El grito de la muerte

Well, this is the fifth release I've seen from Casa Negra, and the other four were all excellent; those being The Curse of the Crying Woman, The Witch's Mirror, The Black Pit of Dr M and Brainiac...and while this film isn't terrible, it pales in comparison to those four as there isn't a great deal of imagination and the plot seems stretched out, despite the fact that the film only runs for seventy minutes! I was surprised to find that this film was directed by Fernando Méndez: the same director behind quite possibly the best of the Casa Negra releases so far, The Black Pit of Dr M. Perhaps he was running short on ideas by the time it came to making this film? Anyway, it won't surprise many people to find that the plot focuses on the Mexican legend of 'The Crying Woman'. We follow a Cowboy and his sidekick Crazy Wolf who comes across the mystery of the Crying Woman while investigating an attempted murder in an almost deserted Mexican town. The duo soon learns about the mystery behind The Crying Woman and attempts to get to the bottom of it.

The film mixes elements from horror and westerns in more ways than just the fact that the central character is a cowboy. The bar room brawl is one of the action centrepieces, and is of course a staple of the western genre. The film features a decent atmosphere emanating from the nearby swamp, and this helps to implement the horror tones. Surprisingly, the film is shot in colour, although unsurprisingly, it looks very grainy and cheap. The plot can feel a bit dry at times as there isn't a lot of it, and the film never really capitalises on the 'Crying Woman' theme that made The Curse of the Crying Woman such a delight to watch. The acting ranges from over the top to completely unenthusiastic, and this gives the film more of a trashy feel. When the plot starts to unravel it does feel kind of disappointing, and while fans of Scooby Doo may be happy with how it all turns out, I reckon many people will feel a bit cheated. Overall, this film may be of interest to people who were impressed by other Casa Negra releases, but I certainly wouldn't recommend stating with this one!

"The Living Coffin" (1958) is, I would imagine, a fine example of that most curious of subgenres: the Mexican cowboy/horror movie. Reuniting director Fernando Mendez, actor Gaston Santos and cinematographer Victor Herrera after that same year's "The Black Pit of Dr. M," the film is, I regret to say, a far lesser achievement. Whereas "Dr. M" is a beautifully shot B&W masterpiece, this picture is--though surprisingly filmed in color--a much more pedestrian affair. In it, lawman Gaston, his bumbling compadre Coyote Loco, and Rayito, the smartest horse you'll ever encounter this side of Trigger, Silver and Mr. Ed, come to the aid of a hacienda in which corpses are being stolen from their tomb and the legendary Crying Woman is heard to wail at night. What horror elements there are chiefly consist of eerie close-ups of the Crying Woman's attractive but corroded face as she flits through the darkened corridors, but the picture also features a nifty bar fight, a good quicksand sequence, a few shoot-outs and some lame comedy (but certainly not enough to torpedo the film). Santos himself, sans mustache and in color, is practically unrecognizable from the role he essayed in "Dr. M," and Herrera's talents are much more obvious in that earlier picture. Still, "The Living Coffin" makes for a reasonably entertaining 70 minutes, and might even be appropriate to watch with the kiddies, especially when the film's "Scooby Doo" aspects come into play. However, viewers interested in seeing a real Mexican masterpiece dealing with the Crying Woman of legend should check out 1963's, uh, "The Curse of the Crying Woman," a film that I just love. And oh...this Casa Negra DVD looks just fine, as always, but what's the deal with the microprint on the essay extras? You'll need one of those 102" TV screens to read these, I'm afraid!

The most famous of the 1950s/1960s horror flicks came from the US, but Mexico also made a number of them. One example is "El grito de la muerte" ("The Living Coffin" in English). Fernando Méndez's movie has the feeling of the average Vincent Price movie while incorporating the story of La Llorona (the weeping woman). Like the average Vincent Price movie, "The Living Coffin" makes no pretense about what kind of a movie it is. It looks like the sort of movie that they probably had fun making. I suspect that many people in Mexico likely think that the makers tried too hard to make the sort of movie that the United States would have made - as opposed to a movie focusing on issues affecting most Mexicans - but isn't it OK to occasionally make a movie whose sole purpose is to entertain? All in all, a fun movie.

