THE HAND (1960)

Henry Cass, 1960

Starring: Derek Bond, Reed De Rouen, Bryan Coleman, Walter Randall

“Blast everybody and everything.”

The film opens with a division of the British Royal Army trapped in Burma, where they are threatened by hostile Japanese forces. During an interrogation, several of the men have their hands chopped off with a machete when they refuse to reveal the location of their base. Fast forward to postwar London, where an old, alcoholic bum is found with a stack of money, but missing in a hand, and Scotland Yard begins to investigate. But soon, the bum turns up dead, the doctor who performs the operation was first missing and then commits suicide, and it becomes clear that they’re dealing with something quite unusual: wartime secrets, a seemingly illicit marriage, blackmail, and much more.

For whatever reason, this film is generally regarded as a horror movie — which is why I’ve included it in my British horror series — but I have to admit that it was not at all what I was expecting. Coincidentally, I watched it at the same time that we did an episode on Mad Love (1935) over at Daughters of Darkness (which also coincidentally went live today), and I do have a fondness for horror films about transplanted parts and missings limbs, particularly those with humor (intentional or otherwise). Beginning roughly with Weine’s Hands of Orlac (1924) and continuing through Karl Freund’s great Mad Love and Robert Florey’s The Beast with Five Fingers (1946) — both of which featured the great Peter Lorre — to French films like Le main du diable (1943) and The Hands of Orlac (1960), the old severed hand is, or at least was, fertile ground for genre cinema. And yet, The Hand is not really a horror film at all, despite treading tentatively on horror ground.

Though director Henry Cass proved his genre chops when he made the fun, albeit very schlocky Blood of the Vampire (1958), The Hand is a cross between revenge film, lurid crime story, and detective tale; it is essentially a British version of the West German krimi genre that was popular during the ‘60s. Borrowing elements from earlier crime serials and ‘30s features — everything from Fantomas to Fu Manchu — the krimi films were actually primarily based on the novels of British writer Edgar Wallace. Essentially kicking off with The Fellowship of the Frog (1959), the subgenre ran for over a decade and generally follow a Scotland Yard detective investigating a series of incredible, strange crimes; the colorful roster of suspects and victims allows him to eventually close in on a killer, usually masked or costumed, and themes include sex, drugs, blackmail, organized crime, revenge, and a slew of red herrings.

And while The Hand initially seems like a war thriller — astoundingly, the opening has WWII continuing into 1946, which you can take as a grievous historical error or a sign that events are unfolding in some parallel universe — the WWII subplot is little more than a backdrop and makes no actual sense when connected to the crimes at hand. Like the krimi films, the plot practically gallops towards its nonsensical conclusion and seems more concerned with maintaining a brisk pace than making a whole lot of rational sense. And like the krimi films, there’s some stodgy if tolerant moralizing in the film’s closing scenes. But sadly, unlike the krimi, it contains very few lurid elements — just a doctor’s suicide, a severed hand that turns up in a dresser drawer, and so on — and lacks the lineup of familiar faces favored by both the krimi and horror genres, though diehard genre fans might recognize Harold Scott (The Brides of Dracula) as the homeless man or Garard Green (The Flesh and the Fiends) as the unfortunate surgeon.

I do have to admit to finding the banter banter between the inspector (Ronald Leigh-Hunt) and his second-in-command (Ray Cooney) delightful — most of their jokes focus on the latter wanting to get off early to see his apparently very demanding girlfriend — though I also have a wide tolerance for police procedurals and, admittedly, it made me wish I was watching Clouzot’s L’assassin habite... au 21 (1942) instead. There is something about the film that seems a little off; I’ve read other reviews guessing that some of the film was cut and this seems like the most rational explanation for why the ending is so choppy, nonsensical, and abruptly concluded.

Despite the fact that I have absolutely no sense of what anything happened the way it did, it didn’t prevent me from enjoying The Hand far more than I expected to. Still, it’s not really something I can defend. If you’ve seen a lot of krimi films, then you’ll know exactly what you’re getting into it and probably have a good time with the film. As far as I can tell, it isn’t available on home release, but you can find it streaming on Youtube and other places online.

THE GREEN ARCHER

Jürgen Roland, 1961

Starring: Gert Frobe, Klausjürgen Wussow, Karin Dor, Eddi Arent, Harry Wüstenhagen

Though this is one of Edgar Wallace's most well-known novels and was already adapted as a feature length film several times before this version, this is one of the weakest entries in the Rialto krimi series. The complicated, convoluted plot essentially centers around a haunted British estate. The alleged ghost is a figure called the Green Archer, who dates back to the 14th century and was known to terrorize the aristocratic manor-owners in a Robin Hood-like fashion. The current owner is Abel Bellamy, an American businessman with a questionable past. When some of his estranged family members move into a nearby estate against his wishes, the Green Archer returns with his lethal bow and arrows to cause havoc. 

