B-Movie Masterclass : The Killer Shrews – Film Review by Jason Ney
– [Jason] Hello, my name is Jason Ney. I’m a professor of literature and film, as well as a writer, and
I’m happy to have the chance to talk with you about this low-budget, late-’50s blend of science
fiction and horror. I might as well get this
out of the way first. Yes, this film enjoys the distinction, or notoriety perhaps, of being riffed by Mystery Science Theater 3000. I bring that up now to let you know that I will not
be taking that approach with this track. The folks at that show are
very good at what they do, and I’ve been a huge fan of their work since I was a teenager, but if you want to listen to
someone joke about this movie throughout its running time, I encourage you to check out
MST3K Season 4, Episode 7. On this track, I’ll be
playing it mostly straight, by breaking down specific scenes, talking about the people
who made this film, getting into the behind-the-scenes details of its production
history, its distribution, and critical reception,
explaining where it fits under the larger umbrella of 1950s sci-fi, and how it has, over the decades, become a cult favorite
for the connoisseurs of this kind of movie. I also played it safe and didn’t go back and watch that MST3K episode
in advance of the screening because I didn’t want it to
color my judgment in any way. Now, speaking of my own
personal judgment of this film, I should say at the outset here that I will not be arguing this is some forgotten masterpiece and
that its many critics have gotten it all wrong. When measured by many of
the traditional metrics we use to distinguish good films from bad, this movie’s bad. But that doesn’t mean that
it’s not entertaining. Because, like so many
low-budget films from this era, in its own campy way, it is. This establishing shot was most likely filmed on Lake Dallas in Texas. And then we’ll move into a close-up, which is clearly shot while these two men are not actually out on the lake. Here, we get our introduction
to Thorne Sherman, who’s played by James
Best, and Rook Griswold, played by Judge Henry Dupree. I’ll talk about both men later. For now, because it will
provide a foundational understanding for everything
that I will discuss later, I think it’s important to first talk about the man who willed
this film into existence and who also plays Dr. Radford Baines. This movie marked a brief sojourn into filmmaking for one of
America’s most important figures in the history of radio broadcasting. Gordon McLendon’s nickname
was the Maverick of Radio, and his life story makes for
a truly fascinating tale. McLendon, who was born
and spent a good chunk of his childhood in Texas,
developed his interest in radio when he was still in high school. After attending Yale and
briefly considering a career in law, he ditched that plan and, after serving in World War
II, returned to the States and pursued his first
love of broadcasting. Over the decades, he would
eventually amass a giant network of stations and a giant fortune. But before all that, when
he was just a broadcaster in the late 1940s, he
made a name for himself, literally, by creating a character called the Old Scotchman who
broadcasts, quote-unquote, “live calls of baseball games
from around the country.” There were only three problems with this. The Old Scotchman wasn’t real,
the broadcasts weren’t live, and the sounds of the
game his listeners heard in the background weren’t
from the actual games. What he did was recreate the games from the ground up for broadcast. In his Dallas studio,
he’d get the game stats via Western Union wires just minutes after they’d actually happened and then use them as a template
for what the Old Scotchman would say, while he filled in the background noise
with pre-recorded sounds. You might be wondering why he did this, rather than just buying the rights to rebroadcast the local
market’s announcers. Well, at first, he couldn’t afford it, but then Major League
Baseball told him he couldn’t, so he just decided he’d do it himself. You can see how he got the
nickname the Maverick of Radio. This is definitely the most beautiful shot in the entire film and a
rare moment of aesthetically pleasing composition that
follows the rule of thirds. With a background that
captures the clouds in the sky, the island in the distance, and the gentle waves while
foregrounding the dock, it almost looks like a painting. I know this film has gotten knocked over the years for its
at times glacial pacing, but in this case, I don’t mind
that we linger on this image. Note the upcoming dialogue,
the script bombards us with a ton of nautical lingo
in the opening moments. (cheerful music) – Oh, she’d ride like a duck. If she swings too far to
starboard, we might have to take a checkline to shore. Hey, Rook, take a slant up that trail. – [Jason] Okay, back to McLendon. During his baseball broadcasts, he was truly committed to verisimilitude. He had four record
players at his disposal, all with crowd noise
recorded at various levels, so if, say, a player hit a home run, he’d play a recording
of a crowd going wild. If he wanted to have someone in the stands at a Yankees game heckle a player, he had recordings he’d
made in every baseball town in the country at the ready,
so the accent of the heckler would match their supposed location. He’d crack a stick in his studio against something to mimic
the bat-striking the ball, and he’d take the mic into the bathroom to get a better echo when playing the part of the PA announcer. And he had no problem duping
his listeners because, after all, it was coming
from a good place. He wanted to entertain
all the baseball fans who were tuning in. His programs eventually
eclipsed the popularity of the local broadcasts of real games and became the first
nationally broadcast games across his Liberty Broadcasting Network, reaching an estimated
30 million listeners. In 1951, he even won the America’s Outstanding
Sports Broadcaster Award from the Sporting News. But baseball owners
hated what he was doing because his broadcasts
were more entertaining than the real thing. When fans who’d only heard the Old Scotchman’s highly
dramatic recreations eventually showed up to watch
a game in person, owners said they left disappointed
and went back to listening to his broadcasts, which
hurt their ticket sales. But this practice of
out-of-market announcers recreating games from almost
up-to-the-minute stats delivered via teletype
eventually kept catching on with other folks getting in on the act. And one of those individuals who announced those recreated games was none other than future
president, Ronald Reagan. Once, when someone asked McLendon if he felt any guilt over the
ruse, he responded, quote, “This kind of question infuriates me. “I was happy as hell to be able
to entertain our listeners. “What harm is there in
making 100,000 people “happy on a hot summer afternoon?” End quote. Here’s our first glimpse
at the ramshackle building where these low-rent
scientific experiments are taking place. I’ll get into some of
the problems the cast had with this set later on
once we move inside it. Eventually, competitors who broadcast the real games caught
up, and with the cooperation of Major League Baseball, which
had been looking for a way to muscle McLendon out, were able to put the Old
Scotchman out to pasture. But that wasn’t before he
helped launch the careers of broadcasters who called the real games, including legendary Dodgers
announcer Vin Scully. – You’ve been out of communication for more than a week, Captain. – Can’t it be fixed? – It’s totally out of commission. – My assistants. Mr. Farrell, Jerry Farrell. (ominous music) (door bangs) – Father, perhaps the
