Kolchak Returns in The Night Strangler

Things have not gone well for brash reporter Carl Kolchak since he destroyed a vampire in Las Vegas in The Night Stalker (1972). Most people don't believe his story and those who know it's true have quashed it. After relocating to Seattle, Kolchak (Darren McGavin) convinces his former editor Tony Vincenzo (Simon Oakland) to hire him at the Seattle Daily Chronicle. His first assignment involves the murder of a young woman who was strangled.

Kolchak quickly discovers the most recent murder is one of a series of killings with the same modus operandi. With the help of newspaper researcher Titus Berry (Wally Cox), Kolchak discovers a bizarre pattern of homicides: Every 21 years, six women are killed in the vicinity of Pioneer Square within a period of eighteen days. In each case, the victims' necks are crushed and a small amount of blood is drained by the base of their skulls. Kolchak presents his facts to the police, but they reject the notion that they're chasing a killer who is 144 years old!

The Night Strangler (1973) adheres closely to the formula that made The Night Stalker a rating smash the previous year. Once again, Kolchak proves capable of doing anything to get his story--even risking the life of an undergraduate student/exotic dancer played by Jo Ann Pflug (who admittedly agrees to serve as bait). Carl belittles the police for not doing enough and engages in shouting matches with his editor (who took a huge risk in hiring Kolchak after Vegas).

Indeed, the Kolchak character could be downright unlikable if not for the fact that he's played by Darren McGavin. The actor finds the key in portraying his larger-than-life character: For all his huff and puff, Kolchak just wants to uncover the truth. Kolchak provides his own comic relief at times, but he's also willing to do what it takes to make the streets of Seattle safe again.

Wally Cox as Mr. Berry.

Personally, I find The Night Strangler more entertaining than The Night Stalker, largely because producer-director Dan Curtis (Dark Shadows) cast a colorful group of classic Hollywood actors in supporting roles: Scott Brady plays the tough police captain, Margaret Hamilton pops up as a college professor with knowledge of the occult, and John Carradine is the Chronicle's publisher. The best supporting performance comes from the always reliable Wally Cox, whose greasy-haired researcher toils in the bowels of the newspaper's building. Also, be sure to look quickly for Nina Wayne as another exotic dancer; she is the sister of the late Carol Wayne (a semi-regular on The Tonight Show).

Richard Matheson (Duel), who wrote the teleplay for The Night Stalker, penned an original story for The Night Strangler. It also works better than the previous film, because the audience doesn't know what kind of monster is causing the mayhem. The climax in the Seattle Underground is also genuinely creepy. Note that there are two different versions of The Night Strangler, a 72-minute cut that aired in 1973 on the ABC Movie of the Week and a 90-minute cut released overseas for theatrical distribution.

Kolchak confronts his editor--again.

There are numerous stories about planned Kolchak films that were never made. In a 2004 interview, Dan Curtis said he wanted Kolchak to go to New York City and discover that Janos Skorzeny--the vampire from The Night Stalker--was not destroyed after all. Alas, that film was never made because ABC decided to make a TV series with McGavin called Kolchak: The Night Stalker. Now something of a cult show, the series only lasted for 20 episodes. It quickly became redundant with Kolchak fighting a new creature every week. I think Carl Kolchak would have lasted a lot longer had the character been featured solely in one or two movies a year.

The Houses of Frankenstein and Dracula

The trailer promised a lot!

House of Frankenstein (1944). The inevitable follow-up to Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1942) adds Count Dracula, a mad scientist, and a lovesick, hunchbacked assistant to the mix. The result is a somewhat clunky affair that still has its minor pleasures.

Boris Karloff stars as Dr. Gustav Niemann, a prison inmate obsessed with replicating Henry Frankenstein's life-creating experiments. When a thunderstorm causes the prison walls to crumble, Niemann and his cell mate, the hunchbacked Daniel, escape.

Carradine's Count Dracula.

They take over a traveling circus of horrors that features the skeleton of Count Dracula (John Carradine). During a fit of anger, Niemann unwisely withdraws a wooden stake from the skeleton and revives Dracula. Alas, the legendary vampire chooses the wrong young woman for a tasty snack and doesn't survive the night.

Niemann and Daniel (J. Carrol Naish) continue on to Visaria (known as Vasaria in the previous film), where they discover the Frankenstein Monster and the Wolf Man encased on ice. Naturally, they thaw out the monsters! Niemann promises to cure Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney, Jr.), although his real interest is in restoring the Frankenstein Monster (Glenn Strange) to full power.

J. Carrol Naish and Boris Karloff.

The biggest flaw with House of Frankenstein is that the monsters never interact--each one has its own separate storyline. It's like watching three mini-movies connected only by the presence of Niemann and Daniel. Karloff is fun as the mad scientist, but it's a pretty stereotypical role. Naish, on the other hand, turns in a surprisingly effective performance as the physically deformed assistant who loves a gypsy girl that's smitten with Talbot.

Given its "B" movie budget, House of Frankenstein is visually striking at times. That's not totally surprisingly given the pedigrees of cinematographer George Robinson and director Erle C. Kenton. Robinson also lensed the expressionistic Son of Frankenstein, which has been justly praised elsewhere in this blog. As for Kenton, he was a reliable journeyman director for Universal, specializing in Abbott & Costello comedies and "B" horror efforts. However, his resume also includes one of the most original horror films of the 1930s: Island of Lost Souls (1932).

