The Man Who Turned to Stone

Mad scientists who run a women’s prison kill the inmates in order to prolong their own lives in Columbia’s 1957 genre mashup. Bernard Gordon’s script has interesting ideas, but falls back on dated horror tropes. 5/10.

The Man Who Turned to Stone. 1957, USA. Directed by László Kardos. Written by Bernard Gordon. Starring: Victor Jory, Charlotte Austin, William Hudson, Paul Cavanagh, Jean Willes, Friedrich von Lebedur, Ann Doran. Produced by Sam Katzman. 

Strange goings-on are going on at the La Salle correctional home for girls — that is; the La Salle female prison for juvenile delinquents. A surprising number of healthy young girls are taken to the infirmery for heart problems and suddenly die of heart attacks — heart attacks that conveniently occur after the other girls have observed the giant mute assistant Eric (Friedrich von Ledebur) prowling about the grounds and heard screams. When the new girl Anna (Barbara Wilson) is diagnosed with yet another heart problem, her bunk mate Tracy (Jean Willes) vents her suspicions about something rotten at the correctional home of La Salle with the prison’s social worker Carol Adams (Charlotte Austin). When Ms. Adams starts looking into the prison’s death statistics, she is firmly told by the administration to stop snooping around. Later, Anna is found dead, apparently from suicide by hanging. Ms. Adams refuses to back down on her suspicions, and is told the prison has hired a new, more experienced (male) psychologist, Dr. Jess Rogers (William Hudson) to replace her. But as Ms. Adams is packing up her things, she finds that Dr. Rogers actually believes her, and wants her to stay on has his assistant. And together the two start investigating the mystery of the La Salle girls’ prison.

This is the build-up to Columbia Pictures’ 1957 women-in-prison/SF/horror low-budget movie The Man Who Turned to Stone, produced by legendary low-budget specialist Sam Katzman and directed by László Kardos, a Hungarian immigrant who never made much of a mark in Hollywood. This was his penultimate film. The scripts is by a “Raymond T. Marcus”, a front for blacklisted screenwriter Bernard Gordon, perhaps best known for co-penning Earth vs. the Flying Saucers (1956, review) and The Day of the Triffids (1963). It stars a group of established character actors with some minor marquee draw, such as Victor Jory, Ann Doran, Paul Cavanagh and William Hudson in his first lead.

Moving on with the plot, the audience is quickly dialed in on the mystery at hand, namely that the prison administration is made up of a group of 18th century scientists that have discovered the secret to eternal life. That is, transferring the bioelectrical energy from young women to themselves. The group is led by the prison’s “warden”, Dr. Murdock (Jory) and consist of a Dr. Cooper (Cavanagh), a Mrs Ford (Doran), a Dr. Freneau (George Lynn), a Dr. Myer (Victor Varconi) and an Eric (Friedrich von Lebedur).

Lest they get regular refills, they petrify (hence the film’s title). Thus, they have established a girls’ prison, in order to secure a steady flow of energy containers. Because, as per usual in these films, for reasons that are left hazy, young women are the best source of energy. But the group is having more trouble than just the nosy social workers. As time goes by, they need ever more frequent refills, and it is only a matter of time before the heart attack rate among the girls will start to raise suspicion. Furthermore, as exemplified by the mute, brute Eric, prolonged treatment seems to affect the subjects’ mental capabilities as well. Dr. Cooper, the sharpest scientist of the bunch, has been working on a solution, but is growing a conscience, and spills his beans to male protagonist Rogers. When Murdock and the rest of the group find out about Cooper’s betrayal, they deny him his next “treatment”, and he petrifies and dies in front of their eyes. However, Cooper has arranged to have his diary mailed to Rogers, and the group send out their torpedo Eric to retrieve it before Rogers has an opportunity to deliver it to the authorities. Meanwhile, they decide that Carol Adams is to be silenced by using her as their next victim.

