The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2021: Loss of Sensation/Jim Ripple’s Robot (1935), directed by Aleksandr Andriyevsky

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune - "None of Them Knew They Were Robots" by Mr. Bungle

       Since the dawn of human civilization, man has been fascinated with the concept of recreating man. We see it in art, like in Ovid’s poem Metamorphoses, which was later adapted into the play Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw, and we see it in various cultures like China and even Great Britain where stories of ‘mechanical men’ entertained aristocrats and the like, although their capabilities were likely not that extraordinary by modern standards. However it’s not until the 20th century that the mechanical man got its name, the robot, and its ultimate purpose, as a source of free, obedient labor. A concept with rather dark implications in this capitalistic age, where most of the people on the planet exist as workers, at the whim of those who are always looking to cut costs, no matter the human cost.

       In America, particularly for that time, these implications were undercut or outright ignored as people were taken in by fancy toys and ‘wave of the future’ hyperbole, but in the Soviet Union, a state that had been built by and for workers, the politics of the thing were not so easily dismissed. So a film was likely, if not inevitable, and as film was coming into its own as an artistic and political tool, and with Aelita had opened the door for science fiction almost a decade prior, audiences wouldn’t have to wait long to see a different perspective on ‘the robot issue’. Emphasis mine because ‘the robot issue’ sounds like a cool band name.

       Released in the Soviet Union in 1935, Loss of Sensation/Jim Ripple’s Robot was directed by Aleksandr Andriyevsky, written by Georgiy Grebner and produced through Mezhrabpomfilm, based on the play “R.U.R.” by the Czech novelist and dramatist Karel Čapek. Sergei Vecheslov stars as Jim Ripple, an engineering student of a polytechnic institute in the city of ‘Big Lights’, a position which mostly consists of trying to build a better conveyor belt in order to improve profits for the factory owners. After his latest experiment ends up causing one worker to go crazy and another to die, Ripple ponders his life choices, and comes up with a solution. The foundation of capitalism is labor--capitalists exploit the labor of workers to produce commodities, which they then sell to workers, and so on to grow their wealth. So if you were to replace the worker with something that had no need for food or water or anything that the capitalists use to hold over the workers, and thus no profit would be produced. Thus capitalism would die out on its own, and there would be no need for a revolution. It’s foolproof.

       To that end Ripple creates his mechanical worker, the very first robot (the word ‘robot’ actually originated from the play). However when he shows it off to his working class family they reject it, seeing it as a tool that capitalists will use to neutralize the worker’s main advantage and a betrayal of the working class in general. Frustrated over their inability to recognize how right he is, Ripple runs away from home, when he happens to receive a telegram from his school chum Hamilton Grim. Seems that there are a couple old rich guys who are very interested in this robot idea, and they’re willing to hand out some money and lab space in order to get it up and running. Ripple accepts immediately, eager for the opportunity to show everyone how his genius will fix the problems of society. When Jim Ripple’s Robots finally walk the earth however, who really benefits?

       Watching Loss of Sensation I can’t help but be reminded of Frankenstein. Victor Frankenstein is so convinced of his own skills that he believes himself equal to God, and sets out to prove it by creating life. Similarly Ripple places himself above the working, deciding that he understands the problems the workers face and how to solve them better than the workers do, and when the workers reject his idea he immediately jumps to the capitalists to get it done anyway, never once questioning why they would be so eager to fund a project that stands to destroy their way of life (the capitalists, much like the workers, must be too ignorant to understand his grand design). Both men through their work end up creating monsters that prove to be their undoing, making them tragic figures, but it’s their self-awareness that sets them apart. Frankenstein recognizes his mistake right after he makes it and works to fix or at least mitigate it. Ripple on the other hand is lost in his own little bubble, upset that his friends and family would reject his work but unable or unwilling to reflect and consider WHY they feel that way. So when the climax to their respective stories occurs you feel sympathy towards Frankenstein because he earned those feelings, whereas with Jim Ripple it’s hard to feel anything except a sense of karma being served. Just another mess that the workers are forced to clean up.

       As I said the play this film is based on, “R.U.R.” is where the word robot originated from, and robots are what you get in this movie. While they look rather goofy by today’s standards (accordion arms will do that to ya) the things themselves look well made, comparable to anything you’d see in American films at the time, although you know American studios would try to build the entire film on one robot, where here you get a dozen or so. They’re effective movie monsters too -- the shots during the climax of the film where the robots are slowly rolling down the streets or in the woods fighting the workers, invulnerable and unstoppable, are surprisingly creepy. A bulky predecessor to the Daleks of Doctor Who, only instead of death rays they just crush you to death. 

