Reviews of Old and New Stories. Mostly Old

Review of The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958)

This week’s offering of Saturday night pizza and bad movie night was a classic. We watched it with Svengoolie.

Plot:

While bringing the Princess Parisa home for their wedding at Baghdad, Sinbad stops at the island of Colossa for fresh water and supplies. While there, the crew notices enormous cloven footprints, and an entrance to a cave carved to look like a giant mouth. Sinbad sees it as an invitation to explore.

Silly boy.

Before they get far, a man comes flying out of the cave’s mouth. Hot on his heels comes a giant cyclops with cloven hooves and an anti-social attitude, which causes a general exodus to the boats. The stranger, however, rubs an oil lamp he has and calls on a genie to protect the men he’s with. In the ensuing chaos, he drops the lamp over the side of the rowboat on his way to Sinbad’s ship. The cyclops, however, picks it up.

The stranger introduces himself as Sokurah the Magician and demands that Sinbad takes him back to the island to retrieve his lamp. Sinbad demurs. He’s got things to do as well. He’s getting married for one. The marriage is part of a peace treaty between his home of Baghdad and the Princess’ home of Chandra. They’ll come back for the lamp later.

Sokurah schemes. When an elaborate display of magic fails to impress the prospective fathers-in-law enough to outfit him with a ship, Sokurah takes to drastic measures, sneaking into the Princess’ room and miniaturizing her until she’s small enough to fit in the palm of normal human’s hand.

In the morning, the court is dismayed at the discovery of the Princess’s condition. (She, however, remains almost pathologically chipper.) Sokurah claims to have a remedy for her condition. All he needs is some shells from the eggs of a roc, which nest on the island of Colossa and to take it to his lair, where he keeps his potions.

Sinbad agrees to head the expedition, but where is he going to find a crew? No one in their right minds—he hires from those condemned to die. In exchange, they will receive full pardons. Yeah, what could go wrong?

The Princess accompanies the crew in a contraption that looks like an elaborate pool cabana cabin Sinbad somehow tucks away in his waist sash. Barbara Eden has nothing on her in the chipper department.

Thoughts:

From the moment you hear the over-the-top Bernard Herrmann (1911-1975) score in the opening frames of the film, you know this going to be a silly, fun adventure movie. And it is.

The various monsters are the stop-action creations of Ray Harryhausen (1920-2013), whose work includes the films The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953) and Jason and the Argonauts (1963). While the latter remains his most famous film, he seems to have pulled out all the stops on the present one. Not only is the viewer treated to a goofy, terrifying cyclops, but also a snake-like creature with four arms, created when Sokurah tries to wow the fathers of Princess Paris and Sinbad. He cajoles the Princess’s maid into hopping into a giant jar then throws a snake in after her. That’s just the beginning. A dinosaur guards the entrance to the Magician’s cave/lair/secret laboratory. Sokurah later animates a skeleton, which then engages in a sword fight with Sinbad. And the rocs—the mythical birds of unusual size—have two heads here.

While these effects may strike the jaded 2020 viewer as cheesy, especially when watched on a television or computer screen, they were the height of technology when they first appeared just before Christmas in 1958. And they are laid on thick. These remain fun.

There are no surprises in the story. The good guys are good guys. The bad guys are bad guys and get their comeuppance. If the evil magician had a mustache, he would twirl it. Sinbad’s crew drop like flies around him.

The costumes are fanciful and colorful—except for the bad guy, who wears the traditional black. They appear to my dilettante eye to be more Indian-influenced than of medieval Arab origin. Just the same, the movie is not exactly a documentary. I’ll leave this as a small point. The Sinbad tales originated early in the time of the Abbasid Caliphate (that is, 8-9th centuries C. E.) and appear in One Thousand and One Nights.

This is not a movie for intellectual stimulation or for quiet contemplation. This is just an escapist romp.

