The Halloween Horror Month: Volume V
By Darren Williams
9th November 2009
"To a new world of Gods and monsters!"
- Dr Pretorius - Bride of Frankenstein
The 1930s
The 1930s are often considered a golden age of horror cinema. It was even the 30s, via the BBFC, that gave the genre its name, when they introduced the rating system of H for Horrific. But the 30s themselves began on a sad note for cinema with the death of Lon Chaney. The final film before his death was a sound remake of The Unholy Three. The film itself is no classic, but his performance suggested Chaney would make the change to sound with ease, making the loss of his talents all the greater. The remake itself was part of a trend trying to recreate the success of popular silents with the invention of sound. The fact that so many films that were first shot as silents received remakes within the first 30 years or so of cinema exposes the idea that remakes are only really a part of modern cinema as the lie that it is. New advances in technology, and new generations of film-makers have always been accompanied by the revisiting of past ideas. It's a part of cinema.
There was a remake of The Cat and the Canary (the first of many) called The Cat Creeps, not only was this a remake of a silent classic, but it was a perfect example of how the popularity of horror-comedies continued. Laurel and Hardy had already filmed at least one horror-comedy in the 20s with Habeas Corpus and they returned to the sub-genre with their own old dark house mystery, The Laurel-Hardy Murder Case, followed up by the macabre Oliver the Eighth. Both shorts were as excellent as you'd expect from the boys. Bob Hope also got into the act with the 39 remake of The Cat and the Canary. Hope's version is probably the most famous, but it's leagues below the Leni film. The Bat Whispers tried to take the formula of The Cat and the Canary in a different direction and ended up influencing the creation of Batman, possibly mainstream comic's darkest hero figure. In addition to these you had old dark house comedy-horrors like, well, The Old Dark House. The little-seen Thark added something quirky if not brilliant to the genre. Towards the end of the decade Will Hay would tackle horror-comedies twice, in 37 and 38, with Oh, Mr Porter! and Ask a Policeman. Both of them saw the supernatural used to cover up smuggling, but they did it with such charm and flair that you can easily forgive the cop-out ending. Oh, Mr Porter! was a variation on the classic play The Ghost Train, which would itself be adapted a number of times over the years.
Economic hardships and a need for certainty led studios to adapt classic novels. Universal started the trend with their 1931 adaptation of Dracula. Dracula helped lay down some of the most familiar marks of a horror films - gothic castles, cemeteries, unruly peasants, a European setting. Dracula was a huge financial success and opened the floodgates for the deluge of horror Universal produced, but the truth is it's not a very good film. Nobody seemed to care very much about the film at first, Lugosi, while fine in the role wasn't the ideal choice for the part and there's something bittersweet about the role knowing it might have been Chaney's. Browning didn't seem to put any effort into the film either, possibly as a result of the recent death of his close friend, and as a result the whole thing has a sluggish feel that stops it being the classic many claim it to be. The Spanish language version, filmed at the same time but with a different director and cast is actually an improvement in some ways. George Melford's direction is tighter, but oddly the pacing of the film is worse, probably due to the length. It also had a far less charismatic Dracula and it certainly doesn't have a Renfield to compare with Dwight Frye.
Browning would return to the genre several times in the 30s with two of the offerings being vastly superior to Dracula, even if they didn't have the same mass audience appeal. In 36 he filmed The Devil-Doll. Based on a novel by A. Merritt, the story is a twist on the mad scientist genre, with an escaped convict using a scientist's shrinking formula to take revenge on his enemies. A strong storyline and lead performance from Lionel Barrymore mark it out as one of Browning's strongest non-Chaney films. His true classic, however, was his 1932 offering, Freaks. The only film he made to really rival The Unknown as his masterpiece, Freaks told the tale of a group of circus performers looking to avenge one of their own. Hans, a midget, falls in love with Cleopatra, the trapeze artist. Hans is warned she's only interested in his money, but he ignores the advice, leaving Cleopatra free to carry out her murderous plot. Browning used real circus freaks as his stars, causing many to call this film exploitation. But the truth is that they are the heroes of the film, sympathetic and human. Those who class this as exploitation seem to regard these people only as freaks, Browning saw them differently. It's true that he makes use of their appearance to add to the nightmarish scenes where they pursue Cleopatra through the rain, but we're on their side all the way, she deserves whatever happens to her. Freaks is actually a film that causes us to question what really is horrific. Is horror in the people who have their bodies twisted by birth defects or is it in the hearts of even the most 'normal' ones among us?
