The Hideous Sun Demon (

1959

) ½

The first American monster movies were inspired by gothic novels and consequently depicted their monsters as tragic and romantic figures. While The Phantom of the Opera (1925) was a menace that ultimately needed to be destroyed, his motivations were sympathetic and he made a compelling figure in his own right. This trend would continue through the 1930s and into the 1940s with films like Frankenstein (1931) and The Wolf Man (1941) but would be largely abandoned in the postwar period. Having just confronted true evil on the battlefields of Europe, Americans were less inclined to treat their monster with any sympathy. Aside from a few deliberate stylistic throwbacks like Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954) the cinematic monsters of the new age were uncomplicated beasts, mad dogs to whom a quick death was the only kindness. Indeed, movies like The Thing from Another World (1951) actually chastise and mock any characters foolish enough to try to negotiate with monsters. With a name like The Hideous Sun Demon, I was expecting something along those lines from today’s film. Imagine my surprise when instead I found a sympathetic, almost tragic monster that harkened back to the best monsters of interwar Hollywood.

Our protagonist, Dr. Gilbert “Gil” McKenna is not exactly a faultless hero at the start of the film. Rather, he’s a flawed human being that is trying his best to hold himself together despite some pretty serious shortcomings. Most relevant to the plot, is that he drinks too much and frequently goes to work with a hangover. That’s what leads to the film’s initial accident, where Gil is accidentally exposed a new experimental isotope. It doesn’t fit the pattern of normal radiation poisoning though, as all that seems to happen is that Gil loses consciousness. More surprising, there’s no trace of any symptom once he wakes up though, even though he was exposed to the isotope for a full five minutes while the decontamination team was getting suited up. That’s good news, but Gil’s doctors are nonetheless concerned that something they don’t fully understand has taken place, so they keep Gil under close observation until they can figure out what, if anything, is wrong with him. One of the treatments the doctors prescribe is plenty of fresh air and sunlight, so they wheel (despite the fact that he is perfectly capable of walking, precautions and all) Gil up to the hospital’s solarium. However, after sitting in the sun for a half an hour he transforms into a reptilian abomination.

The science behind this doesn’t make a lot of sense, but the script doesn’t seem to realize that, so it devotes a significant amount of time to explain it. Gil’s physician gives Gil’s friends, and by extension, the audience a brief lecture on evolution. He goes on to note that human being go through a similar process of development when they are in the womb, going from single-celled organisms to multi-celled ones, to a reptilian organism, and finally reaching a mammalian stage of development shortly before birth. This sounds like bunk to me, as zygotes/embryos in the womb aren’t so much evolving as they are developing along a fixed path. Apparently though, being exposed to the experimental isotope has given Gil the tendency to revert back down the evolutionary chain becoming, effectively, a humanoid dinosaur. It didn’t happen right away because the process needed a catalyst, in this case, the ultraviolet radiation from the sun. Fortunately, the transformation is not permanent, shortly after Gil is taken out direct sunlight he reverts back to his human form. While the scientific principals behind this are somewhat suspect (always be wary of someone who talks about devolution) they do accomplish their primary goal: Giving the film a nifty way of creating an inverted werewolf, a creature that is normal human being during the night that then becomes a monster at day. Sure, you could always do the same thing with magic or a gypsy curse, but such gothic methods were decidedly out of vogue by the late 1950s.

Gil responds to this development in a manner that is somewhat lacking in grace and maturity. He checks himself out of the hospital, pushes away his friend Anne and mentor Dr. Buckell, and retreats to his house on the coast to drink and mourn his predicament. Lest I be too hard on Gil, I should note that getting enough sunlight is on of those basic things (like having a good diet and regular exercise) that are absolutely essential for a person’s mental health. Just look at the suicide statistics in Scandinavia in winter for a real-world example of what happened to those deprived of natural light. Not being able to get something so basic because of something so bizarre would probably drive anyone crazy. Throughout the film, Gil’s psychological profile is surprisingly adept. The movie is far more adept than I expected at making the audience understand Gil’s predicament and the effects that it’s having on his mental state. The depiction has a tendency to veer into the maudlin at times, but for the most part, it is delightfully understated. Gil’s predicament is not just the result of blind forces beyond his control though. He would probably be able to handle this a bit better if he quit drinking and stopped isolating himself, but I’ve known enough sick people to know that common-sense solutions are not always as easy to implement as they seem.

Gil’s only solace in his self-imposed exile is going to a dingy nightclub and listening to the singer/piano player there, a woman named Trudy. One night, Gil works up the courage to talk to her; they hit it off right away. Things only get better when Gil defends her from her pushy ex-boyfriend who dresses and talks like a mobster from a 40s noir movie. One fistfight later and Trudy is thoroughly turned on, so she readily agrees to join Gil on the beach for some late-night frolicking. Here the movie gets about as risqué as late 1950s films get (IE, it shows a woman in nothing more than a towel, which is slightly less revealing than the dress Trudy was wearing before). The miserable bastard Gil is actually having a good time for once, so good in fact that he accidentally passes out next to Trudy and wakes up the next morning transformed into his reptilian alter ego. Fortunately, Gil’s mind is still mostly intact and he’s able to get out of there before Trudy realizes what he is. Obviously, she’s not exactly happy to be left on a beach in the middle of nowhere. As this was the age before cell-phones and uber she has to hitchhike her way back home. Well, it’s hardly the first time a man has screwed up a date because of an embarrassing skin condition.

After this though, Gil gets some good news. Anne and Dr. Bucknell have petitioned the world’s leading expert on radiation poisoning to take on Gil’s case. In a touchingly human scene, Gil refuses the help at first, despairing that there is no chance for him and no hope for a cure. Here, once again the film gives us a strangely accurate depiction of Gil’s mental state. He’s depressed, and depression has a way of trapping people in unendurable situations. Live with the condition long enough and you lose the motivation to change it or help yourself, preferring to stick to your rut, no matter how miserable it makes you. That’s exactly what we’re seeing with Gil here, he’s afraid that any hope will just lead to more disappointment. Fortunately, Anne is able to bring him around and get him to at least meet with the doctor. After an examination, the doctor concludes that Gil’s case, while bizarre, is far from hopeless. He should be able to treat the transformations, provided that he can get Gil to his hospital. The only problem is that given Gil’s condition, the logistics of this trip are going to be a real pain, and it will take quite a bit of effort to arrange everything. The doctor tells Gil to sit tight for a few days while he makes all the necessary arrangements. The only problem is Gil can’t get Trudy out of his head. He desperately wants to go back and apologize to her. When he does so, things rapidly spiral out of control.

While the film’s plot and characters are well put together, there are a few technical issues that detract from the overall effect. This is a film where day and night have catastrophic consequences for the main character. Consequently, it is really hurt when it’s hard to determine whether the scene we’re looking at is supposed to be day or night. For the most part, the interiors look fine, always dark and somber when they should be and bright and sunny when they shouldn’t. However, the nighttime exterior shots very obviously have been shot in a day and then darkened after the fact. The scenes with Trudy and Gil on the beach are the most obtrusive instance of this. Granted, this is a problem for plenty of mid-century low budget films but the specifics of The Hideous Sun Demon’s plot make it especially damming.

To be fair though, when it comes to the all-important rubber suit, The Hideous Sun Demon really delivers in spades. The mask is sufficiently grotesque enough to scare the more sensitive kiddies in the audiences but is also strangely expressive and well suited to the tragic monster onscreen. It’s also a nice addition that the monster wears whatever clothing Gil was in before the transformation, making the monstrous elements of the costume stand out against the mundane backdrop.