle’s enduring legacy, promotional gimmicks that were often more memorable than the film they were designed to shill.

The Tingler (1959)

Movie Poster for The Tingler (1959)

The gimmick at work in William Castle’s The Tingler is Percepto, a 4D film experience provided by $250,000 worth of surplus WWII airplane wing deicing motors. These were affixed to the undersides of seats scattered throughout the theater. At an appropriate moment in the film’s climactic sequence, the screen would go black and these motors would buzz, eliciting screams from startled patrons in the gimmicked seats.

The Tingler is the third of five collaborations between screenwriter Robb White and director/producer William Castle, following Macabre (1958) and House on Haunted Hill (1959). White was a world traveler, a pilot in WWII, and a prolific writer, leaving his engineering job with DuPont after selling his first story for $100. Of his 24 published novels, only one remains in print, the Edgar Award-winning Deathwatch (adapted for ABC television in 1974 as Savages).

So, what is a “Tingler?” Well, according to Dr. Warren Chapin (Vincent Price), the Tingler is a parasite that lives at the base of the human spine, feeding upon fear. If it grows too large, unabated, it will eventually crush your vertebrae, providing a physical justification for death by fright. Screaming relieves some of this tension and causes the creature to relent. This is, admittedly, questionable science at best, and probably more appropriate to a Frankenstein film set in the Victorian era than in the late 1950s, but we’re not exactly talking Watch Mr. Wizard here. This is just a couple years after The Amazing Colossal Man (1957) proposed that the heart is composed of one big cell. I guess movie-goers weren’t exactly up on grade school anatomy back then or they just cared a lot less about such inaccuracies.

Lobby Cards for
The Tingler (1959)
(click to enlarge)

For a film with such a hokey sci-fi premise, The Tingler manages to pack in quite a bit of subtext without being preachy or ham-handed. The most obvious juxtaposition in the film is the thin veil between the rational and the irrational, a line easily blurred by drugs, madness, or both. When Chapin is stymied by his inability to frighten himself, he resorts to LSD, providing the first depiction of acid use in a major motion picture. The resulting experience is surprisingly restrained, largely conveyed by the often underrated acting talent of Vincent Price. One can only imagine the gonzo directorial choices of a Dario Argento, Terry Gilliam, or David Lynch.

A particularly stylish demonstration of the irrational is accomplished by filming one of the signature scenes in color. A bathtub filled with garish red blood sits in striking contrast to a set painted in gray tones and an actress covered in ashen make-up to match. The visual effect is surprisingly seamless.

This use of color also highlights another of the movie’s main themes, that of changes in the film industry itself. Oliver and Martha Higgins (Philip Coolidge and Judith Evelyn) are the owners of a struggling revival theatre that shows silent films. Oliver seems to speak from William Castle’s own heart when he pines that “Some of these old silents are just as good as the movies they make nowadays even though the sound and the color and the screen’s a block wide.”

Chapin’s source of wealth involves another of the film’s themes, that of class divide. Chapin’s laboratory and research are funded by his father-in-law, as his unfaithful wife, Isabel (Patricia Cutts), is all to quick to remind him. Isabel cuckolds him with a heartless bravado more commonly seen in film noir. Cutts is delightfully vampish as the spoiled daddy’s girl. Check her out in the lusciously lurid red dress to the left.

Pamela Lincoln and Darryl Hickman round out the cast as Lucy Stevens and David Morris, Chapin’s sister-in-law and research partner, respectively. An accomplished child actor, Hickman had well over a hundred credits to his name before being recruited by Castle to play Lucy’s fiancé in the film. Reluctant at first, Hickman was convinced by Castle that it would help his real life fiancé’s career. Darryl even declined his salary for the role. Sharing scenes as a fellow pathologist alongside Price’s Dr. Chapin, Hickman was forced to wear lifts to bridge the gap between his 5’10″ height and Vincent Price’s towering 6’4″ frame.

The climax of the film takes place in the revival theatre, during a surprisingly packed showing of the silent film Tol’able David (1921). This provides a great opportunity for the film to build suspense without dialogue while the tingler makes its way through the unsuspecting audience in search of a prospective victim. The film comes close to breaking the fourth wall as the screen goes black when Dr. Chapin cuts the power. For theatrical premieres, a fainting woman (in actuality a planted shill) is taken out of the audience on a stretcher. After some verbal reassurances from Chapin to the in-film audience (which serves double duty as Price reassuring the “real world” audience), our film resumes for the grand finale.

The Percepto gimmick made quite the impression on many theater-goers. In his youth, cult film director John Waters would seek out a rigged seat to get the full effect while viewing. “Rumble-Rama” in the film Matinee (1993) and the character of Lawrence Woolsey (John Goodman) are clearly based on Castle and his ambitious promotional style.

Even without the dubious benefits of Percepto, The Tingler is a fun little monster movie, well worth your time. For this and his many other contributions to genre film, we give heartfelt thanks to William Castle. He was certainly one of a kind.

“YOU TOO will feel every shocking sensation!”

One comment Darryl Hickman, Judith Evelyn, Pamela Lincoln, Patricia Cutts, Philip Coolidge, Robb White, The Tingler, Vincent Price, William Castle

Castle and Crusader

August 1, 2013 RayRay In Memoriam

Promotional Photo for "The Saracen Blade" (1954)

He convinced you that the luxurious Chrysler Cordoba (priced at $5,580) was upholstered in “soft Corinthian leather“. As Mr. Roarke, he offered to sell you your fondest wish for a mere $50,000. And as Khan Noonien Singh, he taught you the best way to serve up revenge. But long before all that, way back in the halcyon days of 1954, Ricardo Montalbán showed what it meant to love, lose, endure, and avenge. He was Pietro Donati. He was The Saracen Blade.

This film forms our second entry in The William Castle Blogathon, graciously hosted by The Last Drive In and Goregirl’s Dungeon. Directed by William Castle from a screenplay co-written by DeVallon Scott and based on the Frank Yerby novel, The Saracen Blade (1954) was the last of four collaborations between Castle and Scott (along with Conquest of Cochise (1953), Slaves of Babylon (1953), and The Iron Glove (1954)).

Book Cover for The Saracen Blade by Frank Yerby
(first published in 1952, this edition in 1973)

Frank Yerby was the first African-American writer to become a millionaire from his work and the first to have a novel purchased by Hollywood for a film adaptation, The Foxes of Harrow (1947) starring Rex Harrison. His painstakingly researched historical romances covered a multitude of time periods. In 1952, the year of The Saracen Blade‘s publication, Yerby expatriated to Europe, citing the specter of racism as his rationale.

The Saracen Blade is the last of three film adaptations of Yerby’s novels, following The Foxes of Harrow (1947) and The Golden Hawk (1952).

Ricardo Montalbán stars as Pietro Donati. Montalbán got his start in acting in 1941 by appearing in dozens of three-minute musicals for the Soundies film jukeboxes, precursors to the modern music video. Arriving in Hollywood in 1943, studios wanted to Americanize his name into “Ricky Martin”. With a leading role in the Mexico-themed film noir Border Incident (1949), he became the first Hispanic actor to appear on the front cover of Life magazine. Many of his early roles were as an “Indian” in westerns or as a “Latin Lover”, but as Pietro, he gets to show his action/adventure chops.