        There’s a certain surreality to Loss of Sensation too that feels more closer to German Expressionism than Frankenstein or Dracula ever accomplished. The conveyor system, which is just this big spinning wheel is the first, but then almost immediately afterwards where Ripple is brooding the in the bar, and the band is standing on a platforms playing, and there’s a giant potted plant, and this woman is selling these ‘automatic dolls’, it’s very bizarre. There’s also this moment where Ripple has a flash jumpcut like something out of Jacob’s Ladder, and the ‘Dance of the Robots’ scene which feels right at home next to the Black Mass bit from Häxan. Credit to Mark Magidson for the excellent cinematography, despite the quality of the surviving print being a tad if you can tell Loss of Feeling was setting itself apart from its peers.

       Loss of Sensation/Jim Ripple’s Robot gets the recommendation. Of the two Soviet science-fiction covered on this blog I think it tells its story, sends its message and thrills an audience more consistently than Aelita. Worth a watch, especially if you’ve seen all the Universal Monster movies and are looking for something in a similar vein. Maybe pair it up with Franenstein or The Invisible Man and make a night of it. I’m sure you’ll be feeling something by the end of it.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2016 -- The Raven (1935), directed by Louis Friedlander

The Trailer
and
The Appropriate Tune: "Silver Raven", by Gene Clark

     When it comes to the sacred art of compiling Halloween movie lists, you can’t do it up proper unless you have a certain respect for the classics. I’m not talking about about atomic age sci-fi fare like The Incredible Shrinking Man, I’m talking old-school, Golden Age of Hollywood style, pre-movie ratings board horror. Back when the idea of talking in your movies was still an impressive bit of movie magic and you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting some gothic architecture. Yessir, even if Universal was about the only major player in the monster movie game at the time, and they earned that spot by a steady stream of hits. Dracula, Frankenstein, The Wolf Man, The Mummy, The Phantom of the Opera, movies that have captured the hearts and minds of generations of people. 

     Well, the good ones did at least, pretty sure no one was inspired by the three shitty Mummy sequels.

     The Raven, directed by Lew Landers under the name Louis Friedlander, is what you might call a B-level Universal classic. Released in 1935, the film acts a kind of companion piece to The Black Cat, which was released a year earlier. Both films starred Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff, two men who had already become horror icons with the release of Dracula and Frankenstein at the dawn of the decade, with Karloff as the villain in The Black Cat and Lugosi taking the spot in The Raven. It’s worth noting though that even in The Raven, where Lugosi was the primary character, Karloff still received top billing despite having a far less important role. A precursor to the way their careers went, perhaps.

     Anyway, in the film Lugosi plays the enigmatically foreign Dr. Vollin, a gifted surgeon and a huge fan of the works of Edgar Allan Poe. Such a fan in fact that he has actually made working reproductions of several torture devices featured in Poe’s work, including the titular pendulum. Which would just make him a rather creepy but otherwise harmless recluse on any other day, but when he’s pushed to save the life of the beautiful Jean Thatcher, things change. A simple infatuation with Jean soon gives way to obsession, and obsession to a sadistic madness, as Vollin plots wicked schemes against those who would dare to stand against his ambition. Boris Karloff stars as Edward Bateman, a criminal looking for a new identity who is given a hideous new form by Vollin. I know, Karloff as a hulking, deformed, but ultimately sympathetic being would never work in a movie, but it’s fine.

     Compared to later movies in the genre and even some of its peers, The Raven seems like an incredibly simplistic and inconsequential film, and that’s because it is. Characters that just barely manage to be one-dimensional, a plot that wraps itself up in a neat little bow in less than an hour, little to no violence (despite being a movie centering around torture devices), and only ones to actually die are the bad guys (again, despite this being a movie centered around torture devices). The inclusion of Boris Karloff also does nothing for the film aside from drawing in a couple more moviegoers into this cinematic antlion pit, considering he could have been just as easily replaced by Tor Johnson and nothing would have changed. I know that I probably have different expectations than a movie fan of the 1930s, and having Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi in the same film was probably mind-blowing, but how much is it really worth seeing Karloff do a less interesting version of something that he’s already done? Especially with the implication in the billing and marketing being that Karloff is an important figure in the film. Anything to sell a ticket.

