Captain Kronos—Vampire Hunter (1974)

On paper, this sounds like tons of fun, at least for genre-movie fans. Seriously, an action-packed horror movie about a dashing soldier who travels around pre-19th-century Europe killing vampires with a samurai sword, accompanied by a hunchbacked scientist and a voluptuous female companion? And it’s from UK-based Hammer Films, the kingpins of Gothic shockers? What’s not to like? Well, for one thing, Captain Kronos—Vampire Hunteris woefully devoid of the one thing it should have in abundance, which is entertainment value. Yes, the picture is handsomely produced (within the parameters of a humble budget), and the filmmakers don’t skimp on stylish violence. But where’s the joie de vivre? The picture isn’t as grim as some Hammer pictures, which is a relief, but it’s still unnecessarily sober. Did the world really need something called Captain Kronos—Vampire Hunter played straight? Anyway, at least viewers who dig Hammer’s formula of dastardly deeds conducted in crypt-like castles and murky forests will find much to savor here. The picture begins when a village physician, Dr. Marcus (John Carson), encounters a series of strange deaths—young women drained of blood fall dead, their bodies inexplicably aged. Marcus summons his old Army pal, Captain Kronos (Horst Janson), who happens to be a professional vampire hunter. Convenient! Kronos travels with a deformed scientist, Professor Grost (John Cater), and a sexy peasant girl named Carla (Caroline Munro). As the movie unfolds, Kronos and his allies set traps for the bloodsucker—or bloodsuckers—preying upon Marcus’ village, but not all goes according to plan. Written, directed, and co-produced by Brian Clemens, Captain Kronos—Vampire Hunter moves at a sluggish pace. Once in a while, Clemens lands a nice line of dialogue, as when Kronos describes Grost’s expertise: “What he doesn’t know about vampirism couldn’t fill a fly’s codpiece.” And periodically, Clemens nails a groovy visual: At one point, Kronos holds the blade of his sword before his eyes in order to reflect back the gaze of a ghoul who is trying to hypnotize him. Unfortunately, the actors all deliver highly generic work. Janson is an attractive physical specimen—as is Munro, who later became a Bond girl—but neither radiates much in the way of charisma. And the less said about the various anticlimactic scenes in which Kronos effortlessly vanquishes hordes of attackers with ridiculously skillful swordplay, the better.

Captain Kronos—Vampire Hunter: FUNKY

Starcrash (1978)

How bad is Starcrash? To paraphrase the Bard, let us count the ways. First, there’s the discombobulated, idiotic storyline—an interstellar smuggler gets sent to the monster-filled home world of an evil wizard in order to rescue the son of an outer-space emperor, aided only by a band of outlaws and robots. Yep, it’s all the main signifiers from the previous year’s blockbuster Star Wars, thrown into a blender and transmogrified into nonsense. (Proving the makers of Starcrash have no shame, the flick even features low-rent light sabers.) Then there’s the garish production design, which blends Buck Rogers-style camp (the heroine spends most of the movie in an outer-space bikini) with sub-Star Warsmechanization, resulting in an aesthetic jumble. Next come the godawful special effects, ranging from chintzy stop-motion monsters to weak spaceship shots. And finally, there’s the abysmal acting, which is exacerbated by sloppy dubbing: B-movie stalwarts including Marjoe Gortner, David Hasselhoff, Caroline Munro, and Joe Spinell hiss and preen through ridiculous performances. Throw all of these elements together, and you’ve got junk so dreadful that even producer Roger Corman, whose company released the picture in the U.S., should have been embarrassed. Made in Italy, and variously titled in different international territories as Scontri stellari oltre la terza dimensione and The Adventures of Stella Star, the picture is nominally a showcase for leading lady Munro, a raven-haired beauty who first caught notice in Hammer horror flicks and a kitschy Sinbad picture. She fills out her barely-there costume nicely, but her bug-eyed acting diminishes her appeal considerably. Even more painful than enduring Munro’s work, however, is watching Christopher Plummer’s stupid cameo as the emperor—could he possibly have been paid enough for this humiliation? And for that matter, how the hell did the producers get A-list music composer John Barry, already a three-time Academy Award winner at this point, to do the score? Mysteries, to be sure, but not worth investigating.

Starcrash: SQUARE