THE MASK (1961)
aka EYES OF HELL
Directed by Julian Roffman
Rhino VHS
THE FILM
Forget about Mick Jagger and his
19 nervous breakdowns. Somebody
beat him to it.
On the surface, The Mask
doesn't seem like much. A psychiatrist
puts on an ancient Indian mask,
gets cruel, and faces the subsequent
music. Original, but straight forward.
Then you watch it. I won't mince
words. This film will knock your
shoes off. And your socks.
Help me fantasize. Coffin Joe has
hopped a freight train to the set
of a generic crime thriller. On
the way, he picked up snippets of
a Herschell Gordon Lewis score,
a couple of masks from Georges Franju's
beautiful Eyes Without A Face,
and ten pounds of dry ice. Then,
he hired somebody else to handle
the 3-D special effects. Yes, 3-D.
We can stop with the fantasy now.
This isn't too good to be true.
The Canadian produced Mask
is an experimental gasser trapped
within the confines of a bland,
yet functional framework. It's an
obvious trailblazer in the realm
of spooky, hallucinogenic horror
and a magnificent feast for the
eyes of bizarre film followers.
Hurry, before our time here runs
out: "Put on the mask...NOW!"
After losing a disturbed patient
to the throes of suicide, psychiatrist
Dr. Allan Barnes (Paul Stevens)
receives a strange package in the
mail. It's from the ex-patient,
Michael Radin. Before offing himself,
Radin ranted to Barnes about his
insatiable urge to wear a stolen
museum mask, one that "brings
out the evil in a person...and magnifies
it!" Now, that relic lies in
Barnes's hands, a gift from beyond
the grave. A reverbed voice bellows
an order. Allan is forced to comply.
He places the mask on his face.
The addiction begins, with both
film and audience. Allan dons the
mask. We don the 3-D glasses. We're
then bombarded with some of the
most surreal imagery this side of
70s-era Luis Buñuel, just
served in a spookhouse setting.
And in 3-D, even! Like any good
heroin addict, Doc Barnes becomes
a slave to the veil. Strangling
hands, promiscuous lust, escalating
obsession...he's headed straight
for the loons. That is, if the rubber
snakes don't get him first.
It's true: the storyline surrounding
The Mask's exalted nightmare
sequences could use a little No-Doze.
But then again, wouldn't anything?
Director Julian Roffman (The
Bloody Brood) throws all of
his pennies into one fountain; the
only one that counts. Loads of low
budget 1960s genre films take advantage
of nightmarish situations (Manos,
The Hands Of Fate and Carnival
Of Souls, just to name a deuce),
but none can touch the indescribable
visual heights of The Mask.
The film is cheap, yet smart, placing
full emphasis on exploiting the
frantic special effects. If the
plotline holds room for a kick in
the rump, so be it. The acting is
exceptionally tight and that disproportion
in excitement only adds to our anticipation.
The Mask is the greatest
nervous breakdown I've (n)ever witnessed.
If only my own nightmares could
be this good.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
This is a very clean print, with
nice blacks and only the slightest
softness from the usual VHS wear
and tear. The mono sound was being
difficult. Dialogue was sometimes
buried, sometimes booming. As for
the 3-D sequences, they worked intermittently
with the enclosed glasses. You've
got to take what you can get.
EXTRAS
The Mask is part of Elvira's
"Midnight Madness" series
of tapes from the early 90s, which
were all released by Rhino. To you
and me, that means an intro and
outro from Ms. E, plenty of boobie
jokes, a trailer segment hocking
other titles in the series, and
a shot on video gorilla explaining
the ins-n-outs of the 3-D process.
I'll take it!
FINAL THOUGHTS
Equally stunning and frightening
on a visual level, The Mask
is one of the most impressive black
and white genre oddities of all
time. Revisits are a must. Find
a copy immediately.
— Joseph A. Ziemba, 02.23.06 |
Losin' it
She's the one
Two for flinching
The mask
|