Following hot on the heels of Browning's Dracula came James Whale's adaptation of Frankenstein. Originally set to star Lugosi with Robert Florey directing, James Whale took over the project and Lugosi was thankfully (If his later performances as the monster are anything to go by) replaced by Karloff. Frankenstein shows a film where all of the elements work. The performances, the direction, the set, the make-up, everything is perfect. The word 'iconic' could have been invented for this film. Mention Frankenstein to anyone and the first image in the minds of most people will be that of the monster rather than the doctor, but it's a safe bet most of them will think of Karloff in Jack Pierce's make-up. The success of Frankenstein saw Karloff become Universal's number one star in their exciting new genre. Truth is he was one of their best actors and he deserved his fame. His Monster was filled with a mixture childlike innocence and spurned rage. Karloff's pantomime was wonderful and he should have walked his way to the Oscar.
James Whales' "the Old Dark House".
Karloff and Whale would re-team the following year to take on The Old Dark House. Based on J.B Priestly's play, the film has a group of travellers trapped in a mysterious Welsh mansion during a storm. Despite feeling about as Welsh as Ford's How Green Was My Valley, the film works, once again largely due to Karloff's performance as Morgan, the savage, mute butler. But Karloff would pass on Whale's adaptation of The Invisible Man, leaving the part open for Claude Rains to come in and give a superb performance. Instead he would make The Mask of Fu Manchu. While the Fu Manchu character may be unpalatable to today's taste, that's no reason why this film can't be accepted as the great film that it is. Karloff and Myrna Loy make a great team and the film is undoubtedly the finest adaptation of the Sax Rohmer character.
Karloff would also team with Karl Freund on The Mummy, a film that remains cinema's finest take on the Egyptian legend. An expedition to Egypt uncovers the Book of Thoth that contains the secrets for raising the dead. The mummy is accidentally resurrected and takes on human form before discovering that Helen, a friend of the expedition, is the reincarnation of his dead lover. The Mummy is an exquisite and poetic film topped by a deeply human performance by Karloff. Karloff would play the resurrected dead yet again when he teamed with Michael Curtiz in The Walking Dead. The tale of a murdered gangster resurrected to catch his killers, The Walking Dead should be acknowledged as a classic of its type, and considering its pedigree it's astounding how overlooked it is. Karloff would also play the mad scientist for once, in The Man Who Changed His Mind.
When Lugosi and Florey were ousted from Frankenstein in favour of Whale and Karloff they decided to make a Poe adaptation together, Murders in the Rue Morgue. Despite it being a very very loose adaptation of the Poe story (In fact it owes more to Caligari) it contains one of Lugosi's finest performances and the film has a perverse nature that make it into a minor, often overlooked, gem in an era packed with great film.
Despite being rivals for the top jobs with Universal, Karloff and Lugosi would have memorable team-ups in films like The Raven and The Black Cat. The Raven is an above average story of an insane surgeon, territory that Mad Love would visit with greater success. But even if they'd made no other horror films in their careers, The Black Cat would seal their places as legends of the genre. Like The Raven, it's a very very loose adaptation of Poe. But it is one of the most sinister and twisted films in the history of the genre. Lugosi and Karloff are rivals battling for the souls of a young couple in Karloff's bizarre mansion. Filled with hints of necrophilia, among other disturbing proclivities, The Black Cat captures the dark imagination of Poe, even as it diverts from the narrative of the story.
