Saturday, January 3, 1976: Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster (1965) / House of Horrors (1946)

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Synopsis: A spacecraft from Mars approaches Earth, carrying Princess Marcuzan (Marilyn Hanold), her creepy assistant Dr. Nadir (Lou Cutell) and assorted space-helmeted soldiers. They discuss how the Martian women are no longer fertile, and that to replenish their dying planet, they need to secure Earth women as breeding stock.

They see a rocket take off from Cape Canaveral, carrying a Mercury astronaut inside on a course for Mars. Believing it to be a missile directed against them, Dr. Nadir destroys it, chuckling with glee.

On Earth, a press conference is held with various military personnel, Dr. Adam Steele (James Karen) and his assistant Karen Grant (Nancy Marshall). They introduce a new astronaut, Col. Frank Saunders (Robert Reilly) who will pilot the next space mission to Mars. The reporters are baffled that they have never heard of him before. Asked by the press if he fears going into space after the explosion of the last rocket, Frank says he doesn’t, and he gives a rousing speech to the assembled members of the press.

But when Frank unexpectedly freezes up during the press conferences, he is whisked out of the room. We learn that Frank is in fact an android who is being passed off as a human astronaut, in order to prevent a human from risking his life on the next mission. After fussing with some wires and a vacuum tube, Steele pronounces Frank to be good as new.

The mission launches perfectly, but again, Dr. Nadir chuckles as he destroys the Earth rocket (he certainly does seem to enjoy his work). Frank bails out in a parachute but in doing so is damaged; part of his face has been torn off and he walks with a limp. He encounters a pair of teenagers on a lonely stretch of highway and attacks them. Learning of this, Dr. Steele reasons that with his systems damaged, Frank’s “self-preservation circuits” are causing him to go on a rampage. “Like Frankenstein’s monster!” Karen says.

Meanwhile, the Martian ship has landed and the aliens are busy rounding up attractive young women in bikinis from nearby pool parties and bringing them to the spaceship, where they are inspected leeringly by the Princess and Dr. Nadir to ensure that they meet the specialized “qualifications” needed to be breeding stock for the Martians.

Steele and Grant learn that Frank’s ship has crashed in Puerto Rico and they arrive within hours and begin searching for the missing android. But Karen is captured by the Martians and taken to the ship, where she is placed in a cage next to an ugly, gorilla-like monster….

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Comments: Despite the title, our first feature tonight is not a Frankenstein movie. It’s a campy outer-space themed horror movie that was made specifically for the drive-in circuit and sports a rock-n-roll soundtrack. That makes it sound discouragingly like another movie we’ve seen a couple of times  — Monster-a-Gogo, a movie so bad it’s almost unwatchable, but the good news is that Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster is a lot better. Though of course, it could hardly be worse.

Sure, it’s dumb and silly, and it uses miles of stock footage, but it’s not as bad as you’d expect, and it’s even mildly entertaining, if you’re in the right frame of mind.

The plot, such as it is, is pretty ridiculous. It’s not clear why you’d send an android alone  on a six-month trip to Mars when it can’t even go the length of a press conference without malfunctioning; or why you’d want to pass it off as human in the first place; or why you’d deploy an android that will start wandering around and killing people the second it sustains some damage.

Equally baffling is why supposedly advanced aliens are forced to run around the countryside and grab women from beaches and pool parties, then march them to a flying saucer (only women in bikinis can be considered as alien breeding stock, apparently). Is this the only strategy these knuckleheads can think up?

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The cast isn’t stellar, but does seem to be made up of professional and semi-professional actors (except for the kidnapped young women in bikinis, who wisely don’t even try to act). Lou Cutell is the most memorable as the bald, pointy-eared Dr. Nadir. Cutell doesn’t seem embarrassed by the material and simply goes for it in each scene, which is kind of delightful.

Lots of location footage was shot in Puerto Rico, and several minutes are burned on a travelogue-like scene of Steele and Grant riding an Italian scooter through the streets of San Juan.

House of Horrors

Synopsis: A spectacularly unsuccessful sculptor named Marcel De Lange (Martin Kosleck) is dining on bread and cheese by candlelight. It’s bread and cheese because he doesn’t have anything else to eat; and it’s by candlelight because the electricity in his loft has been shut off. But he is in good spirits because a wealthy patron of the arts is coming over soon to buy his latest creation for $1,000.

But when the patron arrives, he is accompanied by a supercilious art critic named F. Holmes Harmon (Alan Napier) who insults the work and implores the buyer not to go through with it. The sale is ruined.

Despondent, De Lange walks down to the river bridge. He is about to throw himself in when he sees a half-drowned man surface near the riverbank. He goes down to help the large, ungainly fellow out of the water, and returns to the loft, where he nurses him back to health.

He sees this man as “the perfect Neanderthal” and is inspired to create a new sculpture of his primitive cranium. It turns out that the stranger is an escaped murderer called The Creeper (Rondo Hatton), and his m.o. is to snap his victim’s spines. The police believe he is dead, and at first it isn’t clear to De Lange what sort of man he’s taken into his home.

