Art by Alex Wald

MEXI-MONSTER MELTDOWN!

By Steve Fentone

Mexican B-films, but especially Mexi-monster movies (hereinafter referred to as "MMM") seem to be generally held in low esteem, and are often outright reviled by even those select few who might otherwise be exponents of the loweliest-of-low in diverse international cinecrap. Whereas ethnic works from Italy, Spain, France, Hong Kong and nowadays even Brazil (eg: the long-elusive output of mad movie maestro Jose Mojica Marins) seem to be gobbled up voraciously by an increasing number of loyal enthusiasts, many still seem ignorant of -or perhaps simply indifferent to?- the wealth of obscure delights waiting to be unearthed down Mexico way, especially in the horror, and more specifically, monster genre.
"Mexploitation" films are often largely dismissed as cheap and puerile rehashings of established U.S. movie cliches. Mexican monster movies in particular are guilty of this, but simultaneously exhibit their own unmistakable cultural characteristics, as defined and singular as Japan's giant rubber monster mashes or Europe's Gothic horror pieces. Undoubtedly Meximonster films, like most of the country's other popular domestic genres, extensively borrow from (some might say plagiarize) the Hollywood "Golden Age" of the thirties to the fifties (earlier more independent Mexican horror entries include EL FANTASMA DEL CONVENTO / tr: THE GHOST OF THE CONVENT, D: Fernando de Fuentes; and EL BAÚL MACABRO / tr: THE MACABRE TRUNK, D: Miguel Zacarias, 1936). Plots of the US-derivative MMM almost invariably incorporate tried-and-worn-out pulp archetypes, though are invested with a personal signature care of the distinct Mexican style. 

As with most formulaic film types, overly serious "academic study" of MMM is pretty much a redundant consideration. These films tend to exist in an alternate dimension of their own creation, making stodgy, realist critical analyses (accent on the anal, woof-woof) kind of pointless. MMM (especially those that also contain masked wrestlers, or enmascarados) are best ingested on their own terms, minus too many unfair preconceptions or lofty expectations. Chances are if you come in excessively biased against them, you're not gonna change your prejudices by watching. Erase your mind. Keep your brain a blank slate, and simply permit their infectious atmosphere to have its way with you... In regard to some of the more oddball MMM, forget merely suspending your pathetic gringo disbelief - try abandoning it entirely! 

Jack Taylor, an American-born actor usually based in Spain, spent some time in Mexico during the mid/late 1950s doing westerns and an episode of SHEENA, REINA DE LA SELVA/ SHEENA, QUEEN OF THE JUNGLE (1956). Billed pseudonymously as "Grek Martin", he filled supporting roles in two notable MMM sagas, the NOSTRADAMUS vampire serial, as well as the first three adventures of that masked monster-wrestler, "Neutron, The Atomic Superman". I recently collaborated on a career-spanning interview with señor Taylor, which encompassed his little-known early Mexican tenure. On the topic of the nation's apparent fascination with fantasy, monsters and legends, Taylor remarked:"Mexico is really a fantastic country. I mean, it's a fantasy land. There's fantasy built into the genes of the people; into the minds. People will tell you the most amazing stories with a straight face".  

Taylor went on to recount a tale concerning an ugly little mythical creature spoken of by superstitious paisanos. If you could manage to capture this imaginary (?) animal and not be alarmed by its fearsome appearance, when you took it home and fed it warm milk it would shake its body in contentment and emit a shower of gold coins in gratitude."I had a lady swear to me that her mother had one!" Taylor concluded his story. 

As this little tale might illustrate, Mexico is a country steeped in folklore. Her cultural superstitions, as elsewhere, often take the form of tall tales encompassing fantastic mythical entities. For instance, another supernatural creature indigenous to rural Mexican legend is la Llorona (tr: "The Wailing Woman"). Closely aligned with Gaelic/Celtic legends of howling female spirits called banshees, la Llorona was a similarly forlorn she-ghost whose moaning cries of grief were said to portend doom to those that heard them. She found her way to Mexican screens upon numerous occasions, firstly in LA LLORONA /tr: THE CRYING WOMAN (D: Ramon Peon, 1933; remade by René Cardona in 1959). The 1933 version was followed by LA HERENCIA DE LA LLORONA/tr: THE LEGACY OF THE CRYING WOMAN (D: Mauricio Magdaleno, 1946), EL GRITO DE LA MUERTE/THE LIVING COFFIN (D: Fernando Mendéz, 1958), LA MALDICIÓN DE LA LLORONA/THE CURSE OF THE CRYING WOMAN (D: Rafael Baledón, 1961) and SANTO Y MANTEQUILLA NÁPOLES EN LA VENGANZA DE LA LLORONA/tr: SANTO AND MANTEQUILLA NAPOLES IN THE REVENGE OF THE CRYING WOMAN (D: Miguel M. Delgado, 1973). 

Origin of such tales seems hardly surprising coming from a country wherein low-paid "common man" luchadores (wrestlers) are frequently elevated to the esteemed status of folk superheroes. This by an adoring public that seemingly remains oblivious to the dividing line that usually severs fantasy from reality. Such obsessive hero worship and blurring of the boundary between the real and unreal seems to serve as relevant social catharsis for the country's downtrodden paisano masses.  A seeming unconditional acceptance of fantasy is also a given in the escapist cinema of many cultures (Hong Kong's mystical brand of monsters'n'magic most readily springs to mind). Mexico is no exception. Monsters and fantasy play an important role in her popular culture, so it is only natural that the country's pop film industry adopted them with notable relish.

Because this article shall try to limit itself strictly to bonafide MONSTER titles, I have decided to gather analogous films into block categories. For instance, werewolves, vampires, zombies...you get the gist. Crossovers from category to category are inevitable in such intermingled and co-dependent sub-genres, but I have tried not to be too repetitive. The intent of this overview is not necessarily to pinpoint every MMM ever made, but simply to briefly touch upon some of the best, most interesting, worst and/or wackiest examples. 

MASKED MAULERS vs. MEXI-MONSTERS

When one first thinks of MMM, invariably that indigenous variety incorporating masked luchadores should spring to mind like El Santo swan-diving onto your skull from over the top rope. Colourful and eccentric costumed superheroes coming to grips with monstrous foes are certainly not a unique phenomenon. Witness for example Japan's ULTRAMAN, not to mention a slew of obscure Turkish SUPERMAN imitators. Undoubtedly Mexico's quirky, earthy ethnic style is most in evidence within its monster films; and especially those including masked wrestlers. Many people disregard these often delightful and unpretentious films as outright worthless garbage; and, from a purely aesthetic standpoint they're possibly right. But who reading MONSTER INTERNATIONAL cares about purely aesthetic standpoints?

Even pioneering fan-oriented publications like the late Calvin Beck's inspirational CASTLE OF FRANKENSTEIN  routinely cast aspersions on often very worthwhile Mexican efforts. C.O.F. dismissed the non-wrestling horror film LA INVASIÓN DE LOS VAMPIROS/ INVASION OF THE VAMPIRES as 'trite' and 'routine', but at least 'fessed-up to its 'nice atmosphere'. Basic atmosphere is sometimes the sole available commodity in films that often defy the soundest tenets of sense, science and scenario. As far as the luchador flicks are concerned though, just bear in mind the following golden rule: seeing a film with a masked wrestler may be desirable, but seeing one with a masked wrestler and a monster is damned essential! 