Pietro’s father, the elder Donati, is played by Frank Pulaski. Pulaski served as a liaison between the U.S. Army and the Australian 7th Division during WWII. After the war, he took up acting, playing the tribune Quintus uncredited in The Robe (1953). Changing his name to Guy Prescott after The Saracen Blade, he appeared in another Crusades-era film as an uncredited Arab in King Richard and the Crusaders (1954).

Movie Poster for The Saracen Blade (1954)

Nelson Leigh had been acting for over a decade before taking on the role of Pietro’s mentor and foster father, Isaac. Along with his fair share of adventure films and westerns, Leigh made a career of playing father figures, from Jor-El in the Columbia Pictures Superman serial (1948) to King Arthur in The Adventures of Sir Galahad (1949). He is perhaps best known for playing Mars Mission Commander Dr. Eldon Galbraithe in the sci-fi thriller World Without End (1956).

William Castle regular Michael Ansara once again threatens to steal the show as Count Alesandro Siniscola, Pietro’s main antagonist. Ansara appeared in an earlier Frank Yerby adaptation by producer Sam Katzman, The Golden Hawk (1952). The Saracen Blade was the fourth of five films Ansara did with William Castle at the helm. They would part ways soon thereafter with Ansara transitioning from westerns and Biblical epics to television and Castle entering his schlock and shock phase.

Betta St. John, born Betty Jean Striegler, plays Pietro’s one true love, Lady Iolanthe Rogliano. As Striegler, she made her film debut at the age of ten, singing in Destry Rides Again (1939). After performing on Broadway in Carousel and South Pacific (part of the original cast in the latter), she appeared in The Robe (1953). She is perhaps best known for her role in the proto-Amicus horror film The City of the Dead (1961) shortly before her retirement.

Carolyn Jones plays her foil, Lady Elaine Siniscola, a far cry from her role as victim-turned-exhibit in House of Wax (1953) the year before. While she makes a fine blonde femme fatale, her striking, batrachian eyes would serve her better as the iconic Morticia on the long-running sitcom The Addams Family. Shortly before her death from cancer, she re-teamed with Montalbán as four different characters on four different episodes of Fantasy Island.

The Saracen Blade (1954)

The year is 1194. In a public square in Iesi, Italy, a crowd waits with bated breath for the birth of Frederick II, Emperor of all Europe. Amongst the onlookers are the blacksmith Donati and his friend Isaac. Isaac explains the dual need for security and transparency to prevent the noble child or his lineage from being compromised.

Bells ring to announce the birth of the Empress’ son. Shortly thereafter, Donati’s own wife, Maria (Nira Monsour), starts going into labor. Panicked, Donati asks a guard to fetch one of the Empress’ midwives. Midwife Gina (Poppy del Vando) besmirches Donati and all other men as useless at such times, calmly escorting Maria away.

After giving birth to Pietro, Maria is stricken with fever. Isaac offers to fetch a man who might be able to help, and Donati insists upon accompanying him. They run afoul of Count Siniscola, called “Count Satan” by Donati in ill-timed mockery. Siniscola, like Isaac earlier but not nearly as gently, takes exception to Donati’s newfound pacifism. He claims the blacksmith ended his vassalage early, and the lack of swords cost him in his feud against Baron Rogliano. Siniscola’s men take Donati into custody by force.

By the time Isaac returns to Maria, she is already dead. With the father captured by Count Siniscola, Isaac offers to raise the newborn son. While Frederick II sits the throne in Rome, receiving tribute from the distant corners of the Holy Roman Empire, humble Pietro Donati grows up in Sicily.

There, we find him dueling with his friend Afghal. Using a trip to turn the tables on his sparring partner, Pietro defeats him in good humor. Afghal wants Pietro to join the Saracens, but Isaac has raised him as a Christian.

Isaac calls Pietro away from his tomfoolery to tell him about a revolt in Count Siniscola’s territory, led by his father. They take a ship to mainland Italy, and we’re treated to some poorly integrated siege footage, tinted from the black-and-white Prince of Foxes (1949). The siege, as depicted, takes place at night while Isaac and Pietro talk and look on from horseback in full daylight. Not sure if they planned to film an actual siege here and the budget fell short or if the planned stock footage was switched unexpectedly or if no one gave it that much thought.

The elder Donati has been captured and Isaac immediately considers ransoming his friend. “The arm of Hercules himself cannot help your father now, my boy, but there is still one power on this Earth that can… Gold. Let’s pray we put away enough of it.”

With the blessing of the Siniscolas (Alesandro and his son Enzio (Rick Jason)) paid for in gold, Pietro approaches the castle to parlay with his father. The rebels reluctantly pull him over the battlements on a rope. Father and son are reunited, and Pietro is eager to fight by his father’s side, not discouraged by the notion that they are all doomed men. When he presses the issue, the elder Donati saves his life by knocking him out with one right hook across his glass jaw.

When Pietro awakens outside the castle walls, he finds that the Siniscolas beat him to betrayal and have hanged Isaac (check out Pietro “Tebowing” in Lobby Card 2, below). He overhears Baron Rogliano (Edgar Barrier) and his daughter Iolanthe tut-tutting about the carnage, vowing to see the Siniscolas repaid in kind one day. Pietro begs to join the lord’s service, giving his curriculum vitae, but the baron is dubious. “For if you are so gifted, why do you seek service? I should think it would seek you.” Based purely on his claims, Iolanthe recommends him.

Pietro proves to be skilled with mace as well as quill, but is visibly smitten with the Lady Iolanthe. While he keeps the records, she flirts with him a bit, questioning his dedication to skill at arms and his thirst for vengeance. “By the stars in heaven, Iolanthe, if you stay I’ll forget I hate the Siniscolas for the rest of time I have nothing in my heart but you. Is that what you want me to do?” This is delivered as a run-on sentence, awkward but strangely sincere.

“What’s the matter?” she asks.

“With you, nothing, Iolanthe, but I could easily be hanged for this, and you banished to a convent.”

She wants to elope with him, but he has made a vow to her father and cannot violate that, not even for her.

The Siniscolas arrive at that very moment to forge an alliance, shocking Pietro. Baron Rogliano sends for Lady Iolanthe, and Pietro urges her to “smile sweetly for your guests.” Late that night, Baron Rogliano wakes his daughter to deliver the good news. She is to wed Enzio Siniscola and become a countess. His grandson will be heir to the combined Rogliano and Siniscola holdings. After he leaves, she weeps into her pillow.

The Lady Elaine of Siniscola tries to grill Iolanthe on her true feelings, speaking ill of her own kinsman Enzio. Elaine demands a guided tour of the castle and accuses Iolanthe of hiding Pietro when they stumble upon him hard at work.

“He’s a young man, that’s always of interest. I wonder why it took us so long to come upon him. The castle records are usually kept by a… a weezened (sic) oldster with a gray beard.” She is charmed by his wit and easily detects the sexual tension between him and Iolanthe, but he warns that they should not be so familiar with one about to marry Enzio Siniscola. When he confesses his father was a blacksmith, she loses interest in someone so low-born.

That night, Enzio finds his bride-to-be in the gardens brooding. He kisses her and worries he has offended her. Enzio asks if he has a rival, while Pietro looks on from hiding. When Enzio leaves to fetch her scarf, Pietro asks Iolanthe to elope with him. Enzio returns to find her gone.

The young lovers ride through the night, but Iolanthe’s horse eventually tires out. This is the infamous moment when Montalbán bends down and gets his scabbard stuck in the dirt. Castle and company just roll with it. Extra takes cost money. Pietro and Iolanthe give the horses a rest and wander the river bank together.

