The Invisible Man (1933)

The Invisible Man (1933) movie poster

director James Whale
viewed: 08/05/2012

Considered one of Universal Studio’s cavalcade of “monsters,” The Invisible Man, based on the H.G. Wells novel, is more of a crime thriller than a horror film.  The great James Whale (Frankenstein (1931) , Bride of Frankenstein (1935), The Old Dark House (1932)) directed, certainly one of his classics that established Universal and the “Universal Monsters.”

It’s a lean picture, with a 71 minute runtime, one of the great qualities of many of the pre-code era films is their concision.  The movie jumps off to its brisk pacing from the start, as the bandaged stranger arrives in a small town English pub, holing up and abusing his hosts.  The chemical potash that has rendered him invisible has also rendered him utterly a-moral.  He’s more bent on wreaking havoc and being a master criminal than returning to his loving, concerned ex-girlfriend.

Whale peppers the film with his mordant humor, from the classic reactions and screaming of the inimitable Una O’Connor, to the playful torments to which he subjects the police and general populace.  He’s a mean-spirited, not very likable anti-hero, but we are meant to enjoy his rebellious pranks and shenanigans.

It’s a classic, fun, and vibrant film.

The Mummy

The Mummy (1932) movie poster

(1932) director Karl Freund
viewed: 10/14/2011

October being Halloween month, and hoping that some older horror films would be less frightening for the kids after Poltergeist (1982), we revisited the classics of Universal Pictures’ horror brigade.  A couple years ago, we watched a number of Universal’s “monster movies”  such as The Ghost of Frankenstein (1942), Son of Frankenstein (1939), Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943), The Wolf Man (1941), Bride of Frankenstein (1935), Frankenstein (1931), but we hadn’t ever gotten to The Mummy (1932).

Directed by noted cinematographer Karl Freund, the film has lots of interesting camera movement and features a number of striking shots, probably none more iconic than the camera’s lingering stare upon the mummy’s face or the modern day mummy, Ardath Bey (both actually the inimitable Boris Karloff in amazing make-up),  But the story of Imhotep, a priest who was buried alive from attempting to raise his beautiful princess from the dead, brought back to life by the same magic in modern times isn’t quite as compelling as Frankenstein or Dracula (1931) or perhaps even The Wolf Man.  Though they did go on to make four sequels.

Zita Johann is quite compelling as the half-Egyptian daughter of a local mayor, the living embodiment of the dead princess.  And Karloff, he always makes things groovy.  But the mummy, wrapped in all its shroud, appears onscreen for only a moment (apparently the make-up was both painful and extremely time-consuming to put on), and so the lesser figure of Karloff as Ardath Bey is the primary “monster” through most of the film,  He may be undead, but he doesn’t cut quite the figure of the entombed version of himself.

The kids were pretty spooked by the atmosphere of the early part of the film, probably its strongest segment.  This is the part in which the curse is read, “death to whoever opens this casket” and yet shrugged off breaking the seal and awakening the corpse of Imhotep.  The subtle moments, awaiting the creeping terror are by far more frightening than what the film has in store at the end.

The funny thing was that the kids had recently seen the 1999 re-make of the film, which through digital effects and a bit of Indiana Jones into the picture.  Rather different things, indeed.

Werewolf of London

Werewolf of London (1935) movie poster

(1935) director Stuart Walker
viewed: 10/15/10

Often I dedicate my month of October to watching horror films, but for some reason, it’s taken me a while to get going this year despite having queued up quite a few.  I selected Werewolf of London for watching with the kids as part of their experience with this same theme.

Interestingly, I don’t think I’d ever seen Werewolf of London, which, released by Universal in 1935, preceded the far more famous and iconic Lon Chaney, Jr. film, The Wolf Man (1941).  I was familiar with it from still images in books and magazines, as well as from the Warren Zevon song and the An American Werewolf in London (1981) film that at least took its name a little bit from this film.