Title: The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958)

Directed by
Nathan Juran

Writing Credits
Ken Kolb… (written by) (as Kenneth Kolb)
Ray Harryhausen … (story) (uncredited)

Cast (in credits order)

Kerwin Mathews … Sinbad
Kathryn Grant … Princess Parisa
Richard Eye … The Genie
Torin Thatcher … Sokurah the Magician
Alec Mango … Caliph

Released: December 23, 1958
Length: 1 hour, 28 minutes

Review of “Suckers” by Tim Boiteau

Plot:

Jameel has just moved into a house in an unhappy neighborhood of northern Detroit. Half of the houses are habitable. The rest shelter crackheads.

His wife Marta has recently passed away. Jameel waits, avoiding the sun, going out once a month for groceries, cleaning his pump-action shotgun.

He watches new neighbors move in next door: Mom, Dad, and a boy of about seven with a bowl cut. Jameel begins his preparations. Over the summer, Dad refurbishes the house and makes a few additions. Mom does some landscaping.

When Jameel sees the “for sale” sign go up, he knocks on the front door with an invitation to dinner. The neighbors’ name is Mascarpone. Jameel finds it to be one of the best false surnames he’s ever heard.

Thoughts:

This is a creepy, creepy little tale. Its surprise ending makes it not one bit less creepy. At the same time, there is no bait and switch. The story is skillfully written. The author does not deceive the reader but shows them what’s unsaid. This is thoughtful, deliberate storytelling.

From the start, when Jameel is seen as a predator (…and he is), the reader can still have some empathy for him because of the recent loss of his wife, for whom he apparently cared deeply. He discusses his plan with her in a little shrine he keeps for her. He is not above exploiting this loss as a lure for his trap, however.

Having said that, I must admit that the story also contains some classic horror elements, including a few that stretch credulity. Horror buffs should enjoy it. Even if it is not your personal cup of tea, it is a well-crafted tale.

Bio:

According to his blurb, author Tim Boiteau lives in Michigan with his wife and son. He is a Writers of the Future winner, with short fiction appearing in Deep Magic, Dream of Shadows, and LampLight. His first novel, The Drummer Girl, is out now.

The story can be read here.

Title: “Suckers”
Author: Tim Boiteau
First published: Theme of Absence, June 26, 2020

Review of “The Seven Billion Habits of Highly Effective Robots” by Aidan Doyle

Plot:

There is no plot. This is a list of satiric inspirational sayings for robots. A coherent world view emerges, one that is (as it should be) a reflection of own.

The list begins:

Recharge your batteries.

Keep a gratitude journal. I’m grateful this city is our home. I’m grateful The Supreme Council of Robots takes care of us.

You are not your own worst enemy. The humans are.

Thoughts:

While the list makes reference to politics, its sharpest barbs are reserved for corporate culture. The reader can see axioms taped to a mirror while a robot gets ready to head to yet another interminable board meeting.

Many of the sayings are cute and witty, particularly those that attempt to induce guilt and rail on about “productivity” or goal-setting. (Don’t just say you’re going to go kill a bunch of humans. Set realistic and achievable goals: how many and by what deadline will you kill them?)

There is a little development in the last paragraph. In general, I like stories with a beginning, middle and ending, and with characters who go through some trials and tribulations. I realize this is a personal preference, but I find lists like this—even when they’re cute and witty—disappointing.

So, in the end, it’s clever for what it is, but it’s not a story. There is a consistent portrait, which takes some thought and skill. I just didn’t enjoy it.

Bio:

According to his author’s blurb, Aidan Doyle is an Australian writer and editor. He is the co-editor of the World Fantasy Award-nominated Sword and Sonnet and the author of The Writer’s Book of Doubt. He has visited more than one hundred countries, and his experiences include teaching English in Japan, interviewing ninjas in Bolivia, and going ten-pin bowling in North Korea.

Dang, his life sounds like it could be a book itself.

The story can be read here.

Title: “The Seven Billion Habits of Highly Effective Robots”
Author: Aidan Doyle
First published: Daily Science Fiction, June 22, 2020

Review of “The Man With Nine Lives” (1940)

Saturday night pizza and bad movie. The usual pepperoni, pineapple, and—on my side— jalapeno.

