A puppeteer applies the lessons of an old deceased professor to human beings and becomes a master of corpse manipulation.
With his last and most unclassifiable feature film, William Castle signs a movie on the border of avant-garde that still keeps one foot in exploitation cinema. With its robotic zombies and moonlit cemeteries, this “dark fairy tale” seems like a heir of the romanticism of Hoffman’s tales! If Castle takes full advantage of the mime Marcel Marceau’s talents, he also gives the majority of his actors the appearance of disarticulated silent puppets. Omnipresent and distressing, Alex North’s music gives this hypnotic ballet its tempo. Did Michael Powell ever see this absurd and venomous filmic poem?