- Original theatrical poster - image courtesy of Wrong Side of the Art
As if it weren't made obvious by the title alone, The Manster (originally known, less enjoyably, as The Split) is more than a little silly, but more so than most movies of its kind, it's proud to wear that absurdity right on its sleeves. By avoiding delusions of grandeur, the film achieves a modest form of it, ultimately ranking as one of the more seriously subversive movies to emerge from a period and genre ripe with them.
Frequently crude but effective throughout, the film wields an assured directorial sleight of hand and creepy production design that, despite a scattering of relative tritisms, leave a lasting impression, with splashes of artistry (quite literally, in the awesome title shot) and potently disturbing imagery elevating the proceedings above the mundane.
Like the titular monster, a being that is ultimately at war with itself, The Manster is a movie with raw greatness that refuses to be contained by mediocre skin. I'd never heard of it until recently, when I was introduced to it thanks to Turner Classic Movies and a savvy friend's DVR. Just knowing that a movie like this exists is one of the simple pleasures in life.
The man who will eventually become the titular hybrid is Larry Standford (Peter Dyneley), an American news correspondent stationed in Japan, eager to complete his last assignment and return home to his wife. If only things were so simple. An interview with an eccentric scientist, one Dr. Robert Suzuki (Tetsu Nakamura), proves more than Larry bargained for, and then some.
Recognizing Larry as an ideal specimen, the amoral Suzuki ("What happens to one man is not important," he says, in the name of science) drugs the reporter and, unbeknownst to him, injects him with the latest serum in a series of bizarre, mutation-inducing experiments. The remnants of his prior, failed tests reside in Suzuki's basement lab, carrying on a pathetic, barely-human existence.
Before long, Larry will similarly become an entirely new species through this act of forced evolution, but first he's wooed into staying in Tokyo so the doctor can keep a watchful eye on his progress. Wine, women and song are among the pleasures Larry is lavished with as he undergoes a rapid and violent personality transformation, shunning those close to him, unaware of his newfound irritability. In this way, the story functions as a thinly veiled variation on the classic Jekyll and Hyde theme, although Larry's constant drinking also suggests an allegory on the effects of alcoholism.
In addressing theme and plot, the dialogue is frequently a bit on the nose, diminishing its resonance, but this occasional lack of subtlety is countered by the film's deep moral consideration as well as a frank portrayal of sexuality and violence, through which Larry's manifesting dark side expresses itself.
As the mutations beings to develop visibly, the film uses sparse makeup to near profound effect -- the shoulder scene is a landmark of sorts, its influence acknowledged in Sam Raimi's Army of Darkness -- while the climax includes some simple yet ingenious use of props and camera angles to suggest more than can (and some would say should) be shown. This murkiness allows one's imagination to take flight, compounding the effect.
More traditional work notwithstanding, Peter Dyneley might be the film's greatest special effect, his channeled reservoirs of confused rage and physical contortions the ultimate pitch in the sale of this beast. It's a tragic turn of events, but one not without an ultimate silver lining, and it's so densely packed that it's surprising how short the film actually is. Thoughtful, moody, and host to a great lead performance, The Manster is a sadly overlooked example of a roughly-hewn gem.
The Manster is available for free through the public domain (click here).
The Manster. Dir. George P. Breakston, Kenneth G. Crane. Perf. Peter Dyneley, Jane Hylton, Tetsu Nakamura, Terri Zimmern, Norman Van Hawley, Jerry Ito, Toyoko Takechi. United Artists, 1959. Running Time: 72 min.
