Will The Real Dr. Beecher Please Stand Up?

Another blast in Minnesota's perpetual snowstorm cycle kept me indoors yesterday, so I set myself up in front of the television with a 50s b-movie double feature. I suppose the folks over at MGM already knew when assembling the Midnite Movies double-feature disc of The Vampire (1957) and The Return Of Dracula (1958), what I stumbled upon watching it, thus rendering this whole article pointless and meandering in its minutiae breakdown, but that's what I do; so here we go.

The art of recycling isn't anything new in the world of entertainment. The Mayberry set from "The Andy Griffith Show" has been famously repurposed a number of times for "Star Trek", from "The Adventures of Superman", and so on. There's more info in this MeTV article. When you watch enough television from the same era, or movies produced by the same studios, especially low budget ones, you begin to notice familiar landmarks and objects popping up over and over again. For example the computers in Adam West's Bat Cave doubling as the sonar equipment in The Seaview on "Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea" or as miscellaneous set dressing in "Lost In Space".

There was one small split-second shot in The Return Of Dracula that caused me to pause and consider if the two films had more in common than just shared space on a DVD. This shot below, of an establishing shot of a doctor's shingle near the forty-five minute mark.

Actor Robert Lynn plays a minor, uncredited character in the film named Dr. Paul Beecher. Now I wasn't as familiar with The Return Of Dracula as I was with the second feature, having seen The Vampire a number of times (it's kind of a favorite of mine). I hadn't seen The Return Of Dracula in probably ten years. But the shot piqued my interest, because I knew that John Beal, the principal actor and titular monster in The Vampire, played a doctor named Paul Beecher. Sure enough, as you can see below, we see Coleen Gray (Paul's nurse Carol Butler) walking past the exact same sign, in front of the exact same house!

Well, I hadn't even bothered to note the opening credits of the films, but sure enough, both were produced for Gramercy Pictures and distributed by Universal. Both films were directed by Paul Landres, who did a number of low budget genre pictures and directed quite a few episodes of television shows like "Flipper" and "77 Sunset Strip". Both pictures were produced by Arthur Gardner and Jules V. Levy of the Gardner-Lavin-Levy production team that produced genre pictures for Gramercy in the 1950s, as well as television shows like "The Rifleman", "The Big Valley" and "The A-Team". Both pictures were written by Pat Fielder, a screenwriter-for-hire who wrote dozens of television show episodes and four Gardner-Lavin-Levy produced Gramercy pictures: The Vampire (1957), The Monster Who Challenged The World (1957), The Return Of Dracula (1958) and The Fire Barrier (1958).

The Return Of Dracula came out a scant ten months after The Vampire, so Gramercy undoubtedly scrambled to pad out a feature fraught with time and financial constraints, as the pictures were reportedly received rather poorly and made poor box office returns. It's likely that Gardner and Levy were cranking out these little noir-horror thrillers to see if one would stick and recoup the losses from the previous one(s).  

Both films also feature great music by (and in the case of The Return Of Dracula, is improved by) Gerald Fried. If you haven't seen either film and you're a fan of 1950s b horror and science-fiction pictures, I definitely urge you check out The Vampire. It's similar in tone to the Sam Katzman-produced The Werewolf from the year before, mixing mid-century science-fiction elements in to explain the origin of the film's creature. This vampire in question's transformation is brought on by pill addiction and a reversal of the character to primitive instincts (similar to Arthur Franz in 1958's Monster On The Campus ) rather than needing sustenance to bring life to an undead body.

Trailer for The Vampire starring John Beal, Coleen Gray 

and Dabbs Greer

The Return Of Dracula, on the other hand, has all the thrills and suspense of a lackluster episode of NBC's Boris Karloff-hosted "Thriller". There isn't much there beyond Fried's score until you reach the end. Similar to the famous bathtub scene in William Castle's The Tingler, which came out the following year, we get a color insert used for the staking scene, which the trailer has the audacity to show, but in black-and-white!

Trailer for The Return Of Dracula starring Francis Lederer 

and Norma Eberhardt 

Color insert shot of staking scene, jolting enough to be effective

and probably the only really interesting thing about the film. 

Shocktober Silver Screams Day 2: The Brain From Planet Arous

I went with a decidedly more comic book art approach for Day Two's material, since 1957's The Brain From Planet Arous is kind of the penultimate schlock fest that people either knowingly or unwittingly spoof and reference when they're poking fun and cracking wise about "bad" movies from the 1950s. 

