In a rare cinematic achievement, Three Dangerous Ladies manages to hit the trifecta of confusion, boredom, and questionable fashion choices in one neatly packaged, 84-minute slasher anthology. The film is like the mystery meat of the giallo horror genre—unappetizing at best, and oddly confusing at worst. It’s not that it’s “bad” in a fun, laugh-out-loud way (like a killer puppet slasher flick)—it’s the kind of bad that makes you question your life choices. If you ever thought, “I could be watching something better,” this movie is a perfect reminder that there is always something better to watch.
Released in 1977 but filmed in the early ’70s, Three Dangerous Ladies is an anthology of supernatural horror stories, linked only by the presence of “dangerous” women and a series of unsettling, barely connected events. Think of it as a buffet where all the dishes are either undercooked or taste suspiciously like leftover nightmares.
Let’s dive into the meat grinder of each segment, because, let’s face it, the dangerous ladies deserve a better vehicle than this.
Mrs. Amworth: A Vampire Who’s Not Even Trying
We start with Mrs. Amworth, featuring Glynis Johns (whom you may recognize as that lady from The Pianist who didn’t really do much except look concerned in the background of movies) as the eponymous Mrs. Amworth. The plot sets up like a slow-moving train wreck where the primary problem isn’t her supernatural identity as a vampire, but the fact that the movie seems so uninterested in its own story that it forgets to even make the “dangerous lady” part… dangerous. Mrs. Amworth is a friendly neighborhood vampire, hosting garden parties and card games in a quaint English town—because, really, nothing says killer like inviting the neighbors over for tea while you drain their life force.
The film’s attempt at suspense is laughable. The “mysterious anemia epidemic” that plagues the town is more of a punchline than a plot device. Francis Urcombe, the local occult-obsessed student (John Phillips, whose talent seems to have been sucked out by Mrs. Amworth herself), begins to suspect something is off with the lovely old Mrs. Amworth, and, lo and behold, he’s right. She’s a vampire. Cue the “big reveal,” which is done with all the finesse of a toddler discovering a hidden cookie jar.
When Urcombe confronts her, she apparently dies after being hit by a car, only to return—because, naturally, vampires are hard to kill, but they’re also terrible at avoiding traffic. The climax is so underwhelming, with a pickaxe to the chest and a skeleton being impaled as a final solution. This isn’t horror, it’s a DIY home renovation project gone horribly wrong. In short, Mrs. Amworth leaves you hoping you’d been struck by the car to save you from watching more.
The Mannikin: The House of Ill-Defined Horrors
Next up, we have The Mannikin, which sounds like a cool title for a horror movie but is, in fact, a sad reminder that just because you have a mannequin in the movie doesn’t mean it’s scary. Ronee Blakley plays Simone, a folk musician with more emotional baggage than a suitcase factory, who returns to her recently deceased mother’s home only to face some really weird spiritual torment. Spoiler alert: the torment is just a weird creature crawling out of her back, and it’s not even a cool monster—it’s just gross, like your leftover lunch at 3 AM.
The twist here is that Simone is haunted by her mother’s voice and starts having mysterious symptoms like dizzy spells and back pain, because nothing screams “horror movie” like a bad back. As she’s referred to Dr. Priestly (Keir Dullea), he insists she’s just mentally unstable, but no one bothers to ask if she’s really hallucinating or if the giant creature crawling out of her back is actually real. Either way, Dr. Priestly’s car gets a much better fate than his character, because he ends up dead, attacked by the creature in a classic “wait-what?” moment.
The real horror here is how The Mannikin tries to use body horror and psychological drama to build tension but fails to deliver either effectively. There’s no character development, just a lot of unexplained phenomena and melodrama that’s about as engaging as reading a grocery list. The climax involving the little creature crawling out of Simone’s back, however, is good for one thing: you’ll be so distracted by the awkwardness that you might just forget you’re actually watching this movie.
The Island: Someone Please Throw a Life Raft
And finally, we’re treated to The Island, a tale of a soldier, Lt. Simmonds (John Hurt), who travels to a remote mansion to see his married lover, Mrs. Santander (Jenny Runacre). Upon arrival, he’s greeted by an evasive butler and an electrician who turns out to be the cuckolded husband, Mr. Santander (Charles Gray). Now, this should be intriguing—secret lovers, a creepy mansion, and maybe some deadly intrigue—but no. Instead, we get more of the mystery that’s as unsatisfying as an underseasoned stew. The drama unfolds in excruciatingly slow fashion as Simmonds navigates a house full of evasive characters and discovers that Mrs. Santander is already dead—thanks to a bizarre and anticlimactic reveal that should have come with a warning label: “For viewers who enjoy complete and utter confusion.”
The twist is that Simmonds may or may not be the killer, and at this point, the only thing you’re certain of is that you’re about to hurl your TV remote at the screen out of frustration. It’s not even so much a twist as it is a whimper of a conclusion that barely justifies its own existence. The Island feels like the kind of bad mystery you’d get from an amateur writer who’s really into throwing in random red herrings just to watch you slowly unravel in your seat.
Final Thoughts: A Boring Collection of What Could Have Been
In the end, Three Dangerous Ladies isn’t dangerous; it’s more like a dangerous waste of your time. These stories could have been interesting, but they spend far too much time setting up concepts without delivering on their potential. From the flat performances to the sluggish pacing, this anthology is about as exciting as watching paint dry—paint that somehow manages to get even more boring as it dries. If you’re craving good horror or mystery, Three Dangerous Ladies will disappoint faster than a vampire caught in rush-hour traffic. Maybe next time they should give the dangerous ladies a better script and a stronger sense of direction because here, all they have is confusion and missed opportunities.