And Svengooli.

Plot:

The opening title card scroll describes a new form of medical treatment: “frozen therapy.” Enter our hero, Dr. Tim Mason (Roger Pryor), detailing the technique to an audience of his learned colleagues. It’s still in the early phases, of course, but he packs the patient in ice and brings the body temperature down to a level that would normally kill a human, yet his patient lives. The healthy tissue remains, but the cancer cells die. He revives his patient after five days, and she feels fine after her “nap.”

The revival involves coffee, a funnel, and tubing, the precise use of which is never described. How does an unconscious person consume coffee? Outside of college, of course.

Dr. Mason proves too flashy for the medical establishment and is asked to, well, shut up a bit. The newspapers claim he has a cure for cancer, a claim, which he denies making.

As he explains to his nurse/fiancée, Judith Blair (Jo Ann Sayers), his work is based on the writings of one man, Dr. Leon Kravaal (Boris Karloff), a lone genius who disappeared ten years earlier somewhere near the Canadian border. He has some time on his hands now. Why don’t they go see if they can’t locate this Dr. Kravaal?

So, north to some island on a lake by the Canadian border they go, only to find the doctor, yes, on ice, in an underground chamber where he’s made use of the remnants of a glacier for his experiments. He didn’t intend to freeze himself but made the best of a bad situation when the relative and legal representatives of a patient of his came calling. Well, whaddya, know, they might be here, too. Now, if he could only remember the formula he used…

Thoughts:

According to IMDB, the movie was probably based on the sad doings of one Dr. Robert Cornish, a University of California professor who, in 1934, announced he had restored a dog named Lazarus to life after putting it to death by clinical means. That University of California gave Dr. Cornish his walking papers. Poor Lazarus.

The film falls squarely in the “mad scientist” arena. Dr. Kravaal has developed a therapy mere mortals, that is, those of established medical field, can’t begin to understand. His aim is to aid humankind, and no one is going to stop him. He kills without compunction to achieve those goals, you know, for the good of humankind.

Having said all that, this movie is a lot of fun. Maybe the surprises are few, and there are a couple of plot holes one could drive a truck through, but I found all this easy to forgive. The flick is entertaining. I was along for the ride from the beginning. I didn’t recognize Boris Karloff, aside from his voice, which is unmistakable.

What does the title mean? No one has nine lives. I didn’t spot any cats. Or dogs. Given the movie’s inspiration, all the better. And what the hell are they doing with the coffee?

I grant this is not everyone’s cup of tea (or coffee), and little kidlets may not find it frightening or (alternatively) tedious because of its eternal yammering on about medical miracles. Just the same, I enjoyed it.

Title: The Man With Nine Lives (1940)

Directed by:
Nick Grinde …         (as Nick Grindé)

Writing Credits:
Karl Brown    …         (screenplay)
Harold Shumate       …         (story)

Cast (in credits order)

Boris Karloff … Dr. Leon Kravaal
Roger Pryor … Dr. Tim Mason
Jo Ann Sayers … Judith Blair
Stanley Brown … Bob Adams
John Dilson … John Hawthorne

Released: April 18, 1940
Length: approx.. 1 hour, 14 minutes

Review of “Dark Father” by Mary E. Lowd

Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay

Plot:

The narrator is the daughter of the warlord Erith Danaya. She, her mother, and her twin toddlers have been trying to escape him. They are functional captives on his starship as he travels from world to world.

Shortly before the action of the story, the narrator has hidden her mother and her children in a forest by a pond on one world she finds beautiful. Apparently, just as the narrator was about to escape, Erith Danaya attacked the once verdant planet and turned it into an inferno. She now looks at the gray husk and decides to take action.

Thoughts:

The title raised a red flag. Unfortunately, nothing in the story contradicted that red flag. Ordinarily, I would cheer on a character who took the extreme action the unnamed narrator does in the story. Sadly, this time, I couldn’t.

