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Creature Features
1950-1960
It is hard to grasp the changes that took place in popular consciousness
between 1940 and 1950. In ten short years the concept of a horrific
monster had altered irrevocably. Whereas Lon Chaney in a fine covering
of yak's hair had once served as a powerful envoy from the dark side,
now there were more recognisably human faces attached to evil. Faces
who had fought on both sides in WW2, the developers of the atom bomb
and the death camp, mad scientists indeed whose activities would have
unnerved even Victor Frankenstein or Dr Moreau.
The military action of WW2 had left over 40 million dead, and millions
more exposed to the full spectrum of man's inhumanity to man. Homecoming
soldiers and bereaved widows had too many horror stories of their own
to appreciate fantasies on the big screen, and much preferred the silliness
of Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein et al. The world could never
be the same again, and the dawning of post-war posterity in America
brought with it a new breed of monsters, adapted specifically for survival
in the second half of the twentieth century.
After WW2, no nation could be seen to seek out-and-out conflict with
another. This did not stop the 'low-key' operations in Asia (Korea,
then Vietnam) and the spiralling standoff of the Cold War. People lived
with the fear of war, which became more unnerving than war itself. The
messages from WW2 were clear: no matter how heroic your men, how skilled
your generals, how staunch your supporters on the Home Front, at the
end of the day it was technology that counted. Bigger. Better. Deadlier.
The more advanced the technology, the more powerful the nation. It wasn't
just human technology that impinged on public consciousness - the first
recorded sighting of a flying saucer occurred in 1947, followed a few
months later by the infamous Roswell Incident. The horror films of the
1950s are about science and technology run riot, an accurate enough
reflection of reality for those confused and wary of the changes surrounding
them.
The 1950s are also the era when horror films get relegated well and
truly to the B-movie category. The studios were too busy incorporating
technical changes such as widespread colour production and trying to
meet the challenge posed by TV to have much truck with "quality"
horror pictures. The big stars of the Universal era were either dead,
dead-in-the-water (Lugosi was reduced to an impoverished caricature
of his former self) or moved on (Karloff had diversified into TV &
theatre and was still working). The main audiences for horror movies
were teenagers, who ensured that the genre remained very profitable.
They flocked to the drive-ins in hordes, not caring too much about character
development, plot integrity or production values. Some of these B-movies
are, frankly, ludicrous, in the way they require the audience to suspend
disbelief. The aim of the game was thrills, thrills and more thrills,
and these monsters, whilst perhaps more terrifying in conception than
execution, never fail to deliver on the action front. Nonetheless, they
are highly entertaining, and provide a crude, technicolour snapshot
of the way America desperately didn't want itself to be.
Mutant Madness
Radiation + Living
Creatures = Pissed off monsters of an unusual size
This
simple equation provided the inspiration for countless 1950s monsters.
Radiation (or other unspecified scientific processes) could either enlarge
(Godzilla, Them!, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman) or shrink (The Fly, The
Incredible Shrinking Man) existing life-forms. Existing life-forms made
better monsters, as they could be photographed using blue-screen techniques,
or recreated in model form and stop-motion animation used to bring them
to life.
Early
attempts at these sorts of special effects work well in King Kong
(1933) and Devil Dolls (1936), but really become widespread
during this era. Ray Harryhausen was the star practitioner, and his
work can be seen on a wide range of films, from the epic set in the
ancient world, Jason & the Argonauts (1963), to It
Came From Beneath The Sea (1955) where a mutant octopus attacks
San Francisco. These monsters are usually spurred into a destructive
rampage by the actions of a foolish few disobeying the rules, and can
only be stopped through the actions of a resourceful hero.
The Wasp Woman (1960)
Vincent
Price starrer, The Fly, has an intelligent script, suspenseful
action, and tells the story of a scientist who, in trying to teleport
solid matter, mixed his own particles up with that of a fly and... well...
No one can forget the horrific ending ("Help me! Help me!").
The Wasp Woman was Roger Corman's attempt at the same story - the mixing
of human and insect "bits". Cosmetics Company chief Jan Starlin
has fallen on hard times, and is desperate for a new product that will
reverse the ageing process on her face and similarly rejuvenate her
company's fortunes. She meets Zinthrop, who has been experimenting with
wasp royal jelly, rather than the bee kind, and decides she will become
the first human test subject for his anti-ageing serum. So far so good,
especially when, desperate for results, she injects herself with a superdose
of the serum and emerges the next morning looking 18 - count them! -
years younger.
However, it all goes badly wrong, as you might have guessed. Zinthrop
is knocked over by a truck and ends up in hospital, in a coma, unable
to monitor his experiment. Starlin's secretary and friends start snooping
around, suspicious that Zinthrop is trying to rip her off. She alas,
has developed a taste for ripping off the heads of hapless snoopers,
as, rather unfortunately, the high doses of wasp jelly intermittently
turn her into a Wasp Woman.
Rather disappointingly, production values mean that Wasp Woman does
not look like the picture on the poster (left), but in fact consists
of the head of a wasp on the body of a woman. Well, something furry
with peculiar eyes on the body of a woman. Corman handles the subject
matter with his usual panache, and puts an interesting spin on the werewolf
theme by having a female protagonist, but the special effects are a
serious let down. However, given the paltry amount of money spent on
it (just $50,000), it successfully manages to gratify the drive-in crowd,
and is fairly typical of B-movie pics of the time.
These mutant monsters had neither the dignity nor intelligence of those
gracing the screens during the 1930s, but they made up for that with
sheer battlepower. And these scientific disasters are oddly pitiful,
nearly always condemned to die an agonising death in the final reel.
Despite the frequent victory of common sense and decent values over
depraved science, many of these films are not exactly optimistic about
the human race's chances.
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