Geschöpf des Schreckens

THE SHE-CREATURE (1956) is certainly one of the more interesting monsterific creations of Paul Blaisdell but the film suffers from a pace slower than death itself and characters as cardboard as a Hallmark card. The idea is perhaps lifted from the Bridey Murphy story wherein a woman is placed under a major hypnotic trance and made to revert to former lives. In this one, the heroine goes all the way back to her prehistoric past and becomes the title creature, complete with scales, Stone Age hooters, a tail and back with Godzilla-like plates. THE SHE-CREATURE must be seen to be believed. This is American-International Pictures, which cranked out a lot of great matinee fun but this monster just about tops them all. A hopelessly inept Chester Morris is terrible as the hypnotist and the cast proceeds at a funereal pace. See it for the monster, it's the only reason to bother!

Directed by Edward (50 movies a year) Cahn and written by Lou Rusoff (who also penned Dragstrip Girl, Cat Girl, Runaway Daughters, Apache Woman, Oklahoma Woman, and Girls in Prison; hmmm, I notice a violent femme pattern here), the She Creature is notable for Albert Kallis evocative poster, Paul Blaisdell's terrific prehistoric "she" monster (complete with scaly hooters), and the mesmerizingly gorgeous Marla English in what appears to have been her last role. Actually, it's hard to call this a "role" as she spends most of her time in a trance lying on her back. Also spending the movie in a trance is Lance Fuller, though he's supposed to be fully conscious. Fuller's acting expressions range from "gee that's a tight sweater" to "gee that's a tight dress" to `gee my pants are tight.' The snidely-whiplash villain, Dr. Carlo Lambardi, is played by Chester Morris with the seriousness of a man passing his 15th kidney stone. But the real villain, is the She Creature! Sort of. The She Creature, while looking cool, is about as menacing as Lobster Themidor. No one seems to notice that, while bullets can't stop her, she can be outrun by a snail on crutches. Instead, in Z-movie tradition, folks just stand around and get clobbered to death. The movie's budget must have been as tight as English's sweater because bullets don't even leave dust marks on the monster's Victoria's Secrety bosom. Shot on location in Malibu! Whatever happened to Marla?!?!

Dr. Carlo Lombardi (Chester Morris), a carnival hypnotist hypnotises Andrea (Marla English) into reliving earlier incarnations: a 17th century Irish maiden and a monstrous primordial creature that Andrea's transmigrating spirit can make corporal. The nonsensical plot plays on the then popular 'Bridey Murphy' story (a supposedly true example of hypnotic regression) and tacks on a monster for the drive-in crowd. Although the 'science' is negligible and ludicrous, the implication that the creature is an aquatic form of paleo-human makes the otherwise mystical horror film borderline science-fiction (IMO). The distaff creature is probably monster-maker (and wearer) Paul Blaisdel's best work: a scaly, buxom monster sporting a prominent 'vagina dentata' on her abdomen. Much of the film is about control: Lombardi (who dresses like comic-book hero 'Mandrake the Magician') has hypnotic control over Andrea (who loathes him), and indirectly over the creature, Timothy Chappel (Tim Conroy) is a wealthy capitalist who tries to control Lombardi with money, and scientist-hero Dr. Ted Erickson (representing rationality) pushes Andrea to defy Lombardi and rejects Chappell's money (both directly and by turning down the advances of the crass industrialist's socialite daughter). Despite the dominant muliebral she-creature (who is endowed like the Venus of Willendorf (at least in the posters)), the film is far from a feminist statement: only love for a man frees Andrea from thralldom. Other than the memorable monster suit, the film is hokey and ridiculous and has little to offer anyone other than diehard fans of schlocky sci-fi/horror films (and perhaps the occasional pop-media scholar or slumming Freudian).

A woman in a hypnotic trance allows a worker of psychological magic to bring forth a she-creature from the sea that kills to makes his predictions of death come true. The movie put me in a trance! Slow does not describe the pacing of this film. It moves not at the pace of a snail but more like the weathering effect on mountains that takes thousands and thousands of years. The film, despite its lethargic, morphine-injected story-telling, has its finer points(And no, I am not talking about Marla English here .....yet!). First of all, I liked Chester Morris in his role. I seem to be a minority here, but I thought this was a rare opportunity to see a pretty good actor from a bygone era. Morris essayed the role of the Bat in The Bat Whispers in 1931 as well as played Boston Blackie numerous times. Sure, he's a thick slice of ham, but a fun slice of ham to watch....to a degree. After awhile the lines with little conviction and the overly tight-lipped face get to be a bit of a strain. But at the very least he has some acting skill...which cannot be said of too many others in the film. Yeah, Tom Conway can act...sometimes, but his role is of little importance and he has little to do. The scene where he is ...well, not to give it away...shall we say "taken care of" is a real hoot as it looks just so unbelievable. Lance Fuller? I've seen walls create more depth of character than he musters in what can only be called a "dead" performance. He's alive, but sometimes you just don't know for sure. He registers almost no emotion, no conviction in his lines, nor does he illicit any feeling from the viewer toward him. The rest of the actors are not much better. The guy playing the Polish butler was absurd as was the policeman with the tough guy routine. What about Marla English? She plays the hypnotized girl that allows the She-creature to rise from the sea. Well, she is not much of an actress, but what she can do to a sweater....certainly one of the higher peaks...points of the film. The she-creature? Well, it's nothing horrifying. Nothing terrible, yet the costume created by Paul Blaisdell deserves its admiration. It is a creative outfit like nothing else I have ever seen. But the monster walks/hobbles through the sand with the agility of an octagenarion, thus creating no menace but rather a burning desire for a tube of ben gay and a bottle of geritol!

In the 1940s, Chester Morris and Tom Conway were reasonably successful and respected actors. Both made B series films (Boston Blackie and The Falcoh respectively) as well as A and B films...quite a few of them. But by the mid-1950s, both these actors were having problem finding roles on TV or films...and they were sadly reduced to acting in a schlocky film like this. Fortunately for Morris, he still had a few good projects in him (such as "The Great White Hope") but Conway would soon become a pathetic guy without work, a home as well as broken health. A sad end for a very good actor.

In this film, Chester Morris plays Dr. Lombardi--a stage hypnotist with amazing powers. He is able to exert amazing power over people and claims to even be able to use age regression to bring out a physical manifestation...in essence, a monster. As for Conway, he plays Timothy Chappel, a guy who wants to exploit Lombardi's reputation in order to strike it rich. Little does he know that Lombardi's Svengali-like powers are real...and he's a very dangerous man.

Apart from looking at how beautiful Lombardi's muse (Marla English) is, there isn't a lot of positive things to say about this cheap film. The monster, in particular, is pretty comical looking...and instead of instilling fear in the audiences watching the movie, it likely just elicited laughter. Plus, nothing about this film even seems scary...just kind of silly.