Horrors of the Black Museum (1959)

Wow, this is a REALLY bad movie!

It's not great by any means, but it's a pretty good movie that didn't leave me filled with regret for investing time in it.

At first rather annoying in its heavy emphasis on reenactments, this movie ultimately proves fascinating, simply because the complicated, highly dramatic tale it tells still almost defies belief.

While it is a pity that the story wasn't told with more visual finesse, this is trivial compared to our real-world problems. It takes a good movie to put that into perspective.

After Hammer (and The Curse Of Frankenstein in particular) had opened the door for grislier and gorier horror films, it wasn't long before more films appeared which sought to capitalise on this new-found cinematic bloodlust. Horrors Of The Black Museum is, for its time, a notably unpleasant chiller in which a demented serial killer does away with a number of London women in various gruesomely imaginative ways. Good film it ain't – the stretches between the murder set pieces are extremely stodgy and dull – but it remains more-or-less watchable thanks to a few interesting touches, more of which will be said later.Superintendent Graham (Geoffrey Keen) of Scotland Yard is trying desperately to solve a series of bizarre and violent lady killings in London. His efforts are further undermined by the ridicule of the press, most significantly crime columnist Edmond Bancroft (Michael Gough) whose scathing criticism of the police in the affair may not help the cause much, but sure sells a lot of newspapers. It soon becomes apparent to the viewer – though not to Superintendent Graham, unfortunately – that Bancroft himself is the killer. His home contains a strange dungeon-like room full of nasty historical torture devices and murder weapons, and he himself seems to have an unhealthy obsession with death. To aid him in his ghastly crimes Bancroft has employed hypnosis to control a young assistant, the weak-willed and unhappy Rick (Graham Curnow). Rick is secretly involved in a relationship with a pretty young woman named Angela (Shirley Anne Field)… when Bancroft learns of this he is furious, believing that Rick's romantic dalliance with the woman may be the one chink in his murderous plan. He sees their romance as something that must be dealt with as swiftly and ruthlessly as possible.As mentioned earlier, there are a couple of touches which raise the film above the gutter. One is Gough's extraordinary unrestrained performance as the madman Bancroft. This may well be Gough's finest hour within the exploitation genre - he enjoys himself something rotten as the fiendish villain of the piece. The other is the imaginative murders, which include such delights as spiked binoculars and a home-made guillotine. Although not especially shocking by modern standards, these killings were probably quite horrifying back in the fifties. It's such a shame that in most other areas the film is a considerable let-down. The characters are boring overall; the dialogue is hopelessly wooden; the plot doesn't hold up to close scrutiny. Worse still, the extended American print incorporates a deadly-dull 12 minute monologue about hypnotism, delivered in monotonous tones by a laughably uptight doctor prior to the "real" film getting underway. This lengthy and wholly pointless segment should be avoided – if you do end up viewing a version that includes it, just skip through to the main feature (you won't miss anything). Horrors Of The Black Museum is generally a misfire - albeit a misfire with occasional points of interests - and is just about worth a look for Gough's maniacal and energetic lead performance.

