Behold this mindless monster duo from the Feelin’ Fine summer of ’59, Texas- produced and ready to tear up drive-in screens. THE GIANT GILA MONSTER is truth in advertising, plus you get hot rods, non-rebellious teen rebels, and gospel-folk ‘rock’ music to accompany the hungry lizard with the flippidy flippidy tongue. The second show is a tense ordeal: seven unlucky folk withstand the onslaught of THE KILLER SHREWS, the really nasty kind that chew through walls with razor teeth to reach their prey. They’re like piranhas out of the water, with rat tails! James Best and Ken Curtis battle shrews and fight over Swedish Ingrid Goude, too. It’s a two disc set with a wealth of extras.

The Giant Gila Monster + The Killer Shrews
Blu-ray
Film Masters
1959 / B&W / Street Date September 26, 2023 / Special Edition / Available from Film Masters / 19.99
Starring: Don Sullivan, Fred Graham, Lisa Simone, Shug Fisher; James Best, Ingrid Goude, Ken Curtis, Gordon McLendon, Baruch Lumet.
Cinematography: Wilfrid M. Cline
Film Editor: Aaron Stell
Written by Jay Simms
Executive Producer Gordon McLendon
Produced by Ken Curtis
Directed by Ray Kellogg

The 1950s were amazing boom years for America, and new media moguls sprang up everwhere there were radio and TV stations to promote. Gordon and B.R. McLendon of Texas built one radio empire, sold it, bought others and spread their influence through a fistful of industries. They were perfecting the promotion of ‘Top 40’ radio when they caught the movie bug, an effort that eventually made Gordon a key movie ad man and a big studio shareholder. The McLendons started out small, by making two drive-in movies in the popular ‘monster double bill’ format begun five years earlier with Roger Corman and American-International Pictures.

Technically these were ‘regional’ efforts, yet McLendon imported established Hollywood talent, some of whom had ties to the famous director John Ford. The fad of the cheapie monster double bill was on the wane, but the investment carried little risk: McLendon also owned forty theaters spread across the South.

Film Masters presents the McLendon monster duo in a two-disc special edition, with special extras to appeal to nostalgic fans of unpretentious monster fare.

The Giant Gila Monster
1:85 widescreen + 1:33 Open Matte / 74 min.
Starring: Don Sullivan, Fred Graham, Lisa Simone, Shug Fisher, Bob Thompson, Janice Stone, Ken Knox, Gay McLendon, Don Flournoy, Cecil Hunt, Stormy Meadows, Howard Ware.
Cinematography: Wilfrid M. Cline
Production Manager: Ben Chapman
Special Effects: Ralph Hammeras, Wee Risser
Art Designer: Louise Caldwell
Film Editor: Aaron Stell
Music: Jack Marshall
Stunts: Fred Graham
Screenplay by Jay Simms
Executive Producer Gordon McLendon
Produced by B.R. McLendon, Ken Curtis
Directed by Ray Kellogg

Seeing the credits on Gordon McLendon’s drive-in chillers, we wonder if the busy magnate asked John Ford to recommend some of his Hollywood associates to help whip up some fast, professional movies. Director Ray Kellogg was strongly associated with Ford, and a multi-faceted problem solver with ten years of credits in visual effects. Co-producer Ken Curtis was an established singer and actor, and Ford’s son-in-law.

The most interesting connection is Jay Simms, a writer credited with the screenplays of both of McLendon’s horror features. He went directly to TV work, and in 1962 scored solo credit on two very interesting science fiction pictures, Panic in Year Zero! and The Creation of the Humanoids. Simms also scripted John Ford’s final film, a documentary about a highly decorated Marine Corps General.

The Giant Gila Monster is the more conventional of the two films. With its medium-sized cast and numerous locations, it likely took most of McLendon’s budget. It rides in on the coattails of the ‘teen angst’ sub-genre, although everything about it reflects McLendon’s conservative philosophy. The teens are squeaky-clean, the ‘rock’ music tends more toward songs for a church camp, and the most extreme social content is a sheriff’s concern that ‘the kids’ might be having sex. He’s of course correct in his worry: the movie begins with the killing of a teen couple making out in a hot rod. We told you that behavior led to trouble.

The setup is an idealized, sanitized take on the rural Texas town situation depicted in The Last Picture Show. Song-writing, guitar-playing garage mechanic Chase Winstead (Don Sullivan) is the unofficial leader of ‘the gang,’ nice kids that frequent the malt shop and the drive-in, and obey the speed limit in their hot rods. When young Pat Wheeler and his date disappear, Pat’s father (Bob Thompson) puts the pressure on Sheriff Jeff (Fred Graham) to find them. The assumption is that the teens have eloped. But more odd mysteries trouble the lonely country roads. As the town’s tow truck driver, Chase helps Sheriff Jeff try to figure out why car skid marks go sideways and luggage is left abandoned at the side of the road. Then a tanker truck explodes and a train is derailed, and all bets are off.