Pietro grows discouraged. “You will never be the wife of a count, or a baron, or even a knight.”

“But I’ll be your wife, and I’ll be very happy.”

“You will go without many things.”

“But not without you. We’ll starve together. What’s it like to starve, Pietro?”

“I have no intention of finding out, even if it’s with you.”

They are soon found and surrounded by riders led by Enzio. He leaves the decision of Pietro’s fate to Iolanthe, but only after they are wed. After said nuptials, Enzio looks in on Pietro’s cell. The jailer confirms that only the Lady Iolanthe comes to visit him, every day at the break of dawn. Enzio instructs that the jailer will be asleep when she arrives tomorrow. The jailer fears that she will steal his keys and free the prisoner, but that is just what Enzio is counting on.

Lobby Cards for
The Saracen Blade (1954)
(click to enlarge)

Lobby Card for "The Saracen Blade" (1964)

Emperor Frederick II (Whitfield Connor) has come to visit, and there’s a subtle nod to his legendary falconry skills. Clearly disappointed, he is promised better game for hunting by the Siniscolas. “Cleverer than any stag… faster than even the boar… one seldom hunted.” Shrewd though the emperor may be, he has clearly never read “The Most Dangerous Game”, but that’ll be published about seven hundred years hence, so I suppose I’m expecting too much. Yerby was undoubtedly familiar with the classic short story.

Iolanthe does as anticipated and frees Pietro with the stolen keyes. She implores Pietro to hurry without her, lest she slow him down and he be recaught. Enzio finds Iolanthe closing the cell door and boasts about their upcoming hunt, happy that she has decided his fate as promised.

Pietro flees the hunting hounds through the forest until they tree him like a cat. While they tear his coat to shreds, he drops down and runs away. Coming upon the Lady Elaine, he wades through tall reeds to cross the stream and sneak up behind her, hoping to steal her horse. The riders approach, and he is forced to threaten her with a dagger to insure her silence. Despite her disdain, they quickly get to flirting.

“To think, my cousin Iolanthe has probably given you her lips.”

“So? They’re her lips…”

“I only wonder how she ever made them clean again.”

He kisses her passionately. “Try soap, try perfume, and then try pumice stone and sanding paper. Good day, milady.”

He mounts her horse and rides off as she is left to smile guiltily.

With Frederick II approaching, Pietro dismounts to hide in the thick brush. Still, the Emperor nearly spears him. They exchange words, but before things can be sorted out, Pietro kills an attacking boar with the thrown spear, saving the Emperor’s life. Pietro tells him the circumstances of his birth and their strange parallel lives. “Born in the same hour? We shall probably die in the same hour…”

Frederick II is impressed with Pietro, but not his thirst for bloody vengeance. With Frederick’s inspiration, Pietro asks for Lady Elaine’s hand in marriage, an oblique angle from which to launch his plot for revenge. Emperor Frederick II introduces the Siniscolas to a man held in highest regard, soon to be knighted upon his return from the Holy Land and then to inherit the first barony that falls vacant. It is, of course, Pietro, and Frederick savors the look of disgust on the faces of the Siniscolas.

The Siniscolas call a family meeting where Lady Elaine instructs her kin to mind their manners while she, unafraid of Pietro, gets close to him to discover his plot. This backfires when Pietro asks Lady Elaine to marry him, leaving her practically speechless. Frederick II plays matchmaker, and the two men make light sport of Lady Elaine’s discomfort. When her cousin, Count Siniscola enters, Frederick is excited to deliver the news, but Lady Iolanthe trails behind, and her disdain wounds Pietro and puts doubt into his plan.

On their wedding night, Elaine is beyond reluctant.

“A kiss is one thing even an Emperor can’t make me give you. What, do you have him with you now, dear husband? Is he nearby where you can call on him for help?”

“From now on, I need very little help. Very little…”

He kisses her forcefully, and she pulls him even closer. He lays her down on the bed as she gazes up longingly into his eyes, fluffs her pillow, and leaves, satisfied with his skill at frustrating her expectations. I’m surprised she didn’t throw something at him.

Later, she sees him off to the Crusades.

“Crusaders always write home, and their wives always say prayers for the husband’s safe return. You too, I’m sure, will say a little prayer each day that… uh, I do not come back?”

“I suppose the next request is that I’m faithful to you while you’re gone?”

“You know the kind of man I am. I never ask the impossible of anyone.”

The moment he’s gone, she cozies up to Alesandro, who acknowledges the church’s reluctance to let the two cousins marry. This is our first inkling that there’s clearly some history between the two. Enzio walks in on them to tell that he and Alesandro must join Emperor Frederick on his Holy Crusade. Alesandro is not frightened, and sees this as a welcome opportunity.

“What will happen to me, I cannot say, but one thing I can assure you, your Pietro will not return to you.”

Elaine is strangely charmed. “This jealousy becomes you, Alesandro.” They embrace and kiss.

While Alesandro believes Frederick’s decree is Pietro’s doing, Frederick tells Pietro he needs the Siniscola’s men and that Pietro must confine his fighting to the Saracens. Pietro acquits himself well, and on the field of battle, he saves Emperor Frederick II from a Saracen. He is subsequently knighted for his bravery.

An unnamed prince (Gene Darcy) needs volunteers for a suicidal force to hold the Turks back while the others, including the Emperor escape. Count Siniscola volunteers himself and his son first, then goads Sir Pietro Di Donati into volunteering as well. The prince finds the Siniscolas too elder in knightly service, and they feign disappointment.

“You cannot ask a better death, Sir Pietro, than to die fighting for your emperor and the Holy Sepulchre.”

Pietro is defeated by the Turks and taken as a slave. Enraged by a taskmaster whipping a woman, he wrestles the man to the ground. He is immediately confronted by an Arab who questions his concern and shows that the woman, Zenobia (Pamela Duncan), is being punished for the gouges inflicted on his cheek. Pietro mocks Haroun (Leonard Penn), whose pride is as wounded as his face. Haroun offers to let him take the remainder of the whipping in her stead, and he agrees. Afterwards, Zenobia lovingly tends Pietro’s wounds.

Pietro’s repeated escape attempts, and resultant floggings, tax Haroun’s patience. “If I can’t get value from you as a slave, at least I’ll make an example of you to the others. One more try and you’ll be put to death. Twenty lashes don’t do any good? Give him thirty!”

Zenobia hopes to buy Pietro’s freedom with some jewelry she has acquired (gifts from admirers, perhaps?), but confesses she wants her own freedom as well. Haroun claims her own value highly exceeds that of the Italian. At knife-point, she makes him swear on the Koran (pronounced “Korrin”) that they will be allowed to go.

Meanwhile, the church has granted Count Siniscola permission to marry Lady Elaine, but Emperor Frederick II reminds him that in cases of doubt, the wife should wait seven years for her husband to return. He does concede that he has promised Pietro a barony, but that it shall be the Barony of Rogliano, which Alesandro believes belongs to him by Enzio’s marriage to Lady Iolanthe. Emperor Frederick II has found question in the lineage of Lady Iolanthe’s father, making the barony vacant.

When Count Siniscola returns home, he finds everyone else in ill humor except for Lady Iolanthe. Word has arrived that Baron Pietro of Rogliano is returning home with a Saracen girl. “She wears a veil after the manner of Moslim women.” Lady Elaine tries to share her annoyance by taunting Lady Iolanthe about this prize.

