Poe has been avenged!

 THE RAVEN (1935)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

I've read some Edgar Allan Poe in my time and nothing about "The Raven," a 1935 chamber-horror-flick-of-sorts from the Universal Pictures venue, bears any resemblance except in the author's namesake. Sure, you've got the iconic torture device known as the swinging, razor-sharp Pendulum and there is a room involving walls coming together to crush someone to death. Still, what about the bedroom that is an actually an elevator? Or those steel shutters at every window? Or how about any actual ravens in this movie, other than a statue of one?

I used to watch "The Raven" religiously in my pre-teen years every Halloween on PBS (they used to have an all-night marathon showing of just about every Universal Horror picture from the 1930's through the 1940's). There is nothing grander than seeing Bela Lugosi as the insanely mad doctor, Dr. Vollin, who relishes the opportunity to torture people to death - his rationalization is that it gives him power. It sure does and you can feel every moment of Lugosi's crazed, maniacal laugh and his unruly obsession (this also means that the author Poe has been avenged! Say what? Well, the mad doctor is insane after all). 

Vollin's cryptic duties in his secret dungeon is interrupted by an escaped killer named Bateman (Boris Karloff), who consults the doctor and wishes to have his facial features surgically changed. This, of course, comes at a price - the doctor changes Bateman's face and makes him look hideously ugly with an immobile eye and scar tissue on one side of his face. Meanwhile, Dr. Vollin wants the concerned Judge Thatcher (Samuel S. Hinds) killed because Thatcher will not permit the doctor to have his daughter in marriage (Irene Ware). The girl is already spoken for - a dancer whose life was saved by Vollin after a horrible car accident is promised to her beau (a cheerless Lester Matthews) whom Vollin wishes to murder as well. Thus, Vollin pretends to not be interested in her and settles his differences with the judge by inviting him and everyone else to a dinner party to talk about mostly about Poe, of course. Bateman has to commit the dirty deeds and pretends to be the house servant, but will he or not? The plot gets sillier and melodramatic, especially towards the end when most of the dinner guests are already in the secret quarters of the underground dungeon where the torture devices are on full display.  

Most chilling is Bela Lugosi who hams it up with unsubtly expressive eyes yet there is also a curious elegance to his mannerisms and his diction - Lugosi was one of the few in horror films who dominated the screen front and center (his final moment in a room where the walls close in is creepy beyond belief). Your eye is always drawn to him, his slicked back hair, his laughter, his poised renditions of Poe's poetry. A class act in every way.

Imaginary Crimes

 THE CRIMINAL LIFE OF ARCHIBALDO DE LA CRUZ (1955)
Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Imagine a scenario of a serial killer who is not really a killer - he fantasizes killing women. These are women he's obsessed with, feels a certain passion with that is never quite consummated. The truth is that he plans to kill these women but the plan falters, fate intervenes and they are killed but by other perpetrators. Seems like fertile ground for Spanish director Luis Bunuel who approaches this material with a slight comedic bent, though there are singularly outrageous moments that will leave you either convulsing with laughter or in absolute shock.

Archibaldo de la Cruz is our main protagonist whom we see as an abrasive, non-attentive 5-year-old child during the Mexican Revolution days. He wishes for his governess to be killed after he opens his new gift, a musical box. Sure enough, the governess is shot through the window presumably by the rebels. What does little Archibaldo do? He observes her leg stockings - this kid doesn't cry but reacts with some derision.

Segue to an older Archibaldo (Ernesto Alonso), a now wealthy man who makes pottery vases, and he is telling this story to a nun. She finds the story unpleasant and is quite shocked to see that he is ready to cut her throat with a razor. The nun runs and somehow falls down an elevator shaft! The irony is that Archibaldo wished to kill her and she ran, but he did not chase her. As he recounts his story to the chief of police, we learn of Archibaldo's attempts to kill an alluring female model and tour guide (Miroslava) who plans to marry a rich, older man; a vivacious woman named Patricia (Rita Macedo) who recognizes Cruz from his gambling days at a casino, and there's the demure Carlota (Ariadne Welter) whom he hopes to marry though she's been secretly courting another man. Some of these elongated episodes have unsurprising outcomes yet we are still on the edge of our seat. Will Archibaldo ever actually murder someone or will they die by providence? The real question at the center of the film is whether anyone would live at all had Archibaldo not fantasized it first. One potential victim survives which brings up more perplexing questions. Usually the music box plays and it is like a calling for our potential murderer.

"The Criminal Life of Archibaldo de la Cruz" is not one of Bunuel's towering achievements but it is entertainingly devious all the same with a couple of surrealist touches (blood dripping on the frame, the cremation of a mannequin who in certain shots seems to be a living, breathing human being). The ending suggests a lark for Bunuel, a director known for pursuing dark subject matter, and he merely toys with us and our expectations. Liveliness is not synonymous with Bunuel but it is a welcome change of pace.