Give some folks a little film, a few bucks, and they come up with The Beast Of Yucca Flats.  But give someone else the same and you end up with a gem of a shocker.  That's what happened in the case of...

By GENE DORSOGNA

It has been the fate of Roger Corman to be embraced by film historians as a legend, now that his creative years are behind him. It is a distinction that Corman, in all likelihood, has taken with a grain of salt. After all, I doubt that he much cares.

There is little evidence that he cared much about being generally ignored as a remarkably significant figure when he was in his prime. His interest was in turning out product. That most of it was, during the late Fifties, sniffed at by the establishment little matters. The films, however, have survived and remain lucid, vivid and downright fun.

Everyone has his or her own favorite Corman film. From his early period, It Conquered The World has its partisans, and with justice. Who, after all, who can really resist the nutball idea of a giant cucumber with the facial features of Newt Gingrich setting up shop in a cave where it rolls around on casters and makes weird noises. That it falls significantly short of conquering the world matters not (basically it hectors a small town for a while); the film is fun, fast and doesn’t take itself seriously. Attack Of The Crab Monsters is also much beloved. Giant crustaceans, one with a French accent and the slightest hint of a mustache? Well, why not? My own favorite is Not Of This Earth, a truly perverse bit of business about extraterrestrial vampires who do away with, among others, an idiotic vacuum cleaner salesman. Little Shop Of Horrors is everyone’s favorite horror send-up, a truly funny film that at every turn belies its three-day shooting schedule. As a whole, this group of films represents subversive, gleeful guerrilla filmmaking at its finest.

As the sixties approached, Corman’s production schedule became far less hectic. Working with slightly bigger budgets and somewhat longer shooting schedules, he produced and sometimes directed the likes of Vincent Price, Boris Karloff, Peter Lorre, Ray Milland and others. This was the period of the great Poe films (as well as a few based on H.P. Lovecraft, passed off as Poe) and, slightly later, the "counterculture" epics such as The Wild Angels and The Trip which, I may add, although now quaint in story values, still maintain their integrity as film narrative (something, alas, that has not happened to Easy Rider).

Sandwiched in this period of increased gloss and the gradual moving away from horror entirely, is a curious film that has been rather unhappily forgotten. It is one of Corman’s three-day wonders and, although released as The Haunted And The Hunted in England, here in the States it traveled under the more exploitable moniker of Dementia 13.

One of Corman’s great contributions to modern cinema is the opportunity he gave to young filmmakers to make their first movies. Oh, the rules were Draconian in the extreme: make this in three days; make this in two days; shoot only at night; use this set only; incorporate ten minutes of this or that film into yours. It was a test of fire that must have sent more than a few screaming out the door. But those who hung around and met the challenge usually came away the better for the experience. And what a group of people passed through Corman U.: Jonathan Demme (Silence Of The Lambs), John Sayles (The Brother From Another Planet), Peter Bogdanovich (The Last Picture Show), Ron Howard (Cocoon). Each cut their teeth with a Corman production.

There was another fellow who worked as an editor on Corman’s The Young Racer and then apparently begged for the opportunity to direct his own film. He was Francis Coppola (not having yet acquired the "Ford"), who of course went on the direct The Godfather films, Apocalypse Now, and Peggy Sue Got Married. Which brings us back to Dementia 13, the film that resulted from Coppola’s sojourn with Roger Corman.

The terms under which Dementia 13 was born were typical Corman. First, it had to utilize most of the cast of The Young Racers. They were already on location, that film had wrapped early, and the actors were not to be paid for just standing around. Second, it needed to be filmed in three (some sources say two) days. Third, it had to utilize an old castle as the set. Fourth, it had to shot at night. Finally, it had to be shot in black and white (cheaper). The finished product is remarkably good; it is atmospheric, involving, has excellent narrative drive, and boasts at least one performance that is superb.

