The Return of Dr. X.

Every actor has something on the resume they're not exactly proud of. Elizabeth Taylor has Butterfield 8, Bette Davis has Beyond the Forest, Christopher Lee and Nicholas Cage have a few of their own. Hey, we've all taken a bad gig while struggling, or did it for the paycheck because we wanted a vacation or a dinosaur skull or a backyard water park. But there are some actors we consider beyond such things....

... like you'd never think Humphrey Bogart played a zombie or a mad scientist or a zombie mad scientist. But, well, you've never seen The Return of Dr. X. No relation to Dr. X.--it's not a sequel--or to The Revenge of Dr. X., which was written by Ed Wood and is only marginally worse.

So the upshot is that this really annoying intrepid reporter type--played by Wayne Morris as an annoying goofball dork with highwater pants and his fedora flipped up like a hayseed--is trying to interview a famous actress. You can tell she's a famous actress because she lives  in a luxury hotel, wears satin negligees and has a pet monkey and a indiscriminately foreign accent. She is played by Lya Lys, better known from her role in Bunuel's L'Age d'Or. Hey, surrealist manifestos don't pay the bills, aight?

However, when Intrepid Reporter gets to her suite, Famous Actress is dead. Stabbed. Intrepid Reporter prints the story that Famous Actress is dead. Doesn't tell the hotel manager, doesn't call the cops, just leaves the body and informs the authorities with a front-page headline. Of course, Famous Actress turns up, quite pale but very much alive and threatening to sue. But then another body drained of a rare blood type--the same as Famous Actress--turns up and Intrepid Reporter busts into the hospital where he makes friends with Random Doctor.

And just when Random Doctor sends off Intrepid Reporter with the orders to "come back when you sober up" (But he's not drunk; he's just stupid.), Random Doctor is promptly summoned to another hotel room with a dead body, this time "a professional donor," also of the same rare blood type. 

Another blood spot is found at the crime scene, but "It's not... human." Which leads Intrepid Reporter to figure it must be a -- "Gorilla murder... Aw, Mike, if you can figure that one out we'll have a front-page spread on every newspaper in the country for weeks!" (Gorilla murder, Donald Trump candidacy--tomato, tomahto, same difference.) But it's not gorilla, or even animal, so Random Doctor goes to visit a hematologist colleague of his, Dr. Flake. It is here he meets Humphrey Bogart as Kang, apparently Dr, Flake's Renfield figure.

Dr. Flake gives Random Doctor the brush-off and he leaves. Shortly thereafter, Famous Actress arrives, makeup gun apparently set on Three-Day Drunk Elvira, begs Dr. Flake and Kang for help and passes out. All of this is witnessed through a window by Intrepid Reporter.

Rosemary Lane pops up as Joan, Intrepid Reporter's girlfriend who is only present because apparently she's some kind of Uber. Also to prevent us from assuming the obvious about Intrepid Reporter and Random Doctor. (She doesn't and, yes, we've already assumed it about Flake and Kang as well.)

I didn't know Dave Vanian's dad was a butler but, really, it makes perfect sense.

Neither of these men are at all creepy. Which is why Famous Actress still has them for her doctors. And probably why Famous Actress winds up dead. Again. For real this time.

So, yadda yadda yadda, it turns out that Flake is doing experiments raising rabbits and humans from the dead. Among his experiments: Kang, who is actually the feared Dr. X. who was "that skunk who wanted to see how long babies could go without eatin'" and subsequently got the chair. There's some poking around in funeral homes and graveyards and they finally go back to see Dr. Flake who is all like "Hell, yeah, I brought an electrocuted baby murderer back from the dead and am now draining human blood to keep him alive. What?" Of course then Kang reappears and demands the vampire rolodex of people with the magic blood type he needs.  Of course one of them is Joan the Uber-Beard. And off we go...