The Green Archer suffers from typical krimi issues. There are too many story lines that intersect too late, red herrings that dead end on themselves and a plot so convoluted it frequently leaves the Green Archer in the dust. The major offense of the film is its poor attempts at humor by way of Eddi Arent, who stars as the comic relief in a wide variety of krimi. In this film, his character, a reporter, introduces the film and makes interludes about the action. These self-referential attempts at humor and irony fall incredibly short and distract from both the plot and the pacing of the film. It has a William Castle-like gimmicky feel to it, but is unfortunately not well written enough to actually be funny or clever. The Green Archer is completely ignored for much of the film and during the conclusion the revelation of his character is disappointing. The plot runs so far afield and there are so many twists and turns that it is difficult to tell what is going on at times. The sheer number of characters and subplots feels frustrating. 

The best thing that I can say about this film that there’s a wonderful performance from Gert Fröbe, known to international audiences for his portrayal of Auric Goldfinger in Goldfinger (1964). Where he is serious and menacing in Goldfinger (“Do you expect me to talk?” “No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die.”), here he absolutely rages. Though it is hard to believe that an obviously German actor with a thick accent is remotely American, he still manages to steal the film and deliver one of the most robust performances in the entire Rialto series. Karin Dor and Eddi Arent feel underused and wasted, though they appear in their traditional roles of alluring victim and comic relief. The lackluster Klausjürgen Wussow stars as the Scotland Yard detective, though this is his second and last Wallace film. 

The Green Archer has entertaining moments and moves at a fairly quick pace, but it ultimately drowns in its desperate attempts at irony and humor. There is no region 1 DVD available, though there are two German region 2 versions, both presented by Ufa. The film is available as a single disc and as part of an Edgar Wallace box set that also includes Fellowship of the Frog (1959), The Terrible People (1960) and The Crimson Circle (1961).

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE FROG

Harald Reinl, 1959

Starring: Joachim Fuchsberger, Elfie von Kalckreuth, Jochen Brockmann, Carl Lange

The Fellowship of the Frog is notable for being the first Rialto Edgar Wallace adaptation. Though it was a Danish-West Germany coproduction like the later krimi, the film was shot in Copenhagen, rather than a West German studio. It does contain the poorly edited London stock footage that became one of the many trademarks of the series and was a cheap attempt to make the set feel more authentically British. 

Scotland Yard investigators and a wealthy American amateur detective are on the trail of a stylish criminal mastermind dubbed “The Frog,” because of his ostentatious frog mask, the frog stamps he leaves at the scenes of his robberies and the frog tattoos on the arms of his gang. Like the later Italian Danger: Diabolik (1968), the Frog’s specialties are cracking safes and stealing the impossible. A local aristocrat is one of the Frog’s targets and his son (who is in love with a suspicious, yet sexy cabaret girl) gets involved, as well as his lovely daughter, who attracts the attention of both the American sleuth and the Frog. Scotland Yard panics when they meet red herrings and the Frog’s goons at every turn. Can the American playboy and his butler get to the bottom of things before more corpses pile up? 

Produced by Horst Wendlandt, directed by Harald Reinl, written by Egon Eis, starring Joachim Fuchsberger and co-starring Eddi Arent, The Fellowship of the Frog immediately begins to establish some of the regular cast and crew who would appear in or work on krimi through out the ‘60s. Some of the regular plot elements are present as well, including murders, kidnapping, elaborate twists, booby traps, and even a judo match. There is also romance, seduction, and a nightclub scene that was probably unintentionally similar to those used by Jess Franco. Like later krimi villains, the Frog is a criminal genius with eccentric means of killing his victims -- in this case, he uses poison gas. There is a surprising amount of violence for the time, particularly during the third act, which balances out the pulpy tone and frequent comedic interludes. While this is the film that spawned (see what I did there?) a lengthy series of crime-mystery films, it is an experiment and not an entirely successful one. The plot, like many krimi to follow, is overly complicated and sometimes confusing. Eis at least attempts to include semi-coherent red herrings that contribute to the plot, though this occasionally fails. The number of supporting characters and unresolved subplots is dizzying. 

