Remember that scientist that was trying to perfect a matter transportation machine but got fused with a fly when one of the little critters got into the transporter with him? Well, this ... See full summary »
Francis Barnard goes to Spain, when he hears his sister Elizabeth has died. Her husband Nicholas Medina, the son of the brutest torturer of the Spanish Inquisition, tells him she has died ... See full summary »
After her husband Andre Delambre is crushed to death in a mechanical press, his wife recounts to his brother Francois Delambre and police Inspector Charas the events of the previous few months. They were very much in love and with their little boy, a very happy family. Andre was experimenting with teleportation - transporting objects from one point to another by breaking the object down to the atomic level and then reassembling it in a receiver a distance away. The system had some glitches - it seemed to work with inanimate object but his cat disappeared when he tried teleporting it. He thinks he's solved all of the problems with his invention and decides to try and teleport himself. When a fly enters the teleportation device with him, disaster strikes. Written by
1958 and 'The Fly'. Who could ever forget it. At the age of 9 or so, I was a horror movie veteran, or so I thought. I would attend the Saturday matinees of a local theater, armed with my THIRTY FIVE CENTS, which was good for an admission, a huge coke and a Butterfinger as long as my forearm.
The theater was, as usual, very dark and of the 3,000 seats, 2996 we unoccupied, the norm on a Saturday afternoon. The sunset times had been carefully memorized as to not be foolishly caught in the dark walking home from a horror flick.
In spite of the subtle warnings from a couple of neighborhood kids who had already seen 'The Fly', I remained confident, having survived several movies, including 'Them' and 'The Invisible Man'. The movie was terrifying enough, but nothing in my 9-year old brain prepared me for the absolutely numbing terror that assaulted my senses at the end of the movie. My 16 oz. cup, containing now only ice left my grasp and clattered noisily on the cold floor and the last vestige of the sticky Butterfinger froze in my open mouth as I was transfixed on the terrifying ending. I knew that I was in trouble.
I walked the 3/4 mile home, BACKWARDS and in the middle of the street as to not encounter any bush or shrub, ALL of which I was sure contained the nightmarish image that was forever burned into my brain. Now I understood why none of the kids who had seen the movie boasted or talked about it, they were still too terrified.
10/10 for terror.
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