Call me crazy(and many do!)...I have a thing if you will for Michael Gough - the Third-rate Horror King! Konga! Black Zoo! Horror Hospital! Berserk! Trog! Satan's Slave! He did these - and a few more - whilst being a proper, mainstream British actor. He really did have quite an amazing career. Here again, Gough overacts his way as a crippled author way too interested in some murders in Londoin involving weapons he knows are in the police's infamous arsenal of murder weapons - their Black Museum. Watching Gough oil his way through scenes, bark out orders or diatribes about some silly nonsense, accentuate his crippled affectation, or just leer or look condescendingly on some poor unfortunate person make this film work for me. Made in 1959 the film does have some grizzly murders: a pair of murderous binoculars. A bedroom mini-guillotine. Fantastically large ice tongs. The murders are, for the time, quite bloody. Producer Herman Cohen, who would work on many of the above films with Gough, always knew how to put a good show on for the audience. This film is no different. As always in these films, the acting far exceeds my expectations. Gough is Gough. He is the film's main attraction in my opinion. You just got to love that voice and that bi-colored hair! But the supporting players are all very decent with Geoffrey Keene doing a very serviceable job as a police inspector. He was in many of the Bond pictures post 1970. Gerald Anderson is good as a physician. Grahmn Curnow is interesting as Gough's murderous assistant. Not great mind you. Then there is June Cunningham as Gough's mistress. First, let us say that she is sexy. Very sexy. Blonde. Buxom. What more could you want? If you said nothing more, then good because that is exactly what you get. Cannot act at all. But the scene where she belittles Gough is a great scene just for the humor - mostly unintended and its sleazy aspects. What about the scene where she mugs for the camera shamelessly dancing by herself. It was very, very funny. Now, we come to what was the most painful aspect of the film. The 13 minute Hypnovision lecture by eminent hypnotist Emile Frachel. He is long-winded, boring, and repetitive. I was almost hypnotized to turn the film off. The only thing I saw at all in the subsequent film that dealt with Hypnovision was the ways some scenes would fade with red, because we were taught in that 13 minute opus that colors mean certain things. YAWN! Anyway, I enjoyed this film. It is better than some might have you think. It is fun and entertaining. It has Michael Gough. He may not have been one of the mainstream horror icons, but he has a place there in my heart and memory.

This terrifically terrible 60's exploitation flick gets upgraded to cult status via a deliciously demented performance by the unparalleled Michael Gough. Known for his over-the-top turns in many genre films, Horror Of The Black Museum is a perfect exemplification of Gough's non-stop twisted maniacal facial expressions run rampant. Its impossible to take your eyes off of him in any scene he is in. But that is not where the fun ends. There are several fiendishly nasty (although highly improbable) killings and a ridiculously retarded dance number by Marilyn Monroe wannabe June Cunningham that will stay in your mind long after the credits have rolled. This is one of those films that can be enjoyed by both us hardcore B- horror junkies and our "normal" friends. The plot? A horror/murder writer with a secret wax museum housing articles involved with local murders is always one step ahead of the police. Find out why when you buy your ticket to The Black Museum!

Some viewers seeing this movie decades after it was made may never have seen the thirteen minute prologue that was tacked on for American audiences. If at all possible, try to see this version. The lecture/demonstration on hypnosis by Dr. Emile Franchel is more entertaining than anything in the movie that follows it. Dr. Franchel does his best to convince the audience that anyone can fall under the spell of a hypnotist, especially those people who claim they can't be hypnotized. He experiments with making the audience feel cold, then hot, and to resist the overpowering urge to yawn when you see someone else yawning. The actual movie starring Michael Gough is likely to keep most viewers awake, even if the film is dated. The shocking violence that occurs at the beginning sets the tone for the rest of the picture. There are parts that seem unintentionally funny at times, but the overall impact is pretty disturbing. It has less to do with the murders and torture machines than the truly sick and twisted character of Edmond Bancroft, played by Gough. It's hard to define, but he brings this repulsive character to life almost too convincingly. You actually begin to believe that he is the monstrous character he's playing. The film isn't very remarkable, aside from Gough's performance, except as a peek beneath the surface of respectable English life in the Fifties.SPOILERS AHEAD: I don't know if anyone else has ever noticed this, or will agree with my theory, but I get a very strong and uncomfortable suggestion of an unhealthy homosexual relationship between Bancroft and the young man who assists him. The older man's possessive nature, his fury at finding the young man kissing his girlfriend right in the Black Museum that Bancroft has previously described as being their own private world, his raging denunciation after the young woman has left that women can't be trusted with secrets, and especially the scene where Bancroft acts fatherly in a creepy way. He tells his young assistant that it's really his own fault for not having given the lad his injections often enough, and proceeds to dose the passive youth with some kind of drug, telling him it's for his own good. There is something way beyond creepy in these sequences, though whether it was intentional or not, I couldn't say. This infamous cult film should be seen at least once, just out of curiosity, but be warned, it leaves a pretty bad taste in the mouth.