The seminal monster-wrestling effort came with Fernando Mendez's amazing LADRÓN DE CADÁVERES (1956; variously translated over the years to everything from THE BODY SNATCHER to THIEF OF CORPSES). The film did not star or feature El Santo, contrary to some reports and published evidence (he may well have been edited in on re-issue, but this is neither the time nor place to launch that debate). LADRÓN established a great roster of durable luchador contra monstruo cliches. Key elements of its plot (ie: a misguided surgeon conducting experiments to turn top athletes into supersubhuman monsters) resurfaced in at least two René Cardona films: LAS LUCHADORAS CONTRA EL MEDICO ASESINO/DOCTOR OF DOOM (1962), as well as that film's remake, LA HORRIPILANTE BESTIA HUMANA/ NIGHT OF THE BLOODY APES (1968). Refracted trace elements can be found even in Cardona's LAS LUCHADORAS CONTRA EL ROBOT ASESINO/THE WRESTLING WOMEN VS. THE KILLER ROBOT (1968).

 While Santo didn't really come into his own as a film personality until 1958 (his debut efforts being a pair of extremely sub-par Mex/Cuban crime "thrillers" starring Joaquin Cordero), LADRÓN DE CADÁVERES helped further cement its star Wolf Ruvinskis' reputation as one of wrestling cinema's most frequent fixtures. He possessed the mettle combined with the muscle demanded of comicbook heroes. Wolf's lucha libre film experience dated back to the early '50s, but he also essayed a part made famous by Marlon Brando - that of Stanley Kowalski - in a homegrown Mex theatrical version of "A Streetcar Named Desire"; perhaps as far removed from Meximonsterdom as you can get. Ruvinskis got firmly back on track by portraying black-masked, sinewy super hombre "Neutrón" in a series of five films. A so-called sixth adventure bandied about for decades in numerous reference guides as "NEUTRÓN TRAPS THE INVISIBLE KILLERS" is in actuality an unrelated, retitled Cardona film from 1964 called EL ASESINO INVISIBLE /tr: THE INVISIBLE KILLER.

Ruvinskis  Neutron's first trilogy of filmic adventures was NEUTRÓN, EL ENMASCARADO NEGRO/ NEUTRÓN AND THE BLACK MASK, NEUTRÓN CONTRA EL DR. CARONTE/ NEUTRÓN VS. THE AMAZING DR. CARONTE, and LOS AUTOMATAS DE LA MUERTETE/ NEUTRÓN AGAINST THE DEATH ROBOTS (D: Federico Curiel, 1959-60). These pitted Neutrón against the mad Dr. Caronte (played by white-masked "Beto el Boticario"  aka Roberto Ramírez). Caronte concocted, amongst other things, "Death Robot" monsters - lumbering, lumpyfaced henchthings clad in baggy boiler suits - in his megalomaniacal bid to rule the world by perfecting a devastating neutron bomb. Neutrón (the hero, not the bomb) puts a stop to it all by the final reel of Chapter Three with the assistance of Jack Taylor  "Grek Martin" as the brainy and dependable Professor Thomas. 

Neutrón was just one among many identity-incognito superheroes who periodically tussled with monsters. Usually though when you consider the term "masked wrestling monster films", the name of El Santo should strike an archetypal chord. If not, you'd best begin questioning whether you truly deserve your Monster International subscription, muchacho. 

To lesser degrees -in terms of output, not always necessarily quality- El Demonio Azul or "Blue Demon" (aka Alejandro Cruz), Mil Máscaras or "Thousand Masks" ( aka Aaron Rodríguez) and other enmascarados fought with monsters on film. Perhaps last and least in overall movie output and quality of finished product was Huracán or "Hurricane" Ramírez (aka David Silva). Ramírez's main claims to fame seem to be his former offscreen pro-wrestling career (now perpetuated by his successor, H.R. Jr.), along with the fact that he was an amigo of Santo's (Ramírez even acted as an enmasked pallbearer at the Silver-Masked One's funeral). Huracán's cinematic escapades were far less auspicious. Of his half-dozen or so motley filmic forays, only LA VENGANZA DE HURACÁN RAMÍREZ/tr: THE VENGEANCE OF HURRICANE RAMÍREZ (D: Josélito Rodríguez, 1967) featured anything that might charitably be classified as a "monster": namely, a poverty-stricken Jekyll/Hyde beastman created by an insane Darwinist's animal serum experimentation coupled with some of the worst time-lapse/double-exposure photography ever. Lately, Huracán's filmic career is kept alive (barely) by Huracán Jr., who headlined the unbelievably abominable shot-on-video "production", HURACÁN CONTRA LOS TERRORISTAS/tr:HURRICANE VS. THE TERRORISTS (D: Juan Rodríguez, 1989). This contained no real monsters, though a rotten-faced zombie shows up in a brief nightmare sequence. This one token monsterrific reference sums up the extent of Hurricane's filmic legacy. 

On the other hand, El Santo's movie monster-wrestling career was as prolific and prestigious as Ramirez's was paltry and pathetic. Santo, El Enmascarado de Plata grappled valiantly with most of the customary monster species, from vampires (a LOT of those) to mummies to aliens to werewolves to assorted whatsits mutated from various established pulp origins. A few of his better films were even honoured with limited international distribution, but Santo himself was often renamed for foreign markets: in the US/UK, he became known variously as "The Saint" (the literal translation of his Spanish handle) or "Samson". In Italy, he became "Argos"; in Germany, "Superheld/tr: Superhero"; in France, he was actually christened "Superman"!  Santo's finest cinematic period was without question the early 1960s. Such densely-ambient megaclassics as SANTO CONTRA LAS MUJERES VAMPIRO/SAMSON AND THE VAMPIRE WOMEN (1961) and SANTO EN EL MUSEO DE CERA/SAMSON IN THE WAX MUSEUM (1963) remain prime Santonian choices. The former toplined a sexy sect of top-heavy vampirettes in sleazy eyeliner, as well as at least one werewolf; while the latter contained most of the classic monster repertoire, including an inanimate Frankenstein monster job very similar to the copyrighted Karloff/Jack Pierce conception. 

Santo pins a wrestler turned monster.

Santo (Rodolfo Guzmán Huerta was beneath the mask in both real and reel-life) starred in numerous other inconsistently awesome or awful adventures. Of over fifty films in all, less than half contain monsters of sorts. Most of the titles are self explanatory: SANTO CONTRA LOS ZOMBIES/ INVASION OF THE ZOMBIES (D: Benito Alazraki, 1961), SANTO CONTRA EL ESPECTRO DEL ESTRANGULADOR/tr: SANTO VS. THE GHOST OF THE STRANGLER (D: René Cardona, 1963), SANTO VS. LA INVASIÓN DE LOS MARCIANÓS/tr: SANTO VS. THE MARTIAN INVASION (D: Alfredo B. Crevenna, 1966), SANTO Y BLUE DEMON CONTRA LOS MONSTRUOS/tr: SANTO AND BLUE DEMON VS. THE MONSTERS (D: Gilberto Martínez Solares, 1969), SANTO CONTRA LA HIJA DE FRANKENSTEIN/tr: SANTO VS. FRANKENSTEIN'S DAUGHTER (D: Miguel M. Delgado, 1971), SANTO Y BLUE DEMON CONTRA EL DR. FRANKENSTEIN/tr: SANTO AND BLUE DEMON VS. DR. FRANKENSTEIN (D: Miguel M. Delgado, 1973), etc.

