Blood Capsule #156

THE FOUR SKULLS OF JONATHAN DRAKE (1959)

I'm surprised that I'm just now seeing Skulls, a voodoo-adjacent flick tacked together by horror/sci-fi veteran Edward L. Cahn.  Why the surprise?  Well, this is my kind of malarkey.  I don't know why it didn't cross my path until now, but I'm glad that it did.  The plot deviates from norms of the day.  You won't find any nuclear testing here.  A man is shaken up by his brother's sudden passing.  The cause of death is imputed as natural, but a peek into the casket reveals some, shall we say, unorthodox liturgical practices.  The corpse's head is missing...!  Don't you hate it when that happens?  The viewer learns that Mr. Drake's family has been cursed, and I won't be able to cram the rest of the synopsis into this paragraph.

Due to the actions of his great-grandfather, the Jivaro Indian tribe placed a hex on Drake's lineage.  This malediction involves bamboo knives, immortal mystics, and shrunken heads.  EDITOR'S NOTE: Not to be confused with Full Moon's Shrunken Heads, which may or may not induce dropsy.  NOTE TO SELF: Hire an editor.  Anyway, Drake himself must unravel the arcane mystery before him to keep his noggin safe and away from prying hands.  I had fun with Skulls.  The pacing is brisk, the visuals are appropriately spooktacular, and the cast brings their "A" game.  The only fly in the ointment (that has to be the worst cliché ever) is the fact that our protagonists aren't faced with enough peril, as opposed to the villains.  As a result, it doesn't feel like the film prioritizes tension.

That's a weird criticism, but guess what?  I'm weird.