It was a family affair the evening we all went to see this at the local Nassau Theater (which everyone in the neighborhood called "The Itch") in Roosevelt (Long Island), New York, on a warm summer evening in 1956 (although it was released in late 1955).
I was seven-1/2 years old.
The film was, to the bulk of the chortling audience--- my mom, cousins, aunt and uncle, included--- risible; but, to me, well, I was scared, dare I say it?, silly. Waaaaaa! My kin thought I was kidding; I wasn't. I think the stitches on the foreheads and the robotic behavior of "the creatures" threw me over the edge.
Back home, I had nightmares for weeks, cried out for mom constantly--- until she got so frustrated that she ceased coming upstairs.
I hadn't seen the film since, until about four years ago, and, you know what, as an older adult, I can see exactly why the film scared me. As well, though, I can see why the audience found humor a-bounding: the acting is wooden, the script absurd, the talk, talk, talk incessant.
I was seven-1/2 years old.
The film was, to the bulk of the chortling audience--- my mom, cousins, aunt and uncle, included--- risible; but, to me, well, I was scared, dare I say it?, silly. Waaaaaa! My kin thought I was kidding; I wasn't. I think the stitches on the foreheads and the robotic behavior of "the creatures" threw me over the edge.
Back home, I had nightmares for weeks, cried out for mom constantly--- until she got so frustrated that she ceased coming upstairs.
I hadn't seen the film since, until about four years ago, and, you know what, as an older adult, I can see exactly why the film scared me. As well, though, I can see why the audience found humor a-bounding: the acting is wooden, the script absurd, the talk, talk, talk incessant.