To the uninitiated, I guess most 50s sci-fi flicks seem the same. Take a cast of stuffy, exposition spouting, scientist/military types and have them pontificate about the nature of the unknown, while some stunt man in a rubbery monster suit acts as a loosely disguised allegory for either communism, fear of the atom, or both. On the surface Arthur Crabtree’s Fiend Without A Face seems to dutifully tick a lot of these boxes as a string of suspicious occurrences rocks the Canadian town near an experimental military radar installation; but while the starched shirts of the U.S. war machine and the pipe puffing musings of thoughtful scientists are all present and correct, there’s something a little more urgent about this particular jaunt around the 50s paranoia block.
I would say that we should prepare to face one of of more fiendishly designed creatures of the genre, but how can we when said fiend has no face to face?
We’re off to Manitoba, Canada to visit the U.S. Air Force Interceptor Command Experimental Station No. 6 (catchy name), but as the techs there are working on using nuclear power to further the reach of their radar signals, the locals are quickly getting pissed. While complaints have already arisen that the overhead jets and radar emissions are upsetting local livestock, matters get even more serious when unexplained deaths start afflicting the human population. But when the latest death occurs not far from the base itself, public outcry reaches an all time high and the man in charge decides to take swift action.
That action is to let Major Jeff Cummings sort it out for him, which means that he has to wade through a bunch of hostile townsfolk and a ton of local red tape in order to make any headway. However, after finally convincing Barbara Griselle, the sister of the latest victim, that an autopsy has to be performed, a rather disturbing result is discovered. It seems that the victims are not only missing sporting two puncture marks at the base of each skull, but their entire brain and spinal column is gone too, which certainly isn’t a normal form of death in rural Canada.
As Cummings continues his search – and gradually seduces Barbara – he becomes interested with the works of local scientist, Professor R. E. Walgate, whose experiments into telekinesis may prove to be the link needed to unravel this mystery. Another clue is that whatever’s claiming the lives and stealing the brains of all these rural Canadians, it’s actually invisible to the naked eye, but they don’t plan on being invisible for very long. You see, a combination of Walgate’s telekinetic fumbling and the radiation from the base have created a creature made of living thought and is reproducing by making others like itself out of the brain matter of its victims. Hoping to increase their power and numbers, the cerebral swines converge on the base, hoping to use the radiation to increase both their power and their numbers. Brain power, y’all.
For the vast amount of Fiend Without A Face (God, I love that title), we discover that it follows many established rules that the genre had long since cemented in concrete before it. Most of those slightly cynical descriptions I gave out in my opening are all cheerfully trotted out here as a lot of the human characters are virtually interchangeable with dozens of other movies released during the same decade. However, among the oh-so-serious line readings and 50s gender politics are a couple of things that helps the movie stand out from the crowd a little. The first is the faintly amusing plot thread that seems to be desperately trying to convince the audience that the 50s military are stand-up, trustworthy guys who absolutely wouldn’t allow awful things to happen to local townsfolk. While the military are often the good guys in this type of thing, I found myself chuckling at how far the plot bends itself over backwards in order not to make their radiation spewing experiments primarily the cause of the deadly problem. It’s a rather fascinating example of the keep calm, duck and cover, everything’s fine example that some movies were trying to put across during such turbulent political times that simultaneously urged folk suspicious of the outsider while utterly trusting their own government.
Rather than the military machine and their experiments to create better radar coverage, it’s the eccentric work of a fussy professor that’s fingered for the creation of the outlandish beasts; and the other reason Fiend Without A Face has always stood out a little to me is how wonderfully realised it’s mental menace truly is.
While other sci-fi creature features tended to feature bipedal threats that allowed hulking stuntmen to be entombed in rubber monster suits, Crabtree’s opus instead gives us a completely inhuman foe in the form of beings that are essentially vampire brains. Even more macabre is that they use those repurposed spinal columns to either push themselves along the ground like molluscs, or spring at their enemies as they strangle them into submission. As inhuman 50s villains go, they’re delightfully lurid, and are realised by some pretty solid stop motion animation – but while the movie keeps them off-screen for the majority of the runtime thanks to a convenient bit of plotting that renders them completely invisible (bit of a cheat, that) it more than makes up for it thanks to a finale that’s surprisingly frenetic for the period.
While Cummings takes time out from courting a woman whose brother has just died to sprint to the base and blow up the radar’s power supply, the remaining cast members undergo a siege scenario as slithering brain creatures try to gain entry to the house and try and wrap themselves around the throat of their latest, screaming victim. As they pop through holes in the house’s defences and tumble down the chimney like the brain and spine of Santa Claus, the survivors try to fight back with their guns and everytime one of the creatures are hit, great, satisfying globs of black blood gloop out. While constant phlb-phlb-phb-phlb sound of the brains messily dying does sound suspiciously like they’re shitting themselves, it’s a great sequence that’s full of energy and that fully makes sitting through the more derivative parts of the film totally worth it.
While maybe not at the top of the 50s, creature features pantheon, Fiend Without A Face more than earns it’s keep thanks to the wonderfully extreme nature of its central critters and how satisfying it is when someone plugs them sending chocolate spread gore all up the walls. Solid as hell and truly well made, it’s a great, pulpy example of just how dangerous, intrusive thoughts can really be.
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