Captain would enjoy a drink. – Well, of course. Will you join us in a cocktail? – Well, I’ve never been known
to turn down a drink yet. – [Jason] And thus begins an
astonishing amount of drinking. Despite the demise of
his baseball broadcasts, McLendon had learned how to pivot into a more diversified product offering, and along the way he’d
been buying up stations around the country. At its peak, his company
owned 458 radio stations. He popularized the Top 40
format for music programming and started the first
all-news radio station. In the early ’60s, when
the government-approved British radio wouldn’t play rock music, including The Beatles,
McLendon got his hands on a retrofitted old
fishing boat that had been turned into a seaborne radio station, parked it off the European
shoreline, and blasted rock and roll into the
continent’s radio sets. While this was his idea, he
wasn’t the only one to do this, and a fictionalized
version of that history would be turned into the
2009 movie “Pirate Radio.” – Well, to each his own. If you have to be isolated for your work, you’ve picked a lonely little island. – Excuse me, please, I think I’ll change. – [Jason] As clumsy as it is, that serves as an important interaction
since, as the first time Sherman unsuccessfully hits on
Anne, it establishes her discomfort with him
and begins the oppositional character arc of their
eventual love story, if you could even call it that. The script certainly doesn’t strain itself to craft well-rounded characters. Ah, there’s Gordon McLendon. He was a true innovator in radio. He invented the live traffic report, on-the-spot reporting done
live out in remote locations, and the ad jingle, just one
element of his expertise when it came to marketing. He invented all sorts of
radio calling contests and other promotional stunts. And that ad work led to
his interest in filmmaking. But before we get to that here, enjoy some scientific mumbo-jumbo. – I’d like you to meet
Captain Thorne Sherman. This is my other
assistant, Radford Baines. – How do you do? – Two new litters since lunch, Doctor. Both support GT-116. – That’s good, but, uh… – We can breed them to the 205
group in about three weeks. But I’d prefer to wait and
expose about half of them to the Hoskins factor first. If you agree. – [Jason] I thought it
would be interesting to compare the scientific
ideas about shrews presented in this film to the scientific
realities of actual shrews. However, before I get into this, I want to make it clear that
I am not a scientific expert. I didn’t even make it
through the first semester of my pre-med major before realizing, mostly due to my plummeting GPA, that the world would be a much
safer place if I immediately abandoned my half-baked pursuit of becoming a medical doctor. But thankfully, I can
here rely on the work of Mark C. Glassy, who has written about the scientific facts versus fiction in this film
in not one, but two books, “The Biology of Science Fiction Cinema” and “Biology Run Amok: “The Life Lessons of
Science Fiction Cinema.” – Think what would happen if you could isolate and identify the
inherited fact in each gene. – Now, wait a minute, I’m afraid I’m not very
good with pure research. – This is practical research. Generally, among mammals,
the smaller the size, the higher the metabolism
and the shorter the lifespan. – Is that right? – Well, I’m attempting to
decrease the size by maintaining a low metabolism and result
in a longer lifespan. – What reason? – Overpopulation. Not a problem now, but it will be in time. (shoes clacking) If we were half as big as we are now, we could live twice as long
on our natural resources. – [Jason] Okay, there’s
a lot to unpack here. And there will be more from Craigis about the shrews in a few minutes. So, first, does the film
get the characteristics of a shrew correct? Well, here’s how Glassy
describes a real shrew. Quote, “Shrews are small
mole-like mammals that have “a long, sharp snout, spike-like teeth “and veracious appetites and
unusually high metabolic rates. “Shrews must eat 80-90% of
their body weight every day. “Dr. Craigis exaggerates they must eat “three times their own
weight every 24 hours. “Shrews have poisonous saliva “and their bite can be fatal to humans. “Bitten humans can die
of hemotoxic syndrome “from shrew saliva.” End quote. Okay, now what does Glassy
claim the film gets right? Well, he says that even
though it’s an exaggeration, the general idea of a shrew needing to eat its own body
weight per day is correct. Quote, “With mammals,
especially small ones, “their body size is a problem. “This mostly has to do with maintaining “homeostatic body temperature. “Since mammals are warm-blooded, “they generate a lot of body heat. “And this usually
dissipates out of the body “through natural openings
and pores in the skin. “The bigger the mammal, “the more insulation there
is from the body’s mass. “This insulation helps to
maintain the body’s internal heat. “Small mammals, like the shrew, “have to consume a lot of food
to maintain their body heat “because they have very little “insulation to keep the heat in. “This is why the shrew and others, “like the kangaroo rat,
have to constantly eat. “As Craigis correctly says, “among mammals, the smaller the size, “the higher the metabolism and the shorter “the lifespan,” end quote. He also says that Craigis using shrews for his experiment subjects because of their short
lifespan tracks as well. Quote, “This is one of the
main reasons many biomedical “students use small rodents. “Because of their short
breeding times and the ability “to analyze traits over relatively
short genetic distances. “All of this is a reflection
of real science and well done.” End quote. – Progress, doctor! This is the sole survivor of Group 30. 28 months old today. – Well, it’s equivalent
to 140 years to us. – That’s right, yet it still
maintains low metabolism without any sluggishness. – It’s not the breakthrough, but it certainly sets our course. Radford, suspend series 52 through 96, and we’ll concentrate on the rest. – What is that? – It’s a Sorex soricidae. – Looks like a small rat. Smells like a skunk. – (chuckles) They have
musk glands in their knees. These little fellows are our subjects. They have a birth cycle of 10 to 14 days. And using them, we can establish traits. We can trace the progressions through a number of generations
over a short period of time. – [Jason] Now, that I’ve discussed
what the film gets right, it’s time to cover what it gets wrong. A big flaw in Craigis’ reasoning
is linear extrapolation, which Glassy identifies as a common flaw in the supposed
science in sci-fi films. Quote, “Attributes are
expected to remain the same “when organisms increase
or decrease in size. “This is simply not true. “As an organism significantly
increases its body mass, “it does not have the same
movements nor appetite. “Conversely, as an organism
significantly decreases “its body mass, “it has more mobility and
must feed more frequently.” End quote. As Glassy points out,
“Craigis’ idea that shrinking humans to half their size so
they would live twice as long is simply not borne out
in the real world already. Quote, “If true, then dwarves
and other small people should “be able to live twice as
long as fully grown adults.” End quote. And obviously, this doesn’t happen. Also, the dialogue in the
film suggests that the mutant shrews are eating way too
much food for their size. – Breeding animals, a lot like the mole. They feed only at night,
unless they’re starving. And when they are hungry enough, they’ll tackle anything,
regardless of size. – Okay.
– Mm-mm. If you leave two of them
in the cage for 12 hours without food, the stronger
will eat the weaker. – Like cannibals.