Nearly every element of this tale derived from a well-known movie franchise. The only feature I haven’t been able to connect to the same franchise is the warlord’s name, that is, Erith Danaya. Freely associating only brings up “Earth Day” and “Tuatha Dé Danann,” neither of which have any apparent relevance.

Another difficulty I had with the story was the plotting. For the ending to occur, the narrator would have had to escape her father for some extended time in the past at least once—never mind the children, who were not dropped off by the stork—yet the narration seems to imply only brief glimpses of life from outside the warlord’s thumb.

Overall, while I liked the idea, this story didn’t work for me.

Bio:

According to her blurb, author Mary E. Lowd is a prolific science-fiction and furry writer in Oregon. She’s won an Ursa Major Award, two Cóyotl Awards, and two Leo Literary Awards. She edited FurPlanet’s ROAR anthology series for five years, and she is now the editor and founder of the furry e-zine Zooscape. She lives in a crashed spaceship, disguised as a house and hidden behind a rose garden, with an extensive menagerie of animals, some real and some imaginary. Learn more at http://www.marylowd.com or read more stories at http://www.deepskyanchor.com.

She has many stories in Theme of Absence and Daily Science Fiction, including one I reviewed here.

This story can be read here.

Title: “Dark Father”
Author: Mary E. Lowd
First published: Theme of Absence, June 19, 2020

Review of “The Curse of the Werewolf” (1961)

A delayed Saturday night pizza and bad movie entry. The pizza was good. The movie was about as cheery as a sharing a bottle of absinthe with a French existentialist. (That is, the place is furnished in the style of the Second Empire, and the bell for the waiter doesn’t work. You just ‘fess up to the sin that brought you here. But it’s generally nobody’s damn business. That’s why, you know, L’enfer, c’est les autres. Oh, gods, what if the absinthe runs out?)

Plot:

Sometime in eighteenth-century Spain, a beggar (Richard Wordsworth) receives bad advice and goes to beg at the estate of a vicious marqués (Anthony Dawson) on the night at his wedding feast. The marqués humiliates the beggar, who then makes an off-color remark about his wedding night, gets tossed in the dungeon and forgotten for fifteen years. The only people who show him any measure of kindness are the jailor (Denis Shaw) and his mute daughter (Loraine Carvana).

The mute daughter grows up to be a beautiful woman (Yvonne Romain). She catches the eye of the marqués (to whom the years have not been kind) but refuses his advances and gets tossed in the pokey with the beggar. The beggar, who has gone nuts, then repays her years of kindness by raping her.

Yeah, thanks, dude.

She then agrees to be more cooperative with the marqués. ICK. She actually kills him and runs off, living in the woods for some months. Alfredo, a kind, scholarly gentleman (Clifford Evans), finds her and, knowing nothing of her background, brings her to the home he shares with his housekeeper, Teresa (Hira Talfrey). They take pity on the woman, nurse her back to health, and care for her when it becomes obvious she’s pregnant.

Teresa says it’s a bad thing for the baby to be born on Christmas Day, as this day is reserved for the Savior. Girls in her village avoid their men in March and April to prevent Christmas babies.

Oh, time to swallow a drink of credulous juice.

The munchkin is born, the mom dies. When Alfredo and Teresa take the boy to be baptized, clouds hide the sun, and the waters in the baptismal font stir. The priest says, yeah, this is a problem. He must be raised with love and find love when he grows up. Alfredo and Teresa treat little Leon (as they name the baby) like their own son. But it doesn’t keep the child from having bad dreams. After a hunting trip with a friend, he gets a taste for blood, the neighbors start losing their livestock.

Thoughts:

This is not an easy film to watch. The poor werewolf seems to be a decent sort, and his adoptive family loves him. He did nothing to bring the curse on himself. Sure, he does a lot of rotten things once the curse gets ahold of him, but it’s not like he was downstairs in the basement summoning demons in the first place.