The scene opens on a lake at night. Louise (Luana Anders) and her husband John (Peter Read) are quarreling bitterly, So as not to disturb anyone, they continue their dispute in a rowboat. While rowing out onto the water, John tells his wife that she’d better not delude herself: his mother hates her and if she leaves him she’ll get nothing from the estate. Suddenly he has a heart attack. He demands Louise find his pills. She searches his pockets, but finds the pill bottle empty. "You fool!" Louise yells at him, as he expires.

Realizing that she cannot let it be known that John has died, she dumps the body into the lake. Back in the castle, Louise packs her husband’s things, types a letter to his mother saying he was called away on emergency business, forges his name to it, and slips it under his mother’s door.

The next day, we meet the other inhabitants of Castle Halloran. They are John’s brothers Richard (William Campbell) a bitter sculptor, and Billy (Bart Patton) a neurotic twenty year old. There is also their mother Lady Halloran (Ethne Dunne), a superstitious old woman who is haunted by the memory of her young daughter who drowned in the lake seven years ago. Richard’s fiancé, Kane (Mary Mitchel) has newly arrived from America. In addition to some family retainers and a local named "Old Simon"(Karl Schenzer), the only other person about the castle is Dr. Justin Caleb (Patrick Magee) the family physician who is treating Lady Halloran for hysterics and who knows the whole family history.

Every year on the anniversary of Kathleen’s death, the family gathers at her headstone to pay their respects. The day after the ritual, Richard is to marry Kane. While all this is being prepared for, Louise, realizing that she needs to insinuate herself into Lady Halloran’s good graces (and herself knowing her mother-in-law’s morbid attachment to Kathleen) implies that she has seen Kathleen’s ghost about the castle and has heard her singing. Lady Halloran begins to grow closer to Louise. Thinking to tighten her bond with her, Louise finds a way into Kathleen’s locked room and steals some of her dolls. She goes to the lake, rigs them up with some twine and swims with them to the deepest part of the lake, fixing the chain of dolls so that they will eventually rise to the surface, suggesting a ghostly intervention on the part of Kathleen.

However, while placing the dolls on the lake bottom she sees a horrifying sight: a little girl perfectly preserved in a pinafore laying on a small marble shrine with the words "Forgive me, Kathleen" carved on it. In terror, and taking water, she swims to the surface only to be confronted by someone wielding an ax. There is no place to hide and she dies hideously, her body dragged into the brush.

Another person is dispatched by the axe man and another terrorized into a coma. Dr. Caleb, always having been interested in unraveling the secrets of Halloran Castle, redoubles his efforts to do so. The marriage of Richard and Kane occurs. The doctor, having deduced not only how Kathleen drowned in the lake but also who has been terrorizing the castle, sets a trap into which his suspect falls, but not before Kane is almost killed. With that, we assume, peace will descend on Halloran Castle

There is an awful lot of story in a movie that runs a scant seventy minutes. It must be credited to Coppola and his editor that they were able to keep the multitude of plot strands cohesive while not allowing the film to become all talk and and no action. Still, this is that rare case where one really wishes that the film could have been longer!

The people of Halloran Castle are so interesting, their predicaments so intriguing, that we want more time with them to understand them better. Actually, the first 45 minutes or so of the film move along at an unhurried pace, with sufficient time for characters to interact with each other and reveal themselves through remarkably subtle and well written dialog. It is only after a second character falls victim to the mysterious killer that things become a little underdeveloped.

A scene where Richard is seen stalking through a tunnel (a grim, ambiguous look on his face) begins and ends rather too suddenly; why Kane is trailing him, wearing nothing but bikini undies and a filmy nightgown is never explained (I suspect it was done for sheer exploitation). Worse, a scene that is pivotal to the resolution of the plot seems to have fallen victim to merciless pruning in post-production.

