FIFTY YEARS AGO TODAY

Fifty Years Ago Today was October 26, 1973…The United Nations recognized the

independence of Guinea-Bissau…

California's Alcatraz Island and the federal prison building that had been located there, were

both opened by the U.S. Park Service as a tourist attraction.

Born:  Seth MacFarlane, American comedian, TV and film producer, and actor, known for

Family Guy and Ted; in Kent, Connecticut

Top of the Pops back when: MIDNIGHT TRAIN TO GEORGIA by Gladys Knight and

the Pips.

Gladys Knight and The Pips - Midnight Train To Georgia

FRANKENSTEIN’S BLOODY TERROR

Or;   LA MARCA DEL HOMBRE LOBO …

I wanted to take another look at FRANKENSTEIN’S BLOODY TERROR. Why would

I--or anyone on Earth--want to do that? Well, it’s that old Fifty Years Ago thing. I first

saw this Paul Naschy mishmash in October of 1973, at a drive-in, and sensibly hadn’t

seen it since.

But… I was surprised and even a bit shocked to find how tough it is to see that

blighted U.S. version of LA MARCA DEL HOMBRE LOBO. I was NOT prepared to

spend the big bucks for a VHS or evidently rare DVD of the thing. 

YouTube did offer a version of the movie. Though the title on the print is the original

Spanish, the movie is listed on YouTube as being under the German title: DIE VAMPIRE

DES DR. DRACULA. Them Germans, huh? And, despite the highly visible Spanish title,

this print did feature a German-language soundtrack and (only) German subtitles. But

better’n nothing, hey? I know a smidge of Deutsches and, with the subs on, I could

pretty much follow the simple storyline. Plus, I had seen it before after all.

I will say that the print looked sensational. I’m pretty ding dong sure that it didn’t look this

good on the big screen at the Clarksville Drive-in. On the other hand, I had nothing to eat

while watching this which could remotely match the terrific Clarksville hot dogs. Boy, I’d

like to have me a couple o’ them right now…

This was, of course, the first horror film from Paul Naschy and probably remains his

most-seen. I can’t remember definitely, but I believe that when I saw this in 1973, I was

well aware that Naschy, numerically at least, was positioning himself as a genuine

latter-day horror star. I also am pretty sure I knew that, American title notwithstanding, this

was no Frankenstein movie. So I was very interested in seeing Naschy at work, and I was

not surprised by the cheaty ending.

----------------------------------------------

Okay, here I make a wild and kind of embarrassing confession. I wanted to relate how

poorly I judged this movie on first viewing, so I just now dipped into my old records to

check what rating I’d given it on my old 1-10 scale. I find that I rated it at only 2, so,

terrible. But, though that’s probably too low, it’s not the embarrassing thing. 

Those old records tell me that I originally saw FRANKENSTEIN’S BLOODY TERROR

in October, 1973, so that’s on the nose. But they also tell me that I saw the movie on

TV. On Cincinnati’s Channel 19, brought to me by cable TV. No Clarksville Drive-in, no

hot dogs.  I have what seems to be a strong, crystal-clear recollection of seeing that

feeble American “explanation” for the movie’s title and that recollection is of viewing it

real big on a drive-in movie screen. The Clarksville’s screen, to be precise. And that’s

just not so. I was astounded to learn this…but not really.

In recent years, I’ve become all too painfully aware how mistaken even the strongest,

clearest memories can be. These days when research proves that an old memory is

true and right, I’m kind of surprised. I’ve come to expect to find that memory lies. But

this memory was so SO clear. It’s kind of scary to think my mind can fool me so totally

like that.

-------------------------------------------------------

Anyway. The movie is definitely better than my old rating would have it. I’d probably rate

it at 5 out of 10 these days. It’s silly, but the genuine European settings are impressive,

the lighting and photography are impressive. The ladies are lovely. We get a genuine,

snarling, biting werewolf and a couple of vampires. The male vampire even wears

Lugosian evening wear, including a cape with a bright red lining. Cool Monster Kid stuff.

Naschy is not much of an actor but he’s certainly the most physically wild and energetic

werewolf ever. Lon Chaney may be the most iconic, Oliver Reed the most intense,

Henry Hull the most…I don’t know…boring? But Senor Molina is, far and away, the

most physically scary. He jumps all over the place, including all over his victims. It's as

if a strong, furious madman attacked you. And he's also a werewolf.

Ahh, I kind of enjoyed re-watching this one, but that painful dent in my memory…that hurts.

GOT MACE?

Remember Mace? Well, I guess it's still around, but it was the '60s when it came to prominence and when everybody knew of it. It was sort of the first pepper spray stuff, at least the first I ever knew of. Cops would use it at riots or with a troublesome arrest or whenever they felt like it.

Who here has been Maced? Raise your hands.

I was Maced. By a cop. Yeah, one of those heartless, brutal pigs sprayed me with the stuff. And what did I do to deserve this? Hey, man, I was just sitting there livin’ a free life, chillin’, trackin’ my own groove, man, doing nothing, causing no harm. My mistake, my single terrible mistake, was asking one simple, inoffensive question. That’s all, I swear.

And who was this cop? Well…it was my father.

My parents were divorced and Dad had moved out when I was nine years old. But in later years, when I was older, if he was patrolling in a cop car without a partner, he would frequently stop in front of our house and honk the horn. I would then be expected to go sit in the car with him and help him to pass the time. I guess that was the intent. I didn’t look forward to these visits because I really had very little to say to my dad.

This occasion, I’m going to guess I was about 16, maybe a year or so either way. I sat in the passenger seat of the police car, Dad behind the wheel. I saw his can of Mace in a cup-holder sort of thing between the seats. I’d certainly heard of Mace, but I could never quite figure how a simple spray could really bother folks that much. What? Did it smell bad? Did it irritate the eyes? I didn’t get it. I couldn’t quite believe it.

So I asked Dad that simple, innocent question. I pointed at the Mace and asked, “does that stuff really work?”  Dad said, “hold out your hand.”  So I held my left hand toward him, palm up. He pulled the Mace can from its holder and spritzed one quick, tiny puff into the palm of my hand. I didn’t sense anything, so I leaned in for a little sniff. Still nothing. I was just about to say, “I don’t smell a thing” when my head exploded. 

It felt as if the entire inside of my head and a sizable portion of my face were melting. The contents of my skull were on fire. Every liquid in my head (including those solids which had just melted) started pouring out of every available orifice. Well, not my blood. Thankfully, that stayed inside, where it merely boiled. 

I couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. Somehow I managed to get out of the car and stumble into our house. I could barely crack an eye open to see where I was going, but eventually I found the bathroom, turned on the water, ran it over my poisonous left hand and started flinging water into my eyes, over and over. At first it had no effect at all and I feared that this agony would last the rest of my (hopefully) very short life. 

I don’t know how long I stood there snuffling, snorting, leaking, and crying, throwing water at myself. It felt like a long time. It felt as if I’d started in early autumn, moved through the holidays and into the new year. Somewhere around spring, I began to feel some relief. In earth time, I expect it was 5-10 minutes. Forever, in other words.

Finally, the pain was gone. I looked at myself in the mirror and it wasn’t pretty. My eyeballs were as red as the center of a properly cooked steak and the skin around my eyes, nose, and mouth was maybe one shade more toward medium rare.

I plodded back outside where Dad was still sitting in the cop car. He had a huge smile on his face. I got into the car. He was pointedly not looking directly at me and he was stifling a laugh. I said, “yeah, it works.” And then he did laugh. 

Dad…what a card!