In the argument of quality versus quantity, producers Roger Corman and Samuel Z. Arkoffhappily opted for the latter. Both Corman and Arkoff are hallowed names in the annals ofexploitation and cheapie horror movies of the 1950s and '60s. The amount of cinema thesetwo men are responsible for is staggering: Combined, they have production credits on at least430 movies spanning more than five decades.

While Arkoff's last production credit was 1985's Hellhole, Corman continues toproduce films well into the new century. And, while both men have had been connected withthe best in Hollywood (Corman's school of filmmaking gave a leg up to such directors asMartin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, and Jonathan Demme, while Arkoff has worked withBrian De Palma and animation maverick Ralph Bakshi), they will always be remembered fortheir voracious cinematic output during the days of the drive-in movie theater. Most of themovies they made were never very good, but considering the time and monetary restraintsunder which the majority of them were made, they are testament to the independent spirit thatcontinues to challenge traditional Hollywood output today.

One of Corman's earliest production efforts was The Giant Leeches (akaAttack of the Giant Leeches), a joint project with his brother, Gene Corman. Set in asteamy bayou swamp town, it gleefully mixes sordid Southern-fried melodrama with monstermayhem--it's as if Tennessee Williams were asked to pen a schlocky horror movie.

Something is killing the small town's residents and also making off with all the crocodiles,but no one believes Doc Greyson (Tyler McVey) that it may be some form of life thetownspeople have never seen before. How to explain the giant bloody sucker marks on thedeceased? As in most horror movies, characters are always more than willing to ignore theobvious. The local game warden (Steve Benton) is sure that there is a logical explanation, buthe will, obviously, be proved wrong.

Director Bernard L. Kowalski, who had directed the Corman-produced Night of theBlood Beast two years earlier, handily splits the movie's brief 68-minute running timebetween the two staples of exploitation filmmaking: sex and violence. Sex comes in the formof then-Playboy Playmate Yvette Vickers, who plays Liz, the sultry wife of Dave Walker(Bruno VeSota), the overweight grocery-store owner. Liz spends the first 10 minutes of themovie slinking around Dave's grocery store in a tiny bathrobe, teasing the local men andcasually tormenting her husband. This soon develops into a nasty love triangle, as Liz beginsan affair with a local named Cal (Michael Emmet). And, wouldn't you know that Dave catchesthe two of them together in the swamp, the home of the giant leeches?

The violence comes in the form of an admittedly gruesome scene depicting the titularbloodsuckers going to work on their prey in an underwater cave. Apparently, the giant leechesdon't kill people right away. Rather, they drag them back to their lair and keep them in asemi-conscious state at the edge of death, feeding on them from time to time by sucking theirblood. Despite the cheap special effects, this feeding scene is justifiably infamous for itssquirm-inducing grossness.

The giant leeches are, like so many monsters during the 1950s, the mutant spawn of atomictesting. Brought to life by stunt men wearing modified wetsuits that look like giant garbagesacks that barely (and sometimes don't) cover their scuba tanks, the giant leeches aregenerally silly in execution, although the concept is dead-on. After all, in all of the animalkingdom, there are few creatures more immediately off-putting and repulsive as a leech,especially one that's six feet tall.

The horror in the Samuel Z. Arkoff-produced The Screaming Skull is of adifferent sort, and unlike the Corman-produced Giant Leeches, there are no giantrubbery monsters. Instead, actor-turned-director Alex Nicol appears to be going forhonest-to-God legitimate suspense in the mode of Alfred Hitchcock. That he generally failsdoes not deter enjoyment of the film, although said enjoyment is more in laughing at theattempt than vicariously thrilling at its execution.

The Screaming Skull begins with one of those ridiculous disclaimers that were all therage in the late 1950s. It assured viewers that, if they were to die of fright while viewing thefilm, the producers would pay for their burial. I doubt anyone ever died of fright whilewatching this film, but they may have bruised a rib or two laughing at it.

The story begins with a recently married couple, Eric (John Hudson) and Jenni Whitlock(Peggy Webber), moving into the large estate Eric has inherited from his first wife who diedunder mysterious circumstances (apparently, she fell down a flight of stairs, smashed theback of her skull, and then drowned in a pond). As the story progresses, we begin to learnmore and more about Jenni's fragile state, as she has been previously committed to asanatorium after witnessing the gruesome deaths of both her parents.

So, when Jenni begins to see a haunted skull appearing in the house, is it real, is it a productof her deranged imagination, or is someone playing a cruel trick on her? All fingers seem topoint at Mickey, the gardener, who is played by the director. Mickey is a slow-witted manwho apparently loved Eric's first wife like family. Thus, it would make sense that he would tryto scare away the woman who is trying to take her place, right?

The Screaming Skull climaxes in a prolonged sequence that features not one, nottwo, not even three screaming skulls, but a whole hoard of them that come from everyconceivable direction. The sound effects and music are quite effective (the creepy, screechingmusical score is by Ernest Gold, who would win an Oscar two years later forExodus), even if the overall sequence is hokey and more laughable than frightening.

While John Hudson generally underplays Eric, Peggy Webber's overacting turns Jenni into ashrieking hysteric who some viewers will find quite irritating. Of course, one can't blame theiracting too much, as they are forced to deliver inane dialogue. To wit: Jenni (looking up at ashed): "What's that?" Eric: "That's where Mickey keeps his gardening tools." Jenni: "Who'sMickey?" Eric: "The gardener."

If John Kneubuhl's script had been better, The Screaming Skull might have been ahalf-decent suspense thriller (budget isn't much of an issue, considering that the only horrorprop is a skull). Director Alex Nicol proves to have a craftsman-like skill at directing--not tooshowy, but efficient. Many exploitation fans were no doubt bored during the first half of themovie, which deliberately establishes all the characters and background information in thehopes of creating a mystery surrounding the ghostly screaming skull. Unfortunately, despiteall of Nicol's efforts, the answer is so painfully obvious from the start that the movie is neverable to generate any real tension.

©2001 James Kendrick