DR. CYCLOPS AND THE TOWER OF LONDON: A DOUBLE BILL OF CLASSIC HORROR FILM REVIEWS BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©
DR. CYCLOPS. (1940) DIRECTED BY ERNEST B. SCHOEDSACK. BASED ON THE SHORT STORY BY HENRY KUTTNER. STARRING ALBERT DEKKER, JANICE LOGAN, CHARLES HALTON, THOMAS COLEY, VICTOR KILIAN AND FRANK YACONELLI.
THE TOWER OF LONDON. (1939) PRODUCED AND DIRECTED BY ROWLAND V. LEE. WRITTEN BY ROBERT N. LEE. STARRING BASIL RATHBONE, BORIS KARLOFF, VINCENT PRICE, BARBARA O'NEIL, IAN HUNTER, JOHN SUTTON, ERNEST COSSART AND NAN GREY.
Oh wow. I'm extremely excited to be reviewing these two fantastic old vintage horror films from back in the day. DR. CYCLOPS is horror mixed with science fiction and is based on a short story penned by sci-fi/fantasy writer Henry Kuttner.
TOWER OF LONDON is horror blended expertly with historical fact from the fifteenth century, a rather barbaric age to have lived through, if you ask me. No-one ever does, haha, but I'm always here and happy to venture opinions nonetheless, asked-for or otherwise...!
DR. CYCLOPS was directed by Ernest B. Schoedsack, the man who famously co-directed KING KONG in 1933 with Merian C. Cooper. What magnificent credentials! Imagine having been a part of the most famous monster movie/creature-feature of all time. People have been trying to best it ever since, but it's so flawless a blockbuster that I genuinely feel like the best they can hope for is to pay a loving homage to it in their own subsequent interpretations.
Anyway, Dr. Cyclops, so-called because of his gammy eyesight, is the very essence of the mad scientist. He has buried himself away in the Peruvian jungle to conduct his top-secret radiation studies. He's not exactly a great catch, even though he is a professional man. He's as bald as an egg and has to wear exceedingly thick glasses to correct his poor eyesight. Not exactly Johnny Depp, so...
When a bunch of scientists who've come all the way from civilisation at his own behest refuse to leave his little compound, he goes 'HONEY, I'VE SHRUNK THE KIDS' on all of their asses. See, he's been shrinking living creatures using radiation piped from a radium deposit located down a deep shaft. I'm not sure exactly how mankind stands to benefit from his discovery but, how-and-ever, it's his new thing and the scientists are gobsmacked by it.
The funniest thing about the shrinking scientists is that the clothes they were wearing have all disappeared in the process. This leaves 'em, not starkers or anything, but strangely draped in bedsheets like tiny Roman senators. All they need is a few laurel leaves and a bunch of scrolls and they're ready to address the Senate, no bother at all! 'Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears. And your car keys and your lovely wives and your ATM cards...' And so on and so forth.
They adjust to their new lives as miniscule versions of their former selves pretty quickly too, gussying up their bedsheets and customising 'em to make themselves feel better and look more fashionable. Not that there are too many paparazzi lurking about the place, so God knows why they're so bothered about the cut of their togas. It's a psychological thing, I suppose. If you feel you look better, then you feel better, see?
Of course, there are many perils to be faced when you're only twelve inches tall. Cats and dogs become fearsome beasts with savage fangs and a regular garden is an Amazonian jungle full of obstacles and possible booby-traps. We've all seen HONEY, I'VE SHRUNK THE KIDS,' haven't we, with funny-man Rick Moranis? Remember the bit with the lawnmower? Talk about peril, people. Talk about peril...
There's the monomaniacal Dr. Cyclops to contend with as well. He has no intention of allowing the scientists to live to regain their former sizes, so the hunt is most definitely on as he goes after the Little People hiding in his house and garden with a vengeance.
Will they survive to see civilisation again, and did the attractive Dr. Mary Robinson (former President of Ireland, she is!) enjoy being constantly helped up and down from the various bits of now-gigantic furniture by Steve Baker the mule-man and the not unappealing and semi-clad Dr. Bill Stockton? You bet your sweet butt she did...!