This is a weird amalgam of Gothic horror elements with the Western genre, also interesting for being shot in color. The 71-minute film emerges to be a generally likable curiosity that, with an engaging (even complex) plot, evokes affectionate memories of American 'B' serials from the previous decade – though, ultimately, it's marred by a lethargic pace and, when finally exposed, a trio of uninteresting villains.

Gaston Santos, a famous bullfighter, plays the hero; he's flanked by his resourceful steed and a chubby, perennially sleepy sidekick (initially amusing, he soon becomes overbearing – especially when his antics are accompanied by incongruous 'comic' sound effects!). Unfortunately, too, the star is engaged throughout in some extremely fake fistfights! The main 'ghost' of the narrative actually ties the film with a long-running horror series revolving around a legendary character known as "La Llorona" (The Crying Woman); I've only watched one such film, the fine Mexi-horror THE CURSE OF THE CRYING WOMAN (1961) – which, incidentally, has also been released on DVD by Casanegra.

The typical atmosphere of the horror films originating from Mexico – steeped in family secrets, shadows and superstition (by way of Edgar Allan Poe and Agatha Christie) – is further boosted in this case by the muted but pleasant color scheme. Finally, I much prefer the original title of this film – EL GRITO DE LA MUERTE, which roughly translates to SCREAM OF DEATH – to its American moniker, the rather meaningless THE LIVING COFFIN (which is actually a reference to its being armored with an alarm system in case of body snatching, or in the event the coffin's occupant has been buried alive!).

The most substantial extra on the disc is a very interesting essay by David Wilt about this characteristically Mexican hybrid genre (incidentally, the potential camp entertainment promised by the wealth of titles mentioned here – the absolute majority of which have yet to see the light of day on any digital format – is proof once again that this particular cinematic well is far from exhausted!). However, given its considerable length, the inordinately tiny font used (also for the accompanying cast biographies) is a real strain on the eyes!; besides, the audio for the main feature is a bit low.

1958's "The Living Coffin" (El Grito de la Muerte or The Cry of Death) was a sequel of sorts to the previous year's "The Swamp of the Lost Monsters," again scripted by the prolific Ramon Obon and starring the Western duo of Gaston Santos and Pedro de Aguillon. Doing a superior job at the helm than Rafael Baledon was "El Vampiro" director Fernando Mendez, breezing through Old West cliches to highlight the horror in living color, right from the precredits sequence where a dying man collapses next to some skeletal remains. A pair of carved idols puts Gaston and his trusty horse Rayo de Plata on the scent of the sculptor, a recently deceased mother who channeled her grief over losing both sons to the fearsome swamp into their creation. Now her weeping ghost is said to haunt the ranch as 'La Llorona' (The Crying Woman), and indeed reappears to claw a few unsuspecting victims to death, such as the doctor who owned the second idol, his corpse found hanging above the roaring fireplace. This would indicate a more corporeal threat at work, and with villainous Quintin Bulnes among the henchmen, the solution may come off as routine, but careful camera setups coupled with light and shadow manage to overcome script limitations to deliver genuinely atmospheric chills. Bulnes would soon essay his best known genre role as the zombie master in Benito Alazraki's "The Curse of the Doll People," going on to work opposite Boris Karloff in both "Snake People" and "House of Evil," while splendid leading lady Maria Duval balanced a popular singing career with acting in various low budget projects, from early Santo to John Carradine in starring vehicles for Mil Mascaras, "Las Vampiras" and "Enigma de Muerte." Her character initially comes off curt and a little suspicious, but soon sets the action in motion by the removal of a knife held in place to signify the death of her spectral aunt, elements of Poe's "Premature Burial" in place to maintain a level of tension once a second coffin vanishes from the crypt despite its constantly ringing bell to signify catalepsy. The ghastly makeup on the ghost is simple but effective, the attack scenes granting this the edge over its earlier companion piece. Of course there's a barroom brawl where no punch seems to actually land, and a curiously impassive Gaston Santos is easily outshone by his gallant steed, rescuing his master from quicksand after fooling the villains into believing a hidden posse is shooting at them (the less said about the comic relief the better). Rafael Baledon himself would tackle the legend of La Llorona with 1963's "The Curse of the Crying Woman," while Ramon Obon's 1964 "100 Cries of Terror" played off this film's original Mexican title.