Welcome to a special South of the Border edition of Schlock Treatment. Viewers outside Mexico may never truly comprehend the cult of the masked wrestler. Identities forever hidden behind a full-face mask, their heroes never reveal themselves, and spend their entire public lives with their masks on. They become revered, almost to sainthood, in a deeply Catholic country that sees such grappling matches as an old-fashioned morality play of Good versus Evil.
Santo In The Wax Museum from 1963 is one of only four Santo films to be translated into English, courtesy of the infamous K. Gordon Murray. Murray purchased scores of Mexican wrestling, horror, science fiction and even kiddie films (remember Santa Claus vs Satan, anyone?) and dubbed them in his Florida voice factory, repackaged them and sold them off to B-programs and late night TV. Somewhere between Mexico and Florida, Santo has become “Samson The Silver Masked Man”, but he’s still the crime-fighting champion of justice complete with secret laboratory, as well as the king of the ring, a fact hammered home by three lengthy and somewhat gratuitous wrestling bouts. However, Mexican wrestling films are pure genre, and like wrestling, genres have strict rules. Santo good, villains bad.
The action unfolds as the pretty Susan, a magazine photographer, tours the wax museum of the mysterious Dr Karol. Upstairs are figures of the great villains of the Twentieth Century – Stalin, Gandhi, Garry Cooper – while in the dungeon is the Chamber of Horrors: Frankenstein, the Wolfman, the Phantom of the Opera… It turns out Dr Karol is a former inmate of Dachau, and as expected, a concentration camp does strange things to a man’s brain. Obsessed with turning beauty into ugliness, he kidnaps Susan and plans to transform her into a living-dead wax model of a Panther Woman (now that’s hot), so that the dark side of the human soul is immortalized in wax forever. Santo joins the tag team of Susan’s sister Gloria and her fiancée Charles as they wrestle an army of mutated and animated wax monsters.
I’m not sure about you, but I find there’s something mildly fetishistic about masked wrestlers. But women without masks throwing grown men around the ring…
Wrestling Women vs The Aztec Ape was the first in a series of six Wrestling Women or “Las Luchadoras” films, an attempt to feminize the almost entirely masculine world of masked wrestling movies. The first three team Mexican genre icon Lorena Velasquez with American cupcake Elizabeth Campbell, and two were successful enough to get the K. Gordon Murray treatment. Thus Las Luchadoras Contra el Medico Asesino becomes “Doctor Of Doom”, and later in the 80s gets a bogus surf soundtrack and is redubbed “Rock And Roll Wrestling Women vs The Aztec Ape”.
Lorena Velasquez is Gloria Venus, a gorgeous almond-eyed wrestling dynamo who gets thrown around the ring then leaves it without a hair from her Elizabeth Taylor do out of place. She’s teamed up with new partner The Golden Rubi, a red-haired firebrand from North of the Border, and from the moment they meet they become the best of friends. But not that good, if you know what I mean.
Wrestling Women… opens with a series of murders attributed to a killer branded the Mad Doctor, who leaves his female victims completely brainless. The Doctor, who spends most of the film with his head in a pillowcase with eyeholes, is intent on perfecting brain transplants, and has even grafted a gorilla’s brain into a man’s body. The resulting monobrowed monster known as Gomar, a goofy-looking creature with arms covered in carpet fluff, is sent out to grab more women, and one happens to be wrestler Gloria Venus’ sister Alice Fontaine (or Alicia Flores). As she dies on the table, the Mad Doctor decides he needs a more resilient female subject - physically strong, as well as intelligent, and with a profession. It’s no stretch of the imagination who he picks – Lorena Velasquez, I’m looking at you!
…But of course it’s not the final word from the eeeeevil Dr Krupp. Virtually the entire cast and crew return to do it all again in the third film Robot vs The Aztec Mummy, released in mid-1958. All three black and white movies clock in at just over an hour, and with their episodic, heavy padding, quasi-cliffhanger structure and stagy melodrama filled with cardboard cutout gangsters and mad scientists, are reminiscent of the old American serials of the 30s and 40s. What you didn’t see north of the border is a masked wrestler driving up to a crime scene in a sports car. And therein lies their charm. We hope you enjoy the beans and cheese of Curse Of The Aztec Mummy.
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