– Precisely. – [Jason] As Glassy puts it, quote, “That is a diet for a whale,
not a dog-size shrew.” End quote. A couple of other problems. Craigis doesn’t seem to
understand what a gene is because he mentions isolating and identifying the inherent
factor in each gene. But a gene itself is an inherent factor. This would be like
saying you wanted to find and isolate the apple within the apple. And finally, the poison
the mutant shrews ingest wouldn’t stay in their salivary glands. It would pass through their
body and get digested. So later on, Mario shouldn’t be killed by the poison in this way. So overall, a mixed bag when it comes to presenting the science. But frankly, the fact that
it got any of it right was more than I was expecting. – I’ll get you one. – [Jason] Here come another drink. In 1954, McLendon started
contracting with movie studios, which paid him to craft radio
commercials for their films. And that eventually got him thinking. In June 1959, Variety ran a
feature article and interview with McLendon that begins
with his musing, quote, “If we can sell pictures,
we can make pictures.” End quote. Because he owned six radio
stations in the Dallas area, as well as a lot of
drive-in movie theaters, McLendon figured that if he made pictures with low enough budgets and blanketed his own radio
stations with ads for them, which would effectively be free airtime, he was all but guaranteed to
make at least his money back and then some just on
Texas showings alone. To this end, he formed a company called McLendon Radio Pictures, and in the Variety piece readily admitted that he didn’t have, quote, “The vaguest idea of what I’m doing, “but I’m trying to learn.” End quote. He also admitted he wished he knew more about how to distribute
films into foreign markets. Part of his plan to get
the films out of Texas and into theaters around the country involved ads in the industry trade papers. When Variety ran its review
of “The Killer Shrews,” he took out a full-page ad on
the opposite page that read, quote, “Dazzling in Dallas,
fabulous in Fort Worth. “‘Killer Shrews’ and
‘The Giant Gila Monster’ “shatter all-time interstate house record. “For booking information,
contact McLendon Radio Pictures.” End quote. I’ll talk more about that
production and financials later. McLendon told Variety he planned to make as many as a dozen films, all with budgets between
$75,000 and $150,000. And he’d started making
moves in that direction. In addition to this film and
“The Giant Gila Monster,” he made a kids’ movie
called “My Dog, Buddy.” And he wasn’t afraid to put
his money where his mouth was. He forked over half a
million dollars for 500 acres in the Lake Dallas area and
spent another quarter million building a combined
studio and living space, which he called the Cielo Studio. Part of his plan involved casting people with at least some name recognition, but who were still affordable. To this end, he signed
former beauty pageant winners with little to no acting experience. Former Miss Sweden, Ingrid
Goude, is in this film, and former Miss France, Lisa Simone, is in “The Giant Gila Monster.” Goude won Miss Sweden in 1956
and then headed to Hollywood, where she signed a brief
contract with Universal. By the time she made this
film, she had gone freelance and had about a dozen
credits under her belt, mostly small roles scattered
across TV and film. In 1962, she married Jerry Orbach, and no, not the actor from “Law & Order.” Orbach was president of his
family’s department stores. He was 54 and already had five kids from two previous marriages, so at age 25, she became
a very busy stepmother. She retired from acting and went on to have four kids of her own. As of this recording, I believe she’s the only cast
member who’s still alive. And McLendon also cast himself, not just as a cost-saving measure, but because he said it would, quote, “Give it a little more name value “because I am well known in
many states as a broadcaster.” End quote. This is definitely a time
capsule moment, capturing an era when just a sizable majority
of Americans smoked. And then, here comes jealous
Jerry, played by Ken Curtis. This love triangle dynamic is one of the film’s funnier elements. Jerry keeps trying to
claw back what he’s lost, and Thorne’s eventual
move is to just punch him. Also, this door really gets
a workout in this film. (door bangs) – Well, this is certainly
a cozy little scene. Might even be called
intimate, boy meets girl. – Stop it, Jerry. That remark is uncalled for. What I do or have to say
does not concern you. – I can’t disagree with you more, my dear. I’m concerned with everything you do, and I intend to keep it that way. Now, in my book, an engagement
isn’t a casual thing. – In my book, it isn’t either. And last night ended ours. – [Jason] That was one
of the smoothest exits from a relationship spat
that I’ve ever seen. And here, we get our introduction
to the killer shrews. And the decision to have us hear them before we see them is
actually pretty effective because the sounds they make
are genuinely unsettling. Of course, once we do see them, that terror goes right out the window because the shrews in question are just dogs with clumps of extra hair and pieces of carpet stuck onto them. It’s safe to say the
American Humane Society did not monitor the animal
action in this film. Judge Henry Dupree, who’s
playing the doomed Rook, was a Dallas local, and
McLendon also cast him in his kids’ movie, “My Dog, Buddy.” Those are his only two screen roles. He probably worked for McLendon in some capacity at his
radio station, KLIF, because McLendon pulled
from that pool of employees when casting the smaller parts in both this film and
“The Giant Gila Monster.” When promoting this film,
McLendon said, quote, “Dallas, Texas may give the film capital “of the world a run for its money.” End quote. And by 1960, he was
publicly promoting the idea of turning Cielo into a
hub for A-list filmmaking and prepping his fourth film, another kids’ movie called
“Tuffy Scott’s Dog.” But neither that movie nor any
of his other film projects, such as an original story based on Mark Twain’s
Tom Sawyer character, ever got off the ground. While his three films
themselves had made good money, the startup costs for
McLendon Radio Pictures had kept the company itself from turning any sort
of meaningful profit, and McLendon ultimately wasn’t convinced he could duplicate their success in a changing filmmaking landscape, especially with the limited
on-hand talent in Dallas. Plus, his interest had
shifted into politics. In the mid-60s, he ran unsuccessfully for both senator and governor of Texas. But he could never quite
shake the movie industry bug. In the late ’60s, he spun up construction on a Western set at Cielo to rent out to other
productions, which he did. He ran a successful chain of theaters throughout Texas starting in 1969. And he made a killing buying up blocks of Columbia Pictures stock in the ’70s, just before Coca-Cola bought the company, netting him an excess of 400%
return on his investment. In the early ’80s, he had
enough self-awareness to know he’d gotten too old to get back
into the game as a director. But he did take a role
as an executive producer on the John Huston-directed
film “Victory.” It bombed, but McLendon,
ever the shrewd businessman, made sure beforehand that he’d
come out ahead financially, which he did. Then, in March 1984, just two years before he would pass away, an article titled “McLendon:
a True Texas Character” by Dennis McDougal of
the Los Angeles Times, outlined the maverick’s
biggest push into filmmaking to date, an $80 million
investment in films to be spread out over
six or seven projects. McLendon is quoted as saying, quote, “We have 40 million in place
and the other 40 million “will come from me and what
I get my friends to put up. “Or we may make a public offering.” End quote. This time around, he wanted to tackle more
literary properties, including adaptations of works by F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ayn Rand. But his battle with cancer would keep these plans
in the planning stage. In 1986, he passed away
not long after Forbes had named him one of the
wealthiest men in America, with a net worth of
approximately $200 million. In 1994, he was voted into
the Radio Hall of Fame. – Thorne, you can’t leave. No one opens that gate after dark. – Well, who’s gonna stop me, you? – Or this. No one opens that gate at night. (thunder rumbles)
(shrew screeches) – Now. look, I don’t ask questions because it’s against my principles. – [Jason] This scene
escalates very quickly. Why was that gun just
sitting on the mantel? Also, Thorne shakes off being threatened with a firearm in record time, and he doesn’t ask questions
as a life principle? That seems like an odd hill to die on. Now, before I move on from
McLendon’s life story, I can’t not share a
couple of tasty morsels for all of you JFK assassination
conspiracy theorists. Joan Mellon’s book “A Farewell to Justice: “Jim Garrison, JFK’s Assassination, “and the Cast That Should
Have Changed History” covers New Orleans prosecutor
Garrison’s attempts to get to the bottom of the famous case. In the book, a colorful character named E. Carl McNabb appears. McNabb had worked as a
contract pilot for the CIA, but then became an ally
of Garrison’s work, eventually joining Garrison’s team as one of his investigators as they sought to stage
a successful prosecution of the culprit or culprits
behind the assassination. McNabb operated under the alias Jim Rose, and in February 1968, during
a mission to Mexico City to troll the country’s Soviet embassy for information on the assassination, McNabb, undercover as Rose, told two women he was trying to impress that there was a profile in
the latest edition of Newsweek of the man who had put up the money that was needed to finance
JFK’s assassination. That person’s name? Gordon McLendon. But wait, there’s more. According to a November, 1975
article by Gary Cartwright in Texas Monthly, Jack Ruby, who shot and killed JFK
assassin Lee Harvey Oswald, was a great admirer of McLendon’s, once identifying him as the
world’s greatest American. When Ruby was on trial for murder, he wrote a letter to McLendon telling him his jailers were poisoning him and saying he was weighing hiring a PR man to help with his image. Coincidence or conspiracy? As I briefly mentioned earlier, this film was shot in
the Lake Dallas area, about 30 miles northwest
of Downtown Dallas. In pre-production, McLendon
