Monster Mayhem Collection Review – Frankenstein’s Daughter, Giant From the Unknown, The Brain From Planet Arous & Monster From Green Hell
Monster Mayhem Collection Review – Frankenstein’s Daughter, Giant From the Unknown, The Brain From Planet Arous & Monster From Green Hell
Four Iconic, ‘50s Monster Movies Together for the 1st Time in a Thrilling, Two-Disc, Special-Edition, Blu-ray Collectors Set, Available April 7th. Film Masters, with a mission of celebrating the preservation of classic film by releasing high-quality restorations on Blu-ray, proudly presents the special-edition Monster Mayhem Collection, available April 7th from Film Masters.
A two-disc collection of four iconic, all-expenses-spared, cult movies from the ‘50s, each film is a 4K scan from 35mm archival prints in their original, theatrical aspect ratios. Complete with new liner notes by Tom Weaver, archival special features and film commentaries, this a must-have for any Monster Kid.
Monster movie making at its most creative, this is the inaugural release from the Wade Williams Collection, part of a recent, exclusive distribution deal with the late filmmaker’s estate and distributor, Film Masters. With an array of coveted titles in the library—including Plan 9 from Outer Space, The Crawling Eye, Champagne for Caesar and The Day IT Came to Earth—the label looks to release high-quality restorations and the definitive Blu-ray editions of titles in the coming months, many for the first time.
Frankenstein’s Daughter (1958) Review
Hiding in modern-day, 1950s Los Angeles, the grandson of Victor Frankenstein secretly continues his family’s macabre experiments—creating a female monster while upending the life of an unsuspecting, young woman. Featuring beatnik culture elements and blending mad science, teen drama and campy horror, its B-movie charm is a must-see for fans of vintage sci-fi schlock and those interested in the evolution of the Frankenstein narrative in popular culture.
Directed by Richard E. Cunha (Missile to the Moon, She Demons), starring John Ashley (later of “beach party” film fame), Sandra Knight (who also starred in The Terror opposite Boris Karloff, directed by a young Francis Ford Coppola, and who later married Jack Nicholson), Harold Lloyd Jr., Donald Murphy and Sally Todd (former Playboy Playmate of the Month, known for screen presence and glamour rather than starring roles).
This lively 1958 black-and-white sci-fi horror proves far more entertaining than its modest reputation suggests. While Frankenstein’s Daughter is undeniably dialogue-heavy—much like its companions in the set—it strikes a surprisingly effective balance, delivering moments of genuine (if delightfully hammy) drama and horror.
Loosely—very loosely—inspired by Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, the film embraces its quirks with charm. The titular “daughter’s” famously unconvincing mask is more amusing than menacing yet somehow adds to the film’s endearing appeal. Paired on release with Missile to the Moon, it comfortably holds its own as a spirited slice of B-movie fun.
There’s also a familiar vintage trope at play, as Sandra Knight’s imperilled teenager struggles to convince the men around her of the lurking danger—leaving John Ashley’s dependable hero to claim the spotlight. Dated in places but consistently enjoyable, this is a talky yet thoroughly fun curiosity for fans of classic cult cinema.
Giant From the Unknown (1958) Review
An archaeological expedition in a small California town is seeking artifacts related to the legend of a 500-year-old, Spanish conquistador. But when a lightning storm resurrects the long-lost, armored giant—with a murderous rage and an axe to grind—the community is plagued by a series of mysterious killings and is gripped by fear as locals and scientists come together to search for the truth. Made during the late-1950s, drive-in, monster movie boom and beloved today by genre fans for its nostalgic B-movie charm, moody B&W visuals and monster makeup by Jack Pierce (Frankenstein, The Mummy).
Directed by Richard E. Cunha, starring Ed Kemmer (who also played Commander Buzz Dorry in Space Patrol), Sally Fraser (It! The Terror From Beyond Space, The Cosmic Man) and Buddy Baer (a former heavy-weight boxer, known for his imposing stature).
This American black-and-white sci-fi horror, originally paired with She Demons as a double feature, opens with an intriguing hook: a mysterious, bloodied death and a flurry of small-town speculation. Unfortunately, that early promise quickly dissipates into a sluggish procession of dialogue-heavy scenes, with the central characters confined to a single location, endlessly excavating and wandering with little dramatic momentum.
The titular “giant” proves equally underwhelming—less a creature of terror than a dirt-covered man with a thin backstory stretching back to the 16th century. The film also reflects dated gender norms, relegating its female lead to a cycle of hysteria, helplessness, and domesticity that feels particularly jarring to modern audiences.
There is, however, a point of historical interest: veteran make-up artist Jack Pierce—renowned for his iconic work on Frankenstein (1931)—contributes here, though even his talents can do little to elevate the film’s uninspired creature design. Ultimately, this is a curiosity best reserved for dedicated genre completists.
The Brain From Planet Arous (1957) Review
Gor, a criminal brain, escapes from his home planet of Arous and crash lands on Earth, where he possesses nuclear physicist Steve March, utilizing his body to impose his will and to threaten global destruction. Vol, a benevolent brain from the same planet, arrives to stop Gor and inhabits the body of March’s dog. Enlisting the help of March’s fiancé, Vol devises a plan to exploit Gor’s one vulnerability—he must leave March’s body periodically to absorb oxygen, exposing a weak point known as the Fissure of Rolando. An atomic-age, sci-fi film so gloriously pulpy—eye effects were achieved by using contact lenses lined with metal foil—this film is so bad, it’s good!