It’s actually not a bad film, but it’s kind of funny.  This werewolf is a little less wolfy and quite a bit less wild.  He shares more in common with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931) than he does with the more traditional werewolf.   In fact, he puts on his coat before he goes outside to marraud, maim and kill.  And at the end, with a normal bullet in him (silver wasn’t necessary), he even speaks to his wife while still a wolf.  One might posit that an English werewolf maintains more of a gentleman’s qualities than that of pure beast.

One of the interesting parts of the film is the way it all starts, with Henry Hull as a botanist in Tibet, seeking a special flower that only grows in one mountainous valley and also only blooms by moonlight.  No gypsies here.  While cultivating his find, he is attacked by a werewolf, who bites him but that he manages to fend off with a knife.

Upon returning to London with his flower, trying to bring it to bloom with artificial moonlight, he is met by Warner Orland (who was most famous for playing Charlie Chan and Fu Manchu and was typcast as Asian characters despite being Sweedish), who tells him that he was the werewolf that bit him and warns him of what he is about to go through.  In the meantime, he shows jealousy at his wife and an old American beau who shows up.

The kids were pretty into it, but Victoria (7 years old) started to find the scary parts too intense, and when an opportunity arose for her to leave, Clara went with her, proclaiming being too scared too.  But I don’t really think she was frightened.  Felix loved it and we watched the little documentary on the DVD too which was by horror film historian David Skal and was pretty good. 

I hope that we can squeeze another couple flicks like this in before Halloween.

House of Horrors

House of Horrors (1946) movie poster

(1946) director Jean Yarbrough
viewed: 08/26/10 at the Roxie Theater, SF, CA

Shown as part of the Roxie Theater’s “Not Necessarily Noir”  film series, House of Horrors is a late Universal Pictures horror film from the lower tiers of low budget.   It’s most notable for featuring iconic, though obscure, actor Rondo Hatton, a man whose face and body were distorted by disease and wound up making for a cheap “effect” himself, a monster who required no make-up to be intimidating.

While most of the B-movies that are enjoyed now and in retrospect often have A-quality charms, House of Horrors is a B-picture all the way through.   The story of a down-and-out sculptor, driven to near suicide by his awful mean-spirited critics, finds himself at the river’s edge, conemplating thowing himself in.  But then he sees a man trying to escape the river and goes to help rescue him.  That man turns out to be Rondo Hatton, a killer known in this film (and featured in a few others as well) as “The Creeper”, a man not terribly bright and also one who has received little kindness in his life.  “The Creeper” is a serial murderer, temporarily thought dead by police.  But when the sculptor begins to complain about his critics, Hatton takes the suggestion and starts murdering them.   There is an aspect of influence of Val Lewton in this film.

The “Not Necessarily Noir” series is a wide-ranging one, featuring a number of films like this one that are not available on DVD, so not as well known as many of their contemporaries.  There have been a few Noir festivals in San Francisco, including the annual Noir City series at the Castro Theatre.  The Roxie has hosted some many times as well.  But this series allows itself to take the term and find its stylistic characteristics in films that don’t fit so nicely in the usual film noir canon.  That said, noir is considered a style, not a genre, though the bulk of most famous noirs are crime films or melodramas.  But alongside these unusual older films, the selection at the Roxie also includes several “neo-noirs” or modern films with distinct noir flavorings, again not so typically categorized.

Frankly, I’m sorry that I missed several of the earlier films in the series.  It had been ages since I’d last been to the Roxie.  And with the announced closing of the Clay Theater on Fillmore earlier this week, it’s further testament to how these little neighborhood theaters will not be around much longer without better support.  The Roxie has been through hard times in recent years, but has, I think, re-established itself a bit.

It’s a great film series and a cool little film.