admitted in a letter to a friend that it was not smooth
sailing, writing, quote, “I am going very quietly
crazy getting ready “to shoot our two epic productions
starting here in January. “These are turning out
to be horror pictures “in every sense of the word.” End quote. The shoot wrapped on
Friday, January 30, 1959, just six days after it started. Its original budget was $300,000, but McLendon cut it
down to around $125,000, which is just under the $138,000 he spent making “The Giant Gila Monster.” The two films had their
world premiere in Dallas at the Majestic Theatre on June 25, 1959, and McLendon was able to
secure nationwide distribution for both through American
International Pictures, or AIP, where kindred spirit, Roger
Corman, had been working. This meant the films did eventually play in major markets around the country, including New York City,
which we know in part because when Tony Curtis is
walking across the city street in the 1960 romantic
comedy “The Rat Race,” a giant theater marquee above him advertises two first-run shocking hits, “The Killer Shrews” and
“The Giant Gila Monster.” At the time, this national reach would have been somewhat unusual
for a film like this because this was still very much the era of regional filmmaking. Today, we’re used to a film
receiving national distribution through a network of theater
chains such as AMC or Cinemark, but back then, in the wake of the 1948 Supreme
Court antitrust decision that forced movie studios to divest from their own individual theater chains and cease the practice
of forced block booking, theaters were often
independently owned and operated, or part of regional
chains, such as the network of drive-in theaters that McLendon owned. Studios had networks of regional salesmen who would travel to these
areas to sell their product. And even up through the 1980s, it wasn’t uncommon for a
low-budget independent film to be made in a particular
region of the country and then play in theaters that
were limited to that region. These films wouldn’t get
exposed to a national audience until they started getting shown on TV, or, by the end of the ’80s, started appearing around
the country on VHS. A perfect late-stage
example of this trajectory from regional success to national cult hit is Sam Raimi’s first “Evil Dead” film. This is one of my favorite moments, as Jerry starts mean-mugging Thorne as he walks out of the room. Ken Curtis throws some great dirty looks throughout this movie. Okay, here it comes. (suspenseful music)
(Jason chuckles) Okay, once these movies
opened on a double bill, this and “The Giant Gila Monster” were a rousing financial success, playing to sold-out shows throughout Texas and raking in more than five
times their original budgets. Even though she hated the film, and I’ll read you her review later, Marie Stevenson of the
Fort Worth Star-Telegram reported three days after its premiere that it and “The Giant
Gila Monster” were, quote, “Entertaining great hordes of
the younger generation daily.” End quote. And this film was still playing in Texas all the way through late 1960, behind other films such as
AIP’s “How to Make a Monster.” – That left-handed dinner invitation. That was just to keep me here
till after dark, wasn’t it? (wind howling) – I wanted you here tonight. I read something terrible
was going to happen. – Why, you still feel
the same way about it? – Not as much. Not since you’re here, I know everything. (dramatic music)
(shews screeching) (horse whinnies) I love an open fire, don’t you? – Mm-hmm. – The wind has a lonesome
sound, doesn’t it? – [Thorne] Sure does. – Back in Sweden, we don’t
have a wind this strong. You’re a strange man, Thorne. I never met anyone like you. – Oh? – You seem so disinterested in everything. Aren’t you the least bit curious? Don’t you wonder about the
unusual things around here? The guns, the fence,
the shattered windows, my accent, anything? – I’ll tell you something. I’m only interested in
anything that concerns me, then I do something about it. – [Jason] Again, there’s
a lot going on here. First, Thorne is really
not endearing himself to Anne or anyone else with his proudly myopic view of the world. It’s almost as if he
was originally crafted to be a kind of attractive
bad-boy character, but in moments like that, he
just comes across as a jerk. But then, he immediately
undercuts this lone wolf persona by running to the gate and
putting himself in danger by attempting to rescue Rook. As I said earlier, this film’s focus is not on
crafting compelling characters. And while Jerry definitely
has zero redeeming qualities, I will defend this
specific character moment because Thorne was absolutely
on his way to open that gate. Then we’ll get some more great mean-mugging from Ken Curtis here. But also, Anne says that Sweden doesn’t ever have strong winds? That’s an example of this film’s dodgy, even nonsensical dialogue
from screenwriter Jay Sims, who also scripted “The
Giant Gila Monster.” Somewhat improbably, these
projects launched him into a two-decade-long
career in Hollywood, writing mostly for TV shows such as “Have Gun, Will Travel,” “The Rifleman,” “The Man from U.N.C.L.E,” and “Gunsmoke.” He also penned two 1962
post-apocalyptic sci-fi dramas, “Panic in Year Zero” and “The
Creation of the Humanoids.” Apparently, the latter was
Andy Warhol’s favorite film. His career is a textbook example of why you never judge a
writer’s entire body of work by their first efforts since they, given the right opportunities, can improve exponentially over time. – Introduce unusual results. – [Jason] Good grief, there’s
a lot of drinking happening. It’s not just Jerry,
but he does perpetually seem to be one drink
away from rock bottom. He might be the screen’s
most severe alcoholic since Ray Milland in “The Lost Weekend.” – It’s not a problem for
the government or military. The world is in no danger. This species does not swim. And as far as the shrews are concerned, this island is their world. – Very soon, right here on this island, there’s going to be a
miniature reproduction of an overpopulated world. And you’ll see the importance of what we’re working to avoid. – [Jason] This bit of
dialogue from Craigis and Baines places them
firmly within the tradition of fictional scientists who believe they have placed adequate
guardrails in place for their experiments they
believe will help humanity, only to see their best laid plans go to ruin once their work
goes off the rails, forcing them to reckon
with how little control they actually exert over
the forces of nature. Baruch Lumet plays Craigis, and this film seems deeply at odds with the type of project
he would usually take. To explain why, I’ll need
to get into his background. He was born in Warsaw, Poland in 1898, where he attended and graduated from the Warsaw Academy of
Dramatic and Musical Arts. He married Eugenia, a
fellow actor and dancer, and after he acted on stage in
Poland for a couple of years, they made a brief sojourn to London, and then immigrated to the United States, where they were both active
in the Yiddish theater. Eugenia died when their
two children were young, and the family moved to New York City, where Baruch began acting and
writing radio dramas in 1932, and then breaking into Broadway in 1934, at a time when his left-wing politics were in vogue among a lot of
folks in the theater scene, especially the group theater. By the end of the ’30s,
he’d put together his own one-man show titled
“Monotheater Varieties,” which was successful enough
for him to take it on the road and perform it around America
from 1939 through ’46. He also wrote the socially-conscious plays “Three Steps Down” in ’46 and “Once Upon a Tailor” in ’53. By this point, he was well known as a motivated and
determined theater actor, whose writings and performances dealt with serious political issues. His reputation was such that, in ’53, he accepted a position as the director of the Dallas Institute of Performing Arts in the Knox Street Theater. He held this job until 1960,
which accounts for how he and Gordon McLendon crossed paths. It does not, however, account
for why he took this role. I’m guessing it was for the money because it couldn’t have been for the art. Now, you might not be familiar with Baruch’s work on the screen, but if you’re a film fan
at basically any level, I can guarantee you know his son’s work because his son was Sidney Lumet. Who grew up to be one of the greatest directors of the second
half of the 20th century. After working in TV for several years, Sidney’s 1957 directorial
debut, “12 Angry Men,” remains a bona fide classic, and he followed it up with
an incredible track record that includes “Long Day’s
Journey Into Night,” “Fail Safe,” “Serpico,” “Dog
Day Afternoon,” “Network,” “Prince of the City,”
“Night Falls on Manhattan,” and “Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead.” His dad was instrumental in raising him into the world of performing. When he was just four years old, Sidney and his father appeared together in a Yiddish theater
production in New York City. When Sidney was 11, they acted together in what would be Sidney’s
only film appearance in the politically-charged drama, 1939’s “One Third of a Nation.” Not long after Baruch acted in this film, they served as the uncredited casting directors together for a
low-budget sci-fi film, 1960’s “Beyond the Time Barrier,” which was shot in Fort Worth, Texas. And then, once Sidney established
his directorial career, he cast his dad in two of his films, “The Pawnbroker” in ’64
and “The Group” in ’66. – You know what I’ve been
thinking about, Mario? Anne and that captain. You and me. Imagine an intelligent girl like her going for a common sea tramp like him. (Jason laughs) – [Jason] Sea tramp. That’s the best line in this film. Ken Curtis is the MVP who really does elevate this film to
another level of enjoyment. And playing Mario is Alfredo DeSoto, who already had over 15
years of acting experience by the time he made this movie, almost all of it in small roles,
mostly uncredited bit parts and productions made in his native Mexico. Outside of a bit part
in the 1949 comedy noir, “The Big Steal,” which
was mostly shot in Mexico, this is the only American
production in which he acted. (thunder cracks) (branch breaks) – I’m going to trust you to take my turn in patrolling the house. But when you finish,
don’t wake the captain. Come back here and get me. See, I’ll probably feel good enough by then to take his turn. Okay, Mario? – Si.
