Old Testament Horror

The horribly disfigured Dr. Anton Phibes was three things before that car crash back in 1921. (He was racing to the hospital to be by his wife’s side who died to death on the operating table before Phibes could get there.) 1. He was an expert in theology, the study of God and religious gunk. 2. He was an expert in music, and even built a robo-band in his secret hideaway to accompany his piped organ. 3. He was a master of revenge, setting ingenious traps inspired by the Old Testament’s ten plagues of Egypt on the doctors who failed to keep his gorgeous wife from freshness expiring. It’s clear who Jigsaw’s mentor is.

Even though he was presumed dead, Phibes somehow managed to survive and has plotted his plot every since. He can’t talk as he drank a fiery gasoline cocktail that fried his larynx. But he can stick a plug into his neck that runs into an speaker to converse through his damaged yapper. Clearly, Tom Waits has a mentor.

Phibes also has a hottie assistant named Vulnavia who is mute, the best kind of assistant to have. They conspire to track down the physicians and exact vengeance in the corresponding ten plagues, which includes – but is not limited to – bats, frogs, locusts and…dripping acid. I’m not up on bible stuff, but if Moses used acid on the Pharaoh, that would totally kick scripture.

One by one the doctors are luridly discharged from life, while Phibes celebrates by blow-torching wax head likenesses of his victims. His robo-band – Dr. Phibes’ Clockwork Wizards (cool name; I’d buy their album) – provides a nice big band jazz-y soundtrack. But all of this is forming clues as apparent to Scotland Yard’s Inspector Trout. (Insert your own joke here.)

Phibes, though, is saving the best death for Dr. Vesalius, the head physician who preceded over Victoria’s failed surgery. Capturing Vesalius’ son, Phibes straps the boy to a surgical table in the basement of his mega-mansion, with a coiled tube full of skin-melting acid making it’s way towards the boy’s unhappy face. Vesalius is called to the trap and has six minutes to surgically extract a key from the unconscious boy’s torso, which will unlock the locks holding him to the table. (You may recall this similar scene employed in 2004’s Saw.)

While Vesalius is operating and sweating like an Old testament pig, Phibes, through his robo-throat, confesses what this is all about. His ultimate goal is to seal himself in a coffin that holds his wife’s preserved body in a shiny pajama robe, and descend under the floor of his mega-mansion while Vulnavia destroys the Clockwork Wizards. (She need not bother; music critics already did that, calling their music “stiff and lifeless.” Ouch.)

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) is great black horror comedy, raising the bar on revenge and giving an homage nod to The Phantom of the Opera (1925). Better yet, I hear the unspeaking Vulnavia is single – mute button included.

Frankenstein vs. The Mummy

Frankenstein vs. The Mummy. I think they mean Frankenstein’s Monster vs. The Mummy. Frankenstein was a scientist who beat up people with his brain. Frankenstein’s Monster threw little non-bouyant girls into lakes. Nevertheless, a nice mash-up between two reanimated dead flesh bags to be enjoyed by all.

Arriving February 10, 2015, Frankenstein vs. The Mummy has a plot that sounds like a WWE pay-per-view: “Dr. Victor Frankenstein and Egyptologist Naihla Khalil are both professors at a leading medical university. Victor’s latest grisly “experiment” is the re-animated corpse of a sadistic madman, and Naihla’s most recent find is the cursed mummy of an evil pharaoh.”

“When the two monsters face-off in an epic showdown, no one is safe from the slaughter. Can the murderous rampage be stopped and the carnage contained before it’s too late?”

Lest ye forget, Frankenstein’s science experiment has battled many a monster throughout history, starting with Frankenstein Meets The Wolfman in 1943, ripping arms off in Dracula vs. Frankenstein in 1971 and kicking fur in a wrestling re-match in 2011’s brilliantly campy Monster Brawl, in which Mr. Stein takes on a werewolf in the squared circle.

But for sheer brass knuckle-headedness, you might check out 1965’s Frankenstein Conquers the World, with a 50-foot Frankenstein’s Monster going hammerlock to hammerlock with Baragon, one of Godzilla’s punching bags.

So who won in each of these battles? We, the viewers.