The Diabolical Doctor Z [1965]

As if the subjects and minions of the Tenebrous Empire needed another reason to believe that Jess Franco is a living legend, "The Diabolical Doctor Z" marks a bold CHECK in that director's favor. Like "the Awful Doctor Orlof," this film takes a meager budget and stretches it to its fullest through the use of ingenious cinematography, clever editing, and a wild storyline.




"Doctor Z" hits all the right exploitation cinema notes. We're treated to mad science, revenge, far-out go-go dancing, ghoulish surgery, and settings steeped in gothic goodness. Add in a smattering of sexiness and a killer robot as well as a plot that moves along at a refreshing clip and you're in for a very fine eighty-three minutes.

Outcast neurologist Dr. Zimmer, with the help of his daughter Irma, has pinpointed the sections of the brain responsible for good and evil in humans. When he appeals to his colleagues for permission to experiment on human subjects (which he's kinda-already done in the form of creating his henchman Hans, a convicted serial killer), his hopes are dashed and he suffers a fatal heart attack. Irma Zimmer vows to carry on his work and seek revenge on the nay-sayers, and boy does she ever do just that! She fakes her own death, kidnaps an exotic dancer who performs under the TOTALLY EXCELLENT MONKIER of Miss Death, equips her with poison-tipped fingernails and brainwashes her into a killing machine.

Plainly put, the movie looks gorgeous. Franco's use of a very long depth of field in scenes shot down alleys and hallways pays homage to Orson Welles and creates a crisp, contemporary look. High-contrast light and dark are used to brilliant effect. There's a sequence in which Miss Death seduces one of the scientists that Irma Zimmer has marked for death (played by the venerable Howard Vernon) that looks particularly gorgeous. When the two begin to speak, the lights dim--the doctor's face is lit from the side, emphasizing his hawk-like features, and only Miss Death's eyes can be seen. It's clear from lighting alone that something intimate yet sinister is in the offing. On-location filming is used to great effect, with Bavarian-style chateaux and gloomy mansions adding extra flavor to the proceedings.

No review of this film would be complete without addressing the amazing nightclub sequence in which Miss Death is revealed. Slithering across a floor painted like a stylized spider's web, Miss Death (garbed in a droolworthy lace bodystocking) makes her way towards a male mannequin, slides up its body, tackles it and dons a skeleton mask before the lights go out. It's perhaps a minute worth of film, but the disorienting angle of the action, shot from top-down, is memorable and effective. Why-oh-why can't real-life nightclub acts be this cool?

Irma Zimmer is a truly formidable villainess--she is portrayed just like a male heavy would be. She's capable, cold-blooded and driven, hell-bent on achieving her goals through any means necessary. Actress Mabel Karr owns the role, and shots from below, emphasizing her commanding presence, underscore the magnitude of her evil. The scene in which she performs her own reconstructive "Yeux sans Visage"-style facial surgery is a jaw-dropper.

Jess Franco appears on-screen as the put-upon police detective investigating the case. His role is mildly comedic--he's an exhausted father of triplets with an eccentric style of dress. Bonus points for the "Orlof"-like appearance of the police kitten on his desk!

The director further links this film to his previous, career-making outing by making reference to Doctor Orlof, who gets a shout-out for his work on the centers of good and evil in the brain. It's interesting to me when a filmmaker creates his own mythology, reusing elements from previous films and connecting his body of work.

Enjoy a Flickr gallery of stills from "the Diabolical Dr. Z" here.