This very minor PRC horror film (which the prolific director actually signed under the alias Sherman Scott!) was basically a variation on an earlier popular effort from the same company i.e. the average Bela Lugosi vehicle THE DEVIL BAT (1941), replacing the star with George Zucco and its monster with Quetzalcoatl, the titular Aztec legend (though retaining its blood-draining habits and, hilariously, miniscule size!) that would also be featured in Larry Cohen's much superior Q – THE WINGED SERPENT (1982). Indeed, the bird/reptile hybrid is never shown in detail: it is either conveniently hidden inside the darkness of a cave or otherwise taking to the air to hunt its prey. The latter, then, is another fount of amusement as Zucco has to pluck out one of its feathers and plant it on the person of his next chosen victim (curiously enough, the method is not too dissimilar from that in Jacques Tourneur's marvelous NIGHT OF THE DEMON {1957}) in order to get it to do his bidding and, needless to say, the monster does not take kindly to having its priceless plumage snipped!
Anyway, Zucco is the usual wild-eyed Professor with a passion for something or other (in this case, archeology, which has led him to Montezuma's treasure) and a grudge against most anyone (beginning with an ornithologist whose writings about both Quetzalcoatl and the fabled fortune are likely to attract curious/greedy outsiders thus interfering with the villain's plans) The irony is that, with the mysterious murder – which soon multiply, as more and more people 'get on his back' – a radio personality/mystery writer by the name of Richard Thorpe(!) turns up to 'broadcast' the investigations, with even one of the deaths occurring 'on air'!
As always, Zucco's female ward (in this case, his stepdaughter – there is, in fact, a whole 'nother puzzle surrounding her mother's death, at the hands of Quetzalcoatl itself, but which is never properly unraveled) falls for the intrepid hero and, in the end, the misguided Professor succumbs to the very creature he had unleashed (albeit unconvincingly since, for no obvious reason other than as a plot contrivance, he flees the scene upon being exposed carrying one of the proverbial feathers in his hand!), which is then dispatched (via nothing more remarkable than normal bullets) by Thorpe. Regrettable comic relief is provided by the radio guy's engineer partner and their flustered Head Of Programs, who keeps moaning about why nobody is more concerned with Montezuma's wealth and calculating how big his own cut will be!
Ultimately, while this is certainly nothing to write home about, at least it is not as embarrassingly goofy as the somewhat similar Sam Katzman-produced cheapie THE GIANT CLAW (1957)
Anyway, Zucco is the usual wild-eyed Professor with a passion for something or other (in this case, archeology, which has led him to Montezuma's treasure) and a grudge against most anyone (beginning with an ornithologist whose writings about both Quetzalcoatl and the fabled fortune are likely to attract curious/greedy outsiders thus interfering with the villain's plans) The irony is that, with the mysterious murder – which soon multiply, as more and more people 'get on his back' – a radio personality/mystery writer by the name of Richard Thorpe(!) turns up to 'broadcast' the investigations, with even one of the deaths occurring 'on air'!
As always, Zucco's female ward (in this case, his stepdaughter – there is, in fact, a whole 'nother puzzle surrounding her mother's death, at the hands of Quetzalcoatl itself, but which is never properly unraveled) falls for the intrepid hero and, in the end, the misguided Professor succumbs to the very creature he had unleashed (albeit unconvincingly since, for no obvious reason other than as a plot contrivance, he flees the scene upon being exposed carrying one of the proverbial feathers in his hand!), which is then dispatched (via nothing more remarkable than normal bullets) by Thorpe. Regrettable comic relief is provided by the radio guy's engineer partner and their flustered Head Of Programs, who keeps moaning about why nobody is more concerned with Montezuma's wealth and calculating how big his own cut will be!
Ultimately, while this is certainly nothing to write home about, at least it is not as embarrassingly goofy as the somewhat similar Sam Katzman-produced cheapie THE GIANT CLAW (1957)