Background & Analysis

During his producing career between 1933 and 1970, producer Sam Katzman never once produced an A-movie, but was known for churning out an endless stream of serviceable but often uninspired B-movies on a small budget. Ever aware of the trends, Katzman went out of his action-oriented comfort zone with The Man Who Turned to Stone, and tapped into the popular juvenile delinquency and the budding women-in-prison genres. However, these themes quickly become secondary to what is ultimately a plot ripped from a 40’s horror movie. It is interesting to note, though, that the women-in-prison and mad scientist themes were not very often combined in the 50’s and 60’s, even though the two would seem to feed each other several fruitful opportunities. It seems, however, that Katzman wanted to play down this possibility for lurid exploitation, and instead of focusing on the girls, chose the surprisingly boring title of The Man Who Turned to Stone, strengthening the feeling that the film is a callback to Columbia’s Boris Karloff output in the late 30’s and early 40’s (some of which was quite good).

I haven’t really found any background information on how and why The Man Who Turned to Stone came about, which in and of itself is telling as to regards of its purpose: this was a cheap and quick money-grab, as was the film it was teamed up with on many double bills: Zombies of Mora Tau. Writer and communist Bernard Gordon wrote both films under the pseudonym “Raymond T. Marcus”, and they was among his final films in Hollywood before his relocation to Madrid. Born in Budapest in 1905, director László Kardos made a handful of films in Hungary before escaping the war to the US in 1940, where he also made a handful of rather undistinguished films. In the US he was credited as Leslie Kardos.

I don’t know what budget the film had, but one would assume not much more than $100,000. The sets are sparsely decorated, but the film doesn’t feel as cramped as many other similar movies of its ilk. The mad scientists’ lab is perfunctory, basically a room with a few electrical-looking gadgets, but the “bathtub” in which the victims are lowered is a creative departing from the usual operation table (and plays a central role in the final climax). The special effects are limited to the transformations of Eric and Dr. Cooper when they start petrifying. The idea is that their skulls start showing through their faces when they start turning to “stone”. The actual makeup is crude and not very convincing (the film has no credited makeup artist), but the change is at least halfway neat. Here Kardos uses the same technique that was applied to great effect in Paramount’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931, review), the Fredric March version. By adding and substracting filters that correspond with the colour of the makeup, Kardos is able to make the makeup appear and disappear.

Kardos’ direction is pedestrian, but there are a few effective scenes, such as when Eric chases Dr. Rogers up a mountain side (one would assume a leftover set from some other movie, as it serves no story purpose), or the shock reveal of Anna’s hanging. The film’s main asset and at the same time its biggest flaw is the script. As was often the case with Bernard Gordon, there is an interesting premise at work, but its realisation is not quite satifactory. The idea of two social workers on the heel of a cabal of 200-year-old scientists leeching life out of imprisoned girls is one that could have made for an interesting script. There are ideas here to mine. Unfortunately the film falls back on trite horror movie tropes, and much time is taken up by our heroes running from an Eric which is directed as a lumbering Frankenstein copy. The idea of placing the action at a detention home for girls seems like an afterthought, and Gordon never gets around to using this premise for anything. Most of the juvenile delinquents look like they’re at least 10 years too old to be juvenile anything. The girl with the most prominent role, Jean Willes, was 34 when she made the film. Neither do any of them seem to be particularly delinquent, but generally behave in the way the 30+ actors behaved in the 50’s when trying to pass as teenagers on film.

Gordon also makes the classic mistake of revealing the mystery to the audience way too early, which means a good deal of the film’s running time consists of the protagonists running around catching up with the audience. There is a long scene which is meant to function as a reveal, when Rogers reads Cooper’s diary. But by this time, we’re already tuned in to what’s happening, and the “reveal” is mainly just a technical explanation, and the sequence is a major dip in the proceedings.

