Classic Horrors Club

It wouldn’t be precisely correct to say I was disappointed by Howl of the Devil (1988); however, it was not what I hoped it would be. This is not based on any preconceived notions of the film coming from word of mouth (or internet.) This is based on the movie itself’s opening dedication to Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Lon Chaney, and Jack Pierce. Yes, Paul Naschy portrays some classic monsters originally created by those names, but only in one short scene each, with decreasing effectiveness.

These characters appear to young Adrian Doriani (Naschy’s son, Sergio Molina) as he continues to recover from the death of his father, Alex (Naschy), an actor who appeared in the type of films that Paul Naschy made. (This allows him to watch one of “his father’s” movies on TV… Panic Beats.) Adrian now lives with his uncle, Hector (also Naschy.) Adrian and the “butler,” Eric (Howard Vernon), talk a lot about bringing Alex back to life and living with them forever.

The characters that appear to Adrian also talk with him about disposing of Hector. First, it’s Frankenstein’s monster, or “Frankie” as Adrian fondly calls him. Then, it’s the Frederic March version of Mr. Hyde. Then, it’s the Phantom of the Opera… and Quasimodo. Finally, it’s the werewolf himself, Waldemar Daninsky. For many reasons, he’s my favorite, especially when Adrian asks him if he knows Larry Talbot. So, yes, perhaps one-quarter of Howl of the Devil is a tribute to classic horror.

Another one-quarter caters to modern horror. Eric brings prostitutes home for Hector, who cosplays as real life monsters and forces them to participate in sadistic games in his “playroom.” Rasputin, pours vodka on one woman’s naked body, then licks it. Bluebeard ties another to a bed. Fu Manchu explores the body of another with long fingernail guards. For each of these activities, an eye observes from one of the eyes of a painting hanging on the wall.

Another one-quarter caters to 80’s slashers, as almost any horror movie had to do at this time (although Naschy was a little late to the party with this one.) Someone in black leather gloves is killing people in gory ways. This stalker not only cuts people’s throats but saws back and forth. In a movie half full of nods to Naschy’s own career, one of the murders includes an update to perhaps his most squirm-inducing act of cruelty. I won’t give it away, but will give a clue: it’s from Inquisition.

The final one-quarter of Howl of the Devil is the related drama. Father Damian (Fernando Hilbeck) had an inappropriate affair with Carmen (Caroline Munro) and is not happy that she spurned him and is now working for Hector. He declares that if she doesn’t return to him, he’ll kill her, and sends his henchman, Zacarias (Cris Huerta) to spy on her in Hector’s “house of sin and vice.” He doesn’t know that Carmen is more devout than he is and refuses Hector’s advances.

Combine all the ingredients in a big pot, add a splash or twenty of blood, and you have a recipe for a compelling meta-mystery thriller. However, like a failed dish you spent all day making, the ingredients aren’t quite right. They either don’t go together or are used in the wrong proportions. This left me unsure of the focus, but more importantly, unsure on what I wanted to focus. And when that happens, I unfortunately focus on the flaws.

Number one for me is the failed execution of what could have been a perfect comment on the state of horror and how it had changed. It could have built a bridge, if you will, but if so, this is one of those rickety bridges hanging between two cliffs with boards missing. Yes, there’s the contrast between classic horror with Adrian’s visitors and the slashers with the mysterious killer, but they don’t connect in a way that has much impact.

If you have no such hopes or expectations about Howl of the Devil, many of my arguments remain. One-quarter of each “style” isn’t enough for any of them and the movie is consequently disjointed. Contradictorily, it’s too long at 97 minutes. Seven or eight minutes can make a huge difference in the pace of a film. It seems like most of the blame can be placed on the editor, Jose Antonio Rojo, but that doesn’t release Paul Naschy from his responsibility of the screenplay or direction.