With the success of horror came the inevitability of sequels. Dracula's Daughter came in 1936 and it was a surprisingly strong sequel, in many ways it's actually a better film than the Browning, it's certainly more subversive. Bride of Frankenstein was a sequel to James Whale's classic with Whale, Karloff and Colin Clive returning. For once the sequel was an undeniable improvement upon a classic original. This time there was a nasty streak of black comedy added in the form of Ernest Thesiger's Dr. Pretorius. Pretorius convinces Frankenstein to create a mate for the monster, memorably portrayed by Elsa Lanchester. Bride actually has a good claim to the title of the greatest sequel ever made. Bride mocks religion, heterosexuality and pretty much everything that was serious about the first film and it still manages to be every bit as atmospheric and unsettling as the original. The decade would end with a third visit to Castle Frankenstein. This time Whale wasn't on board. Rowland V. Lee managed a decent sequel, not as inspired as the first two films but an absolute masterpiece in comparison to the depths the Frankenstein cycle would sink to in the 40s. The plot focuses on the Baron's son, Wolf, who returns to the castle to reclaim his birthright. Lugosi would appear as Ygor and Karloff would have his last outing as the monster.
Rouben Mamoulian's "Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde" (1931)
The most famous adaptation of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde came in 1931. Directed by Rouben Mamoulian and starring Frederic March, March actually won an Oscar for his portrayal. It was shared with an other actor, diluting the impact somewhat, but the message at the time was that horror was starting to be accepted. It's a powerfully adult film, taking on the sexuality inherent in the original story. When Jekyll is prevented from seeing the girl he desires, he displays an obvious sexual attraction towards a prostitute instead. Hyde is a way of releasing those desires and in honesty, he's a far more sympathetic character than the uptight Jekyll. Robert Louis Stevenson's tale of a man who created an experiment to release the beast within has been adapted several times, but none other received as mainstream a sign of approval as an Oscar.
The 30s also gave us two films that hold a decent claim to the title of the greatest cinematic Wells adaptation. Both were mad scientist stories. The Island of Lost Souls gave us the definitive version of his Moreau tale. It's sadistic, gripping and uncomfortable. Exactly what the story should be. Lugosi is present as one of the animal-men, but the film is stolen by Charles Laughton's portrayal of decadent superior evil as Moreau. The film has a haunting brutality and sexuality and The House of Pain remains one of the most chilling ideas in horror. The challenger to the title is James Whale's The Invisible Man. Topped off by a career best performance from Claude Rains, The Invisible Man sees Rains as Griffin, isolating himself to try and cure his invisibility, but slowly losing his mind along the way. A superb winter film and one of Universal's greatest works.
Ernest B. Schoedsack gave us the most famous of the many adaptations of The Most Dangerous Game. It's also the best. The tale of Count Zaroff hunting humans on his island as being adapted and transported to all kinds of locations and can be seen as inspiration for everything from The Running Man to Battle Royale. It's received a deserved upswing in popularity in recent years thanks to its role in David Fincher's magnificent Zodiac. It's a tense and thrilling little film packed with great performances. A year later Schoedsack would co-direct King Kong and assure his place in cinema history, but in many ways The Most Dangerous Game is tighter and more accomplished film. That's not to take anything away from King Kong though. This take on Beauty and the Beast created one of cinema's most memorable and sympathetic monsters, if you don't cry at the ending then you have no soul, and none of the remakes even come close to the magnificence of this great great film.
For most people the most iconic werewolf film ever made doesn't come until the 40s. But in 1935 Stuart Walker gave us Werewolf of London. While it may not be as well known, it's possibly the better film. Henry Hull's doctor could be prevented from turning into a werewolf by the juice of a rare Tibetan flower. Hull is far less sympathetic than Chaney Jr would be, the make-up isn't as memorable and if Werewolf of London had been a hit then the rules of the werewolf genre would have been very different to those established in The Wolf Man. But for all that, I think the film is better in a lot of ways. It flows better, I actually like the idea of having the lead be more unsympathetic and it avoids a lot of the silliness that plagues The Wolf Man. It's a film that deserves more attention.