But it becomes clear soon enough: The Creeper murders a streetwalker in the neighborhood (because “she screamed”, as the Creeper succinctly explains), and when De Lange angrily reads Harmon’s snarky write-up of his foiled sale, The Creeper gets up and leaves.

Meanwhile, reporter Joan Medford (Virginia Grey) visits her colleague F. Holmes Harmon. She is upset that Harmon plans to write a savage review of her boyfriend Steven Morrow (Robert Lowery) and his planned exhibit of commercial illustrations (pinups, which appear to be Morrow’s speciality). Harmon finds pop art in general to be contemptible, and Morrow’s work particularly vulgar; he is determined to ruin Morrow with another poison-pen letter to the art world.

Enter the Creeper. He kills Harmon and slips away. Because Harmon was working on a hit piece against Morrow when he died, police suspicion falls on him.

De Lange realizes that all he need do is express contempt for an art critic — or anyone, really — and hey presto, he reads that person’s obituary in the next day’s paper. Bringing the Creeper into his life has given him an incredible feeling of power, and if that weren’t enough, his sculpture of the Creeper is going well — in fact, we suspect it’s the first decent piece of art he’s ever created.

As the body count rises, Medford visits De Lange’s loft. She says she is looking for a story for her Sunday column — but is she? Why does she steal a sketch of the Creeper that De Lange has hidden? And what will happen to her when he –and the Creeper — find out?


Comments: House of Horrors is a distinctly minor film, but in a bargain-basement way it toys with some interesting themes: the root causes of victimhood, the nature of power, and the price of outsourcing your dirty work to somebody else.

These two movies will probably never be mentioned in the same sentence again, but while watching House of Horrors I was reminded of the 1980 high school flick My Bodyguard, with Martin Kosleck standing in as the picked-on teen and Rondo Hatton the bully who becomes the instrument of his deliverance.

The character of De Lange, after all, is living in a perpetual state of adolescent victimhood: he is downtrodden, ignored, cut deeply and constantly by the taunts of the art critics who delight in humiliating him. He burns with a teenager’s need to have his inner talents recognized. And like a teenager, his rage is as palpable as his frustration. “If I was big and strong,” he says to the Creeper at one point, “I would tear them apart with my bare hands”. He clenches his hands fitfully when he says these lines, imploring his powerful friend to act on his behalf.

And of course the Creeper does act, though he doesn’t do anything that De Lange couldn’t have done for himself. De Lange clearly lacks the strength to snap the spines of his adversaries, but murder by other means was always an option. It was the will to commit murder that De Lange lacked, the willingness to pay the moral price for an act of savagery.

Similarly, he blames Harmon and the other hostile critics for the grinding poverty he endures — even though Morrow, held in equal contempt by Harmon, does quite well financially. In fact Harmon dismisses Morrow’s success, on the grounds that “dollar signs don’t equal talent”.

We know De Lange doesn’t have money; but looking around his studio, it isn’t clear that he has much talent either. The sculpture he nearly sells, “Surcease From Toil”, really is dreadful.

The bust of the Creeper, by contrast, is quite good; there is a classical grace as well as a brooding power behind it. It isn’t exactly clear why the Creeper is willing to kill for De Lange. The sculptor has almost nothing to offer except, perhaps, his friendship. That the Creeper craves the friendship of another human being may seem unlikely. Nonetheless it is touching when the Creeper, surprised that De Lange isn’t afraid of him, extends his hand: “You’re my friend. Shake.” This childlike quality is engaging, but we see too little of it in House of Horrors; mostly the Creeper skulks around and kills the people De Lange wants dead, as though he were a personification of the sculptor’s id. That’s an idea just arty enough to appeal to De Lange and I’m surprised he didn’t suggest it himself.

Martin Kosleck appeared as nutty wax sculptor Rudi in The Frozen Ghost, and in spite of Robert Lowery’s top billing, his Marcel De Lange is the closest thing we have to a protagonist. Kosleck doesn’t disappoint in this film; as always his soft, accented voice works as a perfect counterpoint to his razor-sharp gaze, which can convey anger or madness — or both.

Rondo Hatton doesn’t get top billing either, but this movie was designed as a vehicle for him and his peculiar physiognomy. Hatton suffered from a glandular condition called acromegaly, the symptoms of which weren’t apparent until he was well into adulthood. The condition gradually altered the shape of his head and distorted his body and facial features, giving him a coarse, brutal appearance.

Virginia Grey rattles off snappy dialogue throughout (when her boyfriend complains that she works too many odd hours, she replies, “You should get yourself a nice fireside type. She’ll bore you to death, but you’ll always know where to find her”). Her performance isn’t particularly memorable, though she parades through the movie wearing a dizzying array of hats, which seem to grow more and more outrageous as the movie goes on.

The character of Harmon is played by Alan Napier, a talented and versatile actor who inexplicably found his greatest fame playing Bruce Wayne’s butler Alfred, on the TV series Batman.

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