After the
Japanese infamously burst into World War Two with their Pearl Harbour attack on December 7th
1941, President Roosevelt declared it: “A date which will live in infamy”. Monogram’s patriotic response was a dreadful
Japano-bashing horror-crime thriller whose release could also fit that
description. Black Dragons was rushed,
and I do mean rushed, into production the following month – under the title The Yellow Menace. Don’t let the
swapping of titles fool you; there’s plenty of undisguised tastelessness right
this way…
The assigned
director was William Nigh whose background of helming several of the East Side
Kids crime capers along with Charlie Chan sequels made him arguably the logical
choice to collide criminal gangs and Oriental stereotypes into a two-for-one
one bad movie. Over his career, he made many films for the Poverty Row studios
of PRC and Monogram (including 1943’s The
Ape) with occasionally more upmarket forays such as Universal’s The Strange Case of Dr RX which we will
come to later in 1942.
Toplining Black Dragons was Bela Lugosi in the third of his much-loved ‘Monogram Nine’ crashed vehicles under Sam Katzman’s Banner
Productions. Katzman was a producer who never allowed himself to be distracted
by petty concerns like quality dialogue, plotting or credibility in pursuit of
an opportunistic B-movie buck or two. To assist this continuing principle, we
are treated to a script by Robert Kehoe and Harvey Gates that manages to both
offend and bore in equal measure.
The best way
to summarise the alleged plot (second best if you count shaking a bag of Scrabble tiles
and then scattering them all over your writing desk) is that Lugosi plays the
murky Monsieur Colomb who furtively visits Dr Saunders, part of a shady Fifth
Columnist espionage ring, and gradually revenges himself upon them all for an
initially unspecified crime, which is then hilariously revealed at the end. The
exposition along the way is marvellously ham-fisted, complemented by a cast
whose performances mostly have that peculiarly relaxed dreariness of ‘70s porn,
only with a lot more wood on display.
Dr Saunders
(George Pembroke) spends most of the film as a secluded off-stage voice once Lugosi
fixes him with his hypnotic glare. At least the Hungarian falling star has a
part that fits his sadly-overused trading persona, that of the sombre Svengali
of vengeful influence and heavily intimated one-liners. Saunders’ niece Alice, (Joan
Barclay), one of the worst bad-acting exhibits, arrives and complicates matters
for Colomb by trying to see her evasive father. She suspects foul play and soon
strikes low-frequency sparks with investigative G-Man Dick Martin played by
Clayton Moore, later famous as the Lone Ranger. He rides in to catch more than
her eye in a sequence that is the first glimmer of some ugly misogynism sewn
into the movie. He grabs her arm harshly to see her out after assuring her of
his manly protection. She acts as though turned on by this in a debatable
some-like-it-rough manner, which is then developed with a jaw-droppingly
tasteless exchange when he is frustrated by her unwillingness to leave for
safety:
“Alice, will
you marry me?”
“Why?”
“So I can
beat you up. It’s the only way to get you out of here”.
Alice’s
taste for bad boys is conceived by the writers as practically suicidal. In between
Dick’s rough grabbing and hilarious domestic violence remark, she also takes a
shine to the evil-radiating Lugosi who is here given a more subtle if
clumsily-written shade to his sexism: “When a young woman’s nerves commence to
give way, she seeks refuge in a strong man’s arms”. At least he has the decency
to warn her he is dangerous.
While the
government agents circle the ensuing homicides like a myopic vulture, another
traitor appears, Wallace (Edward Peil Sr), snooping for something seedy.
Hearing from Stevens the butler that Saunders is unavailable, he gives a
marvellous Homer Simpson “D’oh!” before Columb steams in and strangles him into
unreachability of his own.
“It’s
murder”, barks Kenneth Harlan’s FBI Chief Colton, observing two more corpses
dagger-in-hand on the Japanese Embassy steps. This now totals four. His
stupendous powers of deduction should maybe spend a moment on the beat cop that
found them, who by cost-effective coincidence is the same one to find the last
body here. It’s a good thing the authorities are dunderheads because the
espionagers are using a marvellously incredible method of sending each other
secret messages – advertising cards offering ‘PLASTIC SURGERY. RESULTS
GUARANTEED’ – bearing no contact details whatsoever. That’ll fool anyone of
minimal intelligence.
Systematically,
Columb kills off the traitorous cartel including spell-binding both Robert Fiske
and Irving Mitchell’s spies Ryder and Van Dyke into shooting each other. “You
are both very accommodating, Mr Rrryder” gloats Lugosi with relish. The actors
playing the criminal ring are basically interchangeable black-hats, yet
Mitchell distinguishes himself with a startlingly unmanly squeal when stumbling
upon the dead Wallace.
On the
subject of considered unmanliness, Hanlin (Robert Frazer), the last of the spy league
refuses Dick’s protection with some offensive dialogue to rival his: “A busy
man has very little time to indulge in feminine emotions”. Dick’s pre-amble
appeal to him as a ‘good American’ is an insightful hint of the language
perversion used to support the growing anti-Communist bullying of the nation’s
own real nest of vipers during the 1940s.
Chief Colton
manages to shoehorn in another of the writers’ charming chauvinisms as we build
toward the big reveal when we discover that Alice is actually a government
agent, or as he calls her “one of my best girl operatives”.
The main revelations
though are saved for the expository flashback, a real bonus for bad film
fanatics. We are whisked away to the exotic Japanese city of Stock Footage whose
location is also helpfully conveyed by a gong sounding as we enter the interior
of the plot-inciting Japanese warlord’s lair. Western actor and actor of
westerns I. Stanford Jollee plays the Asian supervillain (known as ‘The Dragon’)
with the kind of halting am-dram delivery through his beard that suggests his
character is either not fully conversant with English or determined to lengthen
his screen time with fiendishly excruciating pauses. He represents “the Order
of Black Dragons…ready to serve…empire…into…death.”
The Land of
the Rising Sun has recruited Lugosi, in reality Nazi plastic surgeon and fellow
beard exponent Dr Melcher, to transform six Japanese men - via “wholesale
surgery”- at the table into the American-looking spy ring who will infiltrate
America. Just to prove there is no honour among stereotyped thieves, the double-crossing
bastards then incarcerate Lugosi (to preserve their secret plan) in a cell with
a clean-shaven doppelganger of himself, thus providing the doctor with the
murder motive – and someone to impersonate before escape.
This just
leaves the present-day Dr Saunders to unmask himself from under a black satin
hood as the final victim of Melcher’s handiwork, a snivelling, dark
porridge-visaged coward.
‘JAP SPY
RING SMASHED!’ blares a newspaper headline, ending the film with an unsubtle
shot of the American flag to remind us that the country would soon be in the
hands of men who would hide behind it to justify their own corrupting power
plays.
The publicity
department also trumpeted some desperate ploys in support of the movie. Poverty Row Horrors! author Tom Weaver quotes
their drafting-in of fiction-writer Joseph Gollomb purporting to be a genuine
historian: “For over fifty years the Black Dragon society has held Japan in a
grip of such terror that not even the so-called ‘Son of Heaven’, the Emperor,
is immune to it”. Well, there’s certainly no recorded inoculation against scornful
laughter, despite the society being grounded in sober truth. Weaver goes on to describe
how the Black Dragons, correctly known as the Kokoryukai/Amur River association
had triggered the Russo-Japanese War in 1904, and amongst their self-protective
assassination plots had staged a 3,000-strong armed insurrection in Tokyo on February
26th 1936.
Now there’s an
idea for a movie…
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