As well as monsters, Santo polished off such stalwart B-grade criminal elements as gangsters, counterfeiters and even Nazis (the biggest monsters of all?). He made a handful more cheap films in the early-'80s, including his penultimate duo, EL PUÑO DE LA MUERTE/tr: THE FIST OF DEATH and LA FURIA DE LOS KARATECAS /tr: THE FURY OF THE KARATE-KILLERS (two very similiar movies both directed by Alfredo B. Crevenna, 1981). Despite nominal promise of martial arts mayhem, they do fit our rigorous Meximonster criteria. However, any tertiary critters present -namely a few ratty-looking "wolfman" types- are eclipsed by the monstrous two-headed gargantua of sex kitten Grace Renat's pechos (that means tits).  El Santo retired from the screen shortly thereafter (how could he compete with señorita Renat's impressive acting talents?); he died of a heart attack in 1984, and the world's been a mess ever since.

IN A CLASS BY ITSELF!

In addition to the unique brand of wrestling films, MMM also encompass a substantial number of "straight" monster films in both contemporary and period settings. One of the true wonders of non-wrestling Meximonster cinema, EL BARÓN DEL TERROR/tr: THE BARON OF TERROR (D: Chano Urueta, 1961) will sound much more familiar under its famous K. Gordon Murray release title, THE BRAINIAC. Murray's several-dozen strong "Spookies" package that was sold strictly to US tv in English-dubbed state during the '60s boasted many of the finest MMM. However, it is THE BRAINIAC which remains one of the strangest and most wonderful acquisitions ever Mexported. Among the frequently incestuous Meximonster lineage, it succeeds in standing alone as a totally unique concept, its pedigreed roots completely untainted by the mongrel genes of the main family tree. The basic plotline about an accused warlock burned at the stake and returning centuries later to exact revenge on his condemning inquisitors may well have been assimilated from Italian Mario Bava's LA MASCHERA DEL DEMONIO/BLACK SUNDAY (1960). There similarities end. Woven into THE BRAINIAC's otherwise stock storyline is a pointy-snouted, throbbing-headed monstrosity -señor BRAINIAC himself- with a penchant for slurping out assigned vendetta victims' brains using his elongated forked tongue. THE BRAINIAC has no equivalent in the multi-nuanced Mexploitation spectrum, yet it somehow ideally personifies the MMM mythus. It is the prototypical example by which all others may be measured. And the absolute optimum place to start if you're of a mind to cultivate an appetite for either Mexican monster films - or human brains.  

MALE AND FEMALE BLOODSCUKERS, ETC.

As in many worldwide horror film markets, vampires were probably the most prolific and steadily employed monsters within all of Mexcinema. Beginning with Carlos Villarias' variation on Lugosi in the Spanish language cut of DRACULA (1931), the better Mexican vampire films -primarily the monochromatic ones- were among the most ambient and picturesque in all MMM. 

Standouts in the undead sub-genre are Fernando Mendez's (he of LADRÓN DE CADÁVERES acclaim) frequently eloquent EL VAMPIRO/THE VAMPIRE and its debatably superior sequel, EL ATAÚD DEL VAMPIRO/THE VAMPIRE'S COFFIN (both 1957). This strikinglyphotographed duo attains a plateau of elegant, elegiac quality seldom reached in even the much-lauded Hammer hickey sagas. The first Mendez film is a more traditional rural Gothic romance with fangs; the second transplants its continuous plotline to an urban locale. It offers some incredibly-atmospheric light and shadow chiaroscuro camera compositions worthy of the finest in German Expressionism and American noir. A major sub-plot unfolds in a wax museum/torture chamber no doubt influenced by André De Toth's 1953 HOUSE OF WAX (wax museums figure prominently in a large number of Mexi-horrors, including Rafael Baledón's virtual HOUSE OF WAX remake, MUSEO DEL HORROR/tr: MUSEUM OF HORROR, 1964, and Jaime Salvador's LA SEÑORA MUERTE/tr: LADY DEATH, 1967). Stepping into EL VAMPIRO's shoes and the Meximonster hall of infamy was instant star Germán Robles ( "Edward Tucker" in some foreign releases, for instance the German print of COFFIN, known as DER SARG DES VAMPIRO). Robles played the charismatic Count Lavud/Duval with aristocratic detachment, pale hair and inch-long eyeteeth. The portrait of Robles in character as the Count is - along with El Santo's familiar enmasked visage- perhaps the most instantly recognizable image in all Mexploitation. 

Ironically, Mexico's greatest vampiric thespian also made a name for himself as a stage actor playing Biblical characters in passion plays like PROCESO A JESUS/tr: TRIAL OF JESUS (1959). This theatrical production was staged specially for the Archbishop of Mexico (it also featured Robles' Spanishized American colleague from the NOSTRADAMUS serial, Jack Taylor). However, it is for Robles' commanding portrayals of undead bloodsucking aristos in films like the EL VAMPIRO duet, his spoof cameo in EL CASTILLO DE LOS MONSTRUOS/tr: THE CASTLE OF THE MONSTERS, his Nostradamus characterization, and even the Argentinian-made EL VAMPIRO AECHECHA/tr: THE VAMPIRE STRIKES/THE LURKING VAMPIRE, 1959) that have made him one of Mexploitation's most easily identifiable faces. He is the Mexican Chris Lee, or perhaps more accurately a Mexican precursor to Italian glampire, Walter Brandi. Robles was hereinafter to be almost exclusively associated with cultured vampiric roles. 

Germán Robles belatedly returned to the bloodsucker genre for LOS VAMPIROS DE COYOACÁN/tr: THE VAMPIRES OF COYOACÁN (D: Arturo Martínez, 1973). Surprisingly, he did not fill the expected lead vampire's cape, and was a heroic character for a change. COYOACÁN is a loose companion-piece to same director Martinez's much-inferior LAS MOMIAS DE SAN ÁNGEL/tr: THE MUMMIES OF SAN ÁNGEL (also 1973), in that it stars multi-masked luchador Mil Máscaras (ably assisted by tag-partner Superzán - not a typo). COYOACÁN is routine vampirized shenanigans, but bolstered by some eerie ambience, a handful of nasty killer dwarves (what other kind are there?), and a remarkably well-accomplished man-into-werebat transmogrification. But, truth be told, Robles was rather wasted in this film. 

A less familiar Mexploitation face many might be hard-pressed to attach a name to belongs to one Yerye Beirute, who was Robles' brutish 'assistant' in THE VAMPIRE'S COFFIN. Beirute also appeared in a vampire comedy called ECHENME AL VAMPIRO/tr: BRING ME THE VAMPIRE (D: Alfredo B. Crevenna, 1961), as well as many non-vampire horror/monster pictures. He usually portrayed second-string scuzzball henchmen or criminal degenerates in the healthy number of MMM he appeared in. These encompassed some of the very BEST '50s efforts (LADRÓN DE CADÁVERES), some of the '60s worst (Boris Karloff's LA CÁMARA DEL TERROR/THE FEAR CHAMBER, 1968), as well as one of the '70s wackiest (René Cardona's bizarre EL INCREÍBLE PROFESOR ZÓVEK/tr: THE INCREDIBLE PROFESSOR ZÓVEK, 1971). Beirute never played a monster per se. The striking fact alone that he was a homelier facial hybrid of Karloff and Spanish sleazemeister Howard Vernon assures him of at least a passing nod here!  Yerye's stint opposite Robles in THE VAMPIRE'S COFFIN is perhaps his most unctuous, reptilian role.

As a consequence of Germán Robles' popularity from the VAMPIRO duo (almost simultaneous to the rise of Hammer Films' DRACULA cycle), a plethora of mood-thick vampire melodramas resulted. EL MUNDO DE LOS VAMPIROS/THE WORLD OF THE VAMPIRES (D: Alfonso Corona Blake, 1960) emerges as one of the campiest and most deliriously choreographed. Its Roblesian vampire lord, skull-bedecked supernatural pipe organ, bustaceous Hispanic vamp-vixens and solemn procession of pug-ugly minions converging on their Satanic Majesty's underground crypt-cavern exemplify the peculiar slant of supreme Mexican camp.	