The Wolfman

The Wolfman (2010) movie poster

(2010) dir. Joe Johnston
viewed: 02/15/10 at CineArts @ the Empire Theater, SF, CA

The latest Hollywood re-make in the theaters is the new Benicio Del Toro-starring re-do of the Universal “classic” The Wolf Man (1941).  While it would be probably erroneous to say that the film doesn’t represent further creative bankruptcy and cynnical re-heating of Hollywood of its own creative high points (since what films out there are either not re-makes, sequels, or semi-plaguerized riffs anymore?), their is a dedication to the original film, even citing Curt Siodmak, writer of the original screenplay, as the initiator of this story.

Del Toro (who started his career in cinema as a fur-face in Big Top Pee-Wee (1988)  as “Duke the Dog-Faced Boy”) is the unsmiling and tortured “prodigal son” who returns to his family’s English estate after many years in America to find out about the gruesome murder of his brother.  His brother’s widowed fiance, played by the attractive Emily Blunt, who is a ringer for their tragically dead mother, shows some liking toward him as well.  His father, Anthony Hopkins, is the gun-toting baron of a massive estate, in deep decay (no doubt a moral reflection in this very Victorian/Gothic aesthetic given to the art direction).  And Hugo Weaving is the London detective sent to investigate the series of “Ripper-like” murders.

Del Toro, in seeking out the gypsy camp to find out more about his late brother, finds himself at the center of a ravenous attack by the loose werewolf, and though he is bitten, he survives.  And of course, he becomes the “Wolfman” himself.

This Wolfman racks up a much higher body count than perhaps any other ever before.  Limbs are ripped off, heads are swiped from their shoulders, claws sprout through mouths and eyes, entrails are everywhere.  In one night out in London, “Dozens” are killed according to the following morning newspaper.  The monster will take on whole crowds, whole towns, whole caravans, whole cities.  And he’s extremely muscular.

Even the design of the Wolfman is a nod to the 1941 original.  He is a “wolf-man”, more man than wolf, generally walking on his hind legs, though to really get running fast and furious, he’ll use all four.  He also lacks the muzzle of a true canine, so the face retains the human behind the make-up a tad.

The “change” effects are created by the master Rick Baker, who has done his share of werewolf morphing.  He designed both The Howling (1981) and the most frequently cited and influential An American Werewolf in London (1981), not to mention, Wolf (1994).  I actually thought that the effects were one of the film’s strongest points.

As a whole, though, the film never really rises above the functional.  That is to say that while it’s by no means terrible, it’s also by no means excellent.  Hopkins is quite good as the tyranical, macho father figure, clad, head to toe and home in animal pelts, deer antlers and the like.  And Hugo Weaving manages to give his inspector a few good scenes (enough so that he’s probably the most interesting or potentially interesting one in the film.)  But like so many re-makes, re-treads, and re-boots, because the film lacks a true reason for being, a true vision (perhaps a stronger director properly motivated could have shaped the material better), the whole thing, while not a lost cause, is also nothing spectacular either.

Now my last note here will be the quality of a spoiler, so you can stop reading if you want, but I do want to mention since it’s one of the key elements of this film in contrast to its predecessor is that the backstory isn’t about a gypsy werewolf who bites Del Toro but rather it’s his father who is the werewolf all along, so there is this familial heritage astpect to the story, which is kind of interesting, but really what it allows for is a battle royale between two big, powerful werewolves, fighting to the death.  That’s the modern twist on the story, the truly 21st century additive.  More monsters, more dead people, more fighting.

Drácula

Drácula (1931) movie poster

(1931) dir. George Melford
viewed: 01/08/10

Drácula, known more informally as “the Spanish language version of Dracula”, is a fascinating document, a fascinating thing to a great extent beyond its own qualities.  Drácula is the Spanish language version of the 1931 Tod Browning Dracula, the classic Bela Lugosi film, the “Dracula” that launched a thousand or thousands of thousands of imitators, lampooners, images, and standards.  Given the notability of the Tod Browning film, it was surprising to me when I first read about Drácula in a book by David Skal back in the 1990′s.