Bear in mind that this film was released in 1939, long cited as the greatest year in cinema history. The year of Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, Ninotchka, The Women, Destry Rides Again, Laughton's The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Dark Victory ... and The Return of Dr. X. Ultimately, The Return of Dr. X. is an unremarkable C-grade horror movie that's not particularly horrifying at all. It's sole distinction is the slumming appearance as a zombie mad scientist sorta vampire from one of the most respected and iconic stars of all time.

 

* Also, i found out in the credits that it's apparently Dr. Flegg and his assistant Quesne. Whatever.
I'm sticking with Flake and Kang.

The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires

As i have pointed out, most movie ideas are bad. You have no idea how they go from pitch to post-production. But The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires was genius the moment it was conceived: Cross a British Hammer vampire film with a Shaw Brothers kung fu action flick. Who, sitting in the back row of a theater balcony on the Deuce, eating oleo popcorn and Milk Duds, forty of Old E in a paper bag and joints a'rollin, could ask for anything more?

However, awesome + awesome does not always = ultramegaawesome. Sometimes it just = pretty damn awesome. The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires has its flaws, but it also has it moments and is, overall, an enjoyable flick. We open where any good vampire movie should open: "Transylvania 1804." A Chinese guy in dragon robe & walrus mustache drag  is climbing up a hill as a shocked Eastern European peasant looks on. After flinching before a random roadside cross, he finds Dracula's tomb, does some chanting and calls Drac out of his coffin.

"Who dares to disturb the sancity of Dracula?" Wha? Sanctity? Sanctity as in "the state or quality of being holy, sacred, or saintly." I thought that was the last thing Dracula would want to relax in the middle of.

... and -- wait! That's not Christopher Lee! Nope, Christopher Lee could not be bothered with this gig. Which is weird: I didn't know there was a movie Christopher Lee wouldn't do.

So, anyway, Droopy Mustache explains to "Dracula" that he's come all this way because there used to be seven vampires in his province and now there's only six and only six vampires gets no respect. Help me, Godfather! "Dracula" decides China sounds like a good place to move his vampire base, so he possesses Droopy Mustache and the credits roll!

Next thing we see, it's Chung King in 1904 and Professor Van Helsing -- Peter Cushing! Like he's supposed to be! Thank god! He's lecturing a class on vampires in China. As he tells the story of vampire attacks on villages, we focus in one one student in particular and then soft-focus into a flashback. A flashback that is what all flashbacks should be: A ten-minute kung fu battle involving the undead...

Humble farmer decides to save daughter from vampire sacrifice. Farmer goes to vampire hangout, frees daughter, but the vampires go apeshit. Farmer makes it out of the building -- but wait! What's that coming out of the ground? It's a rotting human hand! Zombie! Zombies! Zombie army! Apparently, in China, the vampires can summon zombies. I guess that's why Dracula decided to move his operation here: Cheap zombie labor.

Post-flashback, most of the students walk out, but the one we focused on remains. At a cocktail party after the lecture, we meet assorted Brits and Chinese, Van Helsing's son and a rich Scandinavian widow who's traveling the world in search of adventure. Yadda yadda, student pleads with Van Helsing to accompany him to his ancestral village and help wipe out the vampires.

Art first it's no go, but after everyone is attacked in the street and the Seven Brothers show off their mad skills -- and the foxy Swedish widow agrees to foot the bills -- the groups takes off through remote countryside to distant village to defeat the Seven Golden Vampires. From here on out, it's just alternating kung fu battles and Cushing-delivered exposition with occasional pan shots of the landscape. Rather than try to enumerate every kick, punch and "Long ago...," let us just list a few of the things one picks up while watching The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires.