The Giant Gila Monster’s wholesome values reflect the producer’s taste and eagerness to avoid censorship — many Southern communities were just beginning to relax their bans on rock ‘n’ roll and delinquency movies. ‘Discovery’ Don Sullivan plays an earnest but colorless snitch. He polices his gang’s morals and activities for the Sheriff, yet is the most popular guy around. Chase works to help his polio-afflicted sister (sniff!) get the braces she needs to walk. Some of his music is light ballad stuff that doesn’t know if it’s rock or folk. Sullivan wrote the songs himself, and the lyrics are often quoted in ‘Bad Movie’ critiques:

“And the Lord said, ‘Laugh, Children Laugh’ …”

This is the most noteworthy film credit for the French- born Lisa Simone, whose Hollywood career consisted of a few glamorous walk-ons. She had previously played a moon girl in Richard Cunha’s dire howler Missile to the Moon. Here the charming Simone plays Lisa, a French girl somehow plunked down on the Texas plains. She has a bright smile but not much to do beyond be ‘the girlfriend.’  Why the sophisticated Lisa would be hanging out with Chase Winstead is anybody’s guess.

Much of the movie is turned over to the older actors, especially Hollywood pros Fred Graham and old Shug Fisher, who takes up too much space as a comedy-relief drunk. These ‘teenagers’ are way too old — Ms. Simone was 24 and Don Sullivan was pushing 30. The polite and well-mannered gang is fairly appealing, and Don Sullivan’s serenade to the little girl in leg braces is corny, but honest. A fresh note of sincerity is present — these teens don’t come off as TV-ready pros, as do some of the snarky ‘kids’ in Bert Gordon’s Earth vs. the Spider.

About those special effects — veteran Ralph Hammeras had many sterling credits but was also the monster-wrangler on the notorious groaner The Giant Claw. The work for Gila Monster is obvious and unexciting. We see competent close-up photography of a beaded lizard crawling, sticking its tongue out and being pushed through some unconvincing shallow-focus miniature sets. We recognize a Fleishmann HO-scale model train in the laughable wreck sequence. Most of the tabletop miniature shots of the low-profile lizard are DOWN angles, which doesn’t make it look big.

The screaming teenagers a-feared of being gobbled up never share the same frame with a threat that a five year-old could outrun. The one 100% successful angle is a much-repeated insert of a giant Gila claw slamming down and blacking out the screen. The lizard’s entrances lack editorial suspense – it just shows up, and the music score adds the menace.

We have to hike up our pant legs to wade through the BS of the opening narration, which assures us that the ‘vast Southwest’ still has large unexplored regions devoid of life of any kind. The only nod to pseudo-scientific reason is the Sheriff’s casual remark that industrial pollution creates thyroid problems. More concern is spent on the job of policing the back roads. Should Chase be allowed to ‘appropriate’ headlights and tires from wrecked cars retained as police evidence?  I want Pat Wheeler’s car radio!

The Killer Shrews
Blu-ray
Film Masters
1:85 widescreen + 1:33 Open Matte / 69 min.
Starring: James Best, Ingrid Goude, Ken Curtis, Gordon McLendon, Baruch Lumet, Judge Henry Dupree, Alfredo de Soto.
Cinematography: Wilfrid M. Cline
Production Manager: Ben Chapman
Art Designer: Louise Caldwell
Film Editor: Aaron Stell
Music: Harry Bluestone, Emil Cadkin
Screenplay by Jay Simms
Executive Producer Gordon McLendon
Produced by Ken Curtis
Directed by Ray Kellogg

The co-feature in Film Masters’ special edition is the better movie, even if neither show scores high on critical charts. With its tiny cast and ‘survivors under siege’ format, The Killer Shrews overcomes some of its production and effects shortcomings with a rational, problem-oriented screenplay. Every 10 year-old can ponder the practical task of avoiding being eaten by three-foot fanged shrews. No matter how screwy things get, we’re curious to see who comes out of this one alive.

That’s shrews, not ‘shrooms, by the way. Although Ray Kellogg’s The Killer Shrews isn’t much when compared to George Romero’s horror siege Night of the Living Dead, it achieves some good claustrophobic scares with its limited resources.

