House of Horrors

More than "the creeper" himself ,the real monster is Marcel (a sculptor with a French name meaning "from the angel"!)Martin Kosleck is actually the stand out with his piercing eyes,his banal look and his aspiration for glory ;at the beginning he seems a nice guy feeding his pet cat and coming to a man's rescue.But further acquaintance shows this :he gradually goes nuts and the statue becomes a transparent metaphor for the monster he is creating (a Frankensteinesque relationship,which the ending confirms).

This is also a fierce attack on art critics "who judge works but do not know they are judged by them "(Jean Cocteau),a subject which "theatre of blood" will resume in the seventies.

Despite its alternative title, 'House of Horrors', B-movie 'Joan Medford is Missing' isn't really a horror movie and it doesn't take place in a house: it's actually more of a crime thriller, and, for the most part, is set in the studio of struggling sculptor Marcel De Lange (Martin Kosleck), the apartment/studio of successful commercial artist Steven Morrow (Robert Lowery), and the dark streets of New York City.

When the latest work of penniless De Lange is mauled by cruel critic F. Holmes Harmon (Alan Napier), the artist goes to the docks to end his pitiful existence, but instead saves a life -- that of the wanted murderer known as The Creeper (last seen in the 1944 Sherlock Holmes adventure The Pearl of Death). Inspired by the man's unusual features (actor Rondo Hatton, who plays The Creeper, suffered from a hormonal disorder called acromegaly, which causes bones to increase in size), De Lange starts a new piece of work, but in addition to using his new found friend as a model, the sculptor also employs him as a weapon, tricking the brute into silencing his critics.

As the bodies pile up, Police Lt. Larry Brooks (Bill Goodwin) investigates, at first suspecting Morrow; however, pretty female art critic Joan Medford (who also happens to be Morrow's girlfriend) unwittingly leads the investigation in the right direction when she half-inches a sketch of The Creeper from De Lange's studio. Unfortunately, in doing so, she also makes herself a target of the over-sized spine-snapping psycho.

House of Horrors is, by and large, a predictable B-movie that delivers tepid thrills, with some whimsical interaction between Morrow and Medford. There is, however, one scene that stands out from the rest -- the brutal murder of innocent cheesecake model Stella McNally (Joan Fulton). Having introduced the leggy blonde beauty in several lighthearted scenes, and established her as the romantic interest for Lt. Larry Brooks, the film has the lovely lady killed simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's an unexpectedly shocking moment in an otherwise forgettable potboiler.

5.5/10, rounded up to 6 for the delightful Ms. Fulton -- I'll never look at Sweet Sue in Some Like It Hot the same way again.

In the Sherlock Holmes mystery "The Pearl of Death", an ominous character dubbed The Creeper had been debuted. The Creeper was played by a man named Rondo Hatton, who had been handsome as a youth, but had his facial features disfigured by acromegaly (a possible result of exposure to poison gas during WWI). The success of this character inspired Universal to create more movies that would focus on him, instead of making him a side player.

The first of the bunch was "House of Horrors", a story about a despondent, failed sculptor named Marcel DeLange (the great bad guy actor Martin Kosleck), who rescues the Creeper from a river, not knowing that the guy is a notorious serial killer. Soon, Marcel finds that the guy comes in handy, as he proceeds to bump off the nasty art critics that are the bane of the sculptors' existence (and the existence of other artists in the city). But Marcel won't be able to keep this secret forever....

Hatton is the main reason to watch here, playing a brute with a real screen presence. The script, by George Bricker, is often hilarious with its assortment of sardonic lines and witticisms, but the humour often works against the horror, taking up perhaps too much of the running time. But the whole cast is great: Robert Lowery as a temperamental painter, a stunning Joan Shawlee as his model, a sassy and sexy Virginia Grey as his girlfriend, Bill Goodwin as the obligatory cop on the case, Alan Napier as the acid-tongued critic F. Holmes Harmon, Virginia Christine as an incidental victim, and Howard Freeman as a critic who attempts to be the bait in a police trap. Kosleck is wonderful as a man who's worthy of some sympathy, even though he ultimately goes off the deep end.

Good atmosphere and a snappy pace are assets, as well as the assortment of truly dynamite-looking ladies (including Janet Shaw as a cabdriver).

Seven out of 10.

This movie is so much better than what I thought it'd be. Both Rondo Hatton as the psycho killer and Martin Kosleck as an artist driven to madness by unkind critics are villains, yet both are sympathetic in a way. What is especially touching is Kosleck's interaction with his pet cat and the closing scene where the cat curls up by his dead body. (Or did he die? The dialogue isn't clear on it.) It was effective and sorrowful.

My sole complaint is the woefully brief appearance of Virginia Christine as Creeper's first victim. I hardly had a chance to recognize her before she was offed. I always enjoy her early film appearances because she was an out and out fox. I would so much have enjoyed seeing her as the tennis model instead. Hubba-hubba!

Lunacy abounds...mostly amongst the few comments about this b-picture gem, but to that later. In this horror film, the lunacy of artist Martin Koslek directing the killer tendencies of Rondo Hatton to dispatch unfavorable art critics is inspired. It's quite a contrast to watch Koslek be wonderfully melodramatic while Hatton remains as flat as a board, which is perfect for his character. All this is done within the context of the period, and with all the elements mixing in a way to create, perhaps serendipitously, a chilling and vastly entertaining blend.

To the dimwits who have not been able to see beyond the constraints of their modern attitudes and mores, you are missing it. Rondo Hatton did not "intensely dislike" his brief career as a film fright figure, he was indifferent to it, and the prevailing common attitude towards working women in 1940s America was that they eventually would become married, stay-at-home mothers. The film isn't 'anti-feminist' at a time when the term feminist wasn't used, and when both men and women, not all but most, felt this way of life was appropriate.

So to you dunces I say, march onward, great re-writers of history, and make sure you burn Birth of a Nation, and continue to press Disney to never release Song of the South. Perhaps we ought to ban the Three Stooges, as well, for their insensitive, boorish portrayal of the common working man, and of course, to add insult to injury, they were also Jewish.