By John Seal

June 4, 2003

Night of Bloody Horror (1969 USA)
Paragon Home Video
The story: Wesley Stewart has been released from the State Asylum after a thirteen-year term for accidentally shooting his younger brother. He comes home, and a series of grisly murders begin. Is Wesley the killer, or is someone else wielding the bloody axe?

The film: Shot in New Orleans for a pittance, Night of Bloody Horror is a typical low budget regional film of the period. Regrettably, the film doesn't bother to take advantage of any Big Easy locations and simply opts for anonymous interior footage and dark nighttime scenes. Taking a page from the William Castle play book, distributors Howco informed patrons that they would be awarded $1,000 should they die from fright during the course of the film's gruesome murder sequences. No word on whether dying from boredom would also qualify viewers for the prize money.

Night of Bloody Horror occupies an odd transitional niche in the development of the slasher genre, lifting many of its plot devices from Hitchcock's influential Psycho (1960) whilst unconsciously anticipating the sexual revenge ethos of the genre kickstarted by 1971's Blood and Lace and fully developed in 1978's Halloween. The film tips its hand early, with Wesley bedding his girlfriend Susan Collins, an unattractive blonde with too much eye shadow. Once the two have consummated their passion, Wesley clutches his head in agony and we're introduced to the cinematic symbol of his illness, a swirling animated pinwheel. He also experiences some confusing and poorly filmed flashbacks to his childhood, the point of which aren't particularly clear. Shortly after, Susan attends confessional, where a heavily cowled monk hears her tale of premarital sin, tells her that "your penance is…DEATH!", and proceeds to dispatch her with a well placed knitting needle to the eye.

The police immediately suspect the troubled Wes but can't pin the crime on him, so we next meet him a year later, drinking himself to oblivion in a bar where he stupidly flashes a sizable bankroll in front of a pub patron who looks suspiciously like comic Andy Kaufman. How Wes has earned so much money is never explained, and is just one of several illogical incidents the film uses to advance its flimsy plot. Big bushel of Andrew Jacksons aside, the Stewart family home is no mansion, and Wes doesn't seem to hold a job. Moments later, he's mugged outside the bar by the doppel-Kaufman and his gang. Luckily (and almost immediately), off-duty nurse Kay Jensen arrives on the scene and takes Wesley home, where she tends to his wounds and beds him. In what must be one of the most rapid examples of love at first sight, the two become an item. Cue scenes of candlelight dinners, beachside walks, and romantic interludes in the park, all accompanied by some rather cheesy Bert Kaempfert-style instrumental music.

These blissful scenes are sadly interrupted, however, when Kay is murdered with an axe as she takes a nighttime sojourn on the beach. Naturally, we aren't shown who is holding the axe, and the scenario tries to imply Wesley's guilt, but if you've seen more than one or two or these films, you already know he's not the murderer. Disturbed by the turn of events, Wes's mother Agatha summons Dr. Moss, the psychiatric specialist responsible for his original hospitalization. Moss's advice to the police is succinct: "Just because the boy spent thirteen years in the asylum doesn't make him a murderer!" That's not enough to save the good doctor, however, who, as he parades around the Stewart household in a nifty paisley nightgown, becomes the next victim of the marauding murderer. The film is in desperate need of red herrings at this point, but doesn't bother to provide more than one, leaving the balance of the film dull and unsatisfying. In an inept final scene, the police arrive at the scene of the crime and the killer's true identity is revealed in none too convincing fashion.

The cast and crew: Remember Major Dad? Neither do I, but apparently it was a moderately popular television series that lasted for four seasons. Gerald McRaney was the star of that show, and he's also Wesley Stewart in Night of Bloody Horror, where he tries to apply Brando-style method acting to the lousy script and paper thin scenario. He's not terrible, but he's no Anthony Perkins, either. Dr. Moss was played by Herbert Nelson, an actor best known for stints on soap operas like Days of Our Lives and The Guiding Light. Director-writer-producer Joy N. Houck Jr. has had a long if erratic career of independent film work, including the Mickey Dolenz-starring slasher film Night of the Strangler (1972 USA), Shadow of Chikara (1977 USA), and The Big Easy (1987 USA). There's a dissonant electronic music score that remains oddly uncredited, and most of the other music seems to have been recorded from LPs - you can distinctly hear surface noise, for example, on the public domain lullaby that ends the film. The rest of the cast and crew are strictly of the local dinner theater variety.

Nostalgia value: If you have happy memories of sweltering summer nights at the drive-in, this film is for you. Fans of '60s music may enjoy the extended barroom scene, which features a grungy Vanilla Fudge type band called The Bored. The Bored feature a short-haired singer-guitarist who looks like he just got out of the Army, but the rest of the band members look suitably freaky, especially during the solarized freak-out scenes where the popular zoom feature of the camera gets a workout.

The print: With a film this shoddy, you really can't assume it ever looked much better than it does on this videotape. Some scenes feature dirt on the lens that would have been re-shot by filmmakers who gave a damn. The sound is tinny and was obviously recorded on a single live microphone, and the cinematography is uniformly dark, with occasional scenes accidentally assuming a Bergmanesque patina of shadow and light.

DVD prognosis: Grim. About the only company likely to take on the difficult task of making Night of Bloody Horror a marketable commodity is Something Weird, and they have many far superior titles in their catalogue awaiting restoration.

Ratings:

Print: C. Bad, but could be worse.

DVD worthiness: D. Unless the Gerald McRaney International Fan Club raises a holler, this one is a long way from a digital upgrade.