– Okay. – [Jason] Not only did
Jerry just pawn off his work on Mario, but prior to that
he showed how terrible he is by trying to create the kind of screw-everybody-else
alliance with Mario that wouldn’t be out of place
on the TV show “Survivor.” Oh, and FYI, anytime you see close-ups of the shrew heads like we just
did, those are hand puppets. Mario’s gonna go investigate
the house’s defenses and discover that someone
left the window open. Who would do that? Oh wait, right, Jerry. Just like with Baruch Lumet, this role of Jerry represents
an outlier part for Ken Curtis because his defining role is undoubtedly Deputy Sheriff Festus Haggen on the decades-spanning
TV western “Gunsmoke.” After guest-starring as a
few different characters starting the same year as this film, Curtis started his run as Festus in 1962 and went on to play him
for more than 300 episodes, all the way through until the
show’s final season in 1975. The Western genre defined his career since he came up as a singing cowboy during the dying embers of
its popularity on screen, then transitioned into
mainstream westerns, often taking up a supporting
role behind John Wayne in films directed by his
father-in-law, John Ford, such as the 1956 classic “The Searchers.” That filmic terrain
probably would have felt at least somewhat familiar for him, given his childhood experience
growing up as the son of a sheriff on the plains
of Southeastern Colorado. His family lived in the
small town of Los Animas, in the building that housed
the Bent County Jail. The prisoners occupied
rooms with barred windows on the second floor, while
the family lived on the first. His mom served as the
jail’s de facto cook. Both his singing and acting careers were so closely aligned with
the western that in 1981, a decade before he passed away, he was voted into the Western
Performers Hall of Fame. So while this role was definitely outside his usual wheelhouse, he took it in part because McLendon offered him the opportunity
to not just act in it, but, for the first time in his career, serve as one of the film’s producers. – I don’t want anyone to
let you open that door ‘til I tell you too. – [Jason] For me personally,
and I have to imagine it’s this way for other fans
of sci-fi films from this era, it’s been sometimes tough
to appreciate these movies because experiencing them as they would have looked during their
original theatrical runs has until recently proved challenging, especially for low-budget
films like this one. And this problem goes double
for this particular movie, which has long since lapsed
into the public domain, which means any fly-by-night outfit can put out an inferior
home video version, provided they have access to
at least some cruddy 16mm print that can barely make it
through the scanning process. Without naming names, that’s definitely what’s happened with this
movie over the decades, so when I first saw
this remastered version, it was like the scales fell from my eyes. I’m confident in saying that because of how good this
new release looks and sounds, this is now the definitive home
video version of this movie. It can finally be
appreciated for what it is, both good and bad, because this has to be
the best it has looked since it debuted in a
Dallas theater back in 1959. (suspenseful orchestral music) – Mario? – Aqui. – [Thorne] You see anything? – I see where he was. I do not see where he is. – Cuidado.
– Si, señor. I will be careful. (suspenseful music continues) (shrew roars) (boxes crash) – [Jason] That’s a surprisingly gory moment for a film from the late ’50s. Also, by now it’s probably clear to you that the musical score does
a lot of heavy lifting. There’s only so much tension
the music can ratchet up when backstopping two people slowly wandering around a
dark room, but music industry veterans, Emil Cadkin and
Harry Bluestone, do their best. They’re both highly competent musicians. Bluestone was an accomplished violinist whose recordings and songs have been used in dozens of films up
through as recently as 2021. I have a question about
this shot, and I might be showing my ignorance of
emergency medicine here, again, failed pre-med student, but why is Thorne making a
tourniquet by using his gun? That seems unsafe. With Mario’s death, I
think it’s worth bringing up a December, 1974 issue of the magazine, “The Monster Times,” in which editor Joe Kane
pens a piece titled, “The Monster Times’ lousy film department “proudly presents another lousy
film, ‘The Killer Shrews’.” The intro describes the movie as, quote, “A tale of science going wrong, “giant shrews running amok, “patients fleeing from theaters, “and weary watchers dozing
in front of the tube.” End quote. Kane lobs a number of
criticisms at the film, but one in particular stuck out to me. On more than one occasion, Kane describes what he perceives as the
film’s racist content, writing, quote, “That the
film is determined to waste ‘No time in offending its audience “is borne out when Thorne
addresses his Black mate as boy “before the film is even
two minutes under way.” End quote. After discussing the death of Rook, the film’s only Black
character, Kane writes, quote, “Following some sort of
primitive racist plan, the film, “having disposed of the
sole Black cast member, “next sacrifices the
Mexican handyman Mario.” End quote. “In his 1995 book ‘Sleaze
Creatures: an Illustrated “‘Guide to Obscure Hollywood
Horror Movies, 1956-1959,’ “author D. Earl Worth tackles
this issue, writing, quote, “Considered racist by a few “were the consecutive
demises of Rook and Mario. “In the dichotomy of most film disasters, “a few expendables must go regardless “of race, creed, or color. “Admittedly, the terror of
Rook was sadistically relished. “A screaming, obese Black man
dangling about the ravenous “shrews must have delighted
some of the redneck trade “anticipating the shrews’
consumption of dark meat. “Thorne at least cared about Rook “and only followed that unimportant Mario, “awkward Radford, and
cowardly Jerry were next.” End quote. I bring this issue up because the dialogue around this topic of who
dies first in horror films has long been a subject of controversy and debate among the genre’s
aficionados and its critics, particularly with regard to race. A Black character dies
first in many horror and sci-fi films, including “Spider Baby,” “Kingdom of the Spiders,”
“New Year’s Evil,” “Christine,” “Friday the 13th, Part III,” “Gremlins,” “Aliens,” “Jurassic
Park,” “Ticks,” “The Crow,” “The Edge,” “John
Carpenter’s Ghost of Mars,” “Scream 2,” which as you might expect also calls attention to this trope, and plenty of other films both inside and out of these two genres. However, this trope gets notably reversed in several horror films, including George Romero’s
“Night of the Living Dead,” as well as “Dawn of the Dead.” Now, I think, but I can’t be certain, that this might be the
first horror film to traffic in this specific narrative decision, in part because significant
roles for Black actors in these genre films were practically
non-existent up to this point. Therefore, on one hand, it’s a mark of progress that
Rook exists within this world. On the other hand, though,
it’s definitely far from ideal that he’s the
first character killed off. Given this film’s influence
on “Night of the Living Dead,” George Romero’s inversion of what we’re seeing here with its foregrounding of Ben, a Black protagonist
played by Dwayne Jones, becomes that much more significant. I’ll talk more later about
the specific parallels between these two films. – I’ll take a dull,
alive woman every time. – [Jason] We just left yet another scene that featured Anne and
Thorne on that couch. They seem to spend half
the movie on that thing. I thought that given this
film’s deep Texas roots it would be interesting to dig back through the state’s local newspapers to see how they reviewed both this and “The Giant Gila Monster”
since they played together. It might surprise you
to learn that this film garnered anything other than
universally negative reviews. The Austin American
newspaper said that this film and “The Giant Gila Monster” were, quote, “Horror shows in every since
of the word,” end quote. But the Wichita Falls
Times really liked it, especially once the shrews
turned their attention to devouring the humans. Its reviewers said, quote, “The ravenous attack on
a moon-drenched night “is unparalleled in realistic suspense. “The motion picture patron
