Robot Monster (1953)

Robot Monster is a rite-of-passage for anyone with an interest in 50's B-Movies and has long been staple of those Worst Films Ever lists that were all the rage in the 80s and 90s.

Ro-Man, an Alien Robot that in no way bears a striking resemblance to a man wearing a gorilla suit and a diving helmet, is on a mission to destroy all human life on Earth with his Calcinator death ray. He is achingly close to getting the job done, except for half a dozen humans that stubbornly remain alive; a scientist, his wife, their two daughters, his young son Johnny and his assistant, who have all somehow developed an immunity to the death ray. As if that's not bad enough for poor Ro-Man, he has developed an illogical attraction to Alice, the eldest daughter.

It's true that the film contains much that is easy to sneer at. The story makes little sense, the acting is wooden, the Death Ray seems to be a bubble machine with a TV antenna, and the four day shooting schedule is reflected in a few fluffed lines.

But, one thing you could never call it is dull. The sheer insanity and invention coupled with a total lack of any irony or self-awareness gives Robot Monster a delirious energy sorely lacking from other examples of this genre, or their modern-day equivalents such as the Sharknado franchise. Special mention goes to the generous use of stock footage for spacecraft and ruined cities from the likes of Rocketship X-M, Lost Continent, Flight to Mars and Captive Women. Oh, and dinosaurs from One Million B.C., because Ro-Man can also unleash giant lizards on the earth or something.

Despite the recycled special effects, the score is completely original and by no less a Hollywood luminary than Elmer Bernstein. A few years before his classics such as The Man with the Golden Arm and The Magnificent Seven, Bernstein was still a jobbing composer, and had, according to him, been side-lined in some areas of Hollywood due to his left-wing politics. His score for Robot Monster is a mix of bombastic and discord and sounds like it should belong in a much better film.

There is also a Shaggy dog story twist ending (SPOILER ALERT), which actually makes the whole baffling premise work. It turns out the whole thing has been a nightmare in the mind of little Johnny, which explains the incoherent and childish feel to the plot.

Konga (1961)

A deliriously mess of a film, Konga represents an all too rare UK based attempt at a giant monster film. With a great performance from Michael Gough, some endearingly awful special effects, and a script that mixes a range of influences from King Kong to Poe, we get a film that is ridiculous but never less than entertaining.

After disappearing for a year in Africa, Dr Charles Decker comes back with a baby chimp and some crazy ideas about a way of growing plants and animals to an enormous size. As he slowly loses his mind he decides to use his discoveries in order to get rid of his enemies – but has he created something way beyond his control?

Despite the British setting and cast, Konga was actually the brainchild of American producer Herman Cohen, the man behind 50s horror hits such as I Was a Teenage Werewolf, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein, and How to Make a Monster. Cohen moved to the UK to make the delightfully lurid thriller Horrors of the Black Museum, which also starred Michael Gough as an arrogant sadist with a taste for murder, albeit one who works in journalism rather than science, and the film proved to be a big success. When asked to make a follow up, Cohen opted to move into more fantasy rooted territory.

Although King Kong is the most obvious influence, judging from the posters at least, the only element borrowed for Konga is the presence of a giant ape, and that does not show until the final act. A more obvious source is the Edgar Allen Poe story “Murders in the Rue Morgue”, from which it borrows the idea of a primate being trained to carry out the murderous wishes of its owner. However, an interesting twist on this comes when Decker's assistant Margaret also trains Konga to bump off what she sees as her rivals for the Doctor's affections. This makes Konga become something akin to the "Monsters from the Id" from Forbidden Planet.

Gough chews the scenery from the outset, but also gives Decker an oily, sinister aspect that stops his performance becoming grating. Make no mistake, he is definitely evil - he shoots his pet cat dead "in case" it interferes with his experiments - but Gough never resorts to foaming at the mouth theatrics, instead playing Decker as cool and sometimes charming, which would make for a chilling character if the situations were not so ridiculous and the dialogue not so portentous.

With such a dazzling lead, the other characters in the film are inevitably going to get overshadowed. However, Decker's assistant Margaret is fairly memorable, utterly devoted to him, turning a blind eye to his crimes, and only getting on the moral high ground when she learns he has been eyeing up one of his students. And, this being set "Between the end of the Chatterley ban, and The Beatles' first LP...", Dr Decker's students are hilariously dated, with lots of sensible sweaters and Trad Jazz.

However, just as entertaining as the star and the script are the special effects, especially the Gorilla costume. Despite starting (and ending) the film as a chimpanzee, one of the side effects of Dr Decker's growth serum is to, once he reaches a certain size, turn Konga into a gorilla. Herman Cohen had previously worked on "Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla", and while I am not sure if it the same costume (or the same man in the costume), it is certainly a similar quality. Elsewhere, we get some ridiculous man eating rubber plants, straight out of Little Shop of Horrors, and when Margaret gets picked up and thrown around by Konga, it is very obviously a miniature doll.