The film is a thick slab of atomic age cheese, but a helluva fun watch. John Agar, prince of the B's, plays a nuclear scientist who becomes possessed by a cosmic brain from the planet Arous. Gor, the brain in question, has a taste for world domination, and, after being introduced to Earth women vis a vis Agar's fiancee Sally (Joyce Meadows), becomes a big ol' floating mass of prurient interests. Of course another, kindlier brain is trying to stop Gor; his name is Vol, and he hides himself in Agar's fiancee's dog.

A lobby card featuring John Agar with his "possessed" foil-lined contacts,
the very same used by Gary Lockwood on the Star Trek episode "Where No
Man Has Gone Before."

The film was directed by Nathan H. Juran, a Jewish Romanian filmmaker whose family emigrated to the USA and settled in Minneapolis, where Juran studied architecture. He did eventually set up his own architecture office in Massachusetts, but the Great Depression forced him to try his hand at freelance illustration due to the construction freeze. He found work as an art director in Los Angeles and was nominated for Academy Awards for his work on John Ford's How Green Was My Valley (1942) and the 1946 film The Razor's Edge. He did win the award for How Green Was My Valley, but eventually moved out of the art department and into the director's chair for some Audie Murphy westerns and, eventually, landing a deal at Universal, directed some of the classics of 1950s b-cinema; most notably The Deadly Mantis, Attack Of The 50 Foot Woman, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad and 20 Million Miles To Earth (both with Ray Harryhausen!). 

Apparently Juran wasn't too thrilled with his horny world-enslaving brain picture, because he changed his name in the credits to Nathan Hertz. The film received more jeers than cheers, but found a new life in the fallout as a cult classic. You can see a neat press package from Howco International films at the great Zombo's Closet website.

Secret Basement Lab Alphabet: Z is for ZOMBIE JAMBOREE

Z is for ZOMBIE JAMBOREE

I was walking one night

Around Lake Winona

When I met a lady

Who knelt on the shore there

She was using a bone

That she held in her hand

To carve a shape into the wet sand

I said to the lady “Miss, what you doing?”

“I’m calling a loa” she answered while moving

She writhed in the moonlight

And chanted some words

And into the shape

She threw feathers from birds

I asked her why she

Would call on this thing

She said she could hear the

Night voices sing

The wind on the water

The wind in the trees

The caw of the crow

And the knock of my knees

And it would be selfish

She explained to me

To not celebrate

The music with a party

She pointed ‘cross the water

To Woodlawn Cemetery

And said she was raisin’ the dead

For a zombie jamboree.

Jump through the fire

And twice ‘round the stones

Hear the night wind

Playing on the xylabones

She held out her hand

And said “Come dance with me

And the living dead at

The Zombie Jamboree.”

Secret Basement Lab Alphabet: Y is for YOUTHFUL VESSEL

Secret Basement Lab Alphabet: Y is for YOUTHFUL VESSEL

Whether Haggard's "She-who-must-be-obeyed"–the eternally youthful Ayesha of Kôr; the curse of la strega, passed down from generation to generation; or young Helen Grovsenor, Imhotep's princess Ankh-en-es-amon reborn centuries later; or even the network of vitality operating under the tender flesh of young mortals, sought out by the ivory-fanged vampires; the wicked have always sought eternal life through new youthful vessels.

Secret Basement Lab Alphabet: XX DOUBLE FEATURE XTRAVAGANZA

X is for XYLABONES

The music of the night: the wind whistling through headstones in an abandoned graveyard; the skitter of dry leaves, windblown, raking across dry concrete; the galloping beat of a frightened heart pumping in one’s ears. The melody of mystery! The harmony of horror!

X is for X-RATED SPECS

“I assure you, sir, that it is on the up-and-up!” The short, bearded man leaned over his booth and produced a slip of yellow paper.

X-RATED SPECS – ADULT AMUSEMENT FOR PERSONAL PLEASURE

CERTIFIED GENUINE OR MONEY BACK

PFSR. RANDY GADGET.

“It’s not really in our line of stock,” Chad said, trying to brush off the little man and continue his tour around the auditorium. He and his sales associate Sandra Bellows were looking for new acquisitions for their client, THE POPNECKER NOVELTY CO., purveyors of fine junk to be advertised in pulp magazines, comic books and the like.

