Daughter of Dr. Jekyll takes Robert Louis Stephenson's classic tale and mixes in a little werewolf and vampire lore for good measure; the result is a mildly entertaining and very different take on the oft-told tale of mad scientists and deranged alter-egos.
The very lovely Gloria Talbott plays Janet Smith, who travels to the home of her guardian Dr. Lomas (Arthur Shields), accompanied by her beau George Hastings (John Agar, whose character has a penchant for loud jackets made from deck-chair fabric). Janet tells Dr. Lomas that she and George are engaged to be married, but what Dr. Lomas has to tell Janet is far more shocking: she is the daughter of the infamous Dr. Jekyll, and she may have inherited his condition (not quite sure how, but let's just go with it).
Janet wants to call off the wedding, but George is determined to make her see sense (he's no doubt well aware that she has a rocking body, and thinks that the risk is worth it). However, when Janet starts to suffer from nightmares, awakening to find herself bloody, and local girls from the village start to turn up dead, it looks like she is following in her father's footsteps.
What is really happening shouldn't come as much of a surprise since the supposedly kindly Dr. Lomas is clearly up to no good, hypnotising Janet when no-one is looking, and keeping her drugged up at night-time. In the final reel, George discovers that it is Lomas who has been doing the killing, having taken his old pal Jekyll's potion, transforming himself into a werewolf-like creature that sucks the blood of the living. The nasty doctor has been pinning the blame on Janet, but comes a cropper when the locals pick up burning torches and form a mob, and see the hairy doctor fighting with George. Lomas's handyman ends the terror by impaling the mad scientist through the heart with a big wooden stake.
Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer, who gave us the classic noir Detour (1945), this is a cut above most poverty-row horrors, with bags of creepy atmosphere, a fine central performance from Talbott, and a wonderfully eerie theramin score. The plot might be predictable B-movie tosh, but Ulmer makes the most of things anyway, adding a sense of style to proceedings, while the cheesy looking monster (complete with rubber fangs that wobble) and some unconvincing miniatures only add to the charm. The result is an enjoyably daft film, perfect for Halloween viewing.
The very lovely Gloria Talbott plays Janet Smith, who travels to the home of her guardian Dr. Lomas (Arthur Shields), accompanied by her beau George Hastings (John Agar, whose character has a penchant for loud jackets made from deck-chair fabric). Janet tells Dr. Lomas that she and George are engaged to be married, but what Dr. Lomas has to tell Janet is far more shocking: she is the daughter of the infamous Dr. Jekyll, and she may have inherited his condition (not quite sure how, but let's just go with it).
Janet wants to call off the wedding, but George is determined to make her see sense (he's no doubt well aware that she has a rocking body, and thinks that the risk is worth it). However, when Janet starts to suffer from nightmares, awakening to find herself bloody, and local girls from the village start to turn up dead, it looks like she is following in her father's footsteps.
What is really happening shouldn't come as much of a surprise since the supposedly kindly Dr. Lomas is clearly up to no good, hypnotising Janet when no-one is looking, and keeping her drugged up at night-time. In the final reel, George discovers that it is Lomas who has been doing the killing, having taken his old pal Jekyll's potion, transforming himself into a werewolf-like creature that sucks the blood of the living. The nasty doctor has been pinning the blame on Janet, but comes a cropper when the locals pick up burning torches and form a mob, and see the hairy doctor fighting with George. Lomas's handyman ends the terror by impaling the mad scientist through the heart with a big wooden stake.
Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer, who gave us the classic noir Detour (1945), this is a cut above most poverty-row horrors, with bags of creepy atmosphere, a fine central performance from Talbott, and a wonderfully eerie theramin score. The plot might be predictable B-movie tosh, but Ulmer makes the most of things anyway, adding a sense of style to proceedings, while the cheesy looking monster (complete with rubber fangs that wobble) and some unconvincing miniatures only add to the charm. The result is an enjoyably daft film, perfect for Halloween viewing.