Further primo examples of the distinct Mexican vampire style can be seen in another complementary twosome, Miguel Morayta's arcanely saturated LA INVASIÓN DE LOS VAMPIROS/ THE INVASION OF THE VAMPIRES (1961) and its sequel, EL VAMPIRO SANGRIENTO/ THE BLOODY VAMPIRE (1962,  EL CONDE FRANKENHAUSEN/tr: COUNT FRANKENHAUSEN). For these, a mild but detectably kinky S/M tone and Carlos Agosti as evil Count Frankenhausen dominated. Agosti was another seemingly eternal Meximonster fixture, his curriculum vitae numbering such films as DR. SATÁN Y LA MAGIA NEGRA/tr: DR. SATAN VS. BLACK MAGIC (D: Rogelio A. González Jr., 1967) and THE WRESTLING WOMEN VS. THE KILLER ROBOT (D: René Cardona, 1968). 

In INVASION OF THE VAMPIRES and THE BLOODY VAMPIRE, director Morayta competently combined a funereal black carriage pulled by slow-motion horses, a deliciously audacious, stiff-winged bat-cum-hang glider with furry Bugs Bunny ears, and oodles of dry-ice fog. If you took a knife, you could feasibly slice hunks of atmosphere off these two films like cheese. They even somehow had room left for stiff-legged resuscitated vampiro-zombies that predated and neatly foreshadowed Romero's NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD by more than a half-decade. 

Seductive predatory vamp-vixens have of course been a main facet of most international bloodsucker industries, and Mexico's was certainly no exception. Vampire seductresses with almondine eyes and melon breasts also figure prominently (ahem) in a small sub-genre of Meximonster cinema. They most notably appeared in above-mentioned SANTO CONTRA LAS MUJERES VAMPIRO (D: Alfonso Corona Blake, 1961), headed up by sultry Cult Queen Lorena Velázquez and her vampirized beefcake-boys. Lorena reprised her role in Jose Diaz Morales' ATACAN LAS BRUJAS /tr: THE WITCHES ATTACK (1964), a Santo opus involving alleged ghostly bitchwitches that was basically a verbatim but uncredited remake of MUJERES VAMPIRO. Senorita Velázquez acted in numerous B-film genres. She is most remembered for her horror movies, and especially ones in which she teamed up with voluptuous she-cat Elizabeth Campbell as a female wrestling tag-team (ie: LAS LUCHADORAS CONTRA EL MEDICO ASESINO and LAS LUCHADORAS CONTRA LA MOMIA, both D: René Cardona, 1962/64). 

As far as flitting vampire ballerinas in skintight body stockings and serrated-edge Batgirl capes go, LAS VAMPIRAS/tr: THE VAMPIRE GIRLS (D: Federico Curiel, 1968) simply couldn't be surpassed. Toss in Mil Máscaras again as the husky hero, John Carradine as a decrepit caged vampire, and some wobbly cardboard bats on strings, and this film's combination just can't be beat. Curiel struck again with SANTO EN LA VENGANZA DE LAS MUJERES VAMPIRO/tr: SANTO IN THE VENGEANCE OF THE VAMPIRE WOMEN (1970), another wrestler outing with murderous blood-drinking Meximinxes. 

Voracious vampirettes made yet another appearance in René Cardona's SANTO EN EL TESORO DE DRÁCULA/tr: SANTO IN DRACULA'S TREASURE (1967). An alternate version designated for release to certain more permissive "adults only" markets (including the Continent) was retitled EL VAMPIRO Y EL SEXO, literally "THE VAMPIRE AND SEX"!  This sexed-up edit contained a bevy of stacked señoritas whose topless feminine pulchritude was more explicitly exposed than in the "straight" version. Knowing a lucrative trend when he latched onto its bra-straps, famed Mex producer-director-writer-actor Cardona released tittified editions of three subsequent non-vampire monster-wrestling films. These were: LA HORRIPILANTE BESTIA HUMANA/NIGHT OF THE BLOODY APES, LAS LUCHADORAS CONTRA EL ROBOT ASESINO/THE WRESTLING WOMEN VS. THE KILLER ROBOT and SANTO CONTRA LOS JINETES DEL TERROR/tr: SANTO VS. THE TERROR RIDERS. These three were renamed HORROR Y SEXO/HORROR AND SEX, EL ASESINO LOCO Y EL SEXO/THE MAD KILLER AND SEX and Y LEPROSOS Y EL SEXO/THE LEPERS AND SEX respectively (bonafide gun-toting lepers were ostensible "monsters" of the final title, a strange wrestling/western hybrid). 

Also from the horror horse-opera stable trotted a nominal vampire picture, Juan J. Ortega's elusive LOS MURCIÉLAGOS/tr: THE BATS (1964), which saw its 1965 release in Mother Country Spain as LOS VAMPIROS DEL OESTE/tr: THE VAMPIRES OF THE WEST. This was a mock monster-western whose villainous protagonists wore the disguise of supernatural vampires. Still more spurious (literal and figurative) vampires showed up in CHANOC VS. EL TIGRE Y EL VAMPIRO/tr: CHANOC VS. THE TIGER AND THE VAMPIRE (1971) and CHANOC Y EL HIJO DEL SANTO CONTRA LOS VAMPIROS/tr: CHANOC AND THE SON OF SANTO VS. THE VAMPIRES (D: Rafael Peréz Grovas, 1981). Chanoc (usually played by beefy Gregorio Casals, a veteran of several Santo films) was a popular Mexicomix creation who found his way into a short-lived series of poverty row "action adventures". Monster content was most minimal, although in CHANOC VS. LOS DEVOURADORES DE HOMBRES/tr: CHANOC VS. THE MANEATERS (aka CHANOC EN LAS GARRAS DE LAS FIERAS/tr: CHANOC IN THE WILD BEASTS' CLAWS, D: Gilberto Martínez Solares, 1971) our hero was seen to battle the fakest, most flaccid inflatable-vinyl "giant octopus" of all time!  While on the topic of lamentably phoney monsters, along with vampires and octopi, it should be mentioned that a bogus "gillman" played a fishy red herring in Rafael Baledón's EL PANTANO DE LAS ANIMAS/THE SWAMP OF THE LOST MONSTER (1956; US release 1965). This was another mutant western, employing a SCOOBY-DOO plot structure that ends with its piscean prowler being unveiled as a hoax engineered by a greedy villain.

At least there was an honest-to-goodness vampire in EL IMPERIO DE DRÁCULA/tr: THE EMPIRE OF DRACULA (D: Federico Curiel, 1966), a nicely-made colour film with many intentional similarities to Hammer's DRACULA, PRINCE OF DARKNESS (1965), which was something of a box-office success in Mexico. A decade or so later, the prolific Alfredo B. Crevenna's similarly-titled LA DINASTÍA DRÁCULA/tr: THE DRACULA DYNASTY (1978) helped contribute to/capitalize on the late-'70s resurgence of post-Hammer vampire romances. DINASTÍA sure as hell beats John Badham's DRACULA hands down, and it's dense, intoxicant mood is not surprising in light of the other vampire mood-pieces discussed hereabouts. What is surprising is the fact that former US teen heart-throb Fabiano "Fabian" Forte fills the role of a descendent of Count Dracula - and, it's not a comedy!  