That his parents came to bad, pitiful ends somehow means he is destined to terrorize a town against his volition? This makes no sense.

If it needs to be said, the rape scene is especially hard to watch even if the particulars take place off-camera. The beggar has been brutalized and, in turn, brutalizes one of the few people who has not been unkind to him. She murders the next man who menaces her.

One of the casualties of the child Leon is his own kitten (the viewer never sees the kitten, either alive or dead). Teresa says its loss will break his heart. The adult Leon kills a working girl, to whom he has no emotional attachment, but at whose death he is suitably shocked and repulsed. In a sense, Leon is as much a victim of the brutality of the monster as he is the perpetrator of it. This mirrors the fates of his parents, neither of whom he knows anything about. Both were dealt lousy hands to begin with. One was abused, went nuts, raped, and then died. The other murdered—understandably enough—to protect herself from further violence and later died. The priest says Leon needs love. He receives it, goes out to make his way in the world, falls in love with someone else’s fiancée, and dies. What’s the message here?

Besides “Life sucks and then you die,” I must say the sets and the costumes were excellent. According to IMDB, the exteriors were designed for a film about the Spanish Inquisition, which was scrapped when (… really) the Catholic League of Decency threatened to ban it. (Come on, guys. The real obscenity is torturing people over matters of religion, doncha think?) Some interiors were used in 1958’s Horror of Dracula.

It should come as little surprise that a movie with rape in it had trouble with censors in 1961, both in the UK where it was made and in the US. It wasn’t even shown in Spain, then under the authoritarian rule of Francisco Franco. Another point of contention was, of course, the working girls. Was the inn a Motel Six or a Sadie’s Entertainment Palace? The movie is a little ambiguous, but really. The young woman who seemed to take an interest in Leon when he isn’t feeling well isn’t inviting him upstairs for tea.

The movie is loosely based on Guy Endore’s 1933 The Werewolf of Paris, which uses the Franco-Prussian War (1870-1871) as a backdrop and a lot of don’t-let-the-kids-see this with respect to weird sex and violence. The makers of the film changed settings when they had to ditch their Inquisition movie.

As for recommending the movie, I’m in two minds. The characters are engaging. Most of us don’t have to worry about becoming werewolves, familial curses from parents we don’t know, or disturbing the water in the baptismal font. On the other hand, the story is fatalistic and a downer. We’re all going to hell anyway, so why strive for anything? Like watching a movie?

Title: The Curse of the Werewolf (1961)

Directed by Terence Fisher

Writing Credits
Anthony Hinds … (screenplay) (as John Elder)
Guy Endore … (novel)

Cast (in credits order)

Clifford Evans … Alfredo
Oliver Reed … Leon
Yvonne Romain … Servant Girl
Catherine Feller … Cristina
Anthony Dawson … The Marques Siniestro
Josephine Llewellyn … The Marquesa

Released: June 7, 1961
Length: approx. 1 hour, 33 minutes

Review of “A Background Poorly Written” by William Mangieri

Plot:

Hmmm…. Well, the narrator, who isn’t always sure he (?) speaks the words he hears, seems to be waking from a deep sleep. Or maybe’s coming into being. He’s with Debbie. He seems to know Debbie. There’s a scratching from outside, but neither he nor Debbie knows what it is.

Thoughts:

This reads like a writer’s exercise. The author’s notes confirm that that is precisely what it is. It at least has a beginning, middle, and an end, but it’s written for writers, not readers.

This is something, I think, that would be passed around among writers at a coffee shop or maybe a workshop. There is a definite, “Yeah, I get it” moment, but for the average reader, who is not a writer, it may not be as cute.

As cute as I found the story, I cannot recommend it.

Bio:

According to his blurb, author William Mangieri is a blogger, karaoke junkie, former theater student, and recovered wargamer, who spends a lot of time wondering “what if….” He writes from Texas, where he lives with his wife and the ghost of a nine-pound westie as he tries to find ways to flesh out his own existence. His fiction–including his first novel Swordsmaster–can be found on Smashwords, Amazon, and other online sellers. William Mangieri’s Writing Page is at williammangieri.wordpress.com

The story can be read here.

