When the history of cinema has been set in stone, and it comes to choosing the people who had the most substantial input on the medium, there are going to be various names floated as the defining filmmakers of their generation, with additional credit being given to those who transcended generational boundaries and made an impact in many different areas. Yet, one person who I wholeheartedly consider to be amongst the most important is Roger Corman, whose incredible knack for artistry was matched only by his fearlessness to take risks, and his very clear sense of humour that defined so many of his wonderful works – and as one of the most prolific filmmakers in history, he has a body of work expansive enough to make an informed judgment on his skills. However, he was not always the patriarch of a film movement that gave us directors like Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese, or actors like Jack Nicholson or Robert De Niro (all of whom count Corman as one of their most important mentors and advocates for their personal creative journeys), and was at one point a rambunctious young filmmaker hoping to make a difference in an industry that was not at all receptive to his peculiar ambitions – and yet, he took the leap anyway, creating masterful ad brilliant works that have stood the test of time better than most. One of his earliest works that showcases his skill and willingness to gamble on a daring idea is The Wasp Woman, in which he tells the story of a pharmaceutical executive who is intent on finding a cure to ageing, which eventually causes her to spiral into a state of obsession after she discovers the magnificent properties of royal jelly extracted from queen wasps, which only stirs her desire to exploit the natural world to her benefit. All of this forms the foundation for one of Corman’s most entertaining and invigorating works, and proves yet again why he was a master of his craft.

Behind every B-movie, there are some sobering and complex ideas that inform it – and in the case of The Wasp Woman, we are not asked to expend too much energy on deconstructing its core themes, since they’re laid out quite neatly. The story centering on a woman who runs a major pharmaceutical company (for a film produced in the 1950s, its remarkably forward-thinking in choosing this as its angle, and Corman was always ahead of the curve in terms of social issues) who finds herself unravelling and falling into a state of madness after realising that she has potentially found the secret to eternal youth, is a concept that is made quite clear from the jump, and which Corman and his team work laboriously to underline throughout the film. It is not defined by this concept – after all, it is structured in much the same way as any of his other science fiction and horror films produced around this time – but it is rooted firmly in the kind of cultural commentary that we found frequently throughout his work, particularly in terms of making astute observations on social and cultural structures that he often sought to dismantle through telling such stories. The themes that pulsate throughout The Wasp Woman are certainly compelling in their own way – there’s something quite unsettling about how Corman remarks on issues around beauty, youth and femininity, which may be slightly surprising to anyone who may not realise that there was usually much more depth beneath the surface of his films – and which we find often challenges common perceptions surrounding B-movies, which rarely (if ever) were more stimulating and engaging than when they featured Corman shepherding their ideas forward, usually doing so with the expected wit and candour that came to be as vital a component in his body of work as anything else he produced over the decades.

The adage “jack of all trades, master of none” applies to a great many filmmakers who have the best results when staying within their niche – but we truly cannot reasonably use this in relation to Corman, who proved time and again that he was able to not only adapt to any genre and style (within the constraints with which he was working), but could do so with such conviction and authenticity, its impossible to deny his skill. There is a reason why he avoided ever being branded with the reputation of making films “so bad, they are good” that was often thrust on his peers, which is that he was a genuinely gifted writer and director with a keen eye of visual composition, narrative structure and emotional complexity – these elements just happened to be filtered into films that were produced on a shoestring budget. Yet, every ounce of the budget is used to its full capacity in every one of his films, which is where he earns a lot of credit for managing to be thrifty and resourceful despite the lack of an extensive budget. The Wasp Woman is a wonderful example of this in practice – its narrative is very simple, but does lend itself to some fascinating developments in terms of how the film is brought to life, and while it may not have some of the intriguing components that would define slightly more well-known works by the director, it nonetheless has merits of its own, which emerge beautifully as the film progresses. There is a virtue in being resourceful, particularly when it is done by someone competent and willing to put in the work, which is half the battle and something that Corman achieves without even an ounce of hesitation. The Wasp Woman is far more effective than we would expect based on a cursory glance, which once again proves the importance of not focusing too intently on the obvious and instead allowing everything to come together organically.

However, as much as we can read into the layers of the film, The Wasp Woman is first and foremost designed to be entertaining – there aren’t many films that manage to be this engrossing through simply piecing together a few bizarre ideas and allowing them to flourish into their own delightfully deranged bundle of eccentricities. Corman was a master of idiosyncratic expression, and while it is not a particularly complex work, it remains unexpectedly quite captivating, particularly since it never intends to take itself too seriously. While he did make his fair share of comedies and satires, Corman also had a knack for creating works that don’t lean into the humour, but still make it clear that they are in on the joke – inane premises, offbeat structures and creative elements that we simply cannot believe exist in such an unconventional form, yet all come together as the foundation for a blend of many different genres. It helps that he is assisted by a cast that is always willing to do what they can to adhere to the assignment, even if it pushes them far beyond their comfort zone. The protagonist of The Wasp Woman is played by Susan Cabot, and while she is not a particularly well-known name outside the cult film community, she is objectively very gifted, and her performance here is a perfect example of how someone can take a one-dimensional character and develop her into a snarling, compelling bundle of curiosities, who only further commands our time and attention, regardless of how ridiculous it may be in practice. Like any good actor, she leaps into the unknown and has the good fortune of being guided by a director like Corman, whose firm and supportive hand provides all the help she needs to lead this film and make it into quite an enigmatic and daring piece of cinema in which her performance is one of the many ingenious components that define this entire film.

One of the quintessential Corman works in both style and structure, The Wasp Woman is a delight from the start, and proves yet again his importance, ingenuity and fervent ability to create something effortlessly compelling without needing to expend too much energy on proving its artistic merit, knowing that the target audience is not in search of something that is going to align with the highbrow art that people like Corman actively rejected (while still showing some degree of reverence, if only as a means to demonstrate that it understood the tenets of what constitutes these work, it was simply agnostic to them or their importance – as John Waters has famously said, you need to understand good taste in order to make art that is done in bad taste), but rather an outrageously funny, off-the-wall blend of science fiction, horror and dark comedy, which all come together to create this offbeat and engaging genre work that never takes itself too seriously, but also doesn’t just exist to be an absurd little curio of a film. It never goes anywhere we would not expect, and at only 72 minutes there’s not much space for perpetual innovation – but it nonetheless proves to be incredibly entertaining, and a surprisingly solid science fiction thriller that combines both the rich, entertain spirit of the B-movie era with early traces of New Hollywood, which makes it a surprisingly deep and enticing work, and one of the many masterful films Corman made over his long and undeniably influential career.