 

WALKING CORPSES & HUMAN AUTOMATONS

A prototypical example of a "zombie" from the Golden Era of MMM is the disfigured reanimated lunatic (Antonio Raxel) who claws frantically from his shallow grave amidst a thunderstorm in the pseudo-cerebral MISTERIOS DE ULTRATUMBA/BLACK PIT OF DR. M (D: Fernando Mendéz, 1958). The "rebirth" of this walking dead man prefigures the clawing, uprooting corpses in such better-known gringo productions as PLAGUE OF THE ZOMBIES (1966), COUNT YORGA, VAMPIRE (1971), and RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD (1985). 

U.S. made Spanish-language video release of EL DR. SATÁN

Science ostensibly aligned with voodoo brought the radio-controlled human robots of SANTO CONTRA LOS ZOMBIES/INVASION OF THE ZOMBIES (1961) to "life". Still another symbiotic collaboration between the occult/alchemical sciences and the technological endowed unnatural mobility to the heavily eye-shadowed automaton slaves of EL DR. SATÁN/tr: DR. SATAN (D: Miguel Morayta, 1966) and their swish mini-skirted zombie sisters in the sequel, DR. SATÁN Y LA MAGIA NEGRA/tr: DR. SATAN VS. BLACK MAGIC (D: Rogelio A. González Jr., 1967). Both films also featured cameos by a translucent-winged demoniac Satan; latter also highlighted the machinations of a sinister halfbreed Oriental/Occidental vampire-sorceror (Japanese/Mexican character actor Noé Murayama), just in case zombies and the Devil Himself didn't suffice.

As for the "traditional" utilization of the zombie, SANTO CONTRA LA MAGIA NEGRA/tr: SANTO VS. BLACK MAGIC (D: Alfredo B. Crevenna, 1972) is perhaps the most faithful to the superficial pulp cliches assigned to voodoo by Hollywood. As well as actually being lensed on location in Haiti, MAGIA NEGRA contains lengthy peeks into authentic voodoo ceremonies, and numerous black guys stiff-legging around the island wearing realistic special effects makeup (ie: corn flour). At one point, these "evil zombies" are warded off by Santo when he brandishes a cruciform tire-iron of all things in their direction!

An earlier quite customary manufactured walking dead occurred in LA MUERTE VIVIENTE/ISLE OF THE SNAKE PEOPLE (D: Juan Ibáñez and Jack Hill, 1968).  As is by now very well documented, the film is one of the much-reviled four-pack that an ailing Boris Karloff appeared in during the lattermost stage of his career.  The other films were LA CÁMARA DEL TERROR/THE FEAR CHAMBER, which featured a prehistoric rock monster, LA INVASIÓN SINIESTRA/THE INCREDIBLE INVASION, and SERENATA MACABRA/HOUSE OF EVIL (all directed by Ibáñez and Hill, 1968).  Actually, LA NUERTE VIVIENTE/tr: THE LIVING DEATH is probably the best of the motley bunch, boasting some thick, eerie mood, as well as zombies against a pronounced necro-erotic undertow.  Much of the latter ingredient is provided by luscious actress/dancer Yolanda "Tongolele"   Montes in her sparsley-clad capacity as an evil juju princess, complete with mandatory phallic pet boa constrictor.  Hubba-hubba...

The closest I've yet seen a Mexploitation zombie entry come to resembling Romero's NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (besides the foreshadowings found in INVASION OF THE VAMPIRES) would have to be BLUE DEMON Y ZÓVEK EN LA INVASIÓN DE LOS MUERTOS/tr: BLUE DEMON AND ZÓVEK IN THE INVASION OF THE DEAD (D: René Cardona, 1972). Therein a mysterious globular meteorite impregnated by cosmic rays settles in the Mexican badlands. Its radiation causes revivification of a horde of shambling undead extras. These massed zombies proceed to chase Blue, effeminate escape-artiste Prof. Zóvek and delectable blonde heroine Christa Linder around an isolated desert. Why the same radioactive meteor apparently also causes two other dudes to devolve into vampire/werewolf-fanged growling beastmen is anybody's guess. Just for variety's sake...?

The obvious Americanisms of INVASIÓN DE LOS MUERTOS were diluted by enough Mexcentricity to keep my incredulous attention. On the other hand, one of the most modern Meximonster films I've seen to date, Rúben Galindo Jr's zombified CEMENTERIO DEL TERROR/tr: CEMETERY OF TERROR (1985) is a pretty sorry juxtaposition of blatant yankee-wank components. FRIDAY THE 13TH and RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD are equally plagiarized in a sloppy mock-US script that mimics both films with its copycat living dead teen-slasher and climactic zombie party. CEMENTERIO offers ample testimony that the contemporary Mexican horror picture is a stumbling, undead shadow of its former self, and should perhaps be mercifully and conclusively laid to rest.  

  

THE CRUSTIER, DUSTIER WALKING DEAD

Another popular monster species within MMM is la momia. With its above reanimated cousins the vampire and the zombie (the Frankenstein monster makes only sporadic appearances), it is one of the more commonplace Meximonstrous antagonists. Mexico's built-in morbid cultural fascination with Death and the Afterlife no doubt helps explain the motion picture prominence of these resuscitated corpses. Evidence of the Mexican people's collective infatuation with the mechanics of Death is provided by such extinct native societies as the Aztecs, Toltecs and Mayans, who were known to embalm important personages and entomb them for all Eternity inside huge, multi-tiered stone pyramids. Parallels with the more familiar ancient Egyptian tradition are quite obvious. But, whereas Hollywood and elsewhere took to the idea of mummified Egyptian pharaohs or high priests returning from the grave for revenge or romance, the uniquely Mexican species of momia has maintained a considerably more subdued profile. 

Probably the highest visibility Mexi-mummy character is Popoca, the aptly-named "Aztec Mummy". Popoca initially gained prominence in a three-film series directed by Rafael Portillo: LA MOMIA AZTECA, LA MALDICIÓN DE LA MOMIA AZTECA and EL ROBOT HUMANO (all 1957). All three films were re-dubbed/recycled to various degrees for US release as THE CURSE OF THE AZTEC MUMMY, ATTACK OF THE MAYAN MUMMY and THE ROBOT VS. THE AZTEC MUMMY. Incidentally, the human robot, Popoca's clanking opponent in the final instalment, was subsequently re-used (à la FORBIDDEN PLANET's "Robby") for appearances in both CAPERUCITA Y PULGARCITO CONTRA LOS MONSTRUOS/LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD AND THE MONSTERS and LA NAVE DE LOS MONSTRUOS/tr: THE SHIP OF THE MONSTERS (both 1960).

The scruffy Aztec mummy meanwhile rose again to face voluptuous grappling chicas Lorena Velázquez and Elizabeth Campbell in René Cardona's THE WRESTLING WOMEN VS. THE AZTEC MUMMY, and even put in a belated comeback cameo alongside Velázquez and chaperon Johnny Legend in the Mexi-wrestling film episode of Jonathan Ross' Brit tv series, SON OF THE INCREDIBLY STRANGE FILM SHOW (1989). Similar crusty mummy-zombies arose for MISTERIOS DE LA MAGIA NEGRA/tr: MYSTERIES OF BLACK MAGIC (D: Miguel M. Delgado, 1957) and SANTO EN LA VENGANZA DE LA MOMIA/tr: SANTO IN THE MUMMY'S REVENGE (D: René Cardona, 1970).

Mexico's other indigenous mummy species made its welcome motion picture debut in 1970 for Federico Curiel's LAS MOMIAS DE GUANAJUATO/tr: THE MUMMIES OF GUANAJUATO. Among the real-life Mexican town of Guanajuato's top tourist attractions are its museum  exhibits of "real-life" mummies. These withered cadavers -atrophied and stiffened by rigor mortis into grotesque simulacrums of living human postures- are preserved after interment by some mysterious and apparently random process of natural mummification, possibly via some remarkable chemical reaction of the soil. The embalmed corpses are donated by loved ones to be dug up when the time is "ripe" for display among the desiccated ranks of other Mummies of Guanajuato. 