A number of smaller films would also prove to be memorable. White Zombie helped introduce the zombie film and was one of Lugosi's best films of the 30s. A plantation owner in Haiti fakes the death of a young bride to turn her into anotherof his zombies that work in his sugar mill. Necrophilia and sexual slavery run through the film and it contains some unforgettable moments. Murders in the Zoo features a stunning performance from Lionel Atwill as a bestial, jealous millionaire. Atwill was one of the faces of the 30s with strong performances in Doctor X, a cannibal serial killer film, The Vampire Bat and as the murderous, deformed sculptor in Mystery of the Wax Museum.
Fay Wray in "King Kong" (1933).
His co-star in many of these films was Fay Wray, and if there was a female star of horror in the 30s, it was Fay Wray. Elsa Lanchester's Bride may be the more iconic character, but Wray was a major face through the 30s, starring in King Kong, The Most Dangerous Game, Mystery of the Wax Museum, Doctor X and The Vampire Bat.
I think it can be accepted that either Karloff or Lugosi was the biggest horror star of the 30s, but those who prefer their actors even more wild might pick out the great Peter Lorre. Lorre was astonishing in everything he attempted, his psychotic child killer in Fritz Lang's M and his mad scientist style Dr. Gogol in Mad Love being notable examples of the man's great flair for the genre. M is not only a great serial killer film but a great film that searches and questions the complicity of society with murderers, especially when the main reaction of society is one of self-concern. Based on the exploits of actual Weimar killers, M is one of the most chilling explorations of the evil that men, not monsters, are capable of. It also questions our own morality, can we feel any pity for such a brutal and evil man? His American debut came in Mad Love, sadly the last film the talented Karl Freund would direct. Lorre plays a sinister but brilliant surgeon, Dr. Gogol. Gogol has an obsessive fixation on Yvonne Orlac (Frances Drake), an actress in a Grand Guignol-esque horror play. Here husband, Stephen is involved in a train crash where his hands are damaged beyond repair. Yvonne begs the help of Gogol who replace Stephen's hands with those of an executed murderer. But the hands have a life of their own. Gogol is a twisted man. He takes an obvious erotic pleasure in seeing Yvonne tortured in her play and his dark side comes out even further in his attendance of executions for pleasure. He's a jealous, leering psychotic and in Lorre's hands he's wonderful to watch.
Horror started taking over animation as well, The Fleischer Brothers were the masters of combining animation and horror, especially in their Betty Boop cartoons, with Bimbo's Initiation, Minnie the Moocher and Snow White being particular high points. But Disney were in on the act with the surprisingly spooky The Mad Doctor. They'd return to the genre with the effective but more light-hearted Lonesome Ghosts. Looney Tunes gave us the likes of The Case of the Stuttering Pig (Which spoofed the old dark house sub-genre) and Pigs is Pigs. The likes of Bottles have become regarded as animated classics, but less well-known is Alexander Alexeiff and Claire Parker majestic pin-screen animated Night on Bald Mountain. Possibly it's lack of fame is due to Disney tackling the same subject in Fantasia, but the earlier film is the stronger, IMO. Possibly the greatest horror animation of the 30s was Wladislaw Starewicz's The Mascot, a surreal tale of a cuddly toy dog who undergoes frightening adventures to bring a present to his owner.
Throughout the 30s, America came to dominate horror movies. In large part because circumstances in other countries made the movies come to a bit of a standstill. However, some countries did still make a few films to challenge the best American offerings. In Mexico, there was the first film of La Llorona, the story of the mythical Mexican figure of the crying woman. And Fantasma del Convento, where a sinister monk haunts an eerie convent. In China we had a take on The Phantom of the Opera in Midnight Song, a deeply poetic and haunting film. From Poland came The Dybuk, a Jewish horror tale about sorcery and possession. Best of the lot was CarlTheodor Dryer's Vampyr. Adapting the Carmilla story, Dreyer managed to create a compelling nightmare world that few other directors have been able to come near, with the glass coffin sequence rightly hailed as a highlight.