The Fellowship of the Frog was successful upon its release because it was so different from the mystery films that came before and so different from German cinema at the time. Though it was largely ignored or disdained by critics, audiences loved the film, which inspired the lengthy Rialto Wallace series, as well as non-Rialto adaptations and similar works. It's is available from a number of sources, including a region one collection from Retromedia, The Edgar Wallace Collection, Volume 1, as well as a German Ufa box set.

THE FORGER OF LONDON

Harald Reinl, 1961

Starring Karin Dor, Hellmut Lange, Siegfried Lowitz, Eddie Arent

Based on the Edgar Wallace novel, The Forger, this is Rialto’s seventh Wallace-sourced krimi and was directed by their second most popular director, Harald Reinl. This is one of Reinl’s five krimi for Rialto between 1959 and 1965 and one of over 20 films he made with his wife, actress Karen Dor, who co-stars. Peter, a wealthy playboy, is believed to be part of a counterfeit ring, but due to a bizarre combination of amnesia and schizophrenia, he claims he can’t remember. When his new, young wife Jane finds a money printing machine hidden in the house and she suspects that he is the infamous “Forger of London.” When they honeymoon at Longford Manor, odd things begin to happen. Jane is attacked and then witnesses Peter printing money in a secret room, though he later claims ignorance. When Jane’s friend is murdered by an unknown assailant, Peter’s doctor recommends that he should be declared insane and Jane should claim her inheritance. Anyone with information about the counterfeiting ring begins to drop like flies and two rival inspectors are determined to prove Peter’s innocence or guilt. 

Written by regular krimi writer Johannes Kai (aka Hanns Wiedmann), he was forced to use a pseudonym because of his writing career during the National Socialist period. Kai includes are a number of unusual elements in the The Forger of London, such as the slew of unlikable characters, most of whom are openly financially motivated, including Jane. Played by Reinl’s wife Dor, she was a regular krimi fixture from the first film in the series, Fellowship of the Frog (1959), usually appearing as the innocent love interest. Dor reached international film a few years later when she appeared as the first German Bond Girl in You Only Live Twice (1967). 

Unlike most other krimi, the film lacks a defined moral center, a role usually filled by the protagonist/Inspector. Like the later Klaus Kinski vehicle, The Creature with the Blue Hand (1967), The Forger of London includes potential mental illness as a major plot element. Because Peter’s character wavers back and forth between innocence and guilt, sanity and insanity, Reinl cast the mostly unknown Hellmut Lange in the starring role. Lange would go on to become one of the most popular German television actors in the late ‘60s. 

This is an unusual entry in the series in the sense that it attempts to tread some new ground with plot material. Though it is flawed and occasionally confusing, the film borrows some interesting plot elements from Fritz Lang’s Dr. Mabuse series and some visual cues from his American noir, Scarlet Street (1945). This is one of the loveliest black and white krimi and has a definite noir sensibility with it’s expressionistic set pieces and stark emphasis on black and white. 

The Forger of London is only available in the U.S. as a Sinister Cinema DVD-R, though there are two German releases from Ufa. Here's hoping for a English-friendly krimi box set in the near future.

THE DEVIL'S DAFFODIL

Ákos Ráthonyi, 1961

Starring: Joachim Fuchsberger, Sabine Sesselmann, Christopher Lee, Klaus Kinski, Ingrid van Bergen, Marius Goring

The Devil's Daffodil is the seventh Edgar Wallace film produced by Rialto and is based on Wallace’s novel The Daffodil Mystery. This film is a special case in that it was a co-production with the British company Omnia Pictures Ltd. Filmed at Shepperton Studios in Middlesex, there were two versions of the film made, a German-language version and an English version, both shot at the same time. Though the same director and crew were used, there is a variation in cast. William Lucas replaces Joachim Fuchsberger as the lead, Penelope Horner replaces Sabina Sesselman as the female co-star and Colin Jeavon replaces Klaus Kinski. All of the other actors, including Christopher Lee, were in both versions.

The plot is a fairly typical if subdued Wallace formula. An unknown murderer who wears a black stocking to disguise his face -- a la Sergio Martino’s later giallo classic Torso (1973) -- leaves a bunch of daffodils at his crime scenes. Jack Tarling, an airline security service officer, teams up with Scotland Yard and takes charge of the investigation. Hong Kong detective Ling Chu tags along to avenge the murder of his daughter and is not afraid to dabble in a little torture to get results. They are led back to a seedy nightclub and a possible ring of drug smugglers. 

