Dementia / Daughter of Horror (USA, 1953-55) 61 min B&W DIR-SCR: John Parker. PROD: John Parker, Ben Roseman, Bruno VeSota. MUSIC: George Antheil, Shorty Rogers. DOP: William C. Thompson. CAST: Adrienne Barrett, Bruno VeSota, Ben Roseman, Angelo Rossitto, Shelley Berman, Ed McMahon (narration in 1955 version).
Anyone who has seen The Blob may recall the scene at “the midnight spook show” where people are watching a movie in the theater, just before the red glob of Jello oozes through the movie projection booth onto the terrified patrons. Then you see the crew-cut teenagers running out the front door, underneath the the marquee exclaiming Daughter of Horror (somehow, Bela Lugosi’s name is also in the marquee, but forget that). Those curious images seen on the big screen before the blob’s entrance were indeed pulled from Daughter of Horror. And for many, this scene was their introduction to a unique film whose history is equally curious.
It is a completely original work that recalls other forms of cinema, yet shaped into something wholly unique. Its sensational story full of visceral horror, borrows its chiaroscuro look from film noir, yet has a fragmented dream-like structure owing more to underground experimental films. If one can imagine a marriage of B-movie horror directed by Fritz Lang and Maya Deren, then one gets a sense of this film’s unique feel.
Adrienne Barrett plays a woman who awakens in a hotel room from a bad dream. She puts a knife in her pocket and goes out. The neighbours are being visited by the police, likely over a drunken domestic dispute. She gets a newspaper with the headline “MYSTERIOUS STABBING”. Although she throws the paper away, it continues to “follow” her in numerous scenes. She laughs at a policeman beating a wino. She is persuaded by another man (in between being dogged by the newspaper again), who brings her to a limo whose passenger is a portly rich man (played by prune-faced B-movie bad guy Bruno VeSota). While riding in the car, she has a flashback (or a dream): a black-cowled figure (Death?) shows her the graves of her parents, and suddenly there materializes visions of her drunken father shooting his wife over her infidelity. She in turn stabs her father. In the present, the gamine and the rich man have a night on the town, and then they go to his high-rise apartment. He makes advances at her (even offers money), yet she stabs him with the knife and he plunges to his death. Remembering his hand had grabbed her locket before he fell, she goes down to retrieve it… by hacking off his hand from his corpse. She seeks sanctuary in a jazz club, and just when she thinks all is safe, everyone in the club points to the window. The fat man is at the window laughing, shaking his bloody stump. Everyone in the club begins to laugh as well. And then…. well, you’ll just have to watch the movie.
The film’s dreamlike structure is enhanced by the elliptical narrative that owes more to avant garde cinema than matinee horror. Its true inspiration lies in the “trance film” of the 1940’s, typified by works of Maya Deren, Kenneth Anger and Curtis Harrington, in which a character walks through a film in a dreamlike state, having encounters that are more figurative than realistic. Another interesting characteristic of these films is that the narrative usually ends where it begins, only to add another dimension to the peculiar goings-on. In Daughter of Horror, time happens all at once, perhaps all within one fleeting impulse of the protagonist’s damaged brain.
Even more unique, the film is told without dialogue. Its soundtrack consists of rubbery sound effects and most importantly, music by avant-garde composer George Antheil, haunting wordless vocals by Marni Nixon, and jazz inflections by Shorty Rogers (also seen in the night club sequence). Therefore, the need to tell its story visually is enforced, and the Freudian subtext is thusly relayed in symbols. And while admittedly Adrienne Barrett may not have the acting prowess to carry such a difficult role, the technical crudity and non-acting simply add to the film’s underground inspirations.
Dementia / Daughter of Horror has an unusual history further adding to its enigma and uniqueness. Writer-producer-director John Parker was allegedly a theatre owner who decided to break into the business, and for the lead role, he hired Adrienne Barrett, his secretary. When Dementia was completed in 1953, he shopped the film around to little interest (its absence of dialogue likely hurt its commercial appeal). And then the movie was re-released in 1955 with the title Daughter of Horror, featuring narration by none other than Ed McMahon! (The beginning of this version shortens the masterful opening pan, and inserts an out-of-focus medium close shot of some death-like figure uttering the sometimes campy, spaced-out dialogue.) But still, the film’s visual experience thankfully overpowers the limp narration.
The superb, shadowy cinematography is by William C. Thompson, whose history adds to the uniqueness of this odd-duck movie. Thompson was the cameraman for Dwain Esper’s infamous 1934 scare film Maniac, and then at the other end of his career, Ed Wood’s immortal Plan 9 from Outer Space! With its technical crudities and low-budget production values, this Grade Z movie nonetheless emerges as “ART” with its superb design, stunning visuals and a structure unusual for American narrative cinema.
Further adding to its mystique, it has been suggested by more than one writer that there really was no such person as John Parker, and instead the movie was really the brain child of co-star Bruno VeSota (who is also credited as associate producer). While VeSota is best remembered as being a sleazy villain in such drive-in classics as Attack of the Giant Leeches, it is tempting to believe this allegation, especially in consideration of the few films that VeSota also directed. When this character actor made that rare sojourn to the director’s chair, the results were unique, to say the least. The Lawrence Tierney film noir Female Jungle, the atmospheric budget sci-fi The Brain Eaters (based on Heinlein’s novel, The Puppet Masters) and the spoofy Invasion of the Star Creatures give evidence of a unique talent, with unusual framing and interesting visual ideas, yet perhaps none as expressive as the images of Dementia / Daughter of Horror.
The highlight of this superb film is the stunning graveyard sequence. Putting a living room set on a cemetery ground is pure brilliance. Dementia is a one-of-a-kind movie that remains a monumental achievement, and could have made John Parker one of the greats (whoever he was). Daughter of Horror is in the public domain, and was originally on Something Weird VHS. Kino International released both films on one VHS or DVD (the latter featuring some nifty extras about the film’s unusual history and mystique.
This review is a combination of pieces I wrote for ESR #5 way back in 2002, and a later article for Broken Pencil.