LAS MOMIAS DE GUANAJUATO: the film showcased wrestling mega-stars Blue Demon and Mil Máscaras (with El Santo contributing a bit part), plus a horde of motile mummies rampaging through authentic hometown locations. The film spawned a pair of sequels, EL ROBO DE LAS MOMIAS DE GUANAJUATO/tr: THE THEFT OF THE MUMMIES OF GUANAJUATO and EL CASTILLO DE LAS MOMIAS DE GUANAJUATO/tr: THE CASTLE OF THE MUMMIES OF GUANAJUATO (both D: Tito Novaro, 1972). Such emulations no doubt occurred on account of the originating series entry being the highest-grossing monster-wrestling flick to date. Seeing as these films simply aren't produced anymore (bar recent "art film" homages like José Buil's incredible LA LEYENDA DE UNA MASCARA/tr: THE LEGEND OF A MASK, 1990), it looks as if LAS MOMIAS DE GUANAJUATO shall retain its enviable title. 

Due to MOMIAS #1's success, it inevitably had its imitators and pretenders. Alfredo Zacarías' CAPULINA CONTRA LAS MOMIAS/tr: CAPULINA VS. THE MUMMIES (aka EL TERROR DE GUANAJUATO or CAPULINA ENTRE LAS MOMIAS/tr: CAPULINA AMONGST THE MUMMIES, 1972) was a parodic screwball mum-com that headlined its title pudgy comedian (aka Gaspar Henaine). Zacarías later cameo'd the genuine Guanajuato museum mummies in his "possessed hand" film, MACABRO: LA MANO DEL DIABLO/aka DEMONOID (1980). 

LAS MOMIAS DE SAN ÁNGEL/tr: THE MUMMIES OF SAN ÁNGEL (D: Arturo Martínez, 1973) was a poor man's emulation of the first GUANAJUATO's formula. The real-life town of San Ángel boasts its own more modest collection of "mummies". As with similar victims of Mt. Vesuvius' eruption in ancient Pompeii, several San Ángel priests and nuns were ossified centuries ago by a flash-flood of volcanic lava. This historical fact seems to be the basic source idea fancified and elaborated upon by LAS MOMIAS DE SAN ÁNGEL's scriptwriters, who took many liberties with the truth. Granted, it had some positive points in returning star Mil Máscaras, heroine Lorena Velázquez and a goodly contingent of mummies. But it never attains the manic, tacky gusto and surreal brilliance of its inspiration source. 

Mouldy mummies (of the more traditional, bandage-bound Hollywood kind) walked in numerous films, like EL CASTILLO DE LOS MONSTRUOS/tr: THE CASTLE OF THE MONSTERS (D: Julian Soler, 1957), SANTO Y BLUE DEMON CONTRA LOS MONSTRUOS/tr: SANTO AND BLUE DEMON VS. THE MONSTERS (D: Gilberto Martínez Solares, 1969) and LA MANSIÓN DE LAS SIETE MOMIAS/tr: THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN MUMMIES (D: Rafael Lanuza, 1975). In the mid-to-late-'70s, mummies (led by pro wrestler/part-time actor Tinieblas  "Darkness" in skintight linen wrappings) battled a bullwhip-cracking Zorro impersonator (Mex-action star Juan Miranda) in Ángel Rodríguez's EL LÁTIGO CONTRA LAS MOMIAS ASESINAS/tr: THE WHIP VS. THE MURDERING MUMMIES. A plot-thread connection to the first GUANAJUATO film is apparent in that the title monsters are able to appear or vanish instantaneously and so doubly confound their stunned victims. Unfortunately, the mummies in this film are far too tightly-wound and immaculate in appearance, and provoke pangs of nostalgia for the sloppier dress sense of old Popoca of yore.

In more recent times, the Meximummy - like most of his late, lamented monster compadres - seems to have been permanently laid to rest thanks to a now-negligible domestic film industry.

Werewolves and She-Wolves

Lycanthropy and shapeshifting (including the related Jekyll/Hyde syndrome) were once mainstays of the Meximonster industry. Though most films with a pronounced lycanthropic theme were heavily influenced by Lon Chaney Jr's Lawrence Stewart Talbot persona first popularized by Universal's THE WOLFMAN (1941), Chaney did not really have a comparable counterpart in Mexico. Things came full circle of sorts when Lon ventured south of the border to appear in a (non-speaking) lycanthrope role for the Germán Tin Tan Valdes comedy, LA CASA DEL TERROR/tr: THE HOUSE OF TERROR (D: Gilberto Martínez Solares, 1959). As is by now common knowledge, a butchered, English-dubbed and nigh-unwatchable version with additional US-shot footage was released in 1965 by notorious hack gringo Jerry "I display nothing but utter contempt for the cinematic medium"  Warren. Known as FACE OF THE SCREAMING WEREWOLF, it may easily join Warren's other fancifully-titled import Mex/US graft-jobs, ATTACK OF THE MAYAN MUMMY, CREATURE OF THE WALKING DEAD and CURSE OF THE STONE HAND as one of the cruddiest repackaging non-attempts ever.

Thankfully, Warren didn't get to inflict his disastrous anti-Midas touch on EL HOMBRE Y EL MONSTRUO/ THE MAN AND THE MONSTER (D: Rafael Baledón, 1957), starring suave Mexican horror hero/producer Abel Salazar in his pre-BRAINIAC days. HOMBRE owed as much to Robert L. Stevenson as to Larry S. Talbot, with its tale of a haunted pianist (Enrique Rambal) reverting to a Mr. Hyde-like werewolf beastie when a certain composition is played on his keyboard. Stirred in to make this somber tale even more so is a dark Faustian sub-plot about a soul sold in furtherance of a glorious musical career, and also murder. The serious mood is not undone even by comical makeup (the fully transformed monster boasts a prominent schnozz with the general dimensions of a proboscis monkey's!). Director (and actor) Baledón rose from helming faceless US-emulative matinee westerns and the like to briefly become one of Mexico's finest purveyors of monster/horror/fantasy fare in the later '50s to mid-'60s period. Now in his early seventies, Baledón currently acts in daytime Spanish-language soap operas! 

The other notable Baledónian werewolf entry was LA LOBA/tr: THE SHE-WOLF (1964), which co-starred Joaquin Cordero and an inordinate amount of graphic splatter for the period (perhaps the antithesis of Baledón's whimsical Tin Tan comedy-musical from the same year, LOS FANTASMAS BURLONES/tr: THE GHOST JOKERS). LA LOBA details the exploits of a ferocious, white-furred wolf señorita (Kitty de Hoyos), and again was slightly marred by occasionally laughable monster makeup (ie: "werewolf feet" that look more like fuzzy slippers!). All-in-all though, a worthy effort.

Other wolf-chicks bared their talons and wore scimpy fur bikinis in the unrelated SANTO CONTRA LAS LOBAS/tr: SANTO VS. THE SHE-WOLVES (D: Jaime Jiménez Pons & Rúben Galindo, 1972). LAS LOBAS DEL RING/tr: THE SHE-WOLVES OF THE RING (D: René Cardona, 1964) were figurative rather than literal (a fierce but fully human all-girl wrestling team - part of the Wrestling Women series).