This was hardly something that could be peddled to the general public. Hell, it would get Popnecker Novelty blacklisted from the trade, and he would be out of a job.

“What do we have here?” Sandra asked, stepping up to the booth. Chad hadn’t heard her approach. She grabbed at one of the pairs of cheap-looking black-plastic-framed glasses and unfolded the bows.

“Uh, Sandy I don’ think you should…”

“Someone finally perfect a set of X-ray Specs? Hope it’s better than the old make-you-see-double kind that produce—“

Sandy was staring at Chad, and her mouth was agape, her face fire hydrant-red.

“These…these aren’t…”

“X-Rated Specs!” Professor Gadget piped, pride in his voice. “First of their kind! Guaranteed to work!”

Sandy didn’t say anything, just continued to stare.
“Uh, yeah…”

She took the specs off and slapped them back on the table.

Chad was unsure how to proceed. The entire situation was beyond awkward. “You ok, Sandy?”  

“I don’t think these are for us,” Sandy simply replied. “Chad, I saw some new, improved hand-buzzers over on the other side of aisle B, next to the fake vomit vendor. I think it might be a marketable product.”

Apparently Sandy had been unfazed, or hid it well.

“I’ll meet you over there,” Chad said, eager to walk away and relieve some of the tension that seemed to surround the booth like invisible gelatin.

After Chad had vanished from eyesight, Sandy turned back to the small, bearded Professor Gadget.

“I’ll take two pair,” she said, fishing her wallet from her purse.

Secret Basement Lab Alphabet: W is for WEREWOLF

W is for WEREWOLF

“You new in town?” The bartender asked more out of politeness than actual curiosity. He set the beer on the bar top and dabbed at some moisture with a towel. Besides, there was no one else in the joint, and with the way the white sky was starting to crumble and flake to the ground outside, there wouldn’t be many in for the rest of the evening.

“Yeah,” the guy said, curtly. “Just moving through. Looking for a job. Thought maybe I’d find something over at KPM.”

KPM was the foundry on the west end of town. It had become the life-blood of the community, now employing a good third of the town and several of the smaller surrounding communities. And those who didn’t work there owed the success of their businesses to the vitality that it helped stimulate.

“Yeah, they’re always hiring. Thing about factory work: one guy gets sick of it and quits, there’s always three more willing to step into his place on the line.”

The stranger didn’t say anything; he just sipped at his beer. He had an odd look about him. Nothing measurable, nothing that raised any caution, but almost as if he’d had a gut ache or a fever but was trying to ignore it.

“Say, uh, don’t take offense, friend, but are you ok? You look like you might not be feeling well. You want me to call a cab or something?”

The stranger produced a noticeable shake. Maybe it was the chills, maybe he had a flu coming on.

“Naw, I’m—I’m alright. I just…can you point me to the restroom?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bud said. “Back past the Pabst sign. That corner over there. Take a right around it. Second door on the left.”

Five minutes passed. Then ten. After fifteen minutes had lapsed, Bud began to get concerned. Maybe the guy slipped out the stock room door and skipped out on paying for his drink. So it was a three-dollar beer, no big deal. But there was a principle to the thing. Or maybe he was really sick. Like really sick. Maybe he needed help.

Bud wandered back to the restroom. The door was unlocked. He rapped his knuckled against the door. “You alright in there? Your beer’s getting warm.”

No response. After waiting and listening for a second, Bud pushed the door open. The room was empty.

Now he was angry. So the guy did skip out.

It was against OSHA standards and building code, but maybe he’d have to start locking the rear door while he was open. He only used it for deliveries anyhow, and they came once every couple of days, and early in the afternoon. After that, the only one to use it was himself after he’s closed up for the night. Should an inspector pop in, he could always run back and unlock the thing.

There was a clink of glass in the stock room.

So, he thought, the guy hadn’t left after all. Maybe he’d ask to use the bathroom and then head to the stock room, help himself to some top shelf liquor or something.

The rotten slob…why, he was going to get a good wake up.

“Hey, stranger. I think maybe you should come out. Come out now and pay for whatever you grabbed, and we’ll call it even. No cops.”

No response from the darkness. Just a smell. A heady musk redolent of a wet dog. Bud reached around the doorway and flipped on the light. The clinical paleness of the single fluorescent shop light flickered to life and buzzed like an angry wasp.

There was another noise. More clinking.