In the early days of sound film, Hollywood hadn’t quite settled on the best way to take the “talkies” to the markets in which English was not the language of use.  With silent film, all that would typically be needed would be new, translated intertitles.  But with sound technology so new, dubbing nor subtitling had taken over as the primary mode of translation.  And so what was created in 1931 for this production was an entirely different film, with entirely different actors and crew, writers and directors, filming on the same sets at night that the English-language version used in the daytime.  The result, though not so broadly known until recently, was an entirely different production made of a significant American Hollywood classic.

And, as I’d read in Skal’s book, Hollywood Gothic: The Tangled Web of Dracula from Novel to Stage to Screen, Skal even considered the Spanish version to be perhaps superior to the original.  And I have to say, that there is something to that.

What is fascinating to someone who might really study these films in comparison is just that: it’s not a shot-for-shot sameness at all, though through the first couple of scenes you might think that.  The film isn’t just a little racier, with more cleavage and showing actual “bite marks” and a vaguely more suggestive and suggestively violent, but shows images like Dracula rising from his coffin, putting a bit more out there than the original.  It also gives room for Renfield, played by Pablo Álvarez Rubio, to develop his character.

Most of the more striking qualities have to do with shots or images that are forsaken in the Browning version, even the Gothic zombies that are Dracula’s wives (shown initially in a shot from Browning’s film) reappear not with their hair in buns and braids, but more wanton and with their long dark locks streaming over their shoulders.  And they get to be the ones who feast on Renfield here, whereas in the English language one, Dracula shoos them away and feasts himself.  While there is a loss of the homoeroticism of that, the scene is in many ways more visceral.

There is a lot to look at here and I won’t belabor it myself, since others have spent more time addressing the contrasts, variances, choices and performances.  It’s somewhat of a moot point as to which is better, really.  It’s only a matter of opinion anyways.  The most important thing is simply that there is much to be drawn from this amazing anomaly, these two excellent films, so influential in one case, so nearly lost in another.  And now there is the chance to really see them as part of a whole, which is really quite fantastic.

Dracula’s Daughter

Dracula's Daughter (1936) movie poster

(1936) dir. Lambert Hillyer
viewed: 01/05/10

Dracula’s Daughter, the first follow-up to Tod Browning’s Dracula (1931), picks up ostensibly where the prior film left off, with Van Helsing having just speared Dracula with a stake to the heart, and the madman Renfield lying dead on the floor.  Edward Van Sloan reprised his role as Van Helsing, but takes a backseat to his former student, Jeffrey Garth, a psychiatrist specializing in hypnosis (our hero) and Countess Marya Zaleska (played by the fairly luminous Gloria Holden), a.k.a., Dracula’s daughter.

Filmed by B-film director Lambert Hillyer, the film doesn’t ever quite achieve true moments of heightened fantasia or toothsome horror really, but with the nearly unblinking eyes of Gloria Holden, and her throaty, tortured charm, the film holds up rather well nonetheless.

Countess Zaleska shows up in the police station with a hypnotic ring, steals the body of her father and immolates it, hoping to cast the evil from the soul of Dracula and to lift the vampiric curse from herself.  Iriving Pichel plays her very creepy assistant, Sandor, who wants her to carry on being the undying dead, while she seeks help from the psychiatrist to “cure” her illness, her bloodlust.

In the film’s best scene, Sandor abducts a young woman from the streets to “pose” for Countess Zaleska, who paints rather Surreal images, not unlike Edvard Munch.  But really, the girl, who removes her blouse, drinks the wine, and moves near the fireplace, is there to see whether or not the vampire can resist the temptation.  She cannot.

The film has been noted for some lesbian or otherwise sapphic themes or tonality, and it’s not entirely hard to read into that, especially in the scene with the artist’s model.  We never see the lips meet the throat, only a cut-away to a frightening mask (symbolic itself) and a scream is heard.  Who knows what someone like James Whale might have done with the material.

It’s a film that I had seen in childhood, but only once or twice at most.  While not a major film of the Universal Horror canon, it’s not too shabby either.  Still, much less de-clawed than the modern crop of cinematic vampires, and much more compelling than the sham of a film Jennifer’s Body (2009).

