Das Ungeheuer von Chicago

1940's THE MONSTER AND THE GIRL, not to be confused with Republic's 1944 THE LADY AND THE MONSTER, was a rare Paramount excursion into Universal horror territory. This was the studio that brought genre fans the 1931 DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE, 1932's ISLAND OF LOST SOULS, 1933's MURDERS IN THE ZOO, 1939's DR. CYCLOPS, and 1940's THE MAD DOCTOR, all quite distinctive and respectable. Leonard Maltin's review praises the originality of the white slavery angle, depicting how poor Ellen Drew is lured into a life of prostitution, while her brother (Phillip Terry) is executed for a murder he didn't commit, donating his brain to Dr. Parry (the great George Zucco) to use in a surgical procedure that puts his mind in the body of a gorilla. Maltin dismisses the mad doctor stuff as clichéd, but the truth is, all the characters are strictly by the numbers; it's quite possible that if it consisted of one storyline over the other, the results would never be remembered today. Like Boris Karloff in Warners' 1936 THE WALKING DEAD, the vicious racketeers are marked for death from beyond the grave, and the second half of the film shows how the gorilla (Charles Gemora) manages to escape detection as it travels around town, executing all the gangsters with virtually no interference, aided by his faithful dog (!). This is not A BOY AND HIS DOG, and it really is better than it sounds, it's only disappointing in that little is made of Zucco's experiment, and his role is very small. Best of all is Charles Gemora's sensitive portrayal of a gorilla with a human mind, and it is excellent; it couldn't have been easy to act in such a costume, but it looks as good as any from old Hollywood, and is light years superior to Emil Van Horn's embarrassment in Bela Lugosi's THE APE MAN. A remarkable cast of familiar faces make this an easy watch, apart from the condescending Paul Lukas, whose accent was no match for Lugosi's (surely Bela would have been available). Look fast for unbilled Edward Van Sloan, veteran of FRANKENSTEIN and THE MUMMY, playing the prison warden who helps Zucco get the plot moving toward its inevitable climax (Zucco proved to be even busier than Lionel Atwill in that department).

Monster and the Girl, The (1941)

** 1/2 (out of 4)

Strange but effective film from Paramount mixes the noir and horror genres. Mobsters frame an innocent man for murder but before his execution he swears vengeance on them all. After his death a scientist (George Zucco) experiments by putting the dead man's brain into the body of a gorilla who goes out for revenge. The biggest problem with this film is its short running time of 65-minutes, which isn't enough time for the two stories to work. We get a fast paced and fun movie but it could and should have been a lot more. This is certainly a very weird film that noir and horror fans should check out.

Scot Webster is looking for his brother-in-law who mysteriously left his wife and left her in at the hands of a racketeer and his mob. Webster is later set up with the murder of a mob enemy, convicted and set to die, but swears revenge on those who set him up. He donates his brain to science and it is later put into an ape, which proceeds to carry out Webster's venegance. The plot sounds pretty good for its genre, but the Webster's trial takes up a little too much time plus the scenes with the ape just seem to be lacking the excitement that this movie should generate. 5 out of 10.

This is one of those films that I was only familiar with up till now via a still in Alan Frank's 1977 exhaustive and entertaining chronicle of the genre, "Horror Films"; a belated Paramount genre entry that was most notable for its unusual mix of noir (the white slavery angle in the first half) and horror (the "gorilla on the loose" segment in the second). The atmosphere (courtesy of Oscar-winning cinematographer Victor Milner) is congenial to both styles but, being just 65 minutes in length, the film kind of crams everything in without giving the disparate elements a chance to breathe! The essential silliness of the plot – a wrongly executed man seeking revenge when revived in an ape's body – brings up several questions in a discriminating viewer like yours truly: how could he have known the addresses of the various culprits, having only been in town for just a few days, and how come the gorilla is never noticed moving about (but then this fault is also borne by Poe's "Murders In the Rue Morgue"!)?; incidentally, the devotion of the hero's pet mutt to its former master – even when reduced to its own, i.e. animal, level – is most poignant. Anyhow, the whole is quite redeemed by a decidedly remarkable cast of stalwarts from both genres: Ellen Drew from ISLE OF THE DEAD (1945), George Zucco as the obligatory mad scientist, Edward Van Sloan in an uncredited bit as a prison warden, Tom Dugan as wisecracking cop, and especially the rogues' gallery: Robert Paige from SON OF Dracula (1943), Paul Lukas as the suave head villain, our very own Joseph Calleia (in one of his rare genre appearances) as a pastor-cum-hit-man(!), Marc Lawrence, Gerald Mohr and Onslow Stevens! In conclusion, the film under review is not to be confused with the later (and superior) THE LADY AND THE MONSTER (1944) which, as it happened, I watched in quick succession myself.

After the horror revival of the late thirties, Paramount decided to get in on the act with this rare excursion into "monster movies." But this is a weird hybrid, as if a film about a white slavery ring was in production and the powers that be decided to tear off the last half of the script and graft a ham-fisted (or banana-fisted) monster subplot onto it. It certainly makes for fascinating viewing, as long as you know what's coming. A tenuous similarity could be considered with 'From Dusk Til Dawn' wherein a story about two hostage-taking killers on the run suddenly switches gears half-way and becomes an outlandish vampire gore-a-thon. This 1941 release does have a resemblance to Karloff's 1939 'The Man They Could Not Hang' (Karloff a hanged scientist brought back to life with electricity proceeds to kill off the jurors that convicted him.) Nonetheless, this film's bifurcated storyline is almost delightful if only from the sheer crackpot audacity of trying to pull it off.

No need to recount the plot, it's simple enough. It's thirty minutes of trial and flashback to the white slavery set-up, then thirty minutes of Frankenstein-ian ape-crazed nonsense with a quick wrap up. The only hurdle to overcome is the amateur performance of Phillip Terry as the condemned man Webster. He drudges his way through as if told he was in a zombie movie, then behaves like a Stepford Wife in the flashback, then later does an over-the-top hysteria jag in his last scene. Inept. But he doesn't play the ape, thank goodness! That job is performed by Charles Gemora (who played the martian in 1953's 'War of The Worlds') and he does it subtly and effectively. Considering the highly-charged second half, it's too bad the writer and director didn't take advantage and really play up the tension and the murder scenes. Here's a case where a film could have run a little longer for a change. And thankfully the ape doesn't talk and Webster's sister (Ellen Drew) doesn't do that "I recognized him by his eyes" nonsense that it looks like it was heading for. There's also a terrific cast of familiar second-tier actor faces employed including Marc Lawrence, a young Rod Cameron, Joseph Calleia, Abner Biberman, Cliff Edwards and even Bud Jamison (Jamison familiar to Three Stooges fans). Granted the film's short running time doesn't give them much screen time (but oddly enough, the faceless unknowns Robert Paige, Terry and Drew get most of the camera-time). And one last enjoyable note is seeing George Zucco as the transplant doctor hovering throughout the film. In the first part of the film he is just hanging around, given little attention, as if waiting like the rest of us to get to the 'monster' part of the story. Then after he does his movie-changing brain transplant, he once again hangs around mostly in the background (at each murder scene), with no one really asking him why he's always there. It's all part of the oddness of this little curio.