Disturbing yet enthralling

One of those movie experiences that is so good it makes you realize you've been grading everything else on a curve.

The storyline feels a little thin and moth-eaten in parts but this sequel is plenty of fun.

Close shines in drama with strong language, adult themes.

These old voodoo films are strange fruits, I love them a lot though they're not particularly respectful towards the aboriginal population inhabiting the exotic far-away places which in the era were mostly fictionalized as destinations of great adventures but especially of great dangers. Blatantly racistic, and terrifyingly simplistic in their exploiting of the occult edges of voodoo as weapons of the natives, seen as barbarian beasts, against the white race, they stand as fascinating curiosities of the horror and mystery cinema of their times. Years before I Walked with a Zombie, we have here a white woman ''zombified'' in the original and accurate meaning of the term, hypnotized, drugged, and occultly manipulated into a being of voodoo folklore, a bloody queen performing dreadful rituals which include human sacrifices. There is no sympathetic approach towards the so-called ''savagery'' of the natives, so, by immediately associating with them, the white woman is seen as an enemy turning against her race, beyond redemption for her family and friends. Even her husband turns against her while she fiercely embraces the islanders' ways. For those who believe old black-and-white films are tame, there's a lot here to make one's skin crawl, including matricidal intentions which I consider it to be the most terrifying element of the film. In a role that's too small for her talent and charisma, Fay Wray is, as always, a delight on screen though her character is diminished in intensity by the restless lady of the house who metamorphoses into a murderous voodoo priestess. It is obscure compared to other classics of the genre, White Zombie or I Walked with a Zombie but it stands on its own and delivers a frightening, completely politically incorrect, tale of exotic voodoo mysteries

A curio that all film buffs should see. But be warned. Very good black & white cinematography is not enough to compensate for this racist tale, even by 1932 standards. Maybe the way the ignorant colonialist characters of this film confront the religion of the islanders, is still assumed by many persons today, but all this voodoo crap has seriously affected horror cinema, until things began to improve a bit with the Hammer Film production "The Plague of the Zombies", and specially with "The Serpent and the Rainbow", which were more informed about the Caribbean and its tragic story of genocide, colonialism, tyranny and misery, all of which still affect many islands (big and small). The filmmakers didn't even make a fine research about the chants or rites of the voodoo religion (because a religion is what voodoo is, that should be treated with respect if we really believe in freedom of cult)... Here natives hum and hum, while the colonialists wear formal dress to have dinner. At least in "King Kong", released a year before, things were more palatable due to the fantastic nature of the story, with an island out of nowhere, so Max Steiner's ritual dances and the cult to Kong seemed marvelous, and they still do. But the St. Christopher of this foolish tale resembles Haiti way too much to be taken as plain "entertainment". On the performers' side, Dorothy Burgess is fine as Juanita Pérez, the "Voodoo Queen" (or something like that), and Arnold Korff is quite convincing as her colonialist landowner uncle, Dr. Pérez (how people with Spanish names and tombstones ended speaking creole in "St. Haiti" is not explained); while Fay Wray is nothing but a decorative figure, and Jack Holt, as the concerned entrepreneur and husband of Queen Juanita, seems more like her father. Don't miss it!

"I Walked with a Zombie" may not have been the first Voodoo film adapted from Charlotte Bronte's "Jane Eyre," which is not surprising when you consider the West Indies was where Edward Rochester courted his mad wife. Perhaps it's a stretch, but "Black Moon" seems to contain several plot elements from Bronte's novel as Stephen Lane—whose West Indian born wife is drifting into madness—forms a close personal bond with his secretary.When the wife (Dorothy Burgess), under the influence of a Voodoo curse, returns to her childhood home in the West Indies, Lane's secretary (Fay Wray) accompanies her. Lane (Jack Holt) soon follows. Here the secretary becomes a substitute mother for Stephen's child, recalling a similar relationship between Jane Eyre and Edward Rochester's ward Adele. Also, Stephen, like Edward Rochester, can finally have the woman he truly loves only when his wife dies as a result of her madness, in this case leading a native uprising.Judging from other comments about this being a good example of pre-code horror, my expectations were high. But the director and writers never adequately explored the terror of situations. There are no build-ups of suspense. Things just happen. People are found dead after the fact. Killings and Voodoo sacrifices that happen on-screen are clumsily directed. Nevertheless, performances are uniformly good, the script is literate, and there are a few moments of cinematic art. The print I saw on Turner Classic Movies is very clean; and I was impressed by Joe August's cinematography in the scene in the tower as it filled with smoke from the burning tunnel. The interplay of light and smoke created an eerie atmosphere that I wish had been made more of.

The Castro recently ran a series of movies made by Columbia Pictures before the Hays Production Code went into effect in the 1930s. Compared to the Paramount pre-Codes the Balboa Theater was screening around the same time, the Columbia films were pretty much B-movie fare, but one film in particular stood out. Black Moon (1934), a moody suspense thriller with horror movie overtones, stars Dorothy Burgess as a New York socialite haunted by her childhood memories of growing up on a Haiti-like isle in the Caribbean. Taking her young daughter with her, she returns to visit her uncle—the only remaining white inhabitant of the island—and confront her past. As it turns out, the black natives who took care of her as a child would secretly carry her into the jungle every night to participate in ceremonial voodoo sacrifices, and upon her return as an adult she assumes the role of white voodoo priestess and begins to lead the rituals. Her businessman husband Jack Holt, with secretary Fay Wray in tow, follows her to the island and while attempting to rescue his wife and daughter is besieged by the native voodoo worshippers. The remarkable thing about the movie is its slow oppressive mood, played entirely as a serious drama with little trace of dated campiness. The atmosphere of impending dread and shadowy black and white cinematography reminded me of the original Cat People, filmed eight years later. The black islanders are solemn and menacing without being racial stereotypes, and the voodoo drums beating throughout the movie add to the ominous creepiness. Sort of has the air of an early zombie movie, but without any zombies. Definitely catch it if you get a chance.