Dracula

Dracula (1931) movie poster

(1931) dir. Tod Browning
viewed: 12/27/09

This is “the Dracula” in cinema.  Heaven knows that there are many more, but this is the Dracula by which all others, if not measured, are at least compared.  Directed by Tod Browning (Freaks (1932), The Unholy Three (1925), among others) and starring in his definitive and defining role, Bela Lugosi, who it is still so hard to see here in this film and not think of thousands of short-hand caricatures that he inspired with this performance.  Really, it’s the tragedy and success of his career, typecast to death, and turned into cartoon.

Still, for 1931 and Universal Pictures, the monster’s of the Victorian novels were getting their defining visual representations: Dracula, Frankenstein (1931), and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931).  Of course there are many other icons, but these figures are all almost as recognizable to the average American who may still have never seen any of these films (Mr. Hyde perhaps less so).

And frankly, it had been so long since I’d seen Dracula that in many ways I too was seeing it afresh.  I’d read a book by David Skal titled Hollywood Gothic: The Tangled Web of Dracula from Novel to Stage to Screen back in 1991 when it was initially published.  Skal has gone on to write other books about the horror genre, including a biography of Tod Browning, which I have also always meant to read.  Since that time, I’d also been craving to see the Spanish version of Dracula that was filmed at the same time as this 1931 “original” (which I have at home on DVD).

But all this time, with new-gained knowledge, I never managed to see these films.  Well, I have been going through my “classic Hollywood” or “Universal Monsters” theme since prior to Halloween this year and like any dedicated aficianado, I still am running through the catalog.

Cinematographer Karl Freund, whose brilliant work in The Last Laugh (1924) among others, adds his stalking camera movement into some of the most stunning and iconic images and moments from this film.  Lugosi is relatively comical to a modern audience, under the influence of his much copied and lampooned Hungarian accent.  Yet, his face is dramatic and strikingly handsome.  One truly wishes that he’d had a chance to do some other more dramatic work before so quickly being turned into a cartoon.

The film is based on the play, Dracula, slimmed from Bram Stoker’s novel, and has several moments of gothic spectres.  Dracula’s brides, the ghostly vampire women in white, are evocative.  Helen Chandler as Mina is spritely and lovely.  Edward Van Sloan is almost as iconic as Van Helsing as Lugosi is as the Count.  And Dwight Frye gets his money’s worth out of the deranged Renfield.

But the film lags a little, the bats are pretty silly, flopping around on the ends of wire.  And even the most dramatic moment, Dracula’s spearing on the end of a wooden stake, happens off-screen in less dramatic fashion (not even a reaction shot of Lugosi, for instance.)

Still, it’s a fine film, a plum example of early American horror at its best, as Hollywood appropriated the Victorian monsters for their own stable of scary icons.  And even now, as near cartoons, the film has moments of drama a dread.

House of Frankenstein

House of Frankenstein (1944) movie poster

(1944)  Erle C. Kenton
viewed: 11/15/06

The last of the Frankenstein movies from Universal, a cycle that I’ve been running through since prior to Halloween.  Actually,  according to my readings House of Dracula (1945) is a sequel to this, so I guess I need to queue that up to have completed the circuit.

Since this film picks up where Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943) left off, the story has gotten more and more absurd and convoluted.   This time, we’ve not only got the Wolf Man and Frankenstein’s monster, but we’ve even got John Carradine playing Dracula breifly.

The story picks up with Boris Karloff imprisoned with a hunchback in a gothic jail.  He’s in there for trying to put a human brain into a dog.  Lightning strikes the prison, which is a huge stone edifice, and the whole thing breaks apart and Karloff and the hunchback escape.  They take over a travelling sideshow that has dracula’s bones in a coffin.  They unleash Dracula to seek revenge but then leave him to die again when they have to escape.  They find the frozen monsters in the bottom of the wreckage of Frankenstein lab and it’s explained that the cold underneath the castle is because it was situated on top of an underground glacier.