Title: “A Background Poorly Written”
Author: William Mangieri
First published: Daily Science Fiction, June 15, 2020

Review of “The Rest Stop” by Mike Sharlow

Plot:

Mick can travel in time, but he doesn’t tell anyone. It’s the sort of thing that suggests mental illness. He doesn’t want to be studied, nor does he want to be locked up while others decide how his ability should be used. He keeps his secret and uses it when he decides to put it to good use.

Mick works at a rest stop along the Mississippi River on the Minnesota/Wisconsin border. One day, George from tourism, who’s a little hard of hearing, comes in to ask him to speak to a woman who has lost her wallet in the parking lot.

In the lobby, Mick finds two women and a boy of about eight. The woman who is missing her wallet is visibly upset. She had about three hundred dollars in it. They were on their way to Wisconsin Dells, the indoor water park. He asks her how long ago she lost her wallet, then goes back to the office and check the security footage. There it is.

Thoughts:

The time-traveling Mick has already indicated that he uses his ability the way he wants to. This seems to be the perfect chance to step back in time and retrieve a lost wallet. He knows where it fell. Thanks to the time stamp on the security cameras, he knows when it fell. He also knows who helped themselves to it. This seems to be a preventable mishap.

It’s only ten minutes or so in the past. Not much could have changed in that time.

Of course, if it were that simple, there would be no story.

And Mick is a person with a conscience. Without it, the story would be much simpler. Having a conscience complicates the world. How far is Mick willing to go?

No reference is made to other times Mick has used time travel options, but presumably, those have worked out for him, perhaps without as many complications as the one the reader knows about.

There is nothing too deep here, but it is an entertaining little tale.

Bio:

According to his blurb, Mike Sharlow lives in La Crosse, Wisconsin, a small city on the banks of the Mississippi River. He works in Special Education, and is an Employment Trainer for adults with disabilities, although he’s done everything from structural design to working in a cemetery.

The story can be read here.

Title: “The Rest Stop”
Author: Mike Sharlow
First published: Theme of Absence June 12, 2020

Review of “Intro to Intergalactic Conflicts 101: A Course Summary” by Robert Douglas Friedman

Assyrian stone relief from the temple of Ninurta, god of war (among other thing) at Kalhu, showing the god with his thunderbolts pursuing Anzû, who has stolen the Tablet of Destinies from Enlil’s sanctuary (Austen Henry Layard Monuments of Nineveh, 2nd Series, 1853) from Wikipedia

Plot:

There is no plot to this story. There is merely an overview—in the form of a course outline— of a centuries-old conflict of uncertain origin. (“[W]e remain certain that our cause is just.”) The enemy “lacks common sense, courage, religion, and access to a decent dry cleaning service.” To make matters worse, the enemy has green skin.

The outline contains a section of war profiteering, comments on the effectiveness of torture, and, of course, “our goal.”

Thoughts:

This is (surprise) an absurdist anti-war statement. While it contains some cute elements, I personally found it, sad to say, tedious overall. I liked the anti-racist touch. Perhaps that’s in part because I dislike the device of using a form like a class outline instead of telling a story. The anti-war sentiment and the feeling of absurdity about war are ones I share.

I realize this is all incredibly subjective, and the piece may leave another reader in hysterics. I wish I could recommend this because there are bright spots (e.g., Conshohocken, Pennsylvania), but I cannot.

Bio:

According to his blurb, author Robert Douglas Friedman’s fiction and humor have appeared in Story Quarterly, The Satirist, Cosmos, Humor Times, The Writing Disorder, The New York Review of Science Fiction, (something I don’t imagine is easy to do) and many other publications. He lives and works in New Jersey.

