SCREAM OF THE WOLF (1974) Dir: Dan Curtis
DEVIL DOG, HOUND OF HELL (1978) Dir: Curtis Harrington

Hard to resist killing two turkeys with one stone, therefore Satan's School for Girls' firstever double-review/entry. Honestly, devoting any amount of truly significant space to either of these bombs would be yet another case of internet misuse and pollution. A friend recently proclaimed that writing about bad films is always more enjoyable than the actual movie itself, and yet I'm hard pressed to entertain visitors with reflections on such uninspiring material.

With Dan Curtis' prolific contributions to TV horror, Scream of the Wolf feels like quick assembly- line schlock, and is far more derivative and tedious than any of his better work ( The Night Stalker, the Dark Shadows series and theatrical release spin-off films, the stellar Trilogy of Terror). Curtis directs this "thriller" with a curious mixture of meandering narrative and low-wattage plotting. Peter Graves tracks a potential werewolf through the canyons of Hollywood, and some of the night footage in the barren hills above LA is evocative. Similarly, fans of groovy interiors and costuming (think suede blazers; think polyester turtlenecks, think Op Art kravats) will enjoy the period details, but this superficial gloss cannot compensate for what is basically a lame remake of The Most Dangerous Game (1932). Those seeking detective thrillers with faux supernatural overtones would do best to dig up a few choice episodes of McCloud, Mannix or Columbo. Mysteriously enough, Scream is enjoying a brief revival on the Fox Movie Channel, so watch at your own late night risk.

Even worse is Curtis Harrington's dismal and silly Devil Dog. The titular creature is a benign looking German Shepherd (admitedly not a normally easy thing to convey, given the breed's fierce appearance) who rather than actually attack his victims prefers to hypnotize them into self-destruction (leaping from windows etc). When the monster does choose to get physical, it appears as a preposterously animated canine demon. Never thought I'd see the day when I longed for a CGI scene!

All the non-existent mayhem is due to a Southern California satanic cult that impregnates the dog's mother via a hokey occult ritual. The opening scene does feature a cameo by the lovely Martine Beswick (From Russia with Love, Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde, One Million Years, B.C.), who by the late 70s looks tired and embarassed by her choice of material.

CROWHAVEN FARM (1970)
Dir: Walter Grauman

Crowhaven Farm has, inexplicably to us here at Satan's School for Girls, been remembered fondly in the hearts of several of our website visitors. Another Spelling-Goldberg quickie, this time around Hope Lange inherits a creepy old farm owned by her Puritan ancestors, and discovers their dark past through a supernatural intrusion into the present. Full of flashbacks (unwisely shot in broad daylight) and portentous omens, signaled by an overbearing soundtrack, the filmmaking here is relatively crude (even for television standards at the time). Once again we have a New England farmstead clearly set among the rolling hills of Southern California; witch hunts or not, does the East Coast simply have an intrinsic spook factor to the rest of the nation? All those blue states perhaps? A few of the performances are decent (Lange's in particular) but Paul Burke as the bossy hubby is woefully bad, and even worse, figures heavily into the story. Without giving any of the predictable plot twists away, eventually a few minor chills are effected by the return of some long dead (but still nasty) Puritan zealots.

Most interesting in an examination of Crowhaven Farm is its blatant anxieties over the burgeoning women's movement of the period. Lange is a modern female, willing to have a child to please her husband but also determined to work and develop a life outside the home (or off the farm, as the case may be). Her husband is bitterly jealous of this well-roundedness and attempts to control his wife through sudden rages and tantrums. Once a Lolitaesque ghostly child enters their world, he quickly switches from paternal figure to incestous pedophile in a matter of days. From the seductive evil of the pubescent phantom, to Lange's former incarnation as the symbol of anti-patriarchy, a witch, Crowhaven hammers its consevative subtext home gleefully. And these are actually the most fun aspects the movie offers, as well as the creepiest (Lange originally died as an accused witch via a brutal means called "pressing").

John Carradine is on hand portraying his ubiquitous character, the Mumbling Old Man Who Knows Too Much, and through practice, is convincing. A number of minorly recognizable television character actors play the morbidly funny neighbors; a scene straight from Rosemary's Baby and other similar films reminds us that fun old people who throw a good cocktail party must be harboring something dark up their well-tailored sleeves.

DAUGHTER OF THE MIND (1969)
Dir: Walter Grauman

A spy thriller with noir sensibilities, Daughter of the Mind was marketed as a horror film due to its ostensible theme of communication from beyond the grave. Ray Milland is a professor haunted by visitations from his dead daughter, and seeks the aid of university colleague (and pre- Knot's Landing) Don Murray, a paranormal researcher. Quite soon the plot verges fully into espionage and counter-intelligence trickery, but despite lapses in pace and a talky script remains interesting for a few disturbing reasons. A hateful Cold War mentality permeates the second half of the story, with near McCarthian paranoia guiding the climax and denouement. As a peek into the time capsule, Daughter will surely fascinate those too young to remember the supposed threat of Commies lurking around every corner. Equally intriguing is a sort of misanthropic view of society in general: there are subtle intimations that Milland's relationship with his young daughter may have been a tad bit "creepy"; his invalid wife has a cold heart towards their deceased child; those paid to protect and heal are dubious in their intent at best; and our own government, here dramatized as heroes, will stoop to all lows to safeguard democracy (Homeland Security, anyone?)

In terms of TV entertainment, Daughter, upon its initial airing, no doubt seemed more ambitious than average fare, and is intelligent in its somber tone and technical proficiency. Early "visits" from the dead girl are eerie and moody. Veteran actors Milland and Gene Tierny provide some gloss, especially the latter, so far from her glory days and yet still commanding as a wheelchair-bound cynic.