Of course, the basic premise is bonkers. The audience hardly buys the idea that the staff of a juvenile prison would be able to go on for decades killing off girls at the pace that the villains in this movie do without anyone taking notice. Furthermore, if they have been doing this for ages, one would think that they would have figured out a smoother way to transport the girls from the infirmary to the lab, than having a mute brute kidnap them from their hospital beds and drag them screaming past the windows of the girls’ dormitory. And by the way, since the procedure relies on electrical gadgets to transfer the bioelectric energy from the girls, how on Earth did they manage that in the 17th century?

This said, The Man Who Turned to Stone does have a certain charm. The basic idea is strong enough to carry the film through, if you ignore the glaring plot holes. It is original enough to feel refreshing, despite the odd feeling of anachronism. And while Kardos’ direction is pedestrian, it is serviceable. Victor Jory is also in high form here, as the refined villain, much more at home, snappier and livelier than when he was miscast as the macho romantic hero in the infamous Cat-Women of the Moon (1953, review). He gets superb support here from Paul Cavanagh, who gives the standout performance in this film as the mad scientist who grows a conscience. The scenes whe he a Jory go toe-to-toe are electric, and Cavanagh’s death scene is both well written and acted. Friedrich von Lebedur, normally an enjoyable support actor, is wasted here in the role as the bumbling brute. Charlotte Austin turns in a very solid performance in the female lead, and William Hudson provides her with chirpy support.

This science fiction variation on The Picture of Dorian Gray wasn’t new as such. Mad doctors like Bela Lugosi and John Carradine had been stealing the life fluids and pituitary glands of young women in order to keep their wives young and healthy for decades, in films like The Corpse Vanishes (1942, review), Revenge of the Zombies (1943, review) and Voodoo Man (1944 (review). The theme was handled in a more sophisticated manner in the interesting but sluggish The Man in Half Moon Street (1945, review), starring Swedish heartthrob Nils Asther as a modern-day Dorian Gray. Interestingly enough, it also features Paul Cavanagh, in his only other SF movie, aside from a bit-parti in She Devil (1957, review). However, the idea of this close-knit cabal of scientists that have been leading essentially double lives for over 200 years under the noses of the authorities was something new, and a theme that would have been far more interesting to explore than the creaky old mad doctor antics we get in The Man Who Turned to Stone.

Reception & Legacy

The film received lukewarm reception from trade magazines upon release. Both Harrison’s Reports and Variety opined that it should function adequately a second bill at horror movie screenings. Variety gave thumbs up for the acting, even if it thought the premise was passé. Likewise, the Film Bulletin wrote: “The treatment is dated and the ‘scare’ gimmicks obvious”, but also noted it would do adequate business “in action and ballyhoo houses”.

Today the film has a 5.2/10 audience rating on IMDb based on little more than 400 votes. Modern critics tend to view The Man Who Turned to Stone in a forgiving light. Kevin Lyons at EOFFTV notes the threadbare production, the “damp squib ending” and the fact that “having introduced a reform school full of not-too-badly-behaved young women, Gordon can’t quite come up with anything to do with them”. But he also writes; “although Gordon’s ideas flounder towards the end, it’s a strangely enjoyable film”. Mark Cole at Rivets on the Poster says: “The Man Who Turned to Stone is not one of the better horror and science fiction films of the era, but it is enjoyable enough if you don’t ask too much of it.” Mark David Welsh calls it an “unusual 1950s science fiction, which sacrifices some credibility in order to meet audience expectations”. According to Welsh, “the story development delivers few surprises and the climax is spectacularly predictable but, having said that, director [László] Kardos keeps the action moving and conjures a decent level of atmosphere”. He calls the film “a good, solid ‘B’ picture, boasting an offbeat premise and an efficient, quality delivery”.

