If ever there was a director who should have remained solely a producer it is William Castle. Though an extremely likable presence in his films (he cameos as the grocer in this one), the lovely man hasn't an ounce of talent as a director. Inspired in his choice of projects and endlessly innovative in promotion, he is hopelessly at sea when it comes to the most basic rudiments of competent film-making. His entire career reads like a catalogue of ingeniously promising themes ruined by his pedestrian direction and artless execution.

"Shanks" is no exception. It is so flat and unsophisticated that it is rather hard to believe that this film was released a year after "The Exorcist". Apparently Castle failed to learn anything about pacing, camera placement or the handling of actors after working with Roman Polanski on "Rosemary's Baby" (one shudders at the thought that for a brief moment William Castle actually intended to direct "Rosemary's Baby"). In fact, in Castle's own memoirs he practically admits to being so preoccupied with budget and time constraints on "Shanks" that Marceau virtually directed himself. The premise of "Shanks" is enticingly weird, it's too bad another director wasn't at the helm.

"Shanks" doesn't quite know if it wants to be a dark comedy, a horror film or macabre fantasy. Firing on all guns, William Castle fails to make any of those elements gel. It's merely a showcase for some very tedious mime antics and sloppy editing (the death of Shanks' drunken brother is so poorly done that it wouldn't pass muster on YouTube). Budget limitations keep hitting you in the face along with the meager talents of the supporting cast (What's up with the 48 year-old Marceau being paired with the 16 year-old female lead...even as just friends they look pretty creepy together...and really, by 1973 weren't biker gangs sort of played out as embodiments of anarchic evil?). It lacks any semblance of mood or atmosphere. The look is strictly 70s TV movie and the "performances" are MST3 worthy.

I sat through the "Shanks" somewhat flabbergasted that this was the best that Marcel Marceau's first starring role and William Castle's last directing effort could yield. After waiting several decades to see this film (the ad campaign was more inventive than the film) I couldn't have been more bored or disappointed. Castle wastes a great idea, a talented mime, and the time of every viewer. Talk about out with a whimper