On the evening of his return, Pietro is surprised to find Lady Elaine smiling at him. She tries to charm him, but he sees through to her naked avarice after his newly bestowed title and fortune. After Pietro departs, Count Siniscola confronts her, dagger in hand, and demands that she use it to murder her husband, but she believes she could be very happy with Pietro.

“My position as a baron’s wife leaves very little to be desired. He has wealth. Ooh, not as great as yours, but very near. He stands high in the Emperor’s favor. Those are the cold facts. I see no reason not to face them. Then, consider that he has a certain grace and charm about him, even comparable with yours, cousin. In strength, Pietro is your equal. In age, he’s a much younger man, and from my point of view, superior.”

Alesandro pulls her close, kisses her, and thrusts the dagger into her heart.

Despite Elaine’s flaws, Pietro mourns her loss. He declares war on the Siniscolas. In the heat of battle, Lady Iolanthe warns Pietro that Frederick has decreed that he will pay with his life if he kills the Siniscolas.

Enzio prepares to spear Pietro in the back while he is distracted by Lady Iolanthe’s words, but Pietro’s loyal retainer Giuseppe (Edward Coch) saves him with a well-aimed crossbow. Count Siniscola quickly descends the battlements to engage Pietro in a final swordfight amidst smoke and flame.

Both men lose their shields in turn, with Alesandro nearly proving too skilled for Pietro. Count Siniscola uses the trip maneuver Pietro demonstrated earlier in the film against his buddy Afghal, but Pietro has a counter, and while on his back, as the Count moves in for the kill, Pietro plunges his sword into his foe’s stomach, killing him.

Pietro bravely accepts the punishment for his actions from the Emperor. “Even for you, I cannot make exception in matters of this kind. You must pay for your presumption. Pietro Donati, your lands and titles are hereby taken from you. What was yours when we first saw you, your life, we leave you, but nothing more.”

“I’m still rich, sire. I have my life, my love, and your friendship.”

Pietro and Lady Iolanthe depart for Venice to start again… together.

The End.

Banner for "The William Castle Blogathon" hosted by The Last Drive In & Goregirl's Dungeon (July 29 - Aug. 2, 2013)

Click on the banner above for more of “The William Castle Blogathon” hosted by The Last Drive In & Goregirl’s Dungeon (July 29 – Aug. 2, 2013)

Reviews of The Saracen Blade, even contemporary to the film, tend to focus upon its low budget and often misrepresent or misunderstand key plot points. Admittedly, the battle scenes, when not composed of awkwardly inserted stock footage, rarely depict more than a dozen combatants in frame. There is also very little of the sweeping landscapes of Europe or the Holy Land, and the whole production could have been filmed in a good sized backyard. Indeed, the interiors were all shot on several sound stages near downtown Los Angeles.

Still, the costumes are appealing and the dialogue is fun, even if the line deliveries are occasionally specious (“weezened”, “Korrin”, “Moslim”). None of the actors come across as openly contemptuous of the material, and everyone seems to be giving their best effort. I believe, given a proper budget, Castle and cast could have delivered an adventure classic. Alas, such was not to be, and The Saracen Blade must stand as a footnote to a number of celebrated careers. It’s solid B-movie fare, but, at the end of the day, that’s an accomplishment in its own right.

Someday, I’ll probably check out the other two William Castle/DeVallon Scott collaborations (Conquest of Cochise (1953) and The Iron Glove (1954)). Hopefully, you’ve enjoyed my humble contributions to The William Castle Blogathon, hosted by The Last Drive In and Goregirl’s Dungeon. The Blogathon still has one day left, so be sure to take a look.

Until next time…

“There was no skill to their taking — only overpowering force. He had that feeling again that he had had before: that life was neither good nor pleasant nor worth the living. You started out in blood and stench with the echoes of your mother’s dying screams inside of you somewhere so that unrecognized, unremembered, they were there a part of you; then afterwards you were the hunted, always the hunted, running with that tiredness inside of you that was part of death itself, the knowing always in the end that the running was no good because you’d be pulled down — by the big ones, the strong ones, the ones whose world would crash about their heads if they permitted you, the small the wily, the different, to go on living. Or they worried you to death in small and ugly ways: by telling you what seat you might take at a table, by the epithets with which they addressed you, by forbidding you to wear fur or bear a sword or take to wife a girl of different station. Small ways and ugly, but they killed something inside of you — your pride of manhood perhaps your belief in yourself until you became the beast-thing that they were and lit candles and rang bells and ran weeping and howling to prostrate yourself before the unknown and unknowable because you had to have something to cling to against the onrushing dark even if it were only the gibbering ghosts of other men’s fears labelled god or saint or holy spirit….” — Frank Yerby, “The Saracen Blade”

Sure, that passage is a wall of text, but it’s a POWERFUL wall of text.

EDIT (03/22/15) – Removed broken link to swordfight video clip. Looks like all clips from this film have vanished from the interwebs. I’ll keep on the lookout, though. I’d love to have a trailer, if such a thing exists. Got a tip? Please leave a comment. Much appreciated!

4 comments Betta St. John, Carolyn Jones, Frank Yerby, Guy Prescott, Michael Ansara, Nelson Leigh, Ricardo Montalbán, The Saracen Blade, William Castle

Savage! Sinful! Spectacular!

July 30, 2013 RayRay In Memoriam

Richard Conte and Linda Christian in a promotional photo for "Slaves of Babylon" (1953)

These three words are used to describe William Castle’s peplum epic, Slaves of Babylon (1953), in the poster below. Promising to tell the tale of “The last days and nights of mighty Babylon”, the film is part of Castle’s journeyman era, just a few years before he adopted the Barnumesque promotional gusto that would cement his legacy. Slaves enters the “peplum”, or “sword-and-sandal”, era early, before Kirk Douglas as Ulysses (1954), Charlton Heston as Ben-Hur (1959), or the countless Hercules and Samson films that would define the genre in the decades to come. The most obvious influence on Slaves is the MGM Technicolor epic Quo Vadis (1951), which became the highest grossing film of the year and earned eight Academy Award nominations.

Today, as part of The William Castle Blogathon, hosted by The Last Drive In and Goregirl’s Dungeon, we’re going to take a closer look at Slaves of Babylon. Directed by William Castle from a story and screenplay written by DeVallon Scott, Slaves was the second of four collaborations between the two (along with Conquest of Cochise (1953), The Iron Glove (1954), and The Saracen Blade (1954)). It is largely an adaptation of the biblical Book of Daniel, though Daniel (played by the Yiddish Laurence Olivier, Maurice Schwartz) appears only sporadically. The bulk of the narrative is driven by the minor prophet Nahum (Richard Conte), depicted here as a student and contemporary of Daniel.

Richard Conte as Nahum

Richard Conte was discovered by John Garfield and Elia Kazan while working as a singing waiter at a Connecticut resort. While many Hollywood actors were off fighting the good fight in WWII, Conte signed a long-term contract with 20th Century Fox, groomed to be the “New John Garfield”. He began his career playing mostly soldiers, but by the late 1940s, he had transitioned to film noir. Conte’s Jersey accent occasionally creeps through here as the kingmaker Nahum.