Cast & Crew

Science fiction fans remember Victor Jory as the “woefully miscast” romantic lead the clunker classic Cat-Women of the Moon (1953), but he had a good run in a number of A-pictures early on in his career, and continued to show up here and there in supporting roles in prestigious movies even after his marquee draw had waned. His athletic build (he was a boxer and wrestler in the coast guard) and theatrical training provided him with a few romantic lead roles in the early 30’s, but his “black” eyes, prominent nose and brooding eyebrows quickly made him a favourite in sinister roles (not infrequently as Native Americans). Among his memorable moments are the role as Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1935), Injun Joe in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1938) and the carpetbagger in Gone with the Wind (1939). In 1940 he played the titular character in the proto-superhero serial The Shadow. His voice also offered hin an extensive career in radio. In the 50’s Jory became a popular face on TV, and had the co-lead in the police series Manhunt (1959–1961). Among his prominent later work is the role of Helen Keller’s father in The Miracle Worker (1962), the narration of Mackenna’s Gold (1969) and as the Indian chief who wants a tattoo from Steve McQueen in Papillon (1973). He appeared in a handful of SF shows in TV, even if Cat-Women of the Moon and The Man Who Turned to Stone (1957) remained his only movies in the genre. Between 1930 and 1977 Jory appeared in over 100 feature films and almost as many TV shows.

Charlotte Austin in the female lead says she spent most of he acting career trying to get out of acting. In an interview with film historian Tom Weaver, Austin says she was pushed into acting as a child by her mother, and that while still in college, she was pushed by an agent into a 4-year contract with Twentieth Century-Fox. While not a household genre name, Austin has a bit of an SF and horror pedigree. One of her first jobs at Fox was an uncredited bit part in the SF screwball comedy Monkey Business (1952, review), starring Cary Grant, Ginger Rogers and Marilyn Monroe. She played the female lead in the musical Rainbow Round My Shoulder (1953), ironically playing the opposite of her real-life self, an actress who is prevented by her family in entering showbusiness. Also ironically, her singing was dubbed, despite the fact that Austin was a good singer (she was daughter to the famous western crooner Gene Austin), and sing was something she actually wanted to do. A few supporting roles, big and small, followed at Fox, before her contract ran out. In her interview with Weaver she says that she didn’t care if her contract was renewed, and neither did the studio, so it wasn’t.

Austin tells Weaver she kept on acting because she wanted to save up money for a house, and acting was the only thing she was trained to do at this point. Her first film as a freelancer was The Man Who Turned to Stone, followed by a supporting role in the western Pawnee (1957). Her next role was the one she is perhaps best known for, the lead in Allied Artists’ gorilla melodrama The Bride and the Beast (1958), penned by Ed Wood. The story concerns a woman who feels more attracted to her husband’s gorilla than to her husband, because she was a gorilla herself in a past life. The role came complete with Wood’s trademark angora fetish – Austin waxes poetically about the horrendous angora sweater she was forced to wear in her interview. Her third and last SF role was a supporting part in the infamous Aubrey Schenck production Frankenstein 1970 (1958), in which Boris Karloff finally took on the role of Victor Frankenstein, with poor results. A few TV guest spots followed, before Austin was finally able to drop out acting. In latter years she opened an antique shop in Pasadena.

Leading man William Hudson got into the movies in the late 40’s and played a long string of uncredited parts and small supporting roles before gaining some TV notoriety with recurring supports in the TV shows I Led 3 Lives (starring SF stalwart Richard Carlson) and in Rocky Jones, Space Ranger in 1954-55. He kept busy in minor parts, such as in The She-Creature and on TV, and probably didn’t think twice when offered his first lead in The Man Who Turned to Stone. While mostly relegated to bit-parts in other movies, Hudson followed up with two more leads in SF movies; The Amazing Colossal Man (1957, review) and its semi-sequel Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958). He also appeared in small roles in two family comedies about astronauts: Moon Pilot (1962) and The Reluctant Astronaut (1967), the latter starring Leslie Nielsen, long before his comedy career proper.