In Britain, Tod Slaughter, star of some of the most popular horror stage plays, made the switch to cinema with a run of minor gems including The Murder in the Red Barn, The Crimes of Stephen Hawke, Sweeney Todd and The Face at the Window. He was a larger than life presence on stage and he carried it over into his films. It's fair to say he wasn't one for range or variety, but he was a memorable villain, especially in The Crimes of Stephen Hawke where he plays a serial-killer known as The Spine Breaker. Slaughter is the kind of gleeful, moustache twirling evil that nobody could get away with these days, yet his films don't feel dated in the slightest. Britain also gave the world They Drive By Night, a horror/noir crossover with Emlyn Williams' recently released convict being framed for a strangulation. Stealing the show was Dr Pretorius himself, Ernest Thesiger.
The art of the horror short story was still in the middle of a golden age. H.R. Wakefield gave us Ghost Hunt. William Faulkner did A Rose for Emily. Lovecraft did The Whisperer in Darkness, At the Mountains of Madness, The Shadow Over Innsmouth, The Shadow Out of Time. Robert E. Howard created the world of Conan the Barbarian, The Black Stone, The Worms of the Earth, Pigeons from Hell. A.M. Burrage gave us One Who Saw, Smee and The Waxwork. Manly Wade Wellman crashed onto the scene with The Horror Undying, The Kelpie and School for the Unspeakable. Clark Ashton Smith gave us The Tale of Satampra Zeiros and The Dark Eidolon. Several other classics of the genre were also published in the 30s, including five of the greatest ever written; David H. Kellar's terrifying The Thing in the Cellar, Henry Kuttner's The Graveyard Rats, John W. Campbell's Who Goes There? (Inspiration for The Thing), John Collier's Back for Christmas and one that gave me nightmares for weeks when I was younger, Alfred Noyes' Midnight Express.
The horror novel was also in fine form. Dennis Wheatley published The Devil Rides Out (The film was far superior and lacked much of Wheatley's bigotry) Bruno Schulz wrote The Street of Crocodiles and Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass. William Sloane gave us The Edge of Running Water. Sadegh Hedayat wrote The Blind Owl and Guy Endore The Werewolf of Paris. Possibly the most influential publications were Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None, an obvious forerunner of the slasher genre, and the Lovecraft collection, The Outsider and Others. Lovecraft had died in 37 and August Derleth and Donald Wandrei founded Arkham House to create a hardback volume of his stories. The Outsider and Others was their first publication and Arkham House would go on to become one of the most beloved, inspirational and influential publishing companies in the history of horror fiction. They even gave their name as inspiration to the asylum in the Batman comics, Batman himself also made his debut in the 30s.
Horror Radio also started to take its rightful place as one of the finest outlets for horror. The likes of The Witch's Tale and Lights Out were anthology shows that provided 30 minutes of terrifying entertainment a week. The horror radio broadcasts would make some of their greatest achievements in the 40s and I'll talk about them more in-depth then, but Orson Welles' infamous broadcast of The War Of The Worlds helped blast radio horror into the mainstream. His Mercury Radio company had already adapted Dracula and Sherlock Holmes, but War of the Worlds became etched into the popular consciousness as one of the greatest hoaxes ever played on the public.
At the end of the 30s, the genre was in healthy shape. Tod Slaughter starred in the gothic gem, The Face at the Window. Basil Rathbone became to many the definitive Sherlock Holmes with The Hound of the Baskervilles Charles Laughton became an iconic Quasimodo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. And that Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz gave nightmares to a generation of children. But the world was going to war and the public desire for horror began to cool. There were still classics to come in the 40s, and RKO would produce some of the greatest films the world has ever seen, but the level of invention coming from all quarters displayed in the 30s would take a while to come around again.