Hobbled Regalscope Horror Makes its way Back to the Land of the Living
DIRECTED BY CHARLES MARQUIS WARREN/1957
BLU-RAY STREET DATE: MAY 21, 2024/KL STUDIO CLASSICS
A frustratingly mixed bag of supernatural transference, 1957’s largely obscure Back from the Dead is finally available in an impressively pristine high-definition version. Shot in evocatively wide Regalscope (basically black and white CinemaScope; shot with CinemaScope equipment but rebranded) the film marks Western director Charles Marquis Warren’s only foray into ghost story territory.
Based on a far more sexually horrific novel The Other One by author and screenwriter Catherine Turney, Back from the Dead is a sometimes atmospheric, sometimes regrettably anti-atmospheric grownup spook show. In it, we find vacationing married couple Dick and Mandy literally on the rocks (the California cliffside setting with its loud crashing waves is utilized rather well, though only as need be) as their getaway is promptly, gravely upended.
Following a debilitating seizure that causes the pregnant Mandy (a sensual Peggie Castle) to miscarry, she becomes aggressively possessed by the spirit of Dick’s (Arthur Franz in an uncommitted boat anchor of a performance) heretofore unspoken-about first wife, Felicia. Over the course of this aspiring b-picture’s seventy-nine minutes, we learn the evil, if vague, truth as to why. Thankfully Mandy’s sister, Kate (the smartly reliable Marsha Hunt) is along for the trip, providing the narrative springboard that this struggling adaptation needs.
Apropos to the uneven nature of the finished product (I’d say that Back from the Dead is 2/3s a success, with the other 1/3rd hopelessly narratively compromised), the musical score by Raoul Kraushaar manages to be both evocative and irritating. True to the then-contemporary mainstreaming of such electronic music, it’s some sort of ultramodern theremin-driven composition. Its bombastic main theme (too much for the vibe of the film it’s in service of) is played in-world on vinyl at a key moment, understandably driving the characters nuts in different ways.
In resurrecting Back from the Dead from cinematic obscurity, KL Studio Classics provides two new audio commentaries, each hosted by self-proclaimed “Monster Kids”, but with very different perspectives on this film. First up is film historian Tom Weaver with one of his fully produced efforts replete with guest appearances by his knowledgeable buddies Gary D. Rhodes and Larry Blamire. Blamire is the one to seize upon the ways that Back from the Dead surprisingly prefigures Hitchcock’s Vertigo. This aspect, forever unconfirmable as to whether Hitchcock may’ve seen this in its initial run, is one of the most tantalizing postulations the film offers.
Weaver, a showman in his own right, is always a fun listen as he creatively goes back to filmmaker and star interviews which he conducted decades ago. That said, Weaver darn near hobbles any newfound appreciation for Back from the Dead, as he’s clearly not a fan. Perhaps the terribly negative experience interviewing the male lead Arthur Franz, recollected in detail on the track, has further colored his perception of this admittedly compromised movie?
The other commentary, just as listenable and informative if less showy, features film historians David Del Valle and Dana M. Reemes. Del Valle and Reemes appropriately sink their teeth into the nuts and bolts of Back from the Dead without sparing criticism where warranted. Reemes provides very interesting comparisons to the far more explicit and overtly disturbing novel. They go down quite the intriguing rabbit hole in contrasting such racy and twisted 1940s and ‘50s literary sources to their “handcuffed” (Del Valle’s term) film adaptations.
The occultic core of Back from the Dead, so limply realized by a filmmaker who’s clearly out of his element, really can’t help but be a big part of the movie’s unavoidable drawbacks. Yet, Peggie Castle, making the most of her challenging dual roles, elevates the thing, nudging it into satisfying spells of widescreen ethereal horror. Being able to view it in its native “Regalscope” for the first time in who knows how long is the real draw, as unlike Charles Marquis Warren’s other, far worse, 1957 horror effort, The Unknown Terror (also newly available from KL Studio Classics as part of its “Sci-Fi Chillers” triple feature), this film has its visual moments. They’re inconsistent, almost supernaturally invading an otherwise tepid piece, but they truly haunt it.