who projects himself “totally into the plight of
the four terrified survivors “will feel the force of
horror when he is left “with their decision. “Whether it is better to wait and pray “that the deadly shrews will
at last die of starvation “or wiser to gamble on a dangerous dash “through the island underbrush
to the safety of the sea.” End quote. The Abilene Reporter News was less impressed but
tried to find something good to say about the local
production, writing, quote, “‘Killer Shrews’ is a
somewhat better picture “than ‘Gila Monster’
because it has real shrews. “Neither of these pictures
is really very good, “but they have a sort of
freshness and naivete that seems “to make them lovable, like
a member of the family. “And every now and then
you see a familiar setting “if you know Dallas County,” end quote. It should be noted this picture
does not have real shrews. But maybe that speaks to how realistic those dogs and puppets
seemed to a reviewer in 1959. The Waco News Tribune
reviewer, Ginter Quill, sounds annoyed but grudgingly accepting of the final product, beginning his write-up
by referencing McLendon’s stated belief in his ability
to make a sellable picture, and then saying, quote, “His confidence was undoubtedly
bolstered by the acquisition “of, one, scriptwriters
thoroughly acquainted “with the formula, whether
for action/adventure “or horror story and shrewd enough “to avoid expensive interior sets. “Two, a director who
knows what to do with it. “And, three, the requisite financing,” which in this case apparently
was comparatively little. “Actors, though a necessary
commodity, were secondary. “Even Mr. McLendon gets in on the act. “The director in both these
instances is a good one, “Ray Kellogg, who knows
how to frame a picture, “build suspense, concentrate on action, “and handle people and special effects. “Under his steering, “they get a lot more mileage
than they warrant,” end quote. I’ll talk more about
Ray Kellogg in a minute. My favorite of the local reviews, though, comes from Marie Stevenson of
the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, who begins her review this way, quote, “Gordon McLendon makes
movies on the same level “as he operates a radio station
in this area,” end quote. Ouch, Stevenson’s coming in hot. She continues by saying
that “Killer Shrews,” quote, “Purports to be the story of the results “of some experimentation
with little bitty animals “that turn into great big
monsters with voracious appetites. “The shrews, which appear to
be dogs with spots painted on, “some hair glued on, and
some false fangs slipped in, “trap some people on an island. “Although deplorable artistically, “the movie here and
there displays the fact “that even its maker
didn’t take it seriously. “The maker, in fact, appears
in ‘The Killer Shrews,’ “which proves he has a sense of humor. “The theater Thursday was full
of youngsters who cheered, “booed, and once in a
while hissed the action. “Although giving vent more freely “than is the way of the professional, “they proved to be the right
fair critics,” end quote. But one non-local review stuck out to me as a notable outlier. In fact, shocked would be a good word to describe my reaction to it. Industry trade paper Variety,
which is never a publication to shy away from taking
a poor film to task, gave this movie a positive review, praising multiple aspects of it. Here, listen to this. Quote, “Able acting bits are
contributed by James Best “as the riverboat captain
and blonde Ingrid Goude. “Supporting roles are capably
handled by Ken Curtis, “Baruch Lumet, Gordon
McLendon, and Judge Dupree. “As a horror film, “it’s quite good under
the economics involved. “Assets include excellent
direction by Ray Kellogg, “fine lighting and photography “in the numerous outdoor shots. “Special effects by Kellogg, “especially in close-ups
of the huge shrews, “are first rate,” end quote. First rate, really? I should also note here
that many newspapers, including those in Texas, couldn’t get the film’s title right, calling it “Killer Shrew,” singular. And when one critic lobbed
the accusation at McLendon that this film was one of
the worst movies ever made, he showed a self-deprecating
sense of humor when firing back, quote, “I resent your allegation
that ‘The Killer Shrews’ “was one of the worst movies of all time. “I made two other movies
that were worse than that.” End quote. He’s not wrong. – Only got 20 rounds altogether. – [Jason] Here comes pathetic
old Jerry, never one to pass up an opportunity to make
the worst possible decision. – Sherman! – [Jason] You heard the
name Ray Kellogg mentioned in those reviews, always
being signaled out for praise. Kellogg directed all three
films from McLendon’s short-lived original
tenure as a film producer. Up to that point, Kellogg had
worked at 20th Century Fox as one of the industry’s
best special effects experts, including on the 1951 sci-fi classic “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” Directing these three films did not provide him with the springboard into the directorial career
he might have imagined, since after this, he was stuck with mostly second-unit work on pictures
such as “Cleopatra,” the 1966 Adam West starring “Batman,” and “Tora! Tora! Tora!” He only got one more shot
in the director’s chair, and even then, he shared
it with John Wayne when they co-directed “The Green Berets.” And if you’re thinking, well, if he was such a special effects whiz, why did these shrew effects look so bad? It’s likely because of factors that were completely
outside of his control. He had less than a week to shoot the film and almost no money to make it, so he was a far cry removed
from the big budgets, generous time frames, and collaborative resources
of 20th Century Fox. – I gotta find him. – [Jason] The golden age
of the science fiction film is undoubtedly the 1950s, and the definitive book on the subject is undoubtedly Bill Warren’s
“Keep Watching the Skies, “American science fiction
movies of the ’50s.” The one-volume 21st Century edition runs 1,004 pages and feels
like it weighs about 10 pounds. Since Warren is such an
authority on this era, it’s worth including his
more contemporary viewpoint. In his entry for the film, he provides a balanced perspective, calling out what he sees as
both the good and the bad. He starts by saying, quote, “For a bad film, ‘The Killer
Shrews’ is surprisingly good.” End quote. He says the plot features a
degree of logic and intelligence uncommon to low-budget
sci-fi films of the era, highlighting “The Climactic
Escape” as an example. Because while it might look ridiculous, it plays by the rules of the
film’s own internal logic with regard to the strengths
and weaknesses of the shrews. He says that before watching it, he was ready to find plenty wrong with it, but that its portrayal of
shrews, outside of their shape and giant size, seemed
scientifically accurate. Quote, “Even more to my surprise, “the film played fair in all departments. “The dialogue is pretty bad, “but the acting is generally good, “and unlike many low-budget films, “‘The Killer Shrews’ doesn’t try anything “it can’t really do. “It delivers sudden shocks,
and director Ray Kellogg “handles suspense scenes remarkably well.” End quote. He wraps up his thoughts on
it by saying the film, quote, “Recapitulates the science fiction “movies of the 1950s in miniature. “Partly stupid, partly inspired.” End quote. In Issue 104 of Video Watchdog, novelist and longtime
film critic, Tim Lucas. makes an astute observation
about the film’s plot, writing, quote, “Appropriately
for a film made in Dallas, “it was possibly the first horror film “to redress a classic
tenet of the Western, “the siege in fantastic terms, “replacing Indians and
homesteaders with terrified people “in a vulnerable house
with limited ammunition, “trying to repel monsters
starved for human flesh. “As such, its influence on Romero’s “‘Night of the Living Dead’
and its sequels is a given.” End quote. His review was the first time I’d seen someone make
an explicit connection between this film and
‘Night of the Living Dead,’ but I’ve since discovered
others making similar claims. In fact, some enterprising soul
uploaded a comparison video to YouTube showing how this
scene is recreated sometimes almost shot for shot in Romero’s
seminal 1968 zombie film, when Ben is trying to get inside to escape the zombie hordes. I have to say, some of the