Ann Doran (as Mrs. Ford) made her debut as a child actress in the silent era in 1922, but didn’t go down the path of the child star, despite being born into an acting family. After her debut proper in 1934, she went on to become one of the most prolific supporting actresses in Hollywood, by one account apprearing in over 500 films and 1000 TV episodes (IMDb lists 230 movies abd 150 TV shows). For much of her career, she worked under contract for Columbia. She had a few leads as an ingenue in B-movies early on in her career, but mostly did supporting work, some large, some smaller, and bit-part work. Doran is best known for playing James Dean’s mother in Rebel Without a Cause (1955). Her SF credits include the Boris Karloff vehicle The Man They Could Not Hang (1939, review), she pops up as a psychiatrist in Them! (1954, review), The Man Who Turned to Stone (1957), and most famously, she was one of the crew members whose spaceship gets infiltrated by an alien in It! The Terror from Beyond Space (1958). Doran was a regular face on TV from 1950 until her retirement in 1988. She passed away in 2000, at the respectable age of 89.

Jean Willes (as the “girl” who sets the movie in motion by bringing up her suspicions with the social worker) was another hard-working supporting, and occasionally lead, actress for many decades. IMDb credits her with over 200 appearances between 1942 and 1976, and she worked in both film and on TV for most of her career. Willes usually played tough gals rather than fainting daisies, and her robust features often got her cast as women in authority, or conversely, on the flip-side of life. Her comedic talents made her a regular face in Abbott and Costello shorts, and she also appeared in the feature film Abbott and Costello Go to Mars (1953). She appeared in supporting roles in A-movies and held down the occasional lead in B-films. SF fans well recognise her as nurse Sally Winters in Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956, review).

Tall, gaunt aristocrat Friedrich von Lebedur was an officer in the Austro-Hungarian cavalry in WWI, after which he spent the following two decades travelling the globe. He finally settled in the US in 1939, where he was able to use his expertise with horses to establish himself as a sought-after horse trainer in Hollywood. In 1945 he started getting small roles in movies, and soon befriended John Huston, who cast him in prominent roles in his films. He could be glimpsed in such A-films as The Great Sinner (1949), Moulin Rouge (1952) and Alexander the Great (1956). In 1956 he also appeared in what would become his most famous film, that of master harpooner Queeqek in Huston’s Moby Dick (1956). Surely, Lebedur must have asked himself what he did, the year after this triumph, appearing in The Man Who Turned to Stone and Voodoo Island. Lebedur eventually returned to Europe in the early 60’s, where he continued to act in primarily German movies. But he also appeared in occasional Hollywood movies filmed in the continent, such as Huston’s Reflections in a Golden Eye (1967), William Friedkin’s Sorcerer (1977) and Terence Young’s Bloodline (1979). Most famously, perhaps, as the German leader in the SF movie Slaughterhouse-Five (1972).

There are a couple of juvenile delinquents in small roles who actually have some SF pedigree. One of the “girls” is played by Tina Carver, 35 years of age at the time. Carver is best known for being menaced by a monstrous tree stump in From Hell It Came (1957, review). Barbara Wilson, playing Anna, the girl who “hangs” herself, played the lead in Invasion of the Animal People (1959) and had a supporting role in The Flesh Eaters (1964).

The crew is made up by hardened industry veterans, such as cinematographer Benjamin Kline and art director Paul Palmentola. Editor Charles Nelson had won an Oscar the previous year for his work in Picnic. Not that it shows in the movie.

Janne Wass

The Man Who Turned to Stone. 1957, USA. Directed by László Kardos. Written by Bernard Gordon. Starring: Victor Jory, Charlotte Austin, William Hudson, Paul Cavanagh, Jean Willes, Friedrich von Lebedur, Ann Doran, George Lynn, Victor Varconi, Tina Carver, Barbara Wilson. Cinematography: Benjamin Kline. Editing: Charles Nelson. Art direction: Paul Palmentola. Sound: J.S. Westmoreland. Produced by Sam Katzman for Sam Katzman Productions & Columbia Pictures.