Der Würger von Schloß Blackmoor

THE STRANGLER OF BLACKMOOR CASTLE is one of the best of the German krimis I've watched, this one based on the works of Bryan Edgar Wallace. The story is relatively straightforward: a masked killer prowls the corridors of Blackmoor Castle, searching for a stash of hidden diamonds and ready to strangle anyone who gets in his way.

Veteran director Harald Reinl uses the opportunity to deliver a film that's loaded with atmosphere, murder and action. The killer, who has a penchant for beheading his victims, is truly a sinister creation and the scenes of him prowling through dimly-lit corridors are hugely atmosphere. Some of the set-pieces provide bizarre highlights, such as the motorcycle beheading, and there's even some fisticuffs to keep the story bubbling along.

The cast acquit themselves well enough that the viewer is able to distinguish some solid performances despite the atrocious English dubbing. Regular Scream Queen Karin Dor headlines but the statuesque Ingmar Zeisberg wins most of the attention as a scheming barmaid. There are red herrings galore, dogged detectives and intrepid reporters, everything you'd want from a good murder mystery. Add in some broad comedy involving a kilt-wearing "lord of the manor" who's got an obsession for birdsong and you have a great little movie overall.

There's a heavily disguised man who appears mysteriously, threatens Rudolf Fernau, and disappears. His daughter, reporter Karin Dor, enters, distraught she has almost run over Hans Nielson, who owns Blackmoor Castle; he's renting to Fernau to avoid having to sell the place, and lives in a corner turret. As the movie goes on and Fernau becomes seriously ill and paranoid, Inspector Harry Riebauer investigates the mysterious goings on, while reporters cluster around the story -- and pretty Miss Dor, too.

It's one of the Edgar Wallace mysteries produced in Germany that were so numerous in the 1960s. They certainly had a large corpus to work with; Wallace had written over 170 novels, almost a thousand short stories, and 18 stage plays before heading off to Hollywood, coming up with early drafts of KING KONG and dying in 1932 at the age of 56. He died deep in debt -- to the bookies, mostly -- but the enormous popularity of his books cleared the estate within two years.

THis is a gothic-looking production, with its gloomy castle setting, and the visuals are good.. I can't judge the performances, given I looked at an English-language version. Unlike most of the mystery writers of the era, the people who solved the mysteries were not brilliant amateurs, but the police. Shocking, isn't it?

1963's "The Strangler of Blackmoor Castle" (a literal translation of "Der Wurger von Schloss Blackmoor") was among the more popular krimi to emerge from West Germany, crime thrillers based on the works of Edgar Wallace or, in this case, his son Bryan Edgar Wallace. More straightforward than some of the more convoluted entries, the prolific Harald Reinl directing his young wife Karin Dor to play Claridge Dorsett, reporter/niece of diamond smuggling uncle Lucius Clark (Rudolf Fernau), both renting the huge castle of Blackmoor from its eccentric, tax burdened owner (Hans Nielsen). There is indeed a strangler on the loose, wearing a mask to completely cover his face (very similar to the culprit in Lew Landers' 1962 "Terrified"), later revealed by Scotland Yard's Inspector Jeff Mitchell (Harry Riebauer) to have only 9 fingers. When he can't get his hands on them he sets traps like a line across the road to behead one cycling victim, the letter 'M' a calling card branding their foreheads. The moor is dotted with hidden passages that occasionally turn up (or drop in), while Clark's ex-con diamond cutter (Dieter Eppler) seems especially determined to prevent Claridge from earning her share of the estate on her 21st birthday. A spot of blackmail finds several shady types frequenting a certain London tavern, but most of the mayhem takes place on the foggy marshes or inside the castle, a suitably eerie setting for added horror atmosphere. What sets this apart from the others is to be a virtual blueprint for the more violent Giallo, as there's little blood shown but times would change by decade's end.

Krimi is the German word for crime thriller.In the 60's through the very early 70's the Germans made dozens of them. Most were based on the works of Edgar & Bryan Wallace. While the quality of the individual films varied, this is one of the best I've seen so far.

The plot revolves around a country estate. A masked strangler is on the loose. His victims are branded with an "M" on their foreheads.The complex plot revolves around the killer,family skeletons in the closet,lineage,a fortune in diamonds and a ruthless gang of thugs.

The atmosphere of this film is appropriately dank but excellently done. The swirling fog on the moors adds a touch of menace to the night air.The castle and all of its secrets is a grand affair.Even the grounds capture the crispness of the air during the day.

The acting is top notch.Usually the same stable of actors appeared in most of the series.A lot of fun can be gained by seeing roles change from film to film as they move from the sides of good and evil.The comedy relief is not a millstone in this film as it usually is a bane.The soundtrack is moody and well done.

Best watched late at night with the lights down low. A rare 10.

Despite the noticeable absence of series regulars Eddie Arent and Klaus Kinski, this is another solid entry in the long-running Edgar Wallace (or in this case, son Bryan) krimi series, and probably the most action-packed. Unlike the playfully gimmicky Alfred Vohrer, director Harald Reinl (an acknowledged Fritz Lang disciple) preferred to play his material straight, emphasising action and violence. The proceedings are highlighted by surprisingly gruesome assaults and murders (decapitation being a specialty here), but to his credit, Reinl filled in the edges with imaginative touches, eccentric behaviour by oddball characters, and quirky humour (the knock-out by moosehead would have pleased Vohrer immensely). The cheekiest Langian homage is the M inscribed on the victims' foreheads, but there are plenty of other visual and thematic tropes that smack of the master's influence (it was Reinl who took over Lang's Mabuse franchise at about the same time as this picture). For instance, one minor character, a henpecked clerk, insists that he could definitely tell that the suspect who phoned him was a blonde by her voice (wink-wink), prompting a withering look from his wife. The moody b&w cinematography is often striking, and the creepy modernist score is effective and memorable. The director's statuesque wife and regular leading lady, Karin Dor, is disappointingly mousy in her role, but Ingmar Zeisberg steals the show as a sultry, unnatural-blonde barmaid at a sleazy Soho cabaret who leads a double life. Only the final revelation of the murderer is a bit of letdown, but that was par for the course.