Charter boat captain Thorne Sherman (James Best of Shock Corridor) and his first mate Rook Griswold (Judge Henry Dupree) arrive at an isolated island just ahead of a big storm. The island’s bio research outpost has already been cut off for a week. Researcher Dr. Marlowe Craigus (Baruch Lumet) is disappointed that the storm won’t allow Thorne to evacuate his daughter Ann (Ingrid Goude), who wants to get away from the lab assistant Jerry Farrell (producer Ken Curtis). She’s broken off their engagement because Jerry has become an irresponsible alcoholic.

Rook stays with the boat. Thorne joins Craigus, Ann and Jerry for drinks (and more drinks) back at the lab. He meets Dr. Radford Baines (producer Gordon McLendon), an absent-minded scientist fixated on his research. The storm blows in as Jerry’s obnoxious boozing reveals him angered by Ann’s interest in Thorne. Only later does Thorne learn why the lab building is surrounded by a tall fence. Radford and Craigus are breeding shrews to be even smaller — something about solving the overpopulation problem — and a mistake by Jerry has loosed some genetically unstable shrews into the island’s woods. There are now 200 of the oversized muthers out there, famished and looking for food.

We hear lots of talk about the incredibly voracious nature of the common shrew. These killers can’t climb but they can dig, as proven when they get into the barn and eat the livestock. By the next day three people are dead, one of them from a shrew bite — their venom is fatal. Survival is complicated by the incredibly cowardly Jerry, who first tries to ambush Thorne with a shotgun, and then locks him outside the lab compound as the shrews close in.

The Killer Shrews’ survival ordeal is pretty good, but the shrews themselves have earned little respect among fans. Shrew close-ups are done with scary puppets, manneqins with beady eyes and giant fangs. Director Kellogg manages a couple of excellent ‘Boo’ surprises when the vicious, screaming little b______ds pop up without warning. The shrew puppets look great gnawing their way into the lab, digging holes in the plaster & cinder block walls. These shots are similar to a scary sequence in Alfred Hitchcock’s  The Birds, when hordes of invaders scratch and peck their way into Rod Taylor’s house.

Pooch Panic Bingo!

The deal-breaker are the mastershots of groups of shrews running through the woods and ganging up at the lab gate — they are obviously small dogs dolled up in rugs and headpieces. They move like dogs, not rodents, and is that a wagging tail we see?  Although the wolf pack / shrew pack onslaught makes for good action, the ‘attack of the terriers’ will strike many viewers as the funniest thing they ever saw.

Jay Simms must have dashed this story off in just a few days. We wonder if the name ‘Craigus’ had some personal meaning for Simms, because he uses it again in his ambitious The Creation of the Humanoids, one of our favorites. Among the actors, only James Best does much with his stereotype, a ‘thoughtful macho.’ His Captain Thorne gets his share of cringe-worthy dialogue and behavior. He drops a few sexist remarks that Ann seems to welcome, especially at the painful finale when he assures her that he’s ‘not worrying about over-population.’ It’s a mutual wink-wink nudge-nudge moment.

Ingrid Goude’s Hollywood career was also a series of unrewarding walk-ons. Her voice sounds re-dubbed, perhaps by herself. Ann’s elegant manner seems misplaced in the film’s shack-like single set. For the convenience of the plot, the thoughtful Ann inconsistently avoids telling Thorne that he’s walked into a death trap. By contrast, the actions of Ken Curtis’s Jerry make sense, it’s just that his cowardice is wildly overacted. Kids in matinees must have applauded when that rat Jerry Farrell gets his.

There’s also a racist tint to the checklist of who will and who won’t survive. Mario is marginalized as a dolt. He becomes shrew chow without his employer even bothering to tell him that, you know, a deadly siege is underway. Likewise, nobody tells poor Rook anything either, a bit of criminal negligence that insures a horrible death for Thorne’s first mate. Rook serves much the same function as the black character ‘Quarrel’ in the 007 film  Dr. No — he’s colorful but expendable.

We still admire the show’s ambition; the siege structure functions even when the dramatics are risible. Gordon McLendon assembled an odd group of actors. Besides taking a fun role himself, McLendon augmented his cast with what were likely personal friends. Yiddish theater great Baruch Lumet made few movies until this crazy stint; during the 1950s he was running both the Dallas Institute of Performing Arts and the Knox Street Theater in Dallas. Judge Henry Dupree may have been a McLendon employee, and also a Dallas real estate man. The Swedish Ms. Goude balances the French Ms. Simone from the other movie. Was McLendon purposely tagging multiple ethnic bases?