Directed by Nathan Juran (The Deadly Mantis, Attack of the 50-Foot Woman, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad), starring John Agar (who also starred in Revenge of the Creature and The Mole People and was later briefly married to Shirley Temple), Joyce Meadows (later of Perry Mason fame) and Robert Fuller (later a star of TV series Laramie and Emergency!). Meadows herself had no idea the film had developed a cult following until 1985 when asked about buying a lobby poster of the movie for $650 and exclaimed, “My God, the movie didn’t even cost that much to make!”
The Brain from Planet Arous (1957) is a modestly budgeted American science fiction feature that originally reached audiences as part of a double bill alongside Teenage Monster. Like many films of its era, it draws heavily on the visual language of Cold War anxiety, even incorporating familiar footage of atomic bomb tests to underscore the destructive potential at its core. This archival imagery is used to amplify the menace of its central figure: the alien-possessed nuclear scientist Professor Steve March, portrayed with striking intensity by John Agar. Known for his work in genre cinema, Agar commits fully to the role, delivering a performance that is as earnest as it is unrestrained.
Behind the camera, Nathan Juran—who would later collaborate with stop-motion pioneer Ray Harryhausen—reportedly distanced himself from the finished product, opting to be credited under the pseudonym “Nathan Hertz.” Despite this apparent lack of confidence from its own director and the critical derision it initially faced, the film proves more engaging than its reputation might suggest. Its pacing is brisk, its narrative straightforward, and while the plot developments rarely surprise, the film avoids lapsing into tedium.
In the decades since its release, The Brain from Planet Arous has undergone a notable reappraisal, achieving cult status among aficionados of mid-century science fiction. Its exaggerated tone and memorable dialogue have made it a frequent subject of parody, while its cultural footprint extends into unexpected areas—samples from the film appear in “Moar Ghosts ’n’ Stuff” by Deadmau5. The film’s influence has even been cited, somewhat ironically, by Stephen King, who reportedly drew inspiration from what he described as a “terrible” movie when writing his novel Carrie. Additionally, the story has been loosely associated with themes found in Hal Clement’s short story Needle, though the connection remains more anecdotal than direct.
Ultimately, The Brain from Planet Arous stands as a fascinating artifact of its time—flawed yet compelling, and emblematic of the era’s fascination with science, fear, and the unknown.
Monster From Green Hell (1957) Review
A U.S. space experiment sends wasps into orbit to test radiation exposure. When the capsule crashes, a rescue team travels into an area of the African jungle known as “Green Hell” and encounters the insects which have morphed into giant, man-eating monsters—leading to a fight for survival. From the era of giant bugs and anxiety over atomic testing, the monster effects in this low-budget howler—including blown-up footage of real insects and wasp props that sometimes look more like Halloween decorations than apex predators—is part of its low-budget charm.
Directed by Kenneth G. Crane (The Manster), starring Jim Davis (later of Dallas fame), Vladimir Sokoloff (The Life of Emile Zola, Mission to Moscow) and Robert Griffin (Raisin in the Sun). Co-written by Louis Vittes, who gave us the classic, I Married a Monster From Outer Space.
Originally released as part of a double feature alongside the Japanese film Half Human, Monster From Green Hell is a science fiction B-movie that promises far more than it delivers. Despite its tantalising premise—giant mutated wasps terrorising an expedition in Africa—the film is so heavily padded with stock footage of wildlife and native life that its central threat is frequently sidelined, at times to the point of near irrelevance.
The film stars Jim Davis as Dr. Quent Brady, a scientist leading a small team into the remote region known as “Green Hell” to locate and eliminate the oversized insects. Davis, who would later gain widespread recognition on television, brings a degree of gravitas to the role, but the material gives him little opportunity to elevate proceedings beyond their modest ambitions.
At a brisk 71 minutes, the film initially appears efficient, introducing its monstrous creatures early on. However, this early reveal undermines the narrative’s tension, as the wasps are then largely absent for much of the runtime. What follows is an extended trek through the African landscape, with long stretches devoted to repetitive and loosely connected footage that contributes little to character development or dramatic momentum.
When the creatures do return for the climax, the payoff is underwhelming. The confrontation lacks both suspense and ingenuity, and the resolution arrives with surprising ease, diminishing any sense of danger that the film attempts to establish. Rather than a thrilling conclusion, it feels abrupt and unearned.
The film’s negative critical reputation is well deserved. While its premise holds undeniable B-movie appeal, the execution is lethargic and unfocused, failing to capitalise on its own central idea. For modern audiences, Monster From Green Hell may hold some curiosity value as a relic of mid-century genre filmmaking, but as a piece of entertainment, it ultimately falls short of even modest expectations.
SPECIAL FEATURES:
Full-length archival commentaries by film historians Tom Weaver, Stephen R. Bissette and Gary Crutcher; four original mini-documentaries by Ballyhoo Motion Pictures, including Richard E. Cunha: Filmmaker, Missouri Born: Films of Jim Davis, The Man Before the Brain: Director Nathan Juran and The Man Behind the Brain: The World of Nathan Juran; a collectible booklet insert featuring a new essay covering all four films by Tom Weaver; and subtitles.
