Devil Doll/Curse of the Voodoo

Devil Doll/Curse of the Voodoo
1.66:1 – 1964/65 – 81/77 Min.
Vinegar Syndrome – Blu-ray
Starring Bryant Haliday, Yvonne Romain, Dennis Price
Written by George Barclay
Lance Z. Hargreaves, Brian Clemens
Directed by Lindsay Shonteff

Born in New York in 1928, Bryant Haliday’s better-than-average education included a stay at a Benedictine monastery and a stint at Harvard where he studied law. His professional endeavors included The Seventh Seal, Rashomon, and Curse of the Voodoo. Most of these things are not like the others.

Founded in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1871, The Brattle Theater was taken over in the early 50s by Haliday and fellow Harvard alum Cyrus Harvey Jr. who began screening world cinema to unexpectedly packed houses. The duo parlayed their success into a supply house for high art: Janus Films, founded in 1956, became the premiere resource for Kurosawa, Truffaut, and Godard on American screens before transitioning to American living rooms as the prime force behind The Criterion Collection—the art house come home to roost. At the same time he was getting Janus on its feet, Haliday dabbled in acting thanks to his friendship with producer Richard Gordon. The two worked together on standard shockers like 1971’s Tower of Evil but their collaboration had already reached its dubious pinnacle with 1964’s Devil Doll. That film, along with Curse of the Voodoo, is part of a smashing new Blu ray set from Vinegar Syndrome.

Directed by Canadian born Lindsay Shonteff, Devil Doll is the tale of a sinister ventriloquist and his unmanageable dummy. The film had a special allure for impressionable movie fans thanks to the distracting presence of London-born bombshell Yvonne Romain and an unusual promotional gimmick; in each city, no matter how small, local ads promised a special phone message from the film’s would-be villain, Hugo, a demonic Jerry Mahoney with a mind of its own.

That dummy summed up the movie’s peculiar attraction; Hugo’s bizarre design, with its crooked grin and oversized ears—like a twisted version of Alfred E. Neuman—was the stuff of nightmares. But it’s Haliday’s leering performance that gives the film its memorably debauched atmosphere—with his ravaged, pock-marked face, Haliday suggested a modern-day Dorian Gray in the midst of rotting. Wearing an ill-fitting postiche impossible to miss in cinematographer Gerald Gibbs’ looming close-ups, we’re supposed to believe this seedy lounge lizard is a lady killer, and in one respect he might be: Haliday plays the stage hypnotist and magician “The Great Vorelli,” whose miniature partner in crime may be possessed by the soul of a murderer.

Shonteff was able to put together a distinctive supporting cast including the well-traveled William Sylvester (Gorgo, 2001: A Space Odyssey) as a nosy reporter and the inimitable Francis de Wolff (Scrooge, Hammer’s The Hound of the Baskervilles) as a hapless physician. European fans were treated to a few minutes of unexpected of nudity featuring some woebegone strippers but it’s left to Haliday and the unforgettable Miss Yvonne to kill the dull spots. Devil Doll is, if not Janus Films material, at least a worthy precursor to the sleazy pleasures of 42nd street a decade later. 

The second film on Vinegar Syndrome’s new Blu ray is presented as an afterthought and there’s no mystery as to why they might play down Shonteff’s uniquely bad Curse of the Voodoo, Aka Curse of Simba, Aka Voodoo Blood Death. 

Haliday stars as a big game hunter named Mike Stacy, a tortured soul who kills a lion in the land of Simbazis, a tribe that worships the beast. The local witch doctor is out for revenge, even hounding him back to London where Stacy’s own demons nearly do him in, let alone the supernatural avengers bent on his destruction. To break the curse he must return to Africa and make peace, not just with the Simbazis but himself. If this storyline rings a bell, it’s extremely similar to a segment called Voodoo in that same year’s Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors in which a jazz composer is on the run for stealing sacred music.

Once again Shonteff attracted name talent even if the bloom was off the rose; Dennis Price—far from his glory days in Kind Hearts and Coronets—is Major Lomas, a man who knows his way around the bush country (in this case the wilds of  London’s Regent’s Park). The screenplay was by a slumming Brian Clemens in the midst of his heyday as screenwriter for The Avengers, and a few of Hammer’s memorably quirky treats including Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter and Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde—no wonder he used a pseudonym (Tom O’Grady) on Curse. 

Vinegar Syndrome’s presentation of both films is better than it has a right to be, the 4K transfers for each film are immaculate and razor sharp. Gibbs did the cinematography for Curse of the Voodoo as well and the result reveals the efforts of a consummate pro (Gibbs probably had fonder memories of his work on Sidney Furie’s The Leather Boys, Leslie Norman and Joesph Losey’s X – The Unknown, and Robert Day’s The Green Man).

Devil Doll and Curse of the Voodoo have been newly scanned & restored from original camera negatives, and Vinegar Syndrome has gone the distance with the extras too—including multiple commentary tracks from writers/film critics Kim Newman and Barry Forshaw on Devil Doll and an archival commentary track with producer Richard Gordon and film historian Tom Weaver.

Curse of the Voodoo features a commentary track from film historians Rod Barnett and Adrian Smith and an interview with the film’s editor Barrie Vince. In a segment called “Traditions and Legacies,” Kim Newman expounds on Curse of the Voodoo and “Casting a Spell” finds writer and film historian Jonathan Rigby chatting up Devil Doll. For the terminally prudish there’s alternate footage of Devil Doll‘s nude scenes in which the performers are well covered up for stateside audiences—no sex please, we’re Americans.