After cutting his teeth by jumping in to direct uncredited scenes for the ragged but fascinating Italian/French gothic Castle of the Living Dead, Reeves was allowed to go solo by that film's prolific American producer, Paul Maslansky, to shoot his own script for a modest monster movie, with busy Italian scream queen Barbara Steele stepping in for less than 24 hours in the "lead" role. The fact that Reeves managed to create a solid, atmospheric, and sometimes clever creature feature laced with unexpected comedic elements proved impressive enough to land him two more directorial outings, The Sorcerers and Witchfinder General (aka Conqueror Worm), both of them considerably darker and more pessimistic than this maiden voyage.
After a prologue modeled after the likes of Horror Hotel and Black Sunday in which a malignant sorceress is put to slow, agonizing death by angry European villagers in the 17th century, the film follows the grisly misadventures of Philip (Reeves' regular leading man, Ian Ogilvy) and Veronica (Steele), a married couple exploring the present-day Communist region in their little Volkswagen. Their romantic stay at a small inn is disrupted by their peeping tom innkeeper (Mel Welles), who sends them feeling in their car which promptly crashes into lake where the witch died centuries earlier. Now possessed, Veronica transforms into the ghastly local terror and gone on the loose, with a disbelieving Philip teaming up with local scientist / monster hunter Count Von Helsing (John Karlsen) to stop this distaff threat who is, as the posters scream, "Deadlier than Dracula! Wilder than the Werewolf! More frightening than Frankentein!"
Actually, the fear factor in The She-Beast is extremely low unless you're afraid of mucky witch make-up or bizarre Commie jokes. In fact, for decades this film proved baffling to those trying to tie it to Reeves' more accomplished subsequent films, thanks to its survival primarily in wretched, horrendously-cropped video editions all culled from grainy, blown-up 16mm TV prints. However, as with many of its predecessors granted a second life in the digital era, Dark Sky's much-needed DVD restores the original widescreen scope framing and reveals a surprisingly assured, even sometimes striking film loaded with gothic landscape shots and quirky framing choices. The extra breathing room does wonders for the actors as well, with the scrawny-looking Ogilvy in particular coming off much better than before with his reaction shots finally back onscreen. Steele fans have often felt shortchanged by the film, as the leading lady's brief availability resulted in her presence only for the opening twenty minutes and a quick reappearance at the end. However, given that she spends most of her time either looking fetching in androgynous chic gear (including a man's hat belonging to the producer) or wrapped in a bed sheet, Reeves certainly made the most of his limited time.
The whole film breezes by at just under 80 minutes, so Steele's absence is soon forgotten as the narrative swerves between beastly mayhem, strange Cold War-era gags, and unexpected toying with horror conventions. The main setup feels straight out of Hammer's Kiss of the Vampire, but the second and third act become increasingly unpredictable with comic relief provided by the local secret police and the late Welles, best known as flower shop owner Gravis Mushnik in Roger Corman's The Little Shop of Horrors as well as the unlikely director of offbeat drive-in fare like Lady Frankenstein and Man Eater of Hydra. The political humor also becomes more interesting when taken in context with Reeves' Witchfinder General, an unforgettable flip side to this approach which depicts fascist rule (enabled by religion in this case rather than communism) as a modern disease impossible to stamp out.
The long wait to get a watchable version of The She-Beast is more than fulfilled with Dark Sky's release, whose aforementioned widescreen transfer is reason alone to make it essential. The print is vastly superior to any on view before, and apart from the occasional fleeting nick here and there (mainly in the credits), it's a startlingly clean and colorful presentation light years beyond what any horror fan could realistically expect.
However, the disc manages to pull out another ace in the form of a very lively and often hilarious commentary track, with Maslansky and the always entertaining Ogilvy (whose chat on And Now the Screaming Stars! is also a must) carrying the first chunk of the track along with occasional moderator David Gregory. Steele joins in shortly thereafter and seems in good spirits, with Maslansky's early recollections at their decade-long estrangement over her shooting arrangement apparently having been long forgotten. It's a bit baffling that she'd agree to participate in this disc while declining offers for Black Sunday or 8 ½, but it's wonderful to have her in any form we can have her. Obviously Reeves is a frequent topic of conversation, and as Ogilvy in particular was one of his closest collaborators, the recollections on hand are very valuable indeed. Steele's memory seems quite a bit sketchier, but her perspective on this point in her career is also a wonderful addition. The DVD also includes a modest stills and poster gallery, though for some reason the trailer is nowhere in sight. However, die hards can track it down (under its retitling as Revenge of the Blood Beast) in glorious scope as well on Ban 1's original, now somewhat scarce 42nd Street Forever trailer DVD collection. In any case, this is one of Dark Sky's most commendable releases to date and a welcome resuscitation of a film whose merits have proven far more considerable than previous stages in the evolution of video have led us to believe.
For more information about The She-Beast, visit Dark Sky Films. To order The She-Beast, go to TCM Shopping.
by Nathaniel Thompson