1. Grindhouse math: If there are seven brothers and their one sister fighting nintey-eight zombies and six vampires, how many undead does each kung fu warrior get to kill? If each one gets to kill one vampire, how many kung fu warriors will not get to kill their own vampire?
2. The widow may bring her platinum AmEx, but you will grow tired of her cowering behind you during battles. And sometimes even when there is not a battle.
3. American zombies move in a sort of smacked-out goosestep, Chinese zombies do the bunny hop.
4. Vampires apparently hire third-graders to make their masks and swords. The undead do not concern themselves with the possible dangers of exposing young children to massive amounts of metallic spray paint.
5. Peter Cushing is one of the few men who can carry off a pith helmet adorned with flowing scarf without looking like Truman Capote vacationing in Tangier.
6. Vampires get really upset if you steal their belt buckles. The belt buckle is the source of a vampire's power.
7. It's nice to see that, for once, the male romantic lead looks at the shrieking, helpless, big-breasted blonde in the corset and the butt-kicking, take-care-of-myself girl in pigtails and satin pajamas and makes the right decision.
8. No matter what kind of monster costume you're making, a gorilla suit is always a great place to start.
9. When you enter a deep, dark cave in vampire territory, and you run across bats and skeletons, please don't act surprised when they are followed by vampires.
10. True love means impaling yourself on the same sharp stick.

The Shaw Brothers had done western co-productions before, such as Cleopatra Jones and the Casino of Gold (kung fu blaxploitation) and Virgins of the Seven Seas, a German co-production (kung fu Eurosleaze). Hammer had reportedly planned a follow-up, specifically a Bollywood/Hammer co-pro (whoa). The Legend of the Seven Golden Vampires isn't the best of Hammer or the best of the Shaw Brothers, but it's still got plenty of the ingredients for a good time at the movies.

Sugar Hill

Let's begin with one that everyone loves: Sugar Hill. A blaxploitation masterpiece. With zombies.

In short, glamorous photographer Sugar Hill has a boyfriend who runs a hip voodoo-themed nightclub. Who gets shaken down by the mob. Who says no. Who gets whacked by said mob, causing Sugar to go one a one-woman spree of vengeance. Well, not quite. Sugar calls voodoo priestess Mama Maitresse, who calls Baron Samedi, who calls a bunch of zombies up out of their graves to whack the mob -- the whole mob -- for Miss Sugar. The zombies themeselves are dead slaves, who shed their shackles as they rise from the swamps. Their blue skin/reflective eyeballs look is an intrguing/aesthetically pleasing departure from the usual shredded leisure suits over rotting flesh. And the cracker-killings are quite spectacular, usually with a fabulously attired Sugar luring her prey, who accmmodatingly throw down some racist remarks before being given the kiss-off by Sugar, then some cryptic verses and malevolent grinning from Baron Samedi, then the zombie gang dump you in quicksand or shut you in a coffin full of poisonous snakes or suchlike. Beats being eaten by a pack of starving hogs, another face of death dealt out by the lovely Sugar Hill.

Leading lady Marki Bey isn't Pam Grier -- Who is? The "vengeance for my man" routine is straight outta Foxy Brown (hell, her fashion photographer gig could be a crib from Friday Foster if you want to go there) Bey is more petite and baby-faced than the Amazonian Pam and the presence of many undead heanchmen means she doesn't have to actually do a lot of ass-kicking herself, just set it up and toss off a few deadpan one-liners in her white Elvis jumpsuit while the zombie horde does what zombie hordes do. Yes, i said white Elvis jumpsuit. Inexplicably, when her machinations are about to lead to gruesome death of some low-level mobster, Sugar is suddenly wearing a white jumpsuit similar to that donned by Mr. Presely during his Vegas years. And her hair goes afro. Seriously, though, if you were leading an army of the undead on a mission of vengeance, wouldn't you wear the white Elvis jumpsuit with the Julius Erving wig? It also helps Sugar have a fighting chance against the scenery-chomping of Don Pedro Colley as Baron Samedi (basically the role Geoffrey Holder played in Live and Let Die a year earlier). Glamour, girl power, zombies, voodoo, race-baiting and Elvis references: Sugar Hill truly has something for everyone.