The blazing color Cinemascope production is only one thing that sets this terrific horror flick apart from other 1950s creature features. There’s also its lovable insanity, which seasoned B-movie director Kurt Neumann sustains up to the famous and outrageous conclusion. The opening scene charges forth posthaste. The setting: An after-hours grimy industrial factory, all metal and pipes and hoses. The situation: A nightwatchmen hears the hydraulic press working late at night, goes to check it out and finds the ghastly remains of a crushed man dripping everywhere (the audiences of 1958 must have freaked). The twist: Running away from this blood bath is a posh woman (Patricia Owens) in a nice pea green dress and who looks like she has no business being anywhere in this place.
And it just gets weirder from there as the woman calmly confesses to the killing (Pancake Head was her scientist husband, played by David Hedison) and seems perfectly out of her mind in several different ways, up to launching into a screaming panic when her maid kills a fly. A flashback that takes up most of the film efficiently fills in the back story, takes its time and goes in for shocks at all the right moments.
Meanwhile, though Vincent Price is the headliner, his character sits on the sidelines. He’s the guy who gapes at the madness. His value comes mostly from his mere presence and how we don’t trust him, no matter how many milquetoast moves the script gives him.
One more cool thing: This movie treats its science as dark and mysterious. 1950s sci-fi/horror movies are FULL of scientists. Typically, they get their moment to dryly explain the origin of whatever menace is at hand and then outline the solution that they figured out on their chalkboard. I call it “The Mr. Wizard Scene” and it sometimes grinds these movies to halt.
Not so here. The scientist in this movie doesn’t explain shit. The day-glo light show that happens when he turns on his matter transporting invention matters more than any dialogue. When the plot thickens and the heat comes on, the movie sticks a muzzle on him and leaves us with the desperation of a woman who probably has no idea what the difference is between a neutron and a proton. The science of it all is left up in the air, like a fly that escapes our attempts to swat it.
Underneath its gloss and weirdness, this is a human story about letting go. That’s why it’s aged so well.