Glenn Strange as the Monster.

House of Dracula (1944). Film critic Leslie Halliwell counts this immediate sequel among his favorite films in his book Halliwell's Hundred. However, there's a caveat: "It is a gem of ineptitude. Its badness lies in its extremely flat handling and in the fact that the writers were not allowed to transfer to the screen the fun they must have had in cooking up its absurd plot."

Chaney as the Wolf  Man.

Certainly, the story is an upgrade over House of Frankenstein with Count Dracula (Carradine) and Larry Talbot arriving at Dr. Edlemann's seaside castle in search of cures. Edlemann (Onslow Stevens), a caring man of science, agrees to help them. Unfortunately, Dracula becomes attracted to the nurse Miliza (Martha O'Driscoll) and can't overcome his vampire urges. During a transfusion with Edlemann, the Count reverses the flow of blood so he can remain a vampire. Unfortunately, that turns the scientist into a Jekyll-Hyde mad man.

Prior to this incident, Edlemann rescues Talbot, who has tried to commit suicide by leaping off a cliff. In a cave on the beach, the two men discover the dormant--but still living--Frankenstein Monster. Anyone one else would just leave the Monster there, but then we couldn't have a climax with torch-carrying villagers, could we?

Onslow Stevens as Dr. Edlemann.

I enjoy House of Dracula more than Mr. Halliwell. It's far from a good movie, but there are some original ideas (e.g., the fate of Talbot). Plus, it provides long-time character actor Onslow Stevens with his best role. He's quite entertaining as the staid man of science who transforms into a wild-eyed killer.

House of Dracula would turn out to be the final "serious" film in Universal's original horror film cycle that started with Dracula in 1931. Its monsters would next appear opposite Bud and Lou in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein.

Crowhaven Farm: A Creepy Made-for-TV Tale

When her cousin Henry dies in a car accident soon after inheriting Crowhaven Farm, Maggie Porter becomes the estate's new owner. She and her husband Ben move to the rural New England property. He hopes to find success as a painter and Maggie accepts a position as a legal secretary to the town's handsome--and single--attorney. Ben's jealousy fuels already existing marital discord caused by the couple's inability to conceive a child.

Meanwhile, Maggie discovers that she knows things about Crowhaven Farm, such as the location of secret rooms in the house. She also has visions of a woman being "pressed", an unpleasant method of killing witches by placing a wooden door on their prone bodies and stacking large stones on the door. A local historian unintentionally makes matters worse when he tells Maggie the story of the Brampton witches, a coven that existed in Puritan times.

Lange with Patricia Barry, who starred
in a memorable Thriller episode.

As is often the case in these kinds of movies, Ben doesn't take Maggie's concerns seriously. In fact, he's not very observant at all, even failing to notice that the 10-year-old girl they "adopted" seems to prefer him significantly to Maggie. And that's just the beginning of Maggie's problems.

Made in 1970, Crowhaven Farm is an eerie supernatural tale that was made for the ABC Movie of the Week. It was produced and written by John McGreevey, whose many television writing credits include The Waltons. The film's opening scenes can be described as a Waltons plot with sinister overtones. The local handyman, played creepily by John Carradine, isn't the pleasant local craftsman that one would expect. The kindly physician turns out to be a villain. Even the picturesque countryside is revealed to be the site of sacrifices. (Note: Click here to read our interview with Michael McGreevey, John's son, who acted in numerous films and became a successful writer-producer as well.)

Handyman John Carradine.

While watching Crowhaven Farm, I was struck by the similarities with Ira Levin's Rosemary's Baby and Thomas Tryon's Harvest Home. The former pre-dates Crowhaven Farm; not surprisingly, Rosemary's Baby inspired a number of movies about witches' covens. However, Crowhaven Farm was actually made three years before Harvest Home. Tryon's novel features a premise in which a couple with a strained marriage relocates to an old house in a rural community so the husband can pursue an artistic career. Sound familiar?

For me, the most effective supernatural thrillers are those grounded in normal characters who become gradually exposed to unnatural events. In the case of Crowhaven Farm, the casting of Hope Lange as Maggie helps immeasurably. It's hard to think of an actress more capable of portraying conventional and believable characters. Although pretty enough to be a model (which she was), Lange carved out a successful acting career playing naïve teenagers, understanding mothers, and patient wives. Her convincing performance in Crowhaven Farm is one of the reasons this film has lingered with me since I first saw it 46 years ago.

Cindy Eilbacher as Jennifer.

Watching it recently, though, I was also struck by the film's potency. While it's never gory, the image of the witches stacking stones on top of Maggie is pretty strong stuff. There's also a disturbing scene in which young (fully clothed) Jennifer sneaks into Ben's room and climbs into bed with him when they are home alone. It may have been innocent enough in the early 1970s (obviously, the censors didn't object). However, in today's context, Ben casual acceptance of this situation seems highly questionable and caused this viewer to squirm a bit.

If you've never seen Crowhaven Farm, you're in luck: There are several prints on YouTube. The visual quality varies, but they are watchable.


This post is part of the Terror TV Blogathon hosted by the Classic TV Blog Association. To read all the fabulous posts in this blogathon, click here.