Linda Christian as Princess Panthea

Born Blanca Rosa Welter, Linda Christian was given her screen name by then lover Errol Flynn after Bounty mutineer Fletcher Christian. Flynn convinced her to give up her medical studies and move to Hollywood. She was quickly spotted by MGM head honcho Louis B. Mayer and offered a seven-year contract, nicknamed “The Anatomic Bomb” by the studio. Her best known work before Babylon was Tarzan and the Mermaids (1948), Johnny Weissmuller’s last Tarzan film.

Shortly thereafter, she became more famous for marrying actor Tyrone Power than any of her film roles. While they never ended up working together, Christian and Power were offered the leading roles in From Here to Eternity (1953), but Power turned the project down. Eternity would go on to win eight Oscars. Neither Christian nor Power would ever take home that prize.

Linda Christian’s Princess Panthea is a bit of a biblical femme fatale, putting her own interests first and foremost and mercurial in her moods and affections. She is a natural seductress and manipulator, a character very much at home in the sword and sorcery fiction of H. Rider Haggard or Robert E. Howard. Unlike most of her ilk (spoiler alert!), she does not suffer from her opportunistic nature, emerging entirely unscathed.

Perhaps because she is a true polyglot, able to speak six languages fluently, Linda Christian’s accent fluctuates wildly as Panthea. Most often, it comes across as Shakespearean, with a languid, breathy delivery. At other times, though, she sounds vaguely Eastern European, like a Russian tsaritsa. Your mileage may vary.

Terry Kilburn as Cyrus the Great

Terry Kilburn achieved film fame at a very young age, appearing as Tiny Tim in the MGM production of A Christmas Carol (1938) and four generations of students to the title teacher in Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939). Throughout the 1940s and into the early 1950s, Kilburn would appear in a wide variety of adventure films, from Swiss Family Robinson (1940) through Only the Valiant (1951) and often as a sailor in swashbucklers such as Song of Scheherazade (1947), Tyrant of the Sea (1950), and Fortunes of Captain Blood (1950). He also played the cub reporter Seymour in four Bulldog Drummond mysteries from 1947-1948.

While 26 at the time of the film’s release, Kilburn appears much younger. This helps him portray Cyrus as an uncertain ruler, prone to youthful indiscretions and easily steered by the savvy Nahum. This contrasts rather harshly with most historical accounts that place Cyrus as one of the great military leaders of the ancient world, but Nahum’s the star here, the power behind the throne just as Daniel was to King Nebuchadnezzar.

Leslie Bradley as King Nebuchadnezzar

Leslie Bradley had uncredited roles in Prince of Foxes (1949), which would provide footage for Castle’s The Saracen Blade (1954), and the highly successful biblical epic Quo Vadis (1951).

Michael Ansara as Prince Belshazzar

Syrian-born Michael Ansara appeared in the western adventure Only the Valiant (1951) with Terry Kilburn and in the Castle peplum Serpent of the Nile (1953) along with Michael Fox, Robert Griffin, and Julie Newmar. Ansara followed Slaves with dramatically more successful biblical epics, taking uncredited roles in the Oscar-winning films The Robe (1953, as Judas) and The Ten Commandments (1959). How do you not credit Judas?

Ansara, in a mere supporting role, practically steals this film away from its stars. His Belshazzar is delightfully wicked, and his line delivery reminded me of an angry William T. Riker (Jonathan Frakes). Ansara would be no stranger to science fiction television, playing Klingon commander Kang in three separate Star Trek series as well as Kane on Buck Rogers in the 25th Century.

Slaves of Babylon (1953)

Movie Poster for Slaves of Babylon (1953)

We open with a reading from the “Book of Daniel”, narrated by Michael Fox, who previously appeared in the William Castle pelpum Serpent of the Nile (1953) and who would go on to narrate another William Castle/DeVallon Scott collaboration, The Iron Glove (1954). For the historically and/or geographically challenged, Babylon was located some 53 miles south of Baghdad and was responsible for the destruction of Jerusalem. The titular Hebrew slaves were taken back to Babylon to build the fabled Hanging Gardens (represented here by some gorgeous matte paintings) and the Temple of Bel-Marduk, but they refused to worship at the latter, even under penalty of death.

Daniel, however, has found favor with King Nebuchadnezzar, who relies upon his sage counsel. Prince Belshazzar takes strong exception to his father’s tolerance, claiming “He has bewitched you!” and “It is Daniel who really rules Babylon!”

“I rule Babylon!”

“But Daniel sits at your right hand. Why do I not sit at your right hand?”

“Soon you will sit on the throne itself, my son.”

Daniel seeks an audience, and while Belshazzar is insulted, his father welcomes the interruption to end their ongoing quarrel.

At the house of Rachel (Ruth Storey), Daniel’s rebellious student Nahum finds refuge and a tender kiss while soldiers search for him outside. She urges him to flee Babylon with her, but he refuses to leave Daniel. Daniel himself then enters to tell Nahum he must go to the ruins of Jerusalem, which Nahum has never seen. Afterwards, Nahum must seek a shepherd boy named Cyrus who has the power to overthrow Babylon, but if he never uses this power, Cyrus will die a shepherd. Knowing his pupil’s limitations, Daniel urges Nahum to be wise and controlled, as he is. Nahum eagerly takes up this noble quest, leaving Rachel to lament her loss.

Exiting Babylon undetected is no easy feat, however. Nahum recalls a way out from his childhood. Some unexpected underwater photography highlights Nahum’s escape, squeezing between bars blocking a conduit to the River Euphrates and the shore outside the city.

In the Kingdom of Media, Nahum makes inquiries about the shepherd boy Cyrus. Stopping to drink at a river bank, he hears a shepherd’s flute and wanders over to ask his tired question. He is surprised (but we shouldn’t be) to find that he speaks to Cyrus himself.

Cyrus doesn’t like strangers, dismissing Nahum out of hand. Nahum won’t be so easily turned away, however, and resorts to force to subdue Cyrus. At the shepherd’s home, Cyrus’s father (Wheaton Chambers) offers hospitality to the visitor from Babylon. Undaunted by propriety, Nahum calls Cyrus’ parentage into question and asks his mother (Beatrice Maude) to speak the truth, but is horrified to find she has no tongue.

Cyrus’ father knows not how she lost it, and she cannot tell him, but it happened while she was heavy with child and Cyrus’ father was off in the mountains. She served in the palace at the time and perhaps insulted someone important. While the menfolk speculate, she produces a woven cloth that tells the story of Cyrus.

Nahum examines it and tells the tale. “The visit from the king’s men, the child swathed in royal purple, given to you to expose in the wilderness to die because they were afraid to kill a king’s son. Your own child, stillborn. The dead child put out on the hillside, the living child raised as your own, and you could never tell him because of what the soldiers had done to you.” This story, as written by Herodotus, is but one of many legends of abandoned children of noble birth returning to claim their royal birthright, putting Cyrus alongside such luminaries as Oedipus the Greek and Romulus and Remus, founders of Rome.

Cyrus wishes to die a shepherd and wants nothing to do with the kingdom of his grandfather, King Astyages, but when Nahum indicates that he would be free to marry whoever he chooses, Cyrus suddenly shows interest.

Nahum has the tapestry brought to Cyrus’ mother, Mandane (Ernestine Barrier), as a gift. When she tracks Nahum down, he shows her the Talisman of Mithra that was found around the infant Cyrus’ neck. King Astyages orders Cyrus killed, but his daughter stays the execution and spares the boy she now knows to be her only son.