“Look, friend,” Bud growled. “I’m past irritated. Out you go. Let’s go. I’m counting to ten and then I call the cops.”

There was a low bestial growl. Something came out from behind a stack of empty liquor bottle boxes. It was too quick to see clearly what it was, but Bud felt it. Felt the hot, sour breath on his face, felt the icy razor slice of something sharp and fringed with bristly fibers seconds after he realized it had cut him.

His vision purpled and flooded with spots and he lost consciousness. He heard a loud howl as he faded.

*            *            *

A middle aged man, his flannel-covered gut distended over his camouflage pants, sat down at the bar. “Where’s Bud?”

The stranger set the man’s beer on the bar top in front of him and wiped at some moisture with a hand towel.

“Bud left town for a while,” the bartender said. “Something about needing a vacation. Guess the stress was really killing him.”

Secret Basement Lab Alphabet: V is for VISIONS OF DARKNESS

V is for VISIONS OF DARKNESS

There was a noticeable heat building behind Carla’s face. It wasn’t anger or frustration, but the actual heat of the small room, bare save the covered table with the ball, and the overpowering stink of whatever incense was burning in the ceramic burner on the side table to the left. That and the increasing embarrassment she was succumbing to as the minutes dragged on, and this old faker gave her banal generalities for forecast as she traced the lines in Carla’s palm with dried-up fingertips.

 She hadn’t even wanted her fortune told. It wasn’t a novelty she’d normally acquiesce to, but it had been a birthday gift from her stepmother.

“I believe I’ve given you all that I can from your palm, dear. Now, let us consult the crystal ball.”

Madame Rosa closed her eyes and bowed her head, kneading the air around the curvature of the ball. Suddenly the interior of the ball lit up. Probably done with a foot-activated switch, no doubt, Carla mused.

“There is something…”

Carla had to admit, the old bag certainly had the carnie palm reader bit down pat. She was giving Maria Ouspenskaya a run for her money.

Madame Rosa froze, her eyelids retracting. Slowly her face tilted upwards, gaping dumbly at Carla.

“A bat!”

“A bat?” Carla repeated. “What kind of a bat? What about it?”

“A large bat. It’s coming for you dear. Oh my, oh my. I see visions of darkness in your future child!”

Carla was getting a bit frightened.

“What do you mean?” she begged.

“Leave this place, child. Hide somewhere. Something evil is hunting for you, and it aims to have you!”

Secret Basement Lab Alphabet: N is for NIGHT WATCHER

N is for NIGHT WATCHER

He’d been there every night for several weeks now. Some nights she didn’t even go to the window, but she knew if she did, the shape would be there under the streetlight. After she’d been grabbed outside her apartment a few nights back, by that—that thing, she’d made a point to always have Jason, the building’s night door man, wait for her outside the front door, where she could be within his eyesight after stepping off the bus at the corner. If anyone, or thing as it may be, tried to gamble a grab, Jason could be there to intervene.

Every night. Under the streetlight. Staring up at her window from the corner across the street. She’d called the cops, given a report. Of course they thought she was bonkers. At least she thought they thought that. The sergeant who filled out the report came to the conclusion it was some nut in a monster mask, trying to get a fright out of her for a gag, working up the goony voice.

Millie wasn’t so sure.

That face…the face that had been burned into memory and the darkness that waited for when she closed her eyelids…there was something familiar about it. The eyes. She couldn’t place it, but she felt that it might not have been a mask, and maybe, perhaps, even not an attempted attack but a cry for help.

If Jeremy were here, he’d know what to do.

Where was he?

She edged to the window slowly, trying to stay out of the glow from the streetlights and shop signs below. She didn’t want the monster to know if she was home, and if he saw her, who knows? Would it—or he?—come up and try to get in?

And the memory of that hand on her shoulder—those clawed fingers! She had a hunch that maybe Jason wouldn’t be much of an obstacle to contend with. Not for someone like that.

Selections from Lady In The Death House (1944)

A fun little noir-lite b-thriller, from Producers Releasing Corporation, starring Lionel Atwill as a psychologist-cum-criminologist who races against time to prove that his recent acquaintance, Mary Logan (Jean Parker), is innocent of the murder she's headed to the electric chair for. To add insult to injury, Mary's fiancee happens to be the state executioner who will have to throw the switch!

Here are a some favorite visuals from the picture, which is available to watch and download (due to its being in the public domain) at archive.org.