Drive-In Dust Offs: THE NIGHT WALKER (1964)

William Castle is a name synonymous with hucksterism and showmanship, more so than the quality of the films he directed. Which isn’t really fair, it’s just that his gimmicky pieces like The House on Haunted Hill and The Tingler (both 1959), with skeletons flying through the audience and buzzers placed under theatre seats respectively, overshadowed an unsubtle but solid directorial style when unburdened by showbiz trappings. Such is the case with The Night Walker (1964), a Robert Bloch (Psycho) scripted thriller that delves into the dream world in effective ways.

Released in late December by Universal, The Night Walker received some good notices but left audiences sleepy. Perhaps the perceived combination of shock master Bloch and schlock meister Castle didn’t match what made it to the screen; indeed it’s a different tale told in a different manner than either was used to telling, yet has a sometimes eerie grasp of one’s powerlessness over dreams.

Our film opens with a protracted Serling-esque monologue over animated credits, informing the viewer of the insidious nature of spectral visions and night terrors. (Side note: I almost never remember my dreams, but when I do they’re usually me being chased, which I find terrifying. Not a single Kate Jackson tryst to be had, goddamnit.) As the dream turns to reality a wealthy blind man, Howard Trent (Hayden Rorke – I Dream of Jeannie), stands over the bed of his sleeping wife Irene (Barbara Stanwyck – Double Indemnity) before meeting up with family friend Barry Morland (Robert Taylor – Quo Vadis) in the study of the Trent’s manor. Howard is convinced that Irene is having an affair; but the only thing he has to go on is audio surveillance of her room, as she talks in her sleep of cavorting with a tall stranger. After confronting her husband about his accusations (unfounded and untrue), Irene leaves him and Howard is shortly thereafter killed in a lab explosion on the property.

Irene takes up temporary residence in the back of her salon parlor, and soon finds her sleep filled with visits from her handsome stranger (Lloyd Bochner – Crowhaven Farm), including a surreal trip to an abandoned church filled with talking mannequins. Convinced the dreams are real and that she’s going insane, she solicits Barry’s aid to find out if her nighttime rendezvous’ are real or imagined, and how noble the stranger’s intentions actually are…

The Night Walker is never really mentioned in Castle talk (beyond the aforementioned church visit it’s relatively low key in concept and execution) which is a shame; this has some of the most chilling moments of his catalogue. Howard manages to make some appearances from the beyond, but this time with a burnt visage to accompany his milky, vacant eyes; it’s a creepy look that Castle utilizes to maximum effect yet never outlives its usefulness. This sense of unease is aided immeasurably by Harold E. Stine (The Poseidon Adventure)’s crisp black and white cinematography which seems to accentuate the shadows tucked away in every corner of Irene’s nightscape. When he worked with a good DP, Castle’s skill for staging simple and effective scenes would shine through (for further proof watch the following year’s sly I Saw What You Did).

The big get for The Night Walker however, was the pairing of Taylor and Stanwyck, their third and final outing together. They were married from 1939-1952, and by all accounts it was a contentious union; so having them agree to be in a picture post divorce did raise more than a few eyebrows. (To be fair, this wasn’t another Castle gimmick; Joan Crawford was originally supposed to do it, but backed out to do Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte – and quit that film a week into production.) They work well together; the relationship between Barry and Irene is fraught with friction and one gets the feeling that it wasn’t too hard for them to dance in the dissonance. Taylor would be dead within five years, and after this, Stanwyck hustled over to TV where she worked for the rest of her career as the matriarch on series such as The Big Valley (’65-’69) and The Colbys (’85-’86). Still a stunning beauty at 57, she commands the screen even as she’s shoved into a damsel role. You simply can’t push down class.

Casting “old Hollywood” was part of the Castle Curriculum, however; actors and actresses pushed aside by a system that held no truck with graying locks and furrowed lines (also see: Crawford). Exploitation and genre were the only avenues left to obtain starring roles and Castle was there with open arms, usually to put a hatchet in the hands of his leading ladies.

Speaking of hatchets, Robert Bloch had written the same year’s Crawford starrer Straight-Jacket (a much more visceral and very fun piece of work) for Castle, and looking to collaborate together again, they created something much different. The Night Walker looks inward for the most part, dealing with jealousy, sexual repression, guilt, and other matters that seem at odds with B-movies’ normally simpler pleasures. Coming right on the heels of Straight-Jacket, perhaps Castle not giving the people what they wanted kept them out of theatres.

They should have stuck around, though. Bloch crafted airtight tales (see the wonderful anthology film Asylum for further confirmation); and while you may think you know where The Night Walker will take you, much like a dream, it guides you on a trip you won’t always see coming. Sometimes a great story is the best gimmick of all.

The Night Walker is available on Blu-ray from Scream Factory.