Made back to back with The Giant Gila Monster using the same production crew, The Killer Shrews was a homegrown Texas production put together by cowboy singing star Ken Curtis and millionaire Gordon McLendon (he founded the Mutual Radio Network and was the owner of the biggest drive-in movie chain in the U.S. among other achievements). Curtis is probably more famous for his role as Festus on the popular TV series Gunsmoke [1959-1975] than he is as a character actor, even though he has appeared in numerous John Ford movies (he was the director's son-in-law) such as Rio Grande [1950], Mister Roberts [1955], and The Searchers [1956] to name just a few.
Few people realize today that Curtis was at one time a vocalist with the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra but you'd never guess it from his role in The Killer Shrews as the film's most despicable human in the group. He plays Jerry Farrell, a research assistant to Dr. Radford Baines (played by producer Gordon McLendon), whose carelessness results in some lab experiments escaping and breeding with each other on the island. This incident combined with his failed romance with Baines' daughter Ann (Ingrid Goude, Miss Universe of 1957) has turned Jerry into an embittered alcoholic whose homicidal impulses are aroused by the arrival of sea captain Thorne Sherman (James Best), a new rival for his estranged fiancée. Curtis's decision to cast himself as the loathsome Jerry is amusing enough - we can't wait for his well deserved demise - but it can't compare to the hilarious appearance of the giant shrews - dogs in costumes (whippets?) with elongated plastic fangs. Close-up shots of them gnawing through the woodwork or tunneling under the cardboard-like sets appear to be manipulated hand puppets but that's a production secret that only Ray Kellogg can answer and he died in 1981.
Kellogg spent most of his film career working as a special effects technician and second unit director, starting with Down to the Sea in Ships (1949). He made his directing debut with the double feature whammy of The Killer Shrews and The Giant Gila Monster but it wasn't an auspicious beginning and he only helmed two more features after these - My Dog, Buddy [1960] and The Green Berets [1968] which he co-directed with John Wayne. The Killer Shrews, however, is not an abomination and is actually an amusing and relatively fast-paced B movie where the glaring imperfections are part of the fun.
The opening, for instance, hooks you immediately while giving you the premise in a nutshell. Against a nighttime sky, a grim narrator delivers an ominous bit of information punctuated by a bolt of lightning and foreboding music: "Those who hunt by night will tell you that the wildest and most vicious of all animals is the tiny shrew. The shrew feeds by the dark of the moon. He must eat his own body weight every few hours - or starve! And the shrew devours everything - bones, flesh, marrow, everything! In March, first in Alaska and then invading steadily southward there were reports of a new species - The Giant Killer Shrew!" If you've ever seen a shrew, however, it doesn't look like the enlarged species you see in Kellogg's film, nor does it look like the monstrosity depicted in the film's poster art. In real life, shrews look like they belong to the rodent family but are actually classified as mammals.
Trying to classify The Killer Shrews, however, is an entirely different matter but its oddball nature should appeal to any forgiving horror film buff. There's Baruch Lumet's out-of-it performance as Dr. Craigis, the kind of stock scientist in sci-fi films who argues for saving the repugnant killer shrews for scientific study even though they're a major threat to mankind. His final moments are particularly memorable; bitten by a shrew whose bite is poisonous, he dismisses the attack with "He just ripped my trousers, that's all" and sits down to jot down a few more observations before keeling over dead.
The dialogue is equally memorable from Thorne's comment as he holds up a scrap of clothing from his recently devoured friend Rook - "They don't leave much, do they?" to Ingrid's anger at Thorne's cynicism: "I've never met anyone like you. You seem so disinterested in everything. Aren't you the least bit curious? Aren't you interested in the unusual things around here? The guns, the fence, the shuttered windows, my accent....anything?" Certainly James Best gives the film's best performance and he's an old pro at this sort of thing, having appeared in numerous Alfred Hitchcock and Twilight Zone episodes on television in addition to countless film appearances, everything from The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms [1953] to Sam Fuller's Shock Corridor [1963]. Last but not least is one of the more original and hilarious finales you'll ever see - the remaining survivors leave their fortress and brave the shrews while protected under a makeshift tank of oil drums welded together with spy holes for their eyes and just enough room at the base for them to duck-walk the contraption to safety.
The only real negative of The Killer Shrews is its depiction of Thorne's black assistant, Rook (Judge Henry Dupree), which treats the character as comic relief in the now politically incorrect style of a Willie Best (aka Sleep 'n' Eat) or Mantan Moreland. Predictably, he's also the first victim of the shrews but then again, this racial stereotype in films of the fifties and earlier is a true reflection of the pre-Civil Rights era.
Producer: Ken Curtis, Gordon McLendon
Director: Ray Kellogg
Screenplay: Jay Simms
Cinematography: Wilfred M Cline
Film Editing: Aaron Stell
Music: Harry Bluestone, Emil Cadkin
Cast: James Best (Thorne Sherman), Ingrid Goude (Ann Craigis), Ken Curtis (Jerry Farrell), Gordon McLendon (Dr. Radford Baines), Baruch Lumet (Dr. Marlowe Craigis), Judge Henry Dupree (Rook Griswold).
BW-69m.
by Jeff Stafford
