The best performances come early on-- that's when the two stiffed-up dead people fall to the floor. From then on, the acting goes steadily downhill. Actually, my nomination for "This movie's so bad, I'm not even going to try" award goes to Chester Morris, formerly known as Boston Blackie, with Ron Randell's "where am I" cop a close second. Morris wins because he gives his lines all the emotional inflection of a dial tone, and when he cuddles up to cutie Marla English for one of their many painful clinches, she looks like she wants to bang down the receiver. Too bad that making fun of a stinkeroo like She-Creature is like kicking a dead carcass. Because unlike one of those it's-so-bad-that-it's-good campy features, this one never had any life to begin with. Good camp needs an element of conviction at least someone in production who believes the film is worth his/her effort. There's none of that belief here, probably because the cast of movie veterans knows they're on the downgrade and can look forward to little more than the next Social Security check. American-International and Roger Corman would soon wise up and turn these productions over to eager young unknowns and then the real campy fun would start. I just wish cable TV would honor some deserving old actors and give this celluloid zombie a quick burial, decent or otherwise.