Mad Monster (1942)
IMDb meta-data is runtime 1 hour and 17 minutes, 3.5 rated by 1,750 discerning cinematizens. That’s out of 10.
Genre: Horror; Species: Bore.
Verdict: [Snore.]
Professor Moriarty is not only a stable genius but also a great patriot. In an old dark house near a convenient swamp he experiments on men and dogs to create a savage warrior who will slay our fanatical enemies in 1942. His comely daughter is in attendance and none the wiser. She seems to have had no mother. Was she another of his experiments? Her beau is even dimmer.
Morrie’s ethics clearance application for his Hairy Warrior project was decisively rejected by the third anonymous assessor, that is, Dr No. Without a nationally competitive grant Morrie was of no use to the university in the ratings game, so he was manoeuvred into early retirement. Angry, he continues to conjure a savage murderer out of a gentle giant gardener known as Pedro to everyone except the screen credits which have him as Pietro. ‘Look, I just work here,’ said the film editor.
The spectral seminar Morrie holds at the start for exposition is the best scene in the movie. I speak as a participant in such sessions, some to my knowledge and others not. Dr No has had more than one tongue-lashing from yours truly.
There is a menacing atmosphere in the misty swamp and the transformation of the gentle giant into ravening wolf-man is effective, but he is no Lon Chaney and that hat! Ha!
The whole film was undercooked in the five days it took to produce it. Yet it is so slow that it seems almost three hours long. The director must have been taking Rohypnol by the handful.
The daughter-damsel in distress looks almost as bored as I felt, and her rescuing knight was a 10-watt bulb. Neither offered any conviction nor injected any vitality into the proceedings.
I had read about it in detail on Scifist 2.0; ergo I knew the little I was in for. It is freely available on You Tube in a so-so print.
George Zucco was always committed to his roles no matter how ludicrous they were, like this one. He always gave 100 per cent. He alone carries this waste of celluloid but even he limps in the turgid and vague mishmash. By the way, The Great War left him with paralysis in his right arm, where he had been wounded. He always said yes to work and there are 99 credits for him on the IMDb. The name is Greek and he refused to change it to something Anglo, because it was his father’s name.