While (wolf)woman roared, male lycanthropes appeared in the likes of SANTO Y BLUE DEMON CONTRA DRÁCULA Y EL HOMBRE LOBO/tr: SANTO AND BLUE DEMON VS. DRACULA AND THE WOLFMAN (D: Miguel M. Delgado, 1972), EL HOMBRE Y LA BESTIA/tr: THE MAN AND THE BEAST (1972 - a version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) and PEPITO Y CHABELO VS. LOS MONSTRUOS/tr: PEPITO AND CHABELO VS. THE MONSTERS (1972). Wolfmen also had supporting parts in b/w fare like SANTO EN EL MUSEO DE CERA/ SAMSON IN THE WAX MUSEUM (D: Alfonso Corona Blake, 1963) and EL DEMONIO AZUL/tr: BLUE DEMON (D: Chano Urueta, 1964).

As for the latterday lycanthropy scene (what there is of it), the best we can do is CAZADOR DE DEMONIOS/DEMON HUNTER (D: Gilberto de Anda, 1985). Although the monster is not actually called a werewolf in the film (which has been English-dubbed and released to N. American tv/video, a rarity in modern-day Mexploitation), the plot essentially follows the typical wolfman blueprint. It depicts the murderous rampage of a liberated demon from Indian lore: but you might as well classify the sporadically glimpsed lupine/ursine monster as a werewolf. DEMON HUNTER is far from remarkable, but it is a rare competent milestone in the now pitifully barren Meximonster landscape.  

DINOSAURS, BATMEN, & EVEN A YETI

No doubt because the nation does not possess atomic technology, Mexico's '50s monsterthons never reflected the same paranoid nuclear concerns of US-made s.f. films from the period. The closest Mexico really came to a bonafide titanic-monster-on-the-rampage flick was THE BLACK SCORPION (1957), a Hollywood production lensed south of the border. Of course, the US/Mex coproduction, EL MONSTRUO DE LA MONTAÑA HUECA/ BEAST OF HOLLOW MOUNTAIN (aka LA BESTIA DE LA MONTANA/tr: THE BEAST OF THE MOUNTAIN, D: Edward Nassour & Ismael Rodríguez, 1954/56) showcased some passable Willis O'Brien-designed allosaur dinomation. But, this was mainly your routine oat opera, enlivened in its final minutes by a spot of diverting dinosaur action.

Speaking of dinosaurs, LA EDAD DE PIEDRA/tr: THE STONE AGE (D: René Cardona, 1962) was a comedy starring popular paisano funnymen Capulina and Viruta. It contained some prehistoric beastie footage that later saw recycling along with additional stock shots from ONE MILLION B.C. (US, 1940) and UNKNOWN ISLAND (US, 1947) in order to pad out the running time of AVENTURA AL CENTRO DE LA TIERRA/tr: ADVENTURE AT THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH (D: Alfredo B. Crevenna, 1964). Essentially a loose remake of JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH (US, 1959), the Mex version - in addition to being mercifully much shorter - actually emerges as a substantially more entertaining film. This in spite of a lack of the Technicolor and CinemaScope of its forerunner. Of course, it also lacked insufferable smeghead Pat Boone, which helps explain everything. Location work done in real Mexican volcanic caverns, a cyclopean primeval lizard monster, as well as a bipedal bat-humanoid with amorous aims on comely heroine Ana Luisa Peluffo are only three reasons why AVENTURA remains one of my perennial faves in all-out Meximonstermania. 

Borrowed stock footage from ONE MILLION B.C. also resurfaced in LA ISLA DE LOS DINOSAURIOS/THE ISLAND OF THE DINOSAURS (D: Rafael Portillo, 1966). This was a Mex/US coproduction with Hal Roach Studios (originators of the 1940 ONE MILLION B.C.), which meant they actually had permission to re-edit the older footage. ISLAND was shot in glorious b/w, just so it could more conveniently accomodate said loaned stock. The film is roughly seventy per cent (!!) vintage footage mixed with crudely matched newly-shot scenes. These insert 1966 Mex principals Armando Silvestre and Alma Delia Fuentes into 1940 action, wearing lookalike costumes (and ridiculously outdated hairstyles) to better 'match up' with original US stars Victor Mature and Carole Landis. It's surprising on account of the effort expenditure required to pull off this less-than-flawless 'illusion' that the Mex distribs didn't just merely redub and reissue Roach's original film instead. 

What's ironic is this hashed-together hackjob of sampled footage and neanderthals-in-love was basically a quickie cash-in on the then-current Raquel Welch/Hammer hit, ONE MILLION YEARS B.C. - which in turn was a remake of the very film from which ISLAND derived its pasted-in footage!  Jerry Warren, eat your heart out... Fair's fair, I suppose. Jerry-builder Warren bastardized several perfectly adequate Meximonster films for US consumption (and immediate nauseous regurgitation), including ISLAND director Rafael Portillo's own earlier Aztec Mummy trio. So, I guess Rafael tasted sweet revenge, and us gringo bastards got a taste of our own medicine.

In addition to dinosaurs and batmen, in the same period Mexico went a-hunting down the well-trod Abominable Snowman trail. This resulted in EL MONSTRUO DE LAS VOLCANES/tr: THE VOLCANO MONSTER (aka EL HOMBRE DE LAS NIEVES/tr: THE SNOWMAN, D: Jaime Salvador, 1962) and EL TERRIBLE GIGANTE DE LAS NIEVES/tr: THE TERRIBLE SNOW GIANT (aka EL FANTASMA DE LAS GRUTAS/tr: THE GHOST OF THE CAVES and EL FANTASMA DE LAS NIEVES/tr: THE GHOST OF THE SNOW, D: Jaime Salvador, 1962). The monster here was a towering and impressive-looking (at least according to stills) white cottonpuffball apeman. I hope to live  long enough to see either or both of these incredibly obscure films (editor's note: in fact, the second movie, although a sequel to the first one, does not feature a real monster, but a human impostor as the snowman). 

Both starred commonplace Mexploitation face Joaquín Cordero, whose roles were divided fairly evenly between heavies and heroes. Cordero can be seen in both DR. SATÁN films, as well as others covered by this article. His latest MMM appearance to date is in PESADILLA SANGRIENTA/tr: BLOODY NIGHTMARE (D: Pedro Galindo III, 1990). This is a cheap monster-thriller; a loose sequel to the demonic dolly film, VACACIONES DE TERROR/tr: TERROR VACATION (D: René Cardona III, 1988). PESADILLA also concerns a possessed girl's doll, which transforms into a toothy demon and boasts of mostly GHOULIES-level spfx and pronounced Americanization, but it is nice to see Cordero still at it. He appears remarkably well-preserved, almost physically unchanged since his halcyon days as the disfigured wax sculptor in Baledón's moody MUSEO DEL HORROR (1964). Cordero often bears a striking resemblence to a younger Cameron Mitchell, which seems highly appropriate considering his longevity in the Mexploitation movie industry.

GOOFS AND SPOOFS

A standard "straight" Meximonster film can often yield its quota of off-the-wall moments. When a Meximonster film decides to lampoon itself or the genre, prepare for even more zany and unpredictable results!  Perhaps an apex within the spoof sub-genre was reached in AUTOPSIA DE UN FANTASMA/tr: AUTOPSY OF A GHOST (D: Ismael Rodríguez, 1967). Teaming up Basil Rathbone, John Carradine and Cameron Mitchell, the film is probably the craziest and most anarchic in structure, with its living skeleton, feminine android and various ghostly goings-on. Epitomizing AUTOPSIA's infectious dementia, its kooky credit sequence is populated by assorted witches, spectres and goblins rendered as frantic marionettes. These are accompanied by a theme instrumental that's a frenetic Tex-Mex approximation of Sam the Sham, with improvised vocal twitterings possibly provided by the Chipmunks on peyote!