Cyrus is quickly accepted as a prince in the court of Astyages, and Nahum is tasked with teaching the new ruler of Persia the ways of kingship. Before leaving for his new lands, Cyrus wishes to wed the Princess Panthea, but he is skittish about speaking to her and betraying his humble origins. He asks Nahum to play John Alden to his Miles Standish and speak on his behalf instead.

When we are first introduced to Princess Panthea, she is lounging about her luxurious chambers petting her leopard. Sometimes a leopard is just a leopard, I suppose, but the way Linda Christian vamps it up here is captivating. She has only the scantest interest in Cyrus, his title, and his messenger Nahum.

To gild the proverbial lily, Julie Newmar has a brief cameo as our forbidden dancer du jour. Nahum tries to goad the distracted Cyrus into making war on Astyages, even suggesting that Princess Panthea may wed someone else if he waits too long. Suddenly, Nahum catches the dancer by the wrist before she can plunge a blade into the heart of Cyrus. She immediately fingers King Astyages as her employer, convincing Cyrus to give the attack order against his own grandfather.

“You will never find one who will make you forget Panthea.”

Best known as Catwoman in television’s Batman starring Adam West, Newmar was still going by her birth name of Newmeyer when she played the would-be assassin. Earlier that same year, she had been a feature dancer clad in gold paint for the William Castle peplum Serpent of the Nile (1953) and later in the widely panned sequel to The Robe, Demetrius and the Gladiators (1954).

The campaign goes poorly for Cyrus, and in the very first battle, he is saved from certain death by Nahum. He swears to reward Nahum with whatever he desires, but Nahum insists he will only redeem his wish once Babylon is taken. Cyrus can’t see that happening any time soon, since he’s lost three battles in a row to his grandfather.

In Babylon, King Nebuchadnezzar has been pressured into making a decree that anyone who prays to a deity other than Bel-Marduk for the next thirty days will be thrown into a den of lions. Daniel, predictably, defies this order and is arrested. He is taken into custody peacefully, even when stoned in the streets by angry mobs.

King Nebuchadnezzar begs Daniel to pray to Bel-Marduk. When Daniel refuses, Nebuchadnezzar tells him that he has doomed himself. “Release the lions. We will return at daybreak.”

When Nebuchadnezzar returns, the lions are lying around Daniel, docile. The guard thinks it a trick, so Nebuchadnezzar shoves him into the cell to be devoured. During his time with the lions, Daniel has had an epiphany and now knows how to help Cyrus.

Back in Media, Nahum tells an envoy from King Astyages that tomorrow, at the ninth hour after sunrise, the entire world will grow dark unless Astyages’ men throw down their arms. During the battle, a solar eclipse vindicates the prophecy, presumably delivered to Nahum by Daniel but historically attributed to Thales (an opponent of Cyrus) and the King of Lydia. The soldiers of Astyages drop their weapons in fear, and Astyages surrenders his throne to his grandson. Cyrus spares his grandfather’s life but reduces him to a lowly shepherd.

Nahum tries to keep Cyrus hungry, but the young king is done with conquest and just wants his Panthea. Princess Panthea receives Nahum, but says she’s not interested in him, the throne of Persia, or Media. When Nahum offers the throne of Babylon, that finally piques her interest. Rather than offer up the hand of Cyrus as was requested, Nahum claims that Daniel will spread word in Babylon of Panthea’s beauty, intriguing Prince Belshazzar into arranging their marriage.

Meanwhile, Belshazzar is busy burning Hebrews, but they walk out of the flames unscathed. This is a dramatization of the tale of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, though the men are unnamed here and it is the cruel Belshazzar not Nebuchadnezzar who orders the execution. Neither are the guards burned who cast them in. It is perhaps the weakest of the miracles depicted in the film and should really have been given more oomph than some cheap rear projection.

Cyrus is angry that Nahum has not disbanded the army as commanded. Before it can be done, Nahum reveals that Panthea is en route to Babylon to be betrothed to Belshazzar. As Nahum cheekily gets ready to disband the army, Cyrus stops him, now wanting to march on Babylon.

Cyrus’ forces intercept the caravan of Panthea, and she consents to be his queen, but only if he succeeds in taking the throne of Babylon, a kingdom worthy of her stature. Cyrus entrusts Nahum to escort Panthea safely behind his army, but warns that if she complains about his stewardship, it will mean his death. Sounds like nothing could go wrong there, right?

Nahum confronts her in her pavilion, angry that she did not wait in Tarsus as instructed, but she has clearly seen through his scheme and is working her own angle now. “Cyrus or Belshazzar… I must win with either. You must lose with both.”

Over the five-day journey to Babylon, she tries to seduce him and is surprised to find that this well-spoken statesman used to be a slave. He tells her stories of his people, such as that of Ruth and of Joseph, Son of Jacob. This seems to satisfy her need for attention and affection… for now.

The Tate print of "Nebuchadnezzar", a print by William Blake (1805) depicting the humbled King Nebuchadnezzar II from the Book of Daniel

Nebuchadnezzar by William Blake (1805)

As King Nebuchadnezzar grows senile and enfeebled, Belshazzar believes that his father has been bewitched by Daniel. Nebuchadnezzar seeks forgiveness from Daniel, who passes this request along to God, and the stricken king receives clarity of thought briefly before expiring. Belshazzar walks in to find his father dead at Daniel’s feet. Before he can act, word arrives that Cyrus has reached the city walls with his vast army.

Belshazzar shouts from the walls, telling the Medians that they will starve during a siege while his people eat heartily from their stockpiles of food. “Babylon will live forever under the protection of the all-powerful god, Bel-Marduk!”

Elsewhere, Panthea dances seductively for Nahum, eventually coming to rest her chin suggestively on his thigh. After he tells her the tale of Joseph, they kiss. “In all my life, they taught me only one thing, that I should one day be a queen, but I want to be a woman… with you.” Nahum spurns her advances just as Cyrus walks in, seeking his counsel. Without explaining her ire to Cyrus, she angrily vows to decide Nahum’s fate after Babylon has been taken.

"Belshazzar's Feast", a painting by Rembrandt, circa 1635, depicting an incident from the Book of Daniel

Belshazzar’s Feast by Rembrandt, circa 1635

Inside the city, Belshazzar is warned about the danger of the slaves, who might open the gates to the invaders, and is encouraged to put them all to the sword. Rather than spark open revolt in the streets, Belshazzar tells the Hebrews that they are free to return to Jerusalem by the east gate that night.

Daniel interrupts Belshazzar’s revelry to ask for the return of the sacred vessels from the temple at Jerusalem. Belshazzar and his advisers mock this humble request. The sacred vessels are brought to Belshazzar, who, along with his general, drinks wine from them. Inexplicably, a spectral hand writes out Hebrew script (right to left, as is proper), the oft-cited “writing on the wall”, shocking all in attendance. Daniel translates it into a long prophecy of doom for Belshazzar.

Clearly rattled, Belshazzar responds with vicious bravado. “It is not I that am doomed, but your people, all of you. Even now they are being destroyed.”

This is no idle threat, as the departing Hebrews have been trapped in a high-walled ravine where the surrounding brush is set alight by the Babylonians, leaving the Hebrews to burn to death. A sudden, miraculous rain spares them, but Belshazzar does not know that, and he proclaims Daniel’s god false.

Outside, Nahum suggests that Cyrus’ men use cover of night and fog to re-enter the city through his escape path, the river gate. Before Belshazzar can slay Daniel, a thrown spear buries itself in his back, cast by brave Nahum. The forces of Babylon, sodden with wine, spiritually shattered, leaderless, and taken unawares are summarily defeated.

