THE KILLER SHREWS: Iconic late-1950s, mini-budget scare-fest gets classy DVD release

If you suspect, as did I, that the late-50s horror movie THE KILLER SHREWS might turn out to be a killer snooze, not to worry. This old movie, said to be one of Stephen King's favorite horror films, is an interesting watch for several reasons. First, of course, there are those "giant shrews," which look an awfully lot like dogs costumed up to resemble what the movie-makers imagined might pass muster as monsters. They don't. Which is part of the fun. TrustMovies believes that he saw this film in its original theatrical incarnation back when he was a teenager -- or maybe caught it later on TV. More than a half century after, watching it again proved a surprisingly enjoyable trip down memory lane.

This is mostly due to the fact that the movie makes a near-perfect stand-in for so many of the cut-rate horror/monster films of that era. And in fact it may even have been a tad ahead of its time. From the opening scene (above), at sea, with the skipper and his more-or-less first-mate exchanging what passed at the time for witty repartee in movies like this (three years later, the first James Bond movie would raise action-movie repartee to new heights), we can't help but notice that that mate is a black man. Aside from Sidney Poitier movies, this was unusual for its time, and although -- yes, indeed -- the black man is the first victim of the monsters (a cliche now so imbued into our culture that it is referenced in every third horror film), at the time black men were seen seldom enough on screen that this first-death cliche had not yet fully come into being.

The monsters' second victim, by the way, is the Hispanic caretaker,so you can rest easy in the assurance that Hollywood has, as ever, understood the pecking order very well. The story is simplicity itself: The little boat arrives on an island to pick up some passengers. But due to an oncoming storm/hurricane, the boat must dock and its crew spend the night rather than removing the handful of people from the island. Why those people are so desperate to be removed is soon explained: they're scientists who have been experimenting on "nature" (never a good idea, right?) and in the process have created these mutant shrews (above) -- which the movie goes to great lengths to explain the nature of (the usual shrew info: vicious killing machines that must eat their own weight in live food every few hours, etc.).

Yes, there is a pretty girl involved (the daughter of the lead scientist, who, even though everyone is about to be eaten, insists on changing her clothes for dinner: It's that kind of movie), a villain (below: the cowardly would-be lover of the pretty girl), and another hard-working scientist (shown further below), who is, of course, expendable. Watching the movie unfurl, like the clockwork thing it is, proves fun, too, showing us how little has changed, plot-wise down the decades. The big difference between now and then are the special effects and the gore quotient. There's no CGI involved, so these "shrews" have to be scary on their own. Or at least funny. Which they are. And the gore? There ain't none. None at all. Deaths happen behind trees, or in the shrubbery, well out of our view. Compare this to what is thrown at us now, and you may find yourself more grateful for the grade B horror of this era.

The film's director, Ray Kellogg was known primarily for his special effects work, including Marilyn Monroe's movies (Don't say it! Those boobs were enhanced?) -- which, ironically, is the least convincing part of this movie. The cast -- pretty much unknowns, with the exception of leading man James Best (who is still going strong today!) -- is serviceable, as is the dialog and direction. This is the kind of film that could be made over a very short time, would be expected to turn a tidy profit, and often did.

The leading lady, pert and blond Ingrid Goude (center, three photos above), was a former Miss Sweden, and provides the sole bit of pulchri-tude in the movie. Otherwise, it's those dog-gone shrews that offer the major entertainment value in this zircon-in-the-rough from bygone days.

Hitting the street this past Tuesday, November 11, The Killer Shrews has been digitally restored via the Film Chest Media Group, and the restoration is pretty good, particularly given that most viewers will not expect pristine visuals from this kind of film. Running a thankfully short 69 minutes, the movie carries a reasonable price tag of $10 suggested retail. Maybe Netflix or some other streaming/digital sources will carry it, too, so the rental market will be served.

Kevin Smith, an old-hand at humor, now tries mixing it with horror in the rock-bottom TUSK

As a long-time fan of the work of Kevin Smith -- from Clerks and Chasing Amy through Zach and Miri Make a Porno and Red State -- it pains me greatly to declare his newest film, TUSK, the worst movie I've seen all year, maybe several. How could this happen? Has Smith's sense of humor, crazy and transgressive as it is, utterly deserted him? Was it this venture into the world of crappy special effects-laden schlock that did him in? Or the use of a very hoary story, so thick with cliché (that he never manages to upend)? Or, worst of all, is it due to a certain very famous actor playing a character called Guy LaPointe (ostensibly playing himself and credited as such), who is so dreadfully unfunny as to stop the proceedings dead in their tracks (and then leave them there)? Tusk is, above all, the What-were-they-thinking? movie of the new century. This film is so bad that it will have you wishing the upcoming apocalypse would occur immediately, just to put you out of your misery.

Mr. Smith, shown clowning at left, apparently has lost all sense of what works and what doesn't for an intelligent audience, or even for one that just wants dumb laughs and/or scares. He's au courant, as usual, in his choice of the profession of his "hero" -- a podcaster, played by Justin Long, who specializes in the crass and crappy. Mr. Long, below, is an actor I have always enjoyed, and this is literally the first time I've seen him give a bad performance. He's rude, crude, ugly -- and loud as hell. Granted, he's playing a not very likable fellow, and considering what is going to happen to him in the course of the movie, we wouldn't want to find ourselves identifying with him much. Even considering all this, Mr. Long gives an utterly two-note performance: first playing asshole, then playing victim.

The filmmaker manages to telegraph just about everything that happens along the way, thus draining suspense and chills from the menu. (This is quite a sadistic movie, however, and that quality remains throughout.) While Long manages some chemistry with his leading male co-star -- a rather heavily weight-gained Hayley Joel Osment (below, left), playing his friend and business partner, he has absolutely none with his would-be paramour, played by Genesis Rodriguez (below, right, and at bottom).

The plot finds Long's character in Canada, tracking a story for his podcast that suddenly disappears, leaving him needing a new one -- which he finds via a handwritten letter posted on the bulletin board of a local bar. Heading to the story's source, he is confronted by a wheelchair-bound Michael Parks (below), another actor I always enjoy. Except here, where he brings the art of blathering to new depths. (When you find yourself several steps ahead of the story and cast in terms of plot and performance, things can really grow boring.)

And then, with the introduction of the main supporting character, that would-be private detective, Guy La Pointe, the movie simply dies right in front of you. This character -- played about as badly as possible by a famous actor, the identify of whom I will not give away -- is so poorly conceived and executed that what is clearly supposed to be funny dies on the vine. There's nary a laugh to be found. Instead, things grow thuddingly slow, repetitive and tiresome. (Perhaps the actor in question imagined he was creating some sort of bumblingly humorous character, the likes of which Peter Sellers might have played. Sorry, but no dice.)

Was Kevin Smith trying to make something new and different here? I expect so. The movie is full of idiot  flashbacks that are there to help make us care. We don't  And when the film goes for full-bore horror, the effects are so ridiculous that we laugh instead of gasp.Worse, I actually believe that Smith wants us to be moved a bit by our hero's plight in the final reel. This is really embarrassing. Watching a tear form in the eye of what Mr. Long's character has become proves one of the nadir moments in cinema history.

One enormous misfire, Tusk (released via A24) embarrasses everything and everyone it touches. The horror/fantasy genre would appear to be one in which Mr. Smith ought not to dabble. But if you crave a view of what utter failure looks like, you can see it tomorrow, Friday, September 19, at half a dozen theaters in New York City, and a bunch more in the Los Angeles area. And probably elsewhere, too.