A quartet of baloonists (Robert Clarke, Robert Christopher, Tain
Bodkin, Patrick O'Neil) have to make an emergency landing on an uncharted
island that's inhabited by a tribe of beautiful bikini-clad young women,
who later turn out to be the descendants of aliens for no apparent reason,
and Sheila (Katherine Victor), the daughter of Frankenstein (John
Carradine), and her merry men, which include her 200 year old husband Van
Helsing (George Mitchell), through whom she remains in telepathic contact
with her long-dead father. Thing is, Van Helsing is dying, so Sheila
needs one of the baloonists, Doc (Robert Clarke), a brilliant scientist
apparently, to prolong his life, giving him blood from the island girls
(who usually die in the process) and animals. Doc's friends meanwhile
start building a raft to get away from here, but once they are finished,
Doc doesn't want to come with them, and it all amounts to a fight
baloonists and island girls versus Sheila Frankenstein, her henchmen, and
her creatures. Eventually, the baloonists' side wins the upper hand, but
by that time, dead Frankenstein has long raised his original monster from
the dead to wreak havoc on everything, and only with luck, our four heroes
- including Doc, who apparently was under some kind of hypnotic spell -
manage to escape the island. Later they return to the island with the
authorities, but now they find it deserted ... for no particular reason. Veteran
actor Cameron Mitchell plays a prisoner of Sheila Frankenstein who can
constantly be heard Edgar Allen Poe.
If you think that my
synopsis does not make the least bit of sense, then I have summed up the
film correctly - Frankenstein Island does make no sense, but that's
part of the movie's charm, along with its cheapness, less-than-special
effects, less than exotic island locactions, lack of directorial ambition,
cast of veterans and has-beens and the like. And don't forget John
Carradine (whose scenes were shot in Mexico seperate from the main action
in possibly no more than a couple of hours), whose face is superimposed
over the action every now and again and who utters lines so ridiculous and
non-sensical they rival Bela Lugosi's in Glen
or Glenda. Having said all of this, there are of course no two
ways about it, Frankenstein Island is a bad film, a terrible film
even - and that's exactly what makes it so irresistible for bad movie
enthusiasts like myself and totally enjoyable with the company of a few
friends and a few beers.
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