morrison-dylan-fan Ordering the very good Horror Noir Cat Girl from Network during their sale,I stumbled upon another British Horror film. Becoming aware of the title after reading a positive review from Kim Newman,and knowing Michael Gough as one of the main character actors from Hammer Horror,I got a ticket for the museum.The plot:For the last few weeks someone has been going around killing women in London and the police have no clue who it could be. Being a best selling True Crime writer, Edmond Bancroft pushes into the station and gets details for his next book. Laughing behind their backs, Bancroft falls in love with doing the killings himself,and knowing that there is no chance the cops will catch him (with the bonus that he can included the murder in his next book!) Going to buy his next murder weapon from the antiques shop,Bancroft is taken aback,when the seller asks him what has he been using the objects for.View on the film:Including the US " Hypnovista" intro as an extra,Network deliver a sparkling transfer,with the picture retaining its vivid shine,and the soundtrack ringing with crisp screams. Made when British Gothic Horror was at its peak,the screenplay by Herman Cohen and Aben Kandel breaks the castle walls down with an almighty thump.Taking inspiration from Film Noir,the writers dismantle the English "Gentlemen" cad of British Horror for the scum of the earth,who wallow in darkness as Bancroft pens a new murderous tale.Taking delight in keeping the cops completely out of their depths,the writers axe the flick with a mischievous dark sense of humour, throwing bonkers methods of killing (a bedroom guillotine!)and acid-tongue,spiteful dialogue at the viewer.Bowing out for the final time,director Arthur Crabtree stakes the most kitsch aspects of the film with a sheer delight.Giving Bancroft his own "Batcave" Crabtree paints Bancroft's novel with the most garish colours possible,grinding in wet blood being dropped on the streets by Gerard Schurmann's roaring score,to Bancroft's lair being soaked in brightly coloured blocks. Curling his lips at every wickedly chewy one liner, Michael Gough gives a raging, bouncing off the wall performances as Bancroft,thanks to Gough knocking his wooden co-stars down with a sly smile which breaks out into shrieks and howls,as the Black Museum closes its doors.

Spikeopath Horrors of the Black Museum is directed by Arthur Crabtree and written by Herman Cohen and Aben Kandel. It stars Michael Gough, June Cunningham, Graham Curnow, Shirley Anne Field, Geoffrey Keen and Gerald Anderson. A CinemaScope/Eastman Color production, with music by Gerald Schurmann and cinematography by Desmond Dickinson. Thriller writer Edmond Bancroft (Gough) has his own private black museum modelled on the one at Scotland Yard. Needing ideas to spur on his muse, Bancroft hypnotises his assistant Rick (Curnow) to commit increasingly horrific crimes that he can then write about.You can understand why it has become a cult favourite in horror circles, it's so cheese laden and ridiculously lurid it's almost impossible to not have fun with it. Though the much celebrated novelty murder sequences do tend to detract from the many passages of dullness and bad acting on show. The blood beams bright, the girls flash their undies and Michael Gough is a wonderfully demented villain. We are of course asked to buy into the fact that the coppers must be dense to not know who is behind the killings, whilst you would think that anyone would notice that someone has built a guillotine over their bed and that there is a man perched above that as well! But hey, that's just being picky; right?Bonkers, Boring, Brutal, Bloody, all things that make it unforgettable... 5/10

sossy65 As another reviewer mentioned, this film was horrifying to those of us who saw it as kids when it first came out. Horrors of the Black Museum was produced before technical effects became morph-driven and so fake they're not believable (even though they might be scary). Unlike Fiend Without a Face (also mentioned in these reviews) or The Blob, this movie doesn't rely on mechanically produced monsters. which means an imaginative child or paranoid adult could perhaps picture its horrors actually happening. A stretch, surely, but still . . .Pre-movie sequence demonstrating colors and hypnosis was funny and hokey even when the film was first released. The horrors, however, had many children (me included) suffering from nightmares for years. The binocular scene was particularly frightening, but not as frightening as the beheading scene. I cautiously checked the tall bedroom ceiling in the old farmhouse where I grew up for a long while after seeing this flick.Overall, after getting over the heebie-jeebies that lingered for years afterward, I have fond memories of this film. Anyone who is a fan of the 1950s chiller genre might enjoy the dated look and feel of it as well as the scare-factor it can generate in a viewer.

lost-in-limbo Edmond Bancroft a famed crime writer/columnist wanting to make sure his next novel captures the accurate depiction of such vicious murders and to get some public notice. Goes about it by getting his inspiration from Scotland Yard's "Black Museum", where he has his own "Black Museum" filled with unpleasant devices he picks up at an local antique shop and he uses them randomly to murder unexpected victims. His assistant Rick, is the one who does his dirty business when he injects him with some substance that turns him into some monster who performs Edmond's bidding. Edmond constantly shows up at Scotland Yard to gloat on how they aren't getting anywhere with this case. This little British b-grade low-end shocker is crudely exploitative and effective when it's going for the throat. Sure time hasn't been kind on it, but the ghoulish ideas are inspired with a delicious blend of black humour, and the few unusual deaths have impact, as they are very daring, nasty and imaginative. Michael Gough turns in a splendorous lead performance of smarting arrogance as Edmond Bancroft. These aspects are the selling points. The story is effortless, but branching off from it is plenty of distracting sub-plots, which can lull about. Some things seem contrived, rushed and a little questionable. Especially how Gough's character leaves himself open to be caught a number of times and how stupid some of his victims are. However writers Herman Cohen and Aben Kendal do strike up some interesting concepts and morbid themes. In between the deaths and Grand Guignol moments, it can becomes overly talky, but this compact script smoothly rolls off the cast's tongues. Director Arthur Crabtree's pastel touch is competent and some suspenseful surprises and gimmicks are neatly handled. The film really does have a musty look that is nabbed by its brusque photography, and settling in is a resounding music score with an ominous sting. The rest of the performances were reasonably sound. It could've been better, but it's cheaply lurid and preposterous horror fun.