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Made in Florida for a paltry $200,000, this low-budget
fright flick has long been a fave of genre fans
— and not merely for the presence of cult icons
Peter Cushing and John Carradine in the cast.
It succeeds handily as an effectively creepy horror
yarn, amply demonstrating that filmmakers don't
require big bucks to deliver the goods. And as
anyone who's explored the Golden Age horror films
of the 1930s through the '50s can attest, gore
and gratuitous nudity are by no means required
ingredients for a successful formula. In many
ways Shock
Waves
is a throwback to that era, relying on atmosphere
and suspense (not to mention a good old-fashioned
scare or two) rather than the customary exploitation
elements. Originally rated PG when released in
theaters, save for a curse word or two the film
could today be shown uncut on network television.
This is by no means a bad thing. (Not that there's
anything wrong with a bit of sex and gore
now and then...)
Admittedly, the sparse plot
is rather short on logic. The film opens with
a brief but compelling narration accompanying
an actual WWII photograph of Waffen-SS troops.
The narrator tells of a secret wartime experiment
by the Nazis to create an army of invincible super-soldiers
from the reanimated bodies of SS men killed in
battle. "Of all the SS units," the narrator concludes,
"there was only one the Allies never captured
a single member of..." This quick, intriguing
introduction segues to the swastika-adorned main
title card; as the opening credits roll we get
a taste of composer Richard Einhorn's eerie electronic
score, which plays a sizable role in maintaining
an unsettling mood throughout.
Cut to the 1970s. Four passengers
—
a married couple and two singles —
are on a diving cruise in the Caribbean aboard
the Bonaventure, a rustbucket charter boat
manned by its crusty old captain (Carradine) and
his two crewmen, deckhand Keith (Luke Halpin)
and galley cook Dobbs (Don Stout). After a strange
atmospheric anomaly turns the sky a sickly red,
both the radio and compass cease to work. Piloting
blind during a pitch-black night, Keith is at
the wheel when the Bonaventure collides
with a mysterious "ghost ship" which seems to
appear out of nowhere. Damaged, the tour boat
lies dead in the water. The captain fires a flare,
revealing the half-sunken hulk of a wrecked, derelict
ship off in the distance. Both Keith and one of
the passengers, Rose (The
Dead Zone's Brooke Adams), swear to having
seen the wrecked ship sailing past them, with
no running lights. The cantankerous skipper thinks
they're nuts. But regardless how the collision
occurred, there's nothing for it but to await
the dawn and assess the situation.
With the coming of daylight
they learn that the Bonaventure lies off
the coast of an unknown tropical island. They
also realize that the captain is missing —
he's no longer aboard. His drowned body is spotted
floating beneath the surface when the passengers
and crew take a glass-bottomed dinghy over to
the island. (Thus exits Carradine.) Inland the
group discovers a huge, abandoned hotel, once
opulent but now fallen into disrepair. At first
the place seems completely deserted. They're surprised
to find it still has an occupant —
a strange, scarred old man with a German accent
(Cushing), garbed in tattered clothes. He cryptically
explains that he can offer no help and that they
should leave immediately. With nowhere to go,
the group beds down for the night. Next morning
the cook, Dobbs, trudges off to get provisions
from the boat. He never comes back and is later
found dead. When the men confront the old German
for answers, he tells them an astonishing story.
During WWII, he was an SS officer in Der Totenkorps
—
the "Death Corps" —
commanding a platoon of reanimated zombies created
as the ultimate killing machines. In the last
days of the war his unit took to sea to forestall
capture by the Allies; when learning of the Reich's
surrender he scuttled the ship off the island's
coast, sending his special troops to the bottom.
Ever since then he's lived in voluntary exile,
the sole occupant of the island. Now, something
has brought the sunken German ship to the surface
—
and with it
its cargo of living dead Nazis. These creatures
can't be reasoned with. They exist only for destruction.
The group must find some way to escape the island
or be hunted down and killed.
On the surface (no pun intended),
the concept of aquatic Nazi zombies is fairly
ridiculous. A simple description of the creatures
—
pasty-faced, bleach blond Aryan types wearing
WWII-era motorcycle goggles and soggy SS uniforms
—
would only tend to confirm that notion. But the
real delight of Shock Waves
is that its monsters work so well...
The Death Corps troopers are genuinely creepy.
Like Ossori's Blind Dead they're completely silent,
but aren't slow moving and lethargic like the
zombies of the Romero films. They don't eat their
victims (no flesh munching here for the splatter
freaks), but rather strangle or drown them. Periodically
lying dormant just beneath the waves of the surf,
or hiding under the surface of a creek or in the
hotel's stagnant swimming pool, these Nazi aqua-ghouls
emerge from the water in strikingly photographed
scenes, a haunting set of images that many drive-in
patrons can vividly recall nearly 30 years on.
Shock
Waves also benefits from Ken Weiderhorn's
economical direction. He does a fine job of camouflaging
the meager budget, smartly establishing a tone
reminiscent of those delightfully lurid horror
comics of the '50s. He builds suspense quite well,
which is absolutely essential considering the
film does not rely on gore effects. Einhorn's
completely electronic score —
at the time still something of a novelty —
aids immeasurably in this regard. And though Cushing
and Carradine's roles are little more than glorified
cameos, it's a nice touch to see the inclusion
of these always-reliable genre vets among the
small, mostly anonymous cast. While Carradine
is merely going through the motions in patented
"really cranky old guy" mode, at this point he
was probably happy just to be playing something
other than a mad scientist. As for Cushing, he
gets top billing in the credits though he has
less than 10 minutes' total screen time. His role
is critical to the plot, however, and it falls
on his shoulders to sell the audience on the concept
of the Death Corps. This he does with his customarily
assured authority. (According to the DVD's audio
commentary, both gentlemen were each paid $5,000
for 4 days' work.)
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Shock
Waves
is among the first titles released on DVD by Blue
Underground, a promising new company devoted to
"guilty pleasures for adventurous movie fans".
Fans of this
film, or those discovering it for the first time,
should be quite pleased with the package assembled.
Yes, the widescreen video transfer displays omnipresent
grain, but as the film was originally shot in 16mm
and then blown up to 35mm for theatrical release,
this is as good as it's ever going to look. The
disc's Digital Mono audio track is clear and distortion-free.
The DVD's a real winner in the extras department.
A TV spot, two radio spots (in which the narrator
mispronounces Carradine's name as "Carra-DYNE"),
and the original theatrical trailer are included.
An 8-minute video interview with Luke Halpin, whom
some may remember as the child star of the old Flipper
television show, focuses on the actor's recollections
of the Shock Waves
shoot. An extensive step-through image gallery showcases
various examples of promotional artwork, theater/drive-in
ads, design sketches and stills taken during filming.
Last but not least is a full-fledged audio commentary
featuring director Weiderhorn, make-up artist Alan
Ormsby (Children Shouldn't
Play With Dead Things), and set photographer
Fred Olen Ray, who later went on to become a prolific
low budget director in his own right. It's an amiable
chat packed with humorous anecdotes, one of the
more entertaining commentary tracks I've listened
to in some time.
8/07/02 |