Victorious, Panthea broods on the throne of Babylon alongside King Cyrus. Cyrus announces that he is ready to redeem his two vows, one to Nahum, the other to Panthea. Nahum regifts his favor to his mentor Daniel. Daniel asks for freedom to return to Jerusalem with his people.

Panthea decides Nahum’s fate. “Yes, he shall die… but in his own land, surrounded by his brothers. For your god will surely visit you and bring you out of the land of exile back to the land of your fathers, and from this day on you shall never again look on Babylon.”

Leaving Babylon forevermore, Nahum is reunited with Rachel, his one true love, and they wend their way toward a distant rainbow. And Jerusalem knew happiness and peace for the rest of days. Well, not really, obviously, but that’s “THE END” for now.

Click on the banner above for more of “The William Castle Blogathon” hosted by The Last Drive In & Goregirl’s Dungeon (July 29 – Aug. 2, 2013)

Savage? Sinful? Spectacular? Sadly, no.

Tame. Tepid. Tolerable. All would be better descriptors. William Castle’s direction is competent but lifeless. The various miracles depicted in the film are given little to no weight, the score doesn’t swell, and the actors mostly respond as if it’s just another day at the office, especially the Hebrews walking out of the furnace and, presumably, directly toward craft services.

Still, it’s not a terrible film by any stretch, and as far as adaptations of the Book of Daniel go, I’m sure you can find far worse. Certainly, it’s not enough to scare me away from tackling another William Castle/DeVallon Scott collaboration in two days’ time, their last, The Saracen Blade (1954). Hopefully you won’t be scared off as well and will return to check out Ricardo Montalbán buckling his swash.

Be sure to click the banner above for more of The William Castle Blogathon, hosted by The Last Drive In and Goregirl’s Dungeon. Castle was a prolific director, and with five days of coverage and dozens of participating blogs, there’s sure to be something for everyone. Until next time…

“I created the peplum so you can eat in it.
You can have a dessert, you can have another sandwich.”
– Fashion designer Alber Elbaz in 2012

Pretty sure the ancient Greeks invented the peplum. Just sayin’.

4 comments Julie Newmar, Leslie Bradley, Linda Christian, Michael Ansara, peplum, Richard Conte, Slaves of Babylon, Terry Kilburn, William Castle

“All That We See or Seem…”

July 21, 2013 RayRay In Memoriam

Promotional Photo for "The Night Walker" (1964)

“…Is but a dream within a dream.”

– Edgar Allan Poe

Dreams are the source of inspiration and terror in William Castle’s The Night Walker (1964), starring Barbara Stanwyck. The Night Walker stands as a milestone at the end of an era. It was the last black and white theatrical feature released by Universal and the last feature film in Barbara Stanwyck’s long and storied career.

The Girl with the White Parasol is hosting the Barbara Stanwyck Blogathon this week, and I’m proud to be participating with our little discussion today. Be sure to check out some of the other offerings at the link. Stanwyck had an incredibly diverse film career, and there’s sure to be something for everyone.

“A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.” — John Barrymore

In the late 1950s through the mid-1960s, Director/Producer William Castle was primarily known for his promotional gimmickry, often so outrageous that it overshadowed the films themselves. For The Night Walker, he attempted a more sedate approach, focusing attention on the pedigree of his screenwriter and stars.

Robert Bloch was already well known as the writer of the novel Psycho, adapted by Alfread Hitchcock into a wildly popular, record-breaking thriller. The success of the film led Bloch to move to Hollywood, racking up assignments in the wake of the Writers Guild strike. The Night Walker was Bloch’s second screenplay for Castle, after having written the Joan Crawford vehicle Strait-Jacket (1964) earlier that year.

A recurring theme throughout this period of Bloch’s oeuvre is the focus on psychological terror rather than supernatural bugaboos. His characters are often afflicted with a mental condition that makes their perceptions suspect if not outright delusional, and can be used to direct the actions of either antagonist or protagonist. Barbara Stanwyck plays our distressed protagonist in The Night Walker, a wealthy woman whose recurring dreams turn dark and potentially deadly after the untimely death of her blind and jealous husband (Hayden Rorke).

Stanwyck’s failed marriage to co-star Robert Taylor formed another angle for Castle’s publicity efforts. An Associated Press news story describes a Universal Studios party held in their honor on May 5, 1964 to promote the film. Stanwyck was asked if she had any objection to re-teaming with her ex-husband. “Of course not,” she said, “but you’d better ask Mr. and Mrs. Taylor.” Robert Taylor reportedly said “It’s all right with me if it’s all right with her.” By contrast, when Taylor’s then-current wife, German actress Ursula Thiess, was asked as well, she replied with “Not necessarily.”

Stanwyck and Taylor first collaborated on His Brother’s Wife (1936), a melodrama chock full of love, loss, betrayal, mobsters, and spotted fever. The film couple soon began living together, setting the rumor mill spinning. They reunited a year later for This Is My Affair (1937), with Stanwyck and Taylor reprising the moll and honorable man roles, respectively, but substituting bank robberies for jungle fevers.

By 1939, despite Stanwyck’s reticence in the aftermath of one deceased fiancé and one failed marriage, MGM insisted upon their wedding with studio chief Louis B. Mayer personally arranging the event. Their marriage lasted a little over a decade until Taylor filed for divorce in 1950 for unspecified irreconcilable differences. The chemistry between the two leads in The Night Walker is palpable and contains just enough grit and tension to give it depth without devolving into bickering or swooning.

The Night Walker (1964)

We open with a five minute reading from the “Book of Dreams”, voiced by the accomplished voice actor Paul Frees and accompanied by Twilight Zone-style visuals. If you have ever asked yourself the question, “What do The Manchurian Candidate, The Abominable Doctor Phibes, and Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey have in common?” the answer is Paul Frees. With over 300 performances over 4 decades, most of them uncredited voice-overs, Frees was beyond prolific and sets the tone very effectively here.

Movie Poster for The Night Walker (1964)

After our introduction, we find blind millionaire Howard Trent (Hayden Rorke) and his attorney Barry Morland (Robert Taylor) talking over brandy. In the face of a world composed almost exclusively of sound, Trent has begun recording his surroundings. He has caught his wife Irene (Barbara Stanwyck) talking in her sleep, having the same dream night after night, and believes it suggests an affair. This leads to some none-too-subtle accusations that Barry might be the dream man in question.

After Howard Trent retires to his upstairs laboratory, Irene confides in Barry and, while insisting upon her innocence, she also flirts shamelessly with him before he leaves. This just seems to confirm Howard’s suspicions, and he confronts her directly afterward on the stairs. Tired of his jealousy, she just lays into him.

“I know why my dreams seem real, because when I’m awake my life with you is like a nightmare!” Howard demands the truth, but he clearly can’t handle the truth. “All right, here’s the truth! My lover is only a dream, but he’s still more of a man than you!”

Outraged, Howard assaults her viciously with his cane until she flees the mansion. Inexplicably, smoke begins rolling out from under the door to his laboratory. After he enters, shutting the door behind him and obstructing our viewpoint, an explosion rocks the house.

The next day, Irene is questioned by an arson investigator. Howard’s remains were not found, and the investigator chalks it up to the intense heat. He condemns the lab as unsafe and padlocks the door to what is now a crime scene.