McLendon himself reportedly reads the ominous opening narration. Contradicting the idea that the shrews were lab-created in Wuhan on the island, the voiceover copy says they migrated from Alaska. Did the writer pick Alaska ’cause it’s the only state bigger than Texas?

Film Masters’ Blu-ray of The Giant Gila Monster + The Killer Shrews will be a very happy surprise for monster-show fans who have only seen older Public Domain copies. Early announcements gave the idea that Shrews might be a lower-quality ‘extra.’ It has instead been given the same top-quality scan and remaster as its Jumbo Lizard co-feature. Very pleasing for this collector is the attention given to Aspect Ratio on both pictures. Each can be seen in an original 1:85 theatrical format. For insomniacs that know the movie from vintage NTSC midnite movie broadcasts, each is also present in a full-frame open-matte version.

The images are in excellent shape — the sources are very good. I saw only one splice in Shrews, and a single brief shot is replaced by an inferior source. Otherwise, no complaints whatsoever. The soundtracks are sufficiently clean for us to appreciate the music soundtracks (Gila uses a theremin) and the roars and nervous chatter associated with the monsters.

An Amazing Kong-Like Monster!

Film Masters goes in for standard special edition extras. A docu on director Ray Kellogg assembles trailer snippets to chart his career. We also get an uncut 90-minute 2009 audio interview with star Don Sullivan, unfortunately recorded over a thin telephone connection. It’s a lot of obscure information yet qualifies as worthwhile key source research. We also get a trailer and a selection of original radio spots. Gordon McLendon could hype the double bill on his radio stations, and show them in his own drive-in theaters.

The films are given complementary audio commentaries. Gila Monster wins the ‘party’ track, full of cheerful wisecracks from The Monster Party Podcast, the perfect group to raise the spirits of isolated monster fans. The free-association banter drops in nuggets from the IMDB, but also identifies some of the hot rod cars on view . . . I want them all.

Killer Shrews scores just about the best audio commentary for a ‘regional’ ’50s production I’ve yet heard. Author and academic Jason A. Ney is an ace on noir thrillers, the only commentator to consistently match Alan K. Rode for well-organized & relevant research. In this case we get the best of both worlds. An exhaustive research file on Gordon McLendon and Shrews was provided by Tom Weaver. Ney presents it well and adds his own informed judgment and sense of humor. Some anecdotes about McLendon are fascinating. The monster double bill earned Five Times its negative cost in Texas alone, and Ney theorizes that McLendon abandoned film production when his interest shifted to politics. There’s even a flaky but very real JFK assassination connection, through a McLendon associate and tangentially through Jack Ruby. The very busy mogul likely touched bases with every notable ever to come through Dallas.

Early on Jason notes a mastershot of the island’s dock, and says that it’s so handome that it might be a matte painting. We’re guessing that it IS a matte painting, for sure the sky part and maybe the distant shore as well. It sticks out much more in low-grade PD copies. An alternate theory: if cameraman Wilfrid Kline wanted to doll up a blank sky, he could have resorted to using a special sky glass matte mounted in front of the camera. It would just add some wispy clouds. Wilfrid Kline may have carried a box with 10 different glass sheets . . . too bad there wasn’t one to suggest a threatening, stormy sky.

The illustrated insert pamphlet (24 pages) has an article on Gordon McLendon by Don Stradley, and a second essay on the heritage of Killer Shrews in copycat productions and remakes, by Jason A. Ney.

The review image up top is from the highly collectable one-sheet for The Killer Shrews; when I asked my mother what made mice and rats so frightening to her, she always mentioned their horrible naked tails. The corresponding artwork for Gila Monster is completely outclassed.

Reviewed by Glenn Erickson

The Giant Gila Monster + The Killer Shrews
Blu-ray rates:
Movies: Gila Fair, Shrews Good-Minus, but both Entertaining
Video: both Excellent
Sound: Excellent
Supplements:
Ballyhoo featurette Ray Kellogg, An Unsung Master by C. Courtney Joyner and Larry Blamire
Audio Commentary for Gila Monster by Larry Strothe, James Gonis, Shawn Sheridan, and Matt Weinhold of The Monster Party Podcast
Audio Commentary for Killer Shrews by Jason A. Ney
Archival interview with Don Sullivan, by Bryan Senn
Illustrated insert pamphlet with an essay on Gordon McLendon by Don Stradley and Killer Shrews by Jason A. Ney
Original trailer for Gila
Original radio spots.
Deaf and Hearing-impaired Friendly? YES; Subtitles: English (feature only)
Packaging: Two Blu-rays in Keep case
Reviewed: October 27, 2023
(7018gila)

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