As others have noted, an extremely talky flick, with dialog so florid you could pin it on a prom date. However, there are some nice touches to be found: the opening sequence is noirishly atmospheric and well-executed, so to speak. Paul Lukather's seething mien carries the film valiantly,although his and his sister's rage at the doctor's eminently logical and humane decision to graft good hands onto Paul's mangled stubs strains credulity. Also, watch for the ending shot, which emulates a famous religious painting nicely.
The deaths/killings are egregiously mild by today's standards, but, with the exception of a ludicrously spontaneous immolation, are effectively staged. The low-budget look is offset somewhat by inventive camera work that sustains a grim mood.
It's not made clear whether Lukather's character starts killing because he now plays piano like Whack-A-Mole, or because his new hands somehow carry with them the temperament of their previous thuggish owner.
Considering the dreck that was around in the early 60's, this is not bad stuff; with less gaseous dialog, it might have been memorable.
The deaths/killings are egregiously mild by today's standards, but, with the exception of a ludicrously spontaneous immolation, are effectively staged. The low-budget look is offset somewhat by inventive camera work that sustains a grim mood.
It's not made clear whether Lukather's character starts killing because he now plays piano like Whack-A-Mole, or because his new hands somehow carry with them the temperament of their previous thuggish owner.
Considering the dreck that was around in the early 60's, this is not bad stuff; with less gaseous dialog, it might have been memorable.