A clacking noise, reminiscent of Howard feeling his way along with his cane, disturbs Irene’s sleep. She gets up and wanders the house, calling his name. Noises draw her to his laboratory, now curiously unlocked and filled with smoke. The door slams shut, seemingly of its own accord. Unable to see through the dense smoke, Irene feels her way to the door and is horrified to find Howard’s burnt, motionless body alongside it. She screams in terror and revulsion. As her screams turn to choked sobs, he begins slowly walking, stalking towards her, tapping with his cane. Pretty chilling stuff. Stanwyck has an impressive shriek, worthy of a “scream queen”.

Irene awakens, confused, and throws on her robe. She rushes to the lab to find it soundly padlocked. It was all a horrible nightmare.

She drives over to Barry’s office for the very first time. He’s been going through Howard’s files. Irene wants to sell the house, but Barry indicates that it’ll take six months to go through probate. She can’t wait that long. She tells him about her nightmare and vows to move out that very day if she can’t sell it. She still owns a beauty shop with an apartment in the back where she used to live and decides to relocate there for the time being.

There, new employee Joyce (Judi Meredith) has seen to Irene’s apartment, setting up her furnishings and wardrobe. Irene tries to get comfortable, but it’s clearly no longer the home she remembers. Lying down exhausted, she falls fast asleep.

A tapping awakens her, but this time it’s different. A voice calls her name from outside the curtained window, pleading for her to let him in. We meet her recurring dream man (Lloyd Bochner), in suit and tie. He enters, a wry smile on his lips. “Surely you’re not afraid, not of me? We know one another too well for that.” He takes her in his arms, pulls her close, and kisses her.

“The Night Walker may force you to dream of secret desires you’re ashamed to admit.”
“You have been warned!”

A worried Joyce wakes her at eleven, having let her sleep in all morning. Joyce tells Irene that Barry Morland has requested an appointment. He left a message that he’ll pick her up at six.

At a swanky jazz club, Barry and Irene talk over dinner. She puckishly inquires about his personal life, and Barry gamely plays along. Irene then tells him about her dream visitor. When Barry suggests a psychiatrist, Irene is insulted. A flaming kebab skewer halts her in her tracks, and she’s surprised to find herself suddenly pyrophobic. Barry drops all pretense and plainly asks if she murdered Howard, earning an indignant slap across the face.

Lobby Cards for
The Night Walker (1964)
(click to enlarge)

Lobby Card for "The Night Walker" (1964)

Just after midnight, Irene takes some pills and tries to get some sleep though she’s clearly still distraught. Her mystery visitor wakes her up with his deep, sonorous voice. “Better hurry, it’s past nine.” A glance at the clock reveals it’s 9:20 to be exact.

After some champagne and banter, he takes her to a chapel, ignoring her pleas to head back. “We can’t. They’re all waiting.” When she asks who is getting married, the shocking answer is that they are. “You and I can do anything we like.”

Irene is appalled to see the priest and witnesses are actually all wax mannequins, even though she can hear the priest’s voice quite clearly. Despite never saying “I do,” the ceremony proceeds just as if she had. Once the ring is on her finger, the chandeliers start spinning and everything takes on a somber tone.

She rushes to the door and manages to pull them open, only to be confronted by a burned Howard. She retreats, screaming and shouting “No!” in denial. The ceremony is repeated, with Howard now serving as the groom. Instead of “I do” or mute silence, Irene’s reaction this time is a blood-curdling scream.

She seems to awaken, only to find her dream man looming over her. “I can’t wake up!” she sobs.

I found the whole sequence to be creepy and effective in that subtle fashion that has seemingly gone out of style. I’ve long argued that just a touch of the inexplicable added to the mundane taps into the purest terror. Movie monsters and cackling madmen, while often entertaining, tend not to unnerve me, but put something seemingly innocuous where it should not, could not be, and I’m shivering. Mannequins clearly don’t belong in wedding chapels. It also doesn’t hurt to have a top-notch actor or actress sell the piece, and Stanwyck’s growing anxiety is surely contagious.

The next day, Morland comes to check on her and apologize. They reconcile over some coffee, and she asks for his help with her nightmares. She recalls a landmark from her trip with the mystery dream man, a statue of a woman spinning on a silver dollar. If anyone has any idea what landmark this may have been from, please comment below. I couldn’t find hide nor hair of it anywhere.

Anyway, they manage to locate the apartment where her mystery man first took her for champagne, convincing Irene that it was no dream. All of the furnishings inside are covered, however, and the paintings on the wall are all gone. “It all looks so different, so un-lived in.”

Barry lets her in on the fact that her deceased husband Howard owned the apartment in question. When questions put to the landlady fail to identify her mystery beau, Irene starts to question her sanity. She and Barry next try to locate the nightmare chapel.

They find it, also vacant, as well as condemned and up for lease. Barry uses the leasing option as a pretense to get the groundskeeper to let them in. Just as she’s about to give up convincing Barry of the reality of her visions, Irene finds the wedding ring lying discarded on the floor.

What is real, what is dream? Who is alive and who is dead? Such are the questions facing Irene Trent and, by extension, the viewer. I’ve probably given far too much away already, but I’m not going to spoil the last third of the film, which unravels the twists and turns to provide largely satisfying answers to those queries.

Ms. Stanwyck isn’t the only one bringing their A-game to what was traditionally B-material. All of the performances are exceptionally tight, with Robert Taylor and Lloyd Bochner anchoring the film on either side of Stanwyck’s Irene Trent, bookending her character with reality and fantasy, respectively. Bochner had previously starred in the iconic Twilight Zone episode “To Serve Man” (1962) and headlined the King Solomon’s Mines rehash Drums of Africa (1963) with Frankie Avalon. He manages to be at turns seductive and menacing, aloof and enigmatic. By contrast, Taylor’s Barry Morland is earthy and pragmatic, a lawyer to the core, but drawn to the frantic widow perhaps despite his better judgment.

The set design is also worthy of distinction. While most of the set pieces have that staged feel of studio-bound dramatic film and television productions, some of the choices highlight rather than hinder the script. From the Trent mansion, with a wall covered in ornate clocks, all ticking and chiming in unison, to the beauty parlor, all functional and sterile, and, of course, the chapel, sparse and Kafkaesque, shot from rapidly changing angles to disorient and unnerve.

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Lastly, a word about the music. Some have stated elsewhere that the title theme does bear a striking resemblance to “Food, Glorious Food” from Oliver!, but overall, the bombastic score by The Addams Family composer Vic Mizzy does its part. I found any chuckling it invoked to be WITH the film, rather than AT it. In a 2009 interview, Mizzy tells of a screening of the film at the Hitchcock Theatre for Universal Studios chief Lew Wasserman where Wasserman only gushed to William Castle about the score.

Now, admittedly, before viewing this film, I had only seen Ms. Stanwyck as the quintessential femme fatale in Double Indemnity (1944). Still, it’s such a memorable performance that I knew there was more to Ms. Stanwyck than an anklet, a strategically placed towel, and some breathy innuendo. I’m glad I was able to participate in the Barbara Stanwyck Blogathon, and many thanks to The Girl with the White Parasol for graciously hosting. If you’re looking to broaden your Barbara Stanwyck horizons, you couldn’t ask for a better opportunity than that link. Take a look, then feel free to come back and let me know what you’ve found. I’m always open to suggestions.

Until next time, then, folks… Sweet Dreams…