similarities when synced up and viewed in tandem seem too strong to be simply coincidental. I should also note that Lucas has a couple of nice things
to say about the film, writing, quote, “The film
is decently suspenseful “and the shrew effects,
carpet-covered dogs, “puppetized hands,
unnerving chattering sounds “are better than
competent for their time.” End quote. What’s not competent
are these fake punches Best throws at Curtis. They never seem to get within
a foot and a half of his face. (suspenseful music)
(fists pounding) – For heaven’s sakes, doctor, stop him! (suspenseful music continues) (shrews chattering) – [Jason] I like to imagine the teenagers in the original audience
chanting, “Do it, do it!” A lot of actors end up with one role that, for better or worse, defines their image in the public consciousness, and for James Best, that
role was Roscoe P. Coltrane in the hugely popular TV
show “The Dukes of Hazzard,” which originally ran from 1979 to ’85, and then in perpetuity in syndication. But for Best, identifying him
solely by that role excises an entire swath of work he
did before and after the show, including this part as Thorne. (suspenseful music continues) – All right, did he have
it coming or didn’t he? – What happened out there? – Oh, nothing much. Jerry just tried to kill me
twice in the last five minutes. Rook came ashore last night. He’s dead. This is all that was left. Won’t do us any good, it’s got no ammo. (gun clanks) (footsteps thudding) – I’m deeply sorry, Captain. I wish I had followed your orders. – Look, Doctor, you
casually mentioned animals. You didn’t explain to us what
we were facing out there. – You have every right
to feel the way you do. My mistake was only mine,
it was one of judgment. I didn’t know about the hurricane. I didn’t anticipate the effect
it would have on the shrews. I thought the house would
be safe through the crisis. – How could you expose your own daughter? How could you expose Anne to that? – She was going to leave last week, but the boat didn’t come. – I need a drink. – [Jason] Viewers often
create drinking games for bad movies and TV shows, but this film might offer the most straightforward opportunity to play. Just take a drink every time
a character takes a drink. You’ll be passed out
within the first half hour. (shrew chatters)
This is a great jump scare. It definitely got me the
first time I watched the film. And then we get to McLendon’s
wonderful death scene. (gunshot blasting) – Slam the door! You all right, Doctor?
(door bangs) – He just ripped my trousers, that’s all. Are you sure that’s all? – I’m completely aware of it, Doctor. – [Jason] You have to admire Radford’s commitment to the project, typing up his symptoms in the seconds before he collapses onto his typewriter. Yep, drink up, Jerry. Okay, back to James Best. He had a Dickensian childhood, born in 1926 as one of nine
children in his family. They lived in rural Kentucky
until the Great Depression hit, and then, too poor to
provide for their kids, his parents gave them all up for adoption. James ended up with an Indiana family. Once World War II hit and
he ended up in the Army, he got the acting bug, auditioning for a part
in “My Sister Eileen.” After he got it, he
toured throughout Europe with the Army Special Services. His director during that military stint was none other than Arthur Penn, who would go on to direct such films as “The Miracle Worker,” “The Chase,” “Bonnie and Clyde,” “Little
Big Man,” and “Night Moves.” When Best got back, he spent some time eking
out a living on Broadway, then signed into Universal Pictures’ second-to-none contract player program, which was designed to do everything it could to craft the next
generation of young stars. The program created such actors as Tony Curtis and Rock Hudson, who were there at the same time as Best. During that time, he also became friends with war hero-turned-actor Audie Murphy and appeared in a lot of Westerns, including a small part in “Winchester 73.” But his Universal days
came to an abrupt end when he started going
out with a young woman, who was also dating a studio executive. As he remembered it, quote, “It was a kiss and tell situation. “I kissed and she told,” end quote. From there, as a free
agent, he kept grinding away in character roles and
uncredited bit parts, including in sci-fi
films of varying quality. He’s Charlie the Radioman in “The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms,” Dr. Sidney K. Fuller in
“Riders to the Stars,” and an unnamed crew member
in “Forbidden Planet.” And there he was, finally
giving the audience the cathartic moment of seeing
Jerry get beaten to a pulp. Best took this part at
the urging of his friend, the screenwriter-turned-director,
Samuel Fuller, who asked him to do him a favor by helping out his friend, Ray Kellogg. In an interview that
ran in the winter 1994 issue of Psychotronic
Video, Best recalled, quote, “Ray Kellogg was one of the
best special effects men “in Hollywood, and Ray was
gonna direct his first movie. “I took the picture. “My book I’m writing is called “‘Hollywood Never Made Me Cry.’ “If anything was to make me cry, “‘Killer Shrews’ would have done it. “We actually would paint the sets, “and we would shoot the scene. “You couldn’t touch the set “because you’d get paint on your hands.” End quote. Best did write that book,
but changed the title to “Best in Hollywood: The Good,
The Bad and the Beautiful.” In it, he has nothing good to
say about making this film, except for some lascivious
comments about Ingrid Goude, which he would repeat
variations of seemingly every time he was asked
about working on this movie. He starts his chapter
on this film this way. Quote, “There are times
when in actor is better off “just beating his head against a wall. “As Exhibit A, I present you
with ‘The Killer Shrews’.” End quote. And as for those painted sets,
he said they were constantly walking sideways to avoid
getting paint on their clothes because they didn’t have enough money to buy a second set of wardrobe. Best also says he liked McLendon, but that McLendon couldn’t
act to save his life. Here’s what he says about his
death scene we just watched. Quote, “The writers wrote a
scene that had one of the shrews “bite Gordon and killed him so we did not “have to put up with his
terrible acting anymore.” End quote. He also explains how they shot
a scene we watched earlier when the dogs as the shrews were chasing him through the woods. When it came time for the movie shrews to chase Best’s character, here’s how Best recalls the ad hoc troubleshooting the production employed. Quote, “They didn’t know how
to make the dogs chase me “and so we got a raccoon. “We put him in a crate
and drug him up there “and it left a scent. “Now, wherever they drug the raccoon, “that’s where I would run. “They hollered ‘Roll it’
and I took off running. “Well, those dogs looked exactly “like they were following me. “And I looked back and I
wasn’t sure they weren’t. “They had these fake fangs standing up. “After a while, I found
myself running for real.” End quote. Before we run out of
time, I want to explain where this film fits in the
sci-fi films of the ’50s. At the decade’s start, the modern sci-fi genre was
still in its nascent form, offering up modest but
ambitious efforts in 1950, such as the “Let’s Go to
the Moon” space films, “Rocket Ship X-M” and “Destination Moon.” But by the mid-50s, other
sub-genres had emerged, including the one into
which this film fits, the mutant killer animal film, which fits under the larger
umbrella of the monster movie. A couple of notable efforts in this area are 1953’s “The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms” and ’54’s giant mutant
ant thriller “Them.” These films set the standard
for what would follow, including in this movie. Either one scientist or a group of them start screwing around, usually with nuclear material,
and end up accidentally creating a monster out
of an existing animal. These two films take different paths to the same kind of story. In “Them,” nuclear testing
creates giant killer ants. In “20,000 Fathoms,” atomic
testing raises a frozen dinosaur that then goes on a rampage. (shrew screeches) This is a brutal moment here
as Thorne blowtorches a shrew. “Them” would prove hugely influential, paving the way for lots of other stories featuring either a gigantic