Produced by the Austrian-born Steven Pallos who worked in British cinema, and written by krimi scribe Egon Eis, The Devil's Daffodil was helmed by Hungarian director and screenwriter Ákos Ráthonyi, also responsible for Eurohorror effort Cave of the Living Dead (1964). It is one of the only Edgar Wallace films with non-stock exterior shots of London, though unfortunately the British shooting location was not fully taken advantage of and there are only a handful of actual shots around Piccadilly Circus and other locations. 

Klaus Kinski and Christopher Lee are the real draw for this film. Lee appears as detective Ling Chu and steals the show, whether he is happily torturing suspects for information or dispelling Confucian wisdom a la Charlie Chan. He first appeared as a Chinese character in Hammer’s The Terror of the Tongs (1960) and went on to star in the five film Fu Manchu series (1965-1968). Unusually for the time, Lee’s voice is used in both versions of the film, as he speaks German (but what else would you expect?). Soon after, he appeared in another Wallace krimi, The Secret of the Red Orchid (1962), again speaking German. 

Klaus Kinski is delightfully demented as the sleazy club owner’s loyal henchman and gives a raving performance. Allegedly he terrorized fellow cast members on set, living up to his future reputation. In his autobiography, he claims to have had sex with most of the female cast and crew. Joachim Fuchsberger unsurprisingly appears in the lead role, though this time as a security service agent rather than a Scotland Yard Inspector. Why he is allowed to step in and take charge of the investigation is never really addressed. Ingrid Van Bergen plays the female lead, a performing artist in a nightclub. She also appeared in The Avenger (1960) with Kinski and Albert Lieven, who has a supporting role in The Devil's Daffodil and later Wallace krimi. 

This is unfortunately an average krimi with a lack of the normal suspense or atmosphere. There’s a typical amount of violence with shootings, stabbings, torture, a near-elevator death, and a nasty wheelchair-related fall. Most of the characters appear to be suspects at one time or another and there are red herrings around every corner, but the script is unable to deliver on its potential. There are flimsy, inadequate sets and lackluster directing. The absence of Eddi Arent, normally the sidekick and source of comic relief, is another detriment to the film. The film is not available on DVD in either the U.K. or U.S., but it's included in a German box set from Ufa.

CREATURE WITH THE BLUE HAND

Alfred Vohrer, 1967

Starring: Klaus Kinski, Harald Leipnitz, Carl Lange, Ilse Steppat

Die Blaue Hand aka The Bloody Hand is part of a particular genre of film that I enjoy immensely, but don't think I've ever covered on this blog before: the krimi or German crime mystery. Usually based on the works of British murder mystery novelists like Edgar Wallace (who wrote the source novel for this film), krimi films are sort of the German version of gialli. They are generally stylistic crime thrillers with gruesome enough elements that they are usually marketed as horror films. Shot mostly in Germany and Denmark by Rialto, most of them were dubbed in English for a British market.

Creature with the Blue Hand has all the elements typically found in the genre: over-the-top acting, dialogue-heavy scenes, a maniac on the loose, terrible dubbing, and an extremely complicated plot that involves dark secrets and plenty of double crossing. It also has Klaus Kinski.

Kinski plays twins Dave and Richard Emerson, two of the least German names imaginable. Dave has been wrongly committed to an insane asylum, so he escapes and sneaks back to his ancestral family mansion to prove his innocence and his brother Richard's guilt. There is a family legend about a peculiar suit of armor that has a blue glove with razor sharp claws, but the glove has never been found. It seems some mysterious, hooded figure has uncovered the glove and is now using it to kill an astounding amount of people. Can Dave prove his innocence and Richard's guilt before everyone gets killed by the creature with the blue hand?

Sure, it's a little schlocky, but Creature with the Blue Hand is incredibly entertaining. The film feels dated and the dubbing is appalling, but it's well-paced, suspenseful, and has an almost Scooby Doo-like series of unimaginable plot twists. There are some very creepy visuals, such as the medieval looking manor and the asylum. I don't want to ruin any surprises, but if you're new to krimi, this is a great place to start. Keep your eye on the many memorable side characters from the suspicious mother and the quirky Scotland Yard detective, to the eccentric butler, who is my favorite character next to Kinski's Dave.

A note on The Bloody Hand version: Sam Sherman came along and added some extra gore. This "new" print is known as The Bloody Hand and, as far as I'm concerned, should be avoided. Unfortunately the only way to get Creature with the Blue Hand on DVD is the double feature Image DVD that also contains The Bloody Hand. For some mystifying reason, Image has put most of the work into restoring the latter, which has an impressive commentary and a superior looking print. I'm not sure why they didn't lavish any of this attention on Creature with the Blue Hand, but I still recommend that version over the newer doctored print.