The Night of the Blood Beast (

1958

) ½

Do you know what you don't see in modern sci-fi? Professionalism. I'm not talking about on the part of the filmmakers, of course, though plenty of modern sci-fi seems to have been written and filmed by people who seemingly have never progressed emotionally past adolescence. No instead I'm talking about the characters on screen. They're all disaffected cyberpunk rebels, loose cannons who don't play by anybody's rules, or emotional wrecks who can barely manage to go five minutes without bursting into tears or punching a commanding officer on the nose. It's at a point where Louise Banks from Arrival (2016), a character who actively sabotages her military-intelligence handlers, is among the most professional sci-fi heroes in recent memory because at least she is sneaky about it. Tellingly, in the rare case where a modern sci-fi film depicts a professional character, their professionalism is invariably treated as a flaw that must be overcome so they can get more in touch with their emotions, al la Ad Astra (2019).

Naturally, things were quite different in the fabulous fifties when it was common for characters in a sci-fi film to respect rank, defer to specialist experts, and calmly discuss their options when faced with a threat from beyond the earth, beneath the sea, or the lost world. Even then I don't think I've seen a 1950s sci-fi film where the characters were as committed to their professionalism as The Night of the Blood Beast. Hell, it begins right after the title card when we're introduced to Major John Corcoran, the pilot of an experimental spacecraft. Something goes wrong during his reentry into the earth's atmosphere, and Corcoran aware that he can do nothing to save his life stoically reads out the readings of his instruments so that the scientists on the ground will have a shot at figuring out what went wrong with the spaceship. Now that's what I call professional dedication!

It's not just John either, the rest of the ersatz-NASA crew on the ground that find his wrecked spaceship are similarly collected and efficient in executing their duties. It's not that they are simply robots either, Dave Randall the designer of the spaceship is distraught by the fact that his ship has failed due to a flaw that he missed and as a result, his friend has died. It's just that he doesn't make a big show of these emotions by wailing and beating his chest and instead only reflects on them somberly before going about with his appointed task. Likewise, John's fiance, Dr. Julie Benson is understandably distressed by the situation but she also has a job to do and does it well. To be fair, her associate Dr. Wyman tries to shield her from the worst of the grisly details. However, when he discovers John's body not only intact in the wreck but not even suffering from rigor mortis, he has no choice but to call her in to examine the body. Julie recoils initially when faced with the dead body of her former lover, but then promptly resigns herself to the unenviable task. Indeed, she holds herself together for what seems like hours, only allowing herself to break down and cry on Dr. Wyman's shoulder when both the team and Corcoran's body are back at base.

It's obvious right from the start that something is off both with John and the crash site. When Wyman and the others get Corcoran's body back to their base they examine him and discover that despite being dead for hours, he still has a blood pressure of 120/80. Examination of John's blood reveals a bizarre alien cell that is resistant to destruction by normal human antibodies. A closer examination of the crash site photos taken by photographer Donna Bixby, reveals that the tear in the spaceship was initially much smaller when they arrived at the crash site then when they left. It can just be that the wreckage settled either, as it would take considerable force to do that to magneridium alloy. By this point, everyone in the audience should understand that John has brought something back with him.

In short order, the creature makes itself known by sabotaging the base's radio so they cannot request backup, and waylaying Dave when he goes to fix the transmitter. In typical mid-century monster movie fashion, the Blood Beast is about as affected by shots from Dave's revolver as he would be from bug bites or a stiff breeze. Curiously though, the monster does not kill Dave, it just knocks him out and then goes back about its business. At first, Dave is convinced that he was just attacked by a bear, but then things take a turn for the weird. John's body disappears from the infirmary, and shortly thereafter the monster attacks the base again, this time beheading Dr. Wyman (well, at least that's what the characters say, in one shot the man's head is visible and in another, we can see it casting a shadow on the wall). Then strangest of all, John appears alive, conscious, and even talking again.

Julie is understandably happy to have her fiance back, but as a doctor, she's baffled by his sudden recovery and submits him to a battery of tests. They quickly discover that he has a host of alien fetuses growing inside his body. John responds to this bizarre development with a blasé calm and clinical detachment that would be strange on its own were it not accompanied by a quick medical diagnosis that John had no chance of reaching on his own. In a moment, John puts two and two together and realizes that he's somehow accessing Dr. Wyman's memories and personality. This discovery is enough to momentarily crack the astronaut's composure and trigger a minor breakdown. I can't say I blame him, even on my most stressful days I don't have to deal with being brought back from the dead, impregnated by aliens, and incorporated into a rudimentary hive mind.