Dr. Caleb has taken Billy to a pub and gets him intoxicated all the better to interrogate him. The pub, obviously the real article, and its denizens are wonderfully atmospheric. The exchange between Billy and Caleb, both shot in tight close-up, is tense and beautifully delivered especially by the great Patrick Magee. The whole scene resembles the wonderful moment in The Body Snatcher where MacFarland and Grey have their penultimate confrontation. But then it abruptly ends. Besides, I doubt that even the perceptive Caleb could have instantaneously deduced the solution to the entire Halloran family malaise solely through Billy mumbling "fishy, fishy in the brook – papa caught you on a hook"!

The answer to these problems can probably be explained by the sad truth that Coppola was told not exceed a seventy-minute running time. Dementia 13 was designed to fit the bottom half of a double bill. Is it possible that excised scenes exist somewhere in the Corman vaults?

Throughout, the film is beautifully shot. Even though the tape I viewed was likely transferred from a sixteen-millimeter print that itself was rather long in the tooth, the moody black and white photography adds to the feeling of mystery and anxiety. Coppola makes the most of the scare potential of Louise searching through the dead Kathleen’s toys and manages a real jolt when a mechanical monkey toy suddenly begins to operate; that the monkey is chopping a small log with an ax neatly foreshadows what will soon happen to Louise.

Which brings us to the central set piece of the film: Louise’s death in the pond. Beginning with her stripping down (no mere exploitation here; it makes sense to get rid of your heavy outer garments if you are going to swim), diving to the bottom of the water, happening on the shrine, and swimming to the surface to end up at the feet of the murderer the entire passage has a fluid, sinuous, thoroughly erotic charge. The murder itself, accomplished through quick editing, musical chords, and a tight close-up of Louise’s hand grasping at the wet grass is oblique which makes it far more disturbing than if it had been graphically depicted.

Coppola’s way with these actors is remarkable. He elicits fine performances from most, especially Luana Anders, William Campbell, and Bart Patton. Their delivery of the dialog is naturalistic and free from hysteria. However, I doubt that Coppola (or anyone) really needed to direct Patrick Magee. A member of the Royal Shakespeare Company, Magee frequently augmented his stage income by appearing in films; he is best remembered for his pivotal role in Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, again for Kubrick in Barry Lyndon, and for his part in the film version of the stage play Marat/Sade where he assayed the role of the Marquis DeSade (an aside: if you’ve not seen this, rent it on video--it is great.). Here, he savors his every line. His reedy yet authoritative voice and striking presence steals every single scene he is in. Although he is in relatively few scenes, one leaves to film thinking him the star.

On the debit side, Mary Mitchel, as Kane, frankly stinks. Her chirpy voice and insincere line readings make one regret that she is spared the headsman’s ax. Equally bad is Karl Schenzer as "Old Simon" the Scottish poacher. Not only does Schenzer look ten years younger than Billy (the youngest Halloran) he also sports a Scottish brogue that a ten year old in a grade-school pageant would be embarrassed to affect. But these, after all, are minor detriments.

Generally, when Dementia 13 is remembered at all, it is so that its memory can be abused. Leonard Maltin awards it two stars in his movie guide. The otherwise perceptive Danny Peary in Guide For The Film Fanatic, while praising a few isolated scenes, admits that he can’t follow the story. Elsewhere, even in some Coppola filmographies, it is ignored.

This is indeed a shame. For the reasons discussed, it is worthy of our attention. It is even safe to say that the movie is the spiritual (and immeasurably superior) predecessor of all the lousy slasher films of the last twenty years. I am sure there are lots of other neglected gems in the Corman oeuvre, films that have been eclipsed by the flamboyant Poe adaptations. I hope these films will someday receive their due. Until then, seek out Dementia 13. Watch it soon. In fact, watch it twice. It is that good.

It certainly is, Gene, and thanks for "dragging" the lake of forgotten fright films to bring this one to the surface.  Considering Coppola's latest efforts, perhaps he should view this film again as well.

Article copyright © Gene Dorsogna 

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