Star Pick with Kurt Angle

It has long been lamented that Bela Lugosi only donned the cape once as Universal’s Dracula (excluding the much later comedy Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein), whereas their two other most famous creatures, the Frankenstein Monster and Wolf Man, were brought back to life a number of times by Boris Karloff and Lon Chaney Jr. respectively. Instead, for budgetary reasons, they cut Lugosi out of the sequel (Dracula’s Daughter – reviewed here on Filmizon this month), eventually giving the role to other actors (Chaney Jr. and John Carradine) until he finally returned to the role in 1948 in the above mentioned comedy. Yet, to say there is no true sequel to Dracula is not completely true. Columbia Pictures, looking to capitalize on the horror craze, aimed at producing a sequel to the Universal product. . . after being threatened with a lawsuit, they went ahead anyway – simply changing the Dracula name. Titled The Return of the Vampire (1943), B movie specialist Lew Landers was put in charge of directing the low budget fare.

A melodramatic horror thriller with more than a tinge of romance, 1951's The Strange Door, directed by Joseph Pevney, and based upon Robert Louis Stevenson’s “The Sire de Maletroit’s Door”, pairs together two all-time legends to great effect. Set outside of Paris in the 17th century, Charles Laughton is Sire Alain de Maletroit, the fattest cat in the region. Prancing around his expansive castle (adorned with a trap front door that cannot be opened from the inside – talk about strange), he is, in fact, quite like a feline – hopping up onto furniture, leaning against walls, demonstrating a playful if menacing flamboyant attitude to anyone he meets. Surrounded by a group of equally as vile ‘yes’ men, they thrive off of Maletroit’s malice.

Five years after one of its two gargantuan horror hits of 1931, Universal finally released its long awaited sequel. . . rather surprisingly, without the original film’s star making a return appearance. Dracula’s Daughter (1936 – celebrating its 85th anniversary this 2021), takes the bold stance of starting up immediately after the previous film’s conclusion (90 year old spoiler alert), where Bela Lugosi’s Dracula has just been killed by Dr. Von Helsing (Victor Van Sloan). Directed by Lambert Hillyer (a late replacement for A. Edward Sutherland – who moved on after delays), we pick up with poor Von Helsing being arrested by the police for the ‘staking’ murder of Count Dracula. Transported to Scotland Yard (along with the bodies of Dracula and equally as dead Renfield) by two cops, the pretending not to be scared Hawkins (Halliwell Hobbes) and the bumbling and utterly petrified Albert (Billy Bevan), the less than dynamic duo soon lose the body of the infamous Count.

Ah, the summer rental. . . a long held tradition that holds within it the unique ability to escape the intense grind of day to day life, allowing renters to find peace and quiet, comfort, family bonding, with some oft beautiful site-seeing along the way. But sadly, this isn’t always how it turns out. . . case in point, 1976's Burnt Offerings, co-written and directed by Dan Curtis (based on the novel of the same name by Robert Marasco). The Rolf’s, author Ben (Oliver Reed), his wife Marian (Karen Black), their tween son David (Lee Montgomery), and Ben’s artsy aunt, Elizabeth (Bette Davis), are fortunate enough to have found a stunning (if dilapidated) 19th century mansion to rent for the all-too-good price of nine hundred dollars – yes, for the entire summer! The only caveat that is added by owners Arnold and Roz Allardyce (Burgess Meredith and Eileen Heckart), is that their elderly private mother, who is in her mid eighties, is going to stay in her attic flat. . . and it will be their job to bring her a tray of food for each meal (though due to her reclusive state, they are required to leave the food outside her door).

Opening at the 1932 Los Angeles Summer Olympics (an actual newsreel from the event), 1934's Search for Beauty, directed by Erle C. Kenton (Island of Lost Souls; The Ghost of Frankenstein), is a sharply written and unbelievably edgy drama that would not have passed code just a few short months later (once the Motion Picture Production Code, also known as the Hays Code, came into effect). A clash between immorality and a sort of athletic purity, two ex-cons, Larry Williams (Robert Armstrong) and Jean Strange (Gertrude Michael), newly released from prison, quickly come up with a new cash friendly scheme. Teaming with their money-man, Dan Healy (James Gleason), they plan on purchasing a ‘Health and Exercise’ magazine (and a ramshackle hotel that comes with it), turning it into a pre-Playboy rag magazine full of sultry stories and lurid photographs.

A musical murder mystery? Yes, you read that right. . . and that was the type of film you often saw during the Pre-Code era. If 1934's Murder at the Vanities was made just six months later, it never would have passed code and been released – fortuitous for the film makers and us. Directed by Mitchell Leisen, this on stage/backstage premise finds Jack Ellery (Jack Oakie – The Great Dictator) putting on a sumptuous musical revue, featuring his two stars, an Austrian making his American debut, Eric Lander (Carl Brisson), and up and coming Ann Ware (Kitty Carlisle). Unbeknownst to everyone, a whirlwind romance has swooped up between the two stars. . . and they plan to marry after the opening show (they make the announcement upon their arrival at the theatre).