John's ordeal has left him convinced that the alien is a mostly friendly creature that is just scared and confused with its dealing with mankind. He takes the same position as Dr. Carrington from The Thing from Another World (1951) advocated for and wants to negotiate with the alien visitor, while the rest of the crew wants to follow in the footsteps of Ned Flandry and BBQ the alien before it can kill again. To be fair, John is nowhere near as strident as Carrington, he doesn't demand that his fellow earthlings sacrifice themselves to protect the alien. Hell, he doesn't even totally rule out killing it if the monster's intentions prove to be sinister. He just wants everyone to put away their weapons and try to talk things out before resorting to violence. The other humans, Dave Randall in particular, are understandably skeptical. The alien's motivations are unknown, and while it did spare Randall after their encounter the monster has also killed Dr. Wyman and done god only knows what to John. There's also the possibility that John's faith in the monster is the result not of his own rational thought process, but some unknown telepathic manipulation, a possibility that John himself cannot disprove. The nice part is that all these points are raised in a calm discussion where both Dave and John explain their position and the reason behind it. One could fault Night of the Blood Beast for being a bit chilly, and cold-bloodedly rational but in a world where sci-fi is cluttered with meaningless conflict and petulant squabbles these quiet, rational discussions are a breath of fresh air.

Night of the Blood Beast has a lot of interesting ideas percolating beneath its surface. The problem is, that it has no idea what to do with any of its most intriguing aspects. John's alien pregnancy for instance would be a fantastic setup for an early body horror film, or a potential chance for commentary on gender, or even a vehicle for examining fatherhood. Alas, this film does very little with it, leaving the idea unused until Alien (1979) would pick it up two decades later. Likewise, the film's moral dilemma where John desires to protect the alien (while possibly being psychically manipulated by it) while the other humans plan to kill the creature is given an egregiously quick conclusion. As soon as John lays eyes on the Blood Beast in the cave at the end of the movie he instantly realizes that the alien is here to conquer and enslave earth, not to coexist with the humans. He then opts to sacrifice himself to destroy both the alien invader and the unborn aliens gestating inside him. This is deeply unsatisfying, as it simply cuts away all the moral disagreement that characterized John's relationship with the rest of the humans. It would be like if Dr. Carrington in The Thing from Another World (1951) tried to protect and communicate with the alien until he saw the thing in person, then turned to Ned Flandry and said “looks like you were right, let's kill the bastard.” There are many ways that you could bring this intellectual conflict to a satisfying conclusion, but this is not one of them!

In classic AIP fashion, the movie poster promises a much more lurid and disturbing film than what we actually get. Like with The Beast with a Million Eyes (1955), there is another scantily clad woman recoiling in horror who will not be appearing in the film. This time, she is horrified by the sight of a massive monster's claw holding a man's severed head in its hairy talons. This is at least close to what happens in the film, though the beast is nowhere near as big as the one in the poster. We also never get to directly see Wyman's severed head (indeed, despite the protestations of the characters it seems to be quite attached to his shoulders even after he's died), what do you think this is, The Monster of Piedras Blancas (1959)? I can only imagine that the average person who would be taken in by these posters must have been pretty disappointed when they discovered that they were watching a slow-paced heady sci-fi story instead.

Naturally, this is a common enough phenomenon among most of AIP's sci-fi and horror offerings from the 1950s, as it was common practice for Sam Arkoff and Jim Nicholson to dream up the film's title and marketing campaign well in advance of the film being shot or even the script being written. Still, these stylistic clashes are never as obvious as they are for Roger Corman's productions. Corman, despite his well-earned reputation as a cynical businessman, was nonetheless a great believer in the artistry of film. Sure, he wanted his movies to make money, and he would do whatever he needed to guarantee that outcome, but he also wanted his films to make audiences think and feel. It's not then surprising that it was the Corman productions that deviated the most from these lurid ad campaigns, as opposed to those made by Edward L. Cahn, Bert I. Gordon, Herman Cohen, or the other AIP regulars. It's also not surprising that Corman's relationship with AIP would eventually deteriorate, to the point where Corman would found his own company (presumably with hookers and blackjack), but that is another story for another day.