Yeah, SNAKE PEOPLE sucks, but there is something odd about this film. It's difficult to enjoy and hard to recommend -- even Boris Karloff's near death scenes of catatonia are hard to enjoy, knowing how sick he was and probably out of his mind on various drugs. He plays a zoologist living in Guyana or someplace like that, and has stumbled upon some secret voodoo sect that practices snake worship and human sacrifice. There is a weird midget who does nasty things to chickens, a local pervert who wants a pretty native girl zombie for some live-in necrophiliac housekeeping help, a pretty grand daughter who has some downright Freudian nightmares, a local snake priestess who dances with two or three of the things dangling over her body to frenetic bongo drums, and other elements that defy verbal description.
What always gets to me, though, is the aura of claustrophobia and decay that the movie exudes. It's a wretched film to be sure, but there are certain images such as the tiny cages encasing over-sized anaconda snakes in a teeny laboratory that sort of stick with you. Nothing about the film is particularly scary, but watching it does evoke a feeling of unease that's hard to deny. If just making audiences feel uncomfortable is an achievement than this movie actually does succeed on some level, though it plays out more like a random nightmare. The story isn't memorable as much as certain images -- the snake dancing, the bizarre dream sequences, the Baron Samedi figure presiding over the voodoo ceremonies -- resonate on a basic level.
About Boris Karloff, there's probably some truth to saying that his presence in the film is exploitational, especially when considering that it was only released after he had actually died. Nonetheless it does look as though he is actually enjoying himself, since he was first and foremost an actor who lived to make motion pictures. They prop him up in his wheelchair (probably with an oxygen tank close at hand) and most of his lines seem to be delivered in a sort of delirium; he doesn't seem to be interacting with anyone, just doing his part when he had enough strength, and there is a certain sadness knowing that this kind of work is what his greatness had been reduced to.
But at the same time he MADE the film, probably because he had to keep working just to stay alive. Completists of his films should probably find a copy, and it's relatively easy to find in a somewhat truncated form on various public domain DVD releases that should cost only a few dollars. I doubt the film will ever receive any kind of restoration job, it's certainly not any kind of artistic triumph and certainly isn't regarded with much reverence, but it is interesting and will perhaps one day be regarded as a triumph of cinema's ability to create a feeling of ill ease.
4/10
What always gets to me, though, is the aura of claustrophobia and decay that the movie exudes. It's a wretched film to be sure, but there are certain images such as the tiny cages encasing over-sized anaconda snakes in a teeny laboratory that sort of stick with you. Nothing about the film is particularly scary, but watching it does evoke a feeling of unease that's hard to deny. If just making audiences feel uncomfortable is an achievement than this movie actually does succeed on some level, though it plays out more like a random nightmare. The story isn't memorable as much as certain images -- the snake dancing, the bizarre dream sequences, the Baron Samedi figure presiding over the voodoo ceremonies -- resonate on a basic level.
About Boris Karloff, there's probably some truth to saying that his presence in the film is exploitational, especially when considering that it was only released after he had actually died. Nonetheless it does look as though he is actually enjoying himself, since he was first and foremost an actor who lived to make motion pictures. They prop him up in his wheelchair (probably with an oxygen tank close at hand) and most of his lines seem to be delivered in a sort of delirium; he doesn't seem to be interacting with anyone, just doing his part when he had enough strength, and there is a certain sadness knowing that this kind of work is what his greatness had been reduced to.
But at the same time he MADE the film, probably because he had to keep working just to stay alive. Completists of his films should probably find a copy, and it's relatively easy to find in a somewhat truncated form on various public domain DVD releases that should cost only a few dollars. I doubt the film will ever receive any kind of restoration job, it's certainly not any kind of artistic triumph and certainly isn't regarded with much reverence, but it is interesting and will perhaps one day be regarded as a triumph of cinema's ability to create a feeling of ill ease.
4/10