Isle of the Dead

(1945)**

“Live fighting and die knowing you know nothing”.

Set during the Balkan War of 1912, General Nikolas (Boris Karloff) visits a small Greek island to visit the gravesite of his wife. Accompanied by an American reporter, the two quickly learn that all the graves on the island have been looted. Hearing a woman singing, the two stumble upon a house owned by a friendly antique collector. The denizens of the house make for an eclectic, if not peculiar bunch. There’s crotchety Myra, the former owner of the house, a beautiful young girl, Thea, and a British Consul and his wife, to name just a few. After one of the houseguests unexpectedly drops dead from the “plague”, General Nikolas immediately quarantines the island, forbidding anyone to leave until the pestilence has run its course. As others start to die, Myra blames Thea, claiming that she is a vampire. Although General Nikolas initially scoffs at Myra’s assertion, he starts to become drawn into her superstitious belief system while slowly becoming increasingly irrational. As the story climaxes, we learn the real truth.
Moody, dark, but glacial in its pace, Isle of the Dead was a bit of a task to get through. The last 10 minutes actually provide a few good scares, one, I must confess, that made me jump, but overall this film is an exercise in patience. It was fascinating to see Karloff without his Frankenstein makeup on and it makes you realize that he was a really, really ugly guy. The idea was an interesting one but it ends up being a bit clumsy in its execution. Skip it.