AmateurMovieReviews.com

The Story: A scientist's experiments with matter transference cause his molecules to become mixed with those of a fly, with tragic consequences.

It's always a risky proposition to revisit an old favorite horror film. Sometimes it's as great as you remember it, sometimes you find previously undiscovered chills or depths of meaning or character, sometimes you find it to be cheesy but fun or cheesy but bad, and sometimes you find... not much at all. It's a gamble, but every time I go to the video store and see row upon row of endless sequels and straight to video junk, I get the urge to roll the dice anyway. Roll away...

At the beginning of The Fly, Helene Delambre (Patricia Owens) is turning herself in for the murder of her scientist husband Andre (Al Hedison, who later changed his name to David to disguise his association with this film). His head and one arm have been crushed in a huge factory press and she calmly tells Andre's brother Francois (Vincent Price) and Inspector Charas (Herbert Marshall) that she did it but can't disclose why.

The inspector lets her go on her own recognizance while he begins the investigation, and a devastated and puzzled Francois tries to get her to explain her actions. Clues begin to suggest that it has something to do with a white-headed house fly that she is obsessed with and has sent her son Phillipe (Charles Herbert) looking for. Eventually, Francois claims to have caught the fly and tricks her into opening up...

Andre's latest experiment was a matter transmitter, a science-fiction looking contraption that would disintegrate objects in one compartment and reintegrate it in another one at a different location. After a few successful tries with dinner plates and the like (and an attempt with the cat that doesn't turn out nearly as well), Andre decides to try it on himself. Something goes wrong, but we don't see what it is at first because Andre keeps his head and one arm covered with a towel as he tries to hide the results from his wife. Of course, a fly had gotten into the mix and he is revealed to have the head and arm of the poor creature. So what became (and will become) of the fly that everyone's looking for? Sorry, I'm not that kind of reviewer.

So, is this a good movie? Bad? So bad it's good? Well, as I check out reviews elsewhere, I see all three verdicts, and each has its merits, I suppose, though I don't necessarily agree with any of them. Here's my take:

Good stuff: Vincent Price! The man was always incapable of giving a bad performance, and here in a rare sympathetic role, he is nearly flawless. A bit campy sometimes, but he wouldn't be Uncle Vincent otherwise and for the most part he plays everything quite straight. The other performances are well and honestly done, with no real standouts to speak of. Everyone shows up and does their work well if unremarkably.

The budget is indulgent here as well. This is one of the few horror films of its era that could afford color, decent if unremarkable music, professional-looking sets, and good (though limited) special effects and makeup. No element calls much attention to itself at all, either for better or worse. Competence reigns supreme in The Fly. Which brings us to...

Bad stuff: Competence. Mere competence. Nothing in The Fly, aside from Price's performance (and all he had to do was show up and say his lines), is anything more or less than professional and... drab. Dull. Blah. Forgettable. And this is death in an old science fiction horror flick. Better ridiculous or overwrought than boring, I always say. The movie politely knocks on the door, sits daintily on the couch making polite conversation without raising its voice, and then leaves without leaving any muss or fuss or signs of its presence whatsoever. It just leaves the feeling that it's now an hour and a half later in your life and you still haven't got the dishes washed yet.

The Fly is the kind of date you can always bring home to meet Mom, knowing she'll feel comforted in the fact that you'll come home on time, sober and with every hair still in place. Okay if you're that type of person, but I wanna score or at least get smacked around for trying. In other words, The Fly isn't a bad time but you'll never get to second base. Whether this is a good thing or bad is up to you. Personally, I don't feel like I got ripped off but I feel quite unsatisfied and empty.

To me, the fun of movie gambling is the danger of losing everything or the thrill of coming home rich. With The Fly, I broke even. Damn.

P.S. Yes, that is James Clavell, the author of Shogun, getting screenplay credit.