The promotional material that comes with the film, by the way, outlines the bizarre and sensational circumstances around Albert Dekker's (he plays Dr. Cyclops) real-life death. They're not too nice so we won't go into them here but you can read 'em for yourself when you buy the film. Which I would strongly recommend, incidentally, haha. It's a little cracker, and in full Technicolor too, a miracle of science for that day-and-age.
TOWER OF LONDON is a fantastic film. Talk about sexing up history and sticking her in the window in her scanties illuminated by a softly glowing red light for all and sundry to ogle...! Even if you think you don't like history (I love it, personally), you'll get a huge kick out of seeing some of your favourite horror actors hamming it up good-style together in this marvellously-scripted old film.
Basil Rathbone, most famous for his portrayal of Arthur Conan Doyle's fictional detective Sherlock Holmes in the old black-and-white movies from 1939-1945, is terrific here. He plays the evil, hump-backed King of England, Richard the Third, who has to kill a load of people before he can finally ascend to the throne of dear old Blighty.
It's exactly like when that chap from superb Ealing comedy KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS sets out to kill the seven or eight relatives of his, all hilariously played by Alec Guinness, who are standing between him and a nice comfy dukedom. According as Dickie the Third bumps off another living obstacle, he removes a toy figure from his dollhouse. Dollhouse? The big sissy...!
As Sherlock Holmes, Basil Rathbone stands for everything that is good and honest and noble and honourable amongst mankind. As Richard The Third, he's, like, worse than Simon Cowell, haha. Ah, I'm only joking. I love the high-waisted one. I'm actually just living for THE X FACTOR coming back. Anyway, Dickie The Third is a positively fiendish character and a brilliant movie villain and Basil Rathbone plays him extraordinarily well.
Horror legend Boris Karloff is even better as Mord, Richard's Number One Fan and terrifyingly evil club-footed executioner, who loves to chop off heads and torture people in the titular Tower of London. This is where all the action is set, except for the battle scenes at the end. Stock footage from these scenes turn up in the 1962 film of the same name, which also stars Vincent Price but which is not- repeat not- a re-make...!
Speaking of Vincent Price, he's here in only his third film role as one of the obstacles that must be swept from big brother Richard's path. He's so young and almost baby-faced in it and he hasn't yet grown into the familiar rich deep 'horror' voice we know and love. His character is wimpy and whingy and no match for the cruel intelligence and strong will of Big Dickie, but I will say this for the good old Duke of Clarence. There are worse ways to pop your clogs...! That's probably how I'll go myself.
The men in the film all have ghastly haircuts, by the way. They all have truly terrible one-inch fringes like Dave Hill from Slade. It was the style of the time, I suppose, but f**k me! Never mind the bleedin' Eighties. The fourteen-hundreds were clearly the century that fashion forgot. Never mind forgot. It looks like fashion had Alzheimers' and amnesia as well when it comes to that particular century.
The men in the film all have ghastly haircuts, by the way. They all have truly terrible one-inch fringes like Dave Hill from Slade. It was the style of the time, I suppose, but f**k me! Never mind the bleedin' Eighties. The fourteen-hundreds were clearly the century that fashion forgot. Never mind forgot. It looks like fashion had Alzheimers' and amnesia as well when it comes to that particular century.
I love that the actress Barbara O'Neil is here as good old Queen Lizzie, whose pair of flaxen-haired little boys (Little Lords Fauntleroy, both) are two of the main targets for Richard, whose evil seemingly knows no bounds. His own nephews...! I mean to say.
Anyway, it's the same year that Ms. O'Neil plays Scarlett O'Hara's mother Ellen in the box-office success of 1939, GONE WITH THE WIND. To Jonas Wilkerson, the trashy overseer who took up with the white-trash Emmie Slattery, she declaims in her haughtiest tones: 'Your child has been born, and mercifully has died...!' You go, Mrs. O'Hara.
What a superlative and memorable film! For the school-and-education-shy, the history is not intrusive at all. Instead, you'll be mired in murder and lust, both blood and carnal, haha, as Richard The Third wades his way to the throne via pools and pools of his relatives' sticky, gooey haemoglobin.
For those of you who don't mind history, however, the plot was written by the director's brother after immersing himself thoroughly in a scalding hot bath of British history. Hope he remembered to wash behind his ears...
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.
Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger and movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens' fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra's books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO
You can contact Sandra at:
http://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com
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