The piece can be read here

Title: “Intro to Intergalactic Conflicts 101: A Course Summary”
Author: Robert Douglas Friedman
First published: Daily Science Fiction, June 8, 2020

Review of “The Spiral Staircase” (1946)

Plot:

In turn-of-the-century New England, a mute woman named Helen (Dorothy McGuire) attends a (silent) film shown at a local inn. While she’s there, an unnamed woman (Myrna Dell) who limps (“a cripple”), an inn resident, is strangled by a man who’d hidden in her closet. This follows the murder of another woman, a “simple-minded creature.”

The new doctor in town, young Dr. Perry (Kent Smith), on his way back from a house call, stops by to see if he can be of any assistance with the investigation of the deceased. The old town doctor (Erville Alderson) assures him there’s nothing he can do unless he’d good enough to bring the dead back.

On his way back, Dr. Perry comes across Helen walking home from the movie. He offers her a ride, knowing there’s a dangerous man about killing disabled women. The good doctor also tells Helen he knows of a place in Boston where help is available for people in her situation. Helen’s muteness is not organic but a result of trauma when her parents died in a house fire. It’s not the last time the good doctor will be sticking his nose in her business.

Helen lives as a companion/nurse’s assistant to the elderly and ill Mrs. Warren (Ethel Barrymore), leaving her free to disregard the ministrations of Nurse Barker (Sara Allgood). The household also contains Mrs. Warren’s stepson, Professor Warren (George Brent), who has looked after her all these years, and her ne’er-do-well younger son, Stephen (Gordon Oliver), who has recently returned from Europe. Just to make things interesting (…and confusing), Stephen is having an affair with his stepbrother’s secretary and old flame, Blanche (Rhonda Fleming).

Mrs. Warren is not happy to see Stephen. In fact, she tells him he might as well go back to Europe. The bad things always happen when he’s around.

Thoughts:

I frankly felt uneasy with the premise: a serial killer picking off women with disabilities. In a world of sick SOBs, this is sick SOB. Even the good doctor, whom Helen at one point fantasizes about marrying in an elaborate sequence, is convinced he can conquer the mute woman’s inability to speak by pushing her over the edge. Helen is menaced throughout the movie: a figure watches her enter the house the night Dr. Perry drops her off from the movie at the inn. Mrs. Warren tells her she is in danger and that she must leave the house. Of course, this all occurs during an unrelenting thunderstorm.

In one scene, the villain has poor Helen trapped on a staircase landing in front of a full-length mirror. The bad’un taunts her for her muteness and for being “weak.” She turns to examine herself in the mirror. I almost screamed, why not just push the sicko down the stairs? Her life is at stake. It’s okay to forego ladylike manners and introspection for a little while. Appearances only mean so much when someone wants to strangle you.

While there are a couple of see ‘em comings, this was a nicely suspenseful film, full of red herrings. This is a deadly serious film. There are no (intentional) absurdist moments, albeit there is comic relief, such as when the maid steals a bottle of brandy under Professor Warren’s nose. Mostly, though, the feel of the movie is gothic, heavy, and the viewer knows Helen is in danger. Even the people who are being kind to her—for her own good—do so with a heavy hand.

Ethel Barrymore was nominated for her role as Mrs. Warren for Best Supporting Actress in 1947.

The screenplay is based on a book titled Some Must Watch by Ethel Lina White (1876-1944). The original book does not involve a spiral staircase, a prop the movie borrowed from The Circular Staircase by Mary Roberts Rinehart, which has been adapted for stage and screen several times, including 1930’s The Bat Whispers. Although forgotten now, White was a famous British crime novelist in her day. Another of her books, The Wheel Spins, became Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes (1938).

Title: The Spiral Staircase (1946)
Director: Robert Siodmak

Writers: Mel Dinelli (screenplay), Ethel Lina White (novel)

Cast:
Dorothy McGuire … Helen
George Brent … Professor Warren
Ethel Barrymore … Mrs. Warren
Kent Smith … Dr. Parry
Rhonda Fleming … Blanche

Released: February 7, 1949

Length: 1 hour, 23 minutes