or miniature version of an animal, human or
otherworldly monster, usually created by scientific
ineptitude and or malfeasance. By 1955, films as varied as
“The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms,” “Godzilla,” “It Came
from Beneath the Sea,” “The Black Scorpion,” “The Monster that Challenged
the World,” “Tarantula,” “The Deadly Mantis,”
“Giant from the Unknown,” “The Incredible Shrinking Man,”
“The Amazing Colossal Man,” and “Revenge of the Colossal Man,” the Lou Costello Comedy, “The
30 Foot Bride of Candy Rock,” “The Attack of the 50-Foot Woman,” “Attack of the Puppet People,” “Attack of the Giant Leeches,” “The Spider,” “The Fly,”
“The Giant Behemoth,” and of course, “The Giant Gila Monster,” among numerous other films, had all riffed on this
idea in one way or another. And as you can tell just from the titles, a lot of these poor mutants are insects. – [Thorne] I’ll throw
you right off that roof! – I told you, I’m not going! I’m staying here! – We’ve got to get him down here somehow. Anne, see if you can coax him down here. – Jerry, Jerry, please come down with us! – No, Anne! They’ll get you if you come down there! – Come down here, you fool! Poor devil, I hope he makes it. – We can’t leave him. He’s not responsible for himself. (shrew screeching) – We have to go now. – [Jason] I love that little shrew hand that sticks through the wall. And poor Jerry, an idiot to the end. A lot of these films
require a mad scientist, which is arguably the
oldest character type in science fiction, since that character hearkens all the way back to
the first science fiction novel from 1818, Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein.” This film is no exception,
with, as I talked about earlier, Dr. Craigis behind the deadly experiments. And to a film, they all carry some warning about employing increasingly
powerful technology, this is the Cold War after all, in service of goals
that humans should not, these stories argue,
have the power to pursue. This film is certainly no
exception to that rule. By the time of its release, this narrative path about
runaway science experiments had been tread and retread practically to the point of exhaustion. In case you’re wondering if the
production got stunt doubles to duck walk those barrels into the water, the answer is no. Here’s how Best remembers
shooting this scene. Quote, “Now, it was in
December or January in Texas “and there was a thin layer
of ice around the lake. “They said, ‘We’ll have
blankets and brandy “‘for you when you get to the boat.’ “So we walked under these stupid barrels “until we get down to the water “and then we dove under
and swam to the boat. “I have never been so cold in my life.” End quote. But he said that being with
Ingrid Goude made it better. Quote, “I wrapped the
blanket around Ingrid “and hugged her as tight as possible “and shot two or three brandies. “After a while, I didn’t
care if I was cold or not.” End quote. As we wrap up here, I should mention that, believe it or not, this film has two remakes and a sequel. As Tom Weaver points out
in his Fangoria review of the Wes Craven produced
2006 horror film “The Breed,” the film in question has so
many similarities to this movie that it seems to be a loose
remake of what we’re watching. And that’s not the first one. The second one was a $3,000
micro-budget reimagining that came out in 2016. In 2003, screenwriter Steve
Latshaw used this film and “The Beast from Haunted Cave” as inspiration for his film
“The Curse of the Komodo.” But Latshaw didn’t want to stop there. James Best, who was
longtime friends with them, credits Latshaw with pushing him to pursue a sequel to this film. In an interview about it for a 2013 Indianapolis Star interview, Best remembers this as
his initial reaction. Quote, “Are you kidding me? “That piece of garbage?” End quote. But it wasn’t long before the two men started bandying about ideas for it, a process that stretched across decades. Latshaw said that it was around 2009 that they really started
to drill down on the script and by 2010 they had completed it and were ready to put
together the financing. Best called in a couple of markers by getting his “Dukes of Hazzard” co-stars John Schneider and Rick
Hurst to star alongside him. And just like in 1959,
this shoot was a quick one. This time they did it all in 10 days. (suspenseful music) Here you go, the moment
we’ve all been waiting for. I love the way Curtis kicks up his legs at the end of Jerry’s death scene here just to give it a little something extra. Like I said, Curtis is just absolutely the MVP of this movie. (shrews screech) At age 85, just three years
before he passed away, Best reprised his role as Sherman for “Return of the Killer Shrews,” and this time he’s a boat captain who takes a reality TV crew to make a show on the same island, where, unbeknownst to them all, the shrews somehow
survived for over 50 years. Which throws the science
of this original movie into serious questions since the shrews should have long since starved to death. What’s interesting is
that the 2013 article says Best hadn’t given
a thought to a sequel until Latshaw pitched it to him. And his 1994 Psychotronic
interview concludes with a note that he was working on a script for a “Killer Shrews” sequel. So the follow-up film
was long in the works. In his book, Best mentions
that they were planning to shoot the sequel in 3D, although somewhere along the
way that idea got scrapped. “Return of the Killer
Shrews” wouldn’t be released until 2012, 53 years after the original. The filmmakers even tried to get the Guinness Book of World Records to recognize this as the
longest period of time between a film and its sequel. They wouldn’t have been successful because “Bambi 2” had
already been released 64 years after the original, although they might have had a case if only counting live-action films that starred at least
one of the same actors. (suspenseful music continues) Before my final comments, I want to say a huge
thank you to Tom Weaver, an expert on this era and type of film. He was beyond generous
with his time and resources as I was compiling my
research for this track. So, thank you, Tom. And now, I’ll wrap it up by explaining what I appreciate about this film. While it’s not even in the same orbit as the best of the
decade’s science fiction, there’s an undeniable charm
to witnessing a small, low-budget production made
far from Hollywood’s corridors of power achieve its
admittedly modest goals. Is it great art? No. But it is, in its own ridiculous way, a fun movie provided
you’re in the right mood. You either get this kind of film or don’t, and it’s okay to poke fun at its mistakes while still appreciating the hustle that went into making it. If you enjoyed this film at all, I hope this track has provided you with a better understanding of
who made it, why it was made, and where it fits under the umbrella of a great decade for
science fiction films. And now, I’ll leave you
with Best’s corny final line and say, until next time,
thanks for listening. – And he’ll be dead of starvation. An excellent example of overpopulation. – Well, you know something, Doctor? – What’s that? – I’m not gonna worry about
overpopulation just yet. (majestic orchestral music)
Jason Ney delivers a balanced, insightful deep dive into the cult B-movie classic; “The Killer Shrews”. Acknowledging its infamous “men in rugs” shrew costumes and problematic racial stereotypes, Ney contextualizes the film as an efficient, suspense-driven product of its low-budget, double-feature era.
The film is praised for its surprising strengths: tight direction, atmospheric tension, Ken Curtis’s solid lead performance, and a script that subtly subverts 1950s gender roles by positioning Ingrid Goude’s character as the true protagonist. Ney argues that despite its flaws, The Killer Shrews remains an enduringly entertaining piece of drive-in cinema – a “well-oiled machine” of practical filmmaking that maximizes its limitations. Essential viewing for fans of vintage sci-fi and creature features!
The full movie: https://youtu.be/C5CwIBLVXQE
Colorized: https://youtu.be/Mu5k7iNeVZk
KEY PLAYERS:
Ray Kellogg • Jay Simms • James Best • Ingrid Goude • Ken Curtis
For more deep dives into cinema’s weirdest gems: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2gsu7VGzgdZ2JebVTUro0VSl0ffMlY7F
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