Another favourite, LOCURA DE TERROR/tr: TERROR MADNESS (D: Julian Soler, 1960) is a spoofish Tin Tan opus that includes lumpy-faced henchmen - allegedly zombies? - and a duo of mad scientists working in cahoots who, when they're not churning out creepy-looking monsters, enjoy melting people (literally!) into puddles of goop using their electrical machinery. Before his death in 1973, Tin Tan (real name Germán Valdés, brother to other Mexicomics Ramon and Manuel Loco Valdés) made probably more horror-based comedies than any other filmic comic, Mexican or otherwise. His screwy repertoire includes EL FANTASMA DE LA OPERETA/tr: THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERETTA (D: Fernando Cortés, 1959), wherein he encountered a spectral, disfigured killer, and the above-mentioned LA CASA DEL TERROR (1959). Tin Tan concluded his formerly illustrious career (his domestic fame rivalled that of Mario Cantinflas Moreno himself) sidekicking for the muscle-bound prettyboy title hero in EL INCREÍBLE PROFESOR ZÓVEK, and fighting a feeble blow-up cephalopod in the abysmal CHANOC VS. LOS DEVOURADORES DE HOMBRES/tr: CHANOC VS. THE MANEATERS (D: Gilberto Martínez Solares, 1971). 

Clavillazo  Antonio Espino, another popular clown (he co-starred with Tin Tan in LOS FANTASMAS BURLONES/tr: THE GHOST JOKERS, D: Rafael Baledón, 1964), also frequently graced spoofs, some even containing monsters. EL CASTILLO DE LOS MONSTRUOS/tr: THE CASTLE OF THE MONSTERS (D: Julian Soler, 1957) is undoubtedly his most-monstered film: a mummy, a wolfman (sort of), a rubberized gillman ("Bestia de la Laguna Seca/tr: Beast from the Dried-Up Lagoon"!), a bolt-necked Frankensteinian creature (called "Frentestein"), as well as a vampire called "El Murciélago/tr: The Bat" (EL VAMPIRO's Germán Robles doing an in-joke bit part) all receive ample screentime. CASTILLO is primarily a copycat of the Abbott and Costello formula pioneered in MEET FRANKENSTEIN. 

Another Clavillazo film took a lot of pointers from A/C GO TO MARS. Clavillazo took one small step for Mankind and a giant step for stupidity in the consummately odd extraterrestrial excursion, EL CONQUISTADOR DE LA LUNA/tr: THE CONQUEROR OF THE MOON (D: Rogelio A. González, 1960). Here, the zoot-suited comedian met Martian monsters transplanted onto Earth's satellite (his rocketship arrives there via a large amount of transplanted stock footage from DESTINATION MOON). The Moonmen themselves are rather standard reptilian humanoids, albeit with multiple arms, but the Great Martian Brain is something else entirely!  It squats in a huge aquarium, fountaining gouts of frothy brain-jizm from its cerebrum; attended by drooling giant eyeballs on stalks that bring to mind the Penisauri with their winking foreskins in FLESH GORDON as they wave suggestively over helpless love interest Ana Luisa Peluffo. CONQUISTADOR's one weird viewing experience, and could only have originated in Mexico, muchachos!

Also directed by Rogelio González was LA NAVE DE LOS MONSTRUOS, which explored more subliminal s.f. fetish territory. As well as Amazonian alienettes Lorena Velázquez and Ana Berthe Lepe decked out in revealing tinfoil Futurist fashions, this goofball film could boast of several strangely-conceived BEMs and the re-used tincanman suit from THE ROBOT VS. THE AZTEC MUMMY. An eye-catching blend of alluring space dominatrixes, latex monsters, laughs and musical numbers (the latter two departments covered by singing fool Lalo Piporro González), the film is a must-see of veteran Mexican chintzkitsch. 

Further related comedies are PEPITO Y CHABELO VS. LOS MONSTRUOS (1973), which included the gamut of mandatory beasties: vampire, mummy and gill-creature inclusive. Long-running Mex funnyman Gaspar Capulina Henaine, as well as starring with El Santo and facing killer doppelganger robots in SANTO CONTRA CAPULINA (1968), in addition made bids in the Meximonster stakes with CAPULINA CONTRA LAS MOMIAS and CAPULINA CONTRA LOS MONSTRUOS (both 1973). 

Along even zanier lines were Mexico's juvenile-oriented "fairytale" adventures. Without doubt the fullest and most prototypical in this colourful sub-genre is LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD AND THE MONSTERS. This was the only real monster-ous entry in an otherwise cutesy and innocuous four-film saga. MONSTRUOS dealt with youthful fairytale heroes Little Red aka Caperucita and Tom Thumb aka Pulgarcito (played by child stars Maria Gracia and Cesareo Quezadas) combating the sinister Witch Queen aka Reina Bruja (Ofelia Guílmain). This sorceress is a live-action dead-ringer for the wicked witch of Disney's SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS. The green-faced witchqueen (who radiates an implicit erotic/dominatrix charisma that was probably lost on kiddie audiences) commands an extensive army of Heinz 57 monsters. These include the omnipresent aristocratic bloodsucker ("El Señor Vampiro/tr: Lord Vampire"; played by Mex supporting player Quintin Bulnes), a Frankenstein monster lookalike, even an incendiary midget dragon, as well as sundry less readily-identifiable denizens. The film is crammed to the rafters with so many outrageous and colourful characters - including José Elias Moreno as the burly El Ogro/The Ogre and Tin Tan's bro Loco Valdés as El Lobo Feroz/The Big Bad Wolf - that cataloguing them all here would be pointless. 


Nowadays, the MMM comedy scene is dominated by the likes of MATENME PORQUE ME MUERO (D: Abraham Cherem, 1990). This admittedly atmospheric film mostly only provides a forum for the doofus muggings of its amiable star comic duo, Pedro Chatanuga Weber and Raul Choforo Padilla. It's essentially a haunted house spook spoof containing two seductive ghostesses. These horny succubus spirits turn into vengeful rotten-faced ghoulgirls for the last five minutes of the picture (zombie makeup fx fittingly courtesy of "Necropia"). Though the monster stuff herein is a long time in coming and rationed sparingly, it is played sufficiently creepy and straight; including some actual graphic splatter. This seems to bode favourably - however infinitesimally - for the future of what's up for rent at your neighbourhood video cantina. 

There seem to be more monsters gradually creeping back into the castrated Mex movie scene, what with MATENME PORQUE ME MUERO, PESADILLA SANGRIENTA/tr: BLOODY NIGHTMARE and AL FILO DEL TERROR/tr: AT THE EDGE OF TERROR (1990). This lattermost title concerns the demoniacal activities of killer midget clowns. While seemingly inspired by MUNECOS INFERNALES/CURSE OF THE DOLL PEOPLE (D:Benito Alazraki, 1961) by way of Charles Band/Full Moon's PUPPETMASTER series and KILLER KLOWNS FROM OUTER SPACE, AL FILO DEL TERROR marks a welcome return to the MMM directorial fold for erstwhile Mexploitationeer Alfredo B. Crevenna (he of the great-fun AVENTURA AL CENTRO DE LA TIERRA). With René Cardona dead, René Cardona Jr. seemingly stuck in a sexcom/action rut, and Rafael Baledón consigned in semi-retirement to acting in boobtube soap operas, perhaps it will be left to old-timer Crevenna to carry the torch in a welcome '90s renaissance of Meximonster movies. We can all only hope. El Santo's eternal Silver Mask will crack a smile from beyond the grave, and He'll be ready for 'em...
 
¡Bienvenida, monstruos!