Anyways, the hunchback falls for a gypsy girl, the Wolf Man wants to die, the monster doesn’t get to do much.  And actually, none of the monsters seem to share any screen time.  It’s funny, but as a kid, I think I ate up the concept of having all the monsters in a single film, sort of the belated target audience for this concept.

It’s probably kind of interesting to look at these films in regards to the WWII period in which they are produced.  The era of “Universal Horror” was a ripe one, offering up many iconic images of Hollywood monsters.  All the monsters are kind of good guys (except perhaps for Dracula), and the real villain is the mad scientist played by Karloff.

It’s a funny thing, the way these movies evolved, what with these bizarre scenarios to bring all the characters together, really with only the point bring simply bringing them all together.  Even though it’s kind of an odd and convoluted scenario, it’s an uptick in quality from Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, though a far cry from the originals of Frankenstein (1931) or Dracula (1931) from being a real film of potential artistic merit.  I don’t mean that to be snobby, just trying to make that point.  It’s really a trope of Hollywood that carries through in Freddy vs. Jason (2003) and AVPR: Aliens vs Predator – Requiem (2007).  I guess, when you’re out of ideas, start putting more characters together.  And Hollywood, as bankrupt of originality as they are, will go there again and again, no doubt.

Heck, now that I think of it, Van Helsing (2004) was pretty much the same thing.  “This one’s got everybody in it!”

The Ghost of Frankenstein

The Ghost of Frankenstein (1942) movie poster

(1942) dir. Erle C. Kenton
viewed: 11/02/09

Having gotten a little screwed up by watching the Universal Frankenstein movies out of order, I decided to soldier on and finish up with the series, such as it is.  As far as I can tell, there are a couple of outliers left: House of Frankenstein (1944) and Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948), though the latter of the two is clearly a tad on the outside of even the outliers.

The Ghost of Frankenstein follows the events of Son of Frankenstein (1939), Bride of Frankenstein (1935), and Frankenstein (1931), but precedes the events of Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943), which then precedes the events of House of Frankenstein.  Now, aren’t you glad that I’ve helped you work that out?  Not that chronology is hard when the movies came in relative sequence, but rather that you know all the films that you have to find…that is the challenge.  Now, if I’m really feeling Frankenstein-y, I’ll go back to the Hammer Frankenstein series, which started with The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) and then…yeah, not sure that’s going to happen right now.

Steadily, the films from this original series decline in quality and rise in outrageous plot developments.  For The Ghost of Frankenstein, Ygor has survived the shooting in the prior film, and when an attempted lynching destroys the castle of Frankenstein, it uncovers the still living monster, now played by Lon Chaney, Jr.  Ygor, now Igor, takes the monster to see another Dr. Frankenstein, the younger brother to Wolf from the prior film to get some help souping up the monster’s strength via lightning.  Dr. Cedric Frankenstein is also motivated to clear his father’s name, and when the monster kills one of his doctors, he decides to assist by putting the doctor’s brain into the monster’s head.

But Ygor convinces another doctor, the failed mentor Dr. Bohmer, played by Lionel Atwell, to put Ygor’s brain into the body (though the monster for some reason wants the brain of a young girl inside his head — go figure that!)  Well, unsurprisingly, putting Ygor’s brain into the monster doesn’t turn out to be a good idea, though it’s interesting to hear Lugosi’s voice coming from Chaney’s visage.  The chaos and resulting blindness set the rubble for the re-inventions that come about in the following Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, with further twists to the plot endlessly added.

Revisiting these films in earnest as I have has given many reminders of those days of childhood, in front of the tv, watching these old black-and-white films with great ardor.  Little did I know then much of the background, connections, order, information (beyond the movie stars and monsters).  And it does intrigue me to carry on seeking out more of the period and genre.  I may be taxing my Frankenstein endurance for the time being, but gosh knows that there are many, many, many, many more out there.