A most inept film, about a dull loner who "invents" a radio that can communicate with the deceased, is supposed to be a lesson in alternative methods of solving crimes, but ultimately has nothing whatsoever to do with talking to the dead.
Opening credits introduce someone named "Aldo Farnese" (as "Mr Krasner"), as if he were some exciting, new, highly-talented discovery - he wasn't. He's just a bearded, big-headed geek with glasses a whiny, high-pitched voice and the weirdest hairstyle this side of Atlas King. He also spouted things like, "If Krueger ever tries anything with you," "That explains his no-work policy," and "We're trying to reach someone on the 27th megacycle range."
Krasker lives in a depressing boarding house run by an old lady (Rose Gorman) who is constantly trying to force people to eat. Other boarders include the slutty murder victim Renee Coliveil (Laura Brock), the horse-faced Hope Byington (Janeanna Prichard), lisping disc jockey Don Harris (Don Parker), the self-righteous Bible-spouting Christy Mattling (Kyle Stanton), single mom Sarah Stroil (Betty Ruth), sullen record store employee Raymond Milburnand (Myron Natwick) and Curtis Roberts as Fritz Kreuger, a mostly homely man sporting one of the worst German accents ever.
Despite a clumsy, badly-shot opening sequence (in which SOMETHING takes place, we're just not sure what), the movie then shifts gears and zeroes in on this untalented group who mostly sit around a dinner table and eat. We are told, numerous times by a lame voice-over, that Renee has only a certain amount time to live, and, sure enough, she is whacked with a crossbow.
Enter two inept detectives, the calm, mature Lt. Lewis (Scott Douglas, "The Amazing She-Mosnter," "Kolchak: The Night Stalker"), and the hotheaded young Harry (Earl Sands), who just wants to beat the Hell out of everyone until they confess. The questioning of the suspects takes longer than the crust of the earth did to form, with most of the scenes just petering out with no conclusion whatsoever. It's during these scenes that the nerdy photographer Tony Pettini (Sammy Ray) makes his long-awaited appearance.
Also look for a quick but unintentionally-hilarious sequence involving a couple of bongo players.
Meanwhile, in an effort to help solve the crime, Krasker informs Lewis that he just happens to be working on a radio (it looks like a soggy wad of paper stapled to a small satellite dish) that can contact Renee and find out who killed her. He demonstrates this amazing technological device to the assembled group by placing a razor blade (attached to a speaker) inside a wineglass.
Of course, nothing happens.
Krasker also invented a car horn that is built into to a casket, just in case you're ever buried alive, but Lewis seems to think he's perfectly sane enough to help him on this case. Gathering everyone together in his sub-basement laboratory, the outcast "scientist" somehow frightens the real killer into confessing Perry Mason-style, while the radio that has been so highly-touted throughout the movie proves to be nothing more than a red herring; a straw dog, if you will.
As amateurish as any elementary school production, director Merle S. Gould (who directed the lame 1961 pseudo-documentary, "Mystic Prophecies And Nostradamus") reached an artistic peak here and was basically never seen again - on film, at least.
Opening credits introduce someone named "Aldo Farnese" (as "Mr Krasner"), as if he were some exciting, new, highly-talented discovery - he wasn't. He's just a bearded, big-headed geek with glasses a whiny, high-pitched voice and the weirdest hairstyle this side of Atlas King. He also spouted things like, "If Krueger ever tries anything with you," "That explains his no-work policy," and "We're trying to reach someone on the 27th megacycle range."
Krasker lives in a depressing boarding house run by an old lady (Rose Gorman) who is constantly trying to force people to eat. Other boarders include the slutty murder victim Renee Coliveil (Laura Brock), the horse-faced Hope Byington (Janeanna Prichard), lisping disc jockey Don Harris (Don Parker), the self-righteous Bible-spouting Christy Mattling (Kyle Stanton), single mom Sarah Stroil (Betty Ruth), sullen record store employee Raymond Milburnand (Myron Natwick) and Curtis Roberts as Fritz Kreuger, a mostly homely man sporting one of the worst German accents ever.
Despite a clumsy, badly-shot opening sequence (in which SOMETHING takes place, we're just not sure what), the movie then shifts gears and zeroes in on this untalented group who mostly sit around a dinner table and eat. We are told, numerous times by a lame voice-over, that Renee has only a certain amount time to live, and, sure enough, she is whacked with a crossbow.
Enter two inept detectives, the calm, mature Lt. Lewis (Scott Douglas, "The Amazing She-Mosnter," "Kolchak: The Night Stalker"), and the hotheaded young Harry (Earl Sands), who just wants to beat the Hell out of everyone until they confess. The questioning of the suspects takes longer than the crust of the earth did to form, with most of the scenes just petering out with no conclusion whatsoever. It's during these scenes that the nerdy photographer Tony Pettini (Sammy Ray) makes his long-awaited appearance.
Also look for a quick but unintentionally-hilarious sequence involving a couple of bongo players.
Meanwhile, in an effort to help solve the crime, Krasker informs Lewis that he just happens to be working on a radio (it looks like a soggy wad of paper stapled to a small satellite dish) that can contact Renee and find out who killed her. He demonstrates this amazing technological device to the assembled group by placing a razor blade (attached to a speaker) inside a wineglass.
Of course, nothing happens.
Krasker also invented a car horn that is built into to a casket, just in case you're ever buried alive, but Lewis seems to think he's perfectly sane enough to help him on this case. Gathering everyone together in his sub-basement laboratory, the outcast "scientist" somehow frightens the real killer into confessing Perry Mason-style, while the radio that has been so highly-touted throughout the movie proves to be nothing more than a red herring; a straw dog, if you will.
As amateurish as any elementary school production, director Merle S. Gould (who directed the lame 1961 pseudo-documentary, "Mystic Prophecies And Nostradamus") reached an artistic peak here and was basically never seen again - on film, at least.