     Still, there is a certain appeal in seeing Lugosi chew the scenery and acting like a loon, and if that’s enough of a reason for you then by all means watch The Raven. Those just getting their feet wet in old-school horror however, Universal and otherwise, will probably have a ways to go before they need to add this one to their watch queue. Hell, it’s not even a sure thing for movies that are based on the works of Poe, as it’s competing with 2012’s The Raven starring John Cusack and 1953’s The Raven starring Vincent Price and Peter Lorre, which just so happens to have starred Boris Karloff as well. Who knew Poespoitation movies were such a lucrative genre?

The Bride of Frankenstein (1935), directed by James Whale

     This is the first post of a blog I have started, where I discuss films after I watch them, which may or may not be called a review. Since these are all going to be films I've watched for the first time I don't know if the 're-' prefix applies, but whatever. Any sort of serious critical analysis, consistent literary quality and regular update schedule will be attempted but not guaranteed. At the moment we're gonna be seeing basic summary stuff, what I liked and didn't like, usual shit. Obviously I'm not an expert at this stuff (if you couldn't tell from this horrible opening paragraph), so I encourage viewing the movies for yourselves and forming your own opinion. It could be that after watching Random Movie #345A you decided I didn't understand shit all about it, and that's totally okay with me. As long you gain a new experience from it, we both benefit.

    Now let's get started.

Trailer
and
The Appropriate Tune: "I Knew The Bride When She Used To Rock And Roll", by Nick Lowe

     At this stage in the game I don’t think anyone needs to be told the story of Frankenstein. It’s only one of the most popular monster stories in history after all, spawning numerous films , books (looking at you Dean Koontz) and cereals. While not the first film adaptation of the book (that would be the 1910 silent film released by Edison Studios), the most recognized Frankenstein movie is undoubtedly the 1931 Universal production. It, along with Dracula, The Wolf-Man and the other Universal monster movies of the 30s and 40s are the foundations of our horror genre today, inspiring future directors, make-up artists, and special effects designers that would grow to create such modern gems as The Human Centipede and The Human Centipede 2. When people think of Frankenstein, they’re probably not thinking of Mary Shelley’s Modern Prometheus but Boris Karloff with a square head and bolts in his neck. Which is likely disheartening to the guy who loves to point out that the scientist was named Frankenstein and not the monster, who I believe exists only in cliches at this point.

     1935’s Bride of Frankenstein tries to continue this magic by taking up immediately where the original film left off, which I don’t think you see too often in sequels. Usually there’s an indication that some amount of time has passed between movies, while the protagonists catch up on their rent or whatever, but not this time. Our storyteller is Mary Shelley (Elsa Lanchester) herself, entertaining her husband Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron one late evening. While Shelley and this scene never come up again, it’s a nod to humble origins, and I’m glad they included it. I noticed they didn't give Byron his horrible clubfoot though, which nearly took me out of the movie altogether.

     It turns out, Mrs. Shelley explains that neither Dr. Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) or his creation (Boris Karloff) in the climactic final scene from the first film, just temporarily knocked out. The doctor is returned to his castle, apparently with no public backlash for creating a giant killing machine, while the Monster rises from the rubble of the windmill (after drowning the father of the girl he accidentally drowned in the first movie, removing the possibility for Frankenstein 3: Hans’ Revenge) and escapes into the barren German wilderness. Both creator and creation are in pain: Henry from the guilt he feels from playing god, and the Monster from basically being the world’s punching bag.

     Enter our antagonist, Dr. Pretorius (Ernest Thesiger). A former philosophy professor of Henry’s, Pretorius has succeeded in creating artificial life of his own, albeit in a more intricate and much smaller way (literally). He’s all about the world conquest idea, and an army of living cadavers is the best way to do it. Bt combing his and Frankenstein’s skills, he intends to create a monstrous mate, a horrific Eve to usher in a new race of inhuman creatures upon an unsuspecting world. Nothing is going to get in his way either, not even Frankenstein himself...

     The classic moral from the original film was that you ‘shouldn't play God’, that too much science is bad science, reappears somewhat more blatantly in Bride of Frankenstein. Pretorius, as the representative for science, is clearly a demonic figure. A classic Serpent archetype, enticing and manipulating those around him towards his own ends with a ruthless efficiency, while keeping calm composure. Such an obvious villain, drinking wine on coffins while chatting with skulls would seem ridiculous in modern movies, but in these Universal days with its exaggerations and theatricality, I find myself liking him. He’s an evil bastard just to be an evil bastard, and done really well.

     Henry’s wife Elizabeth is the symbol of love, the anti-Pretorius attempting to steer Henry away from the path of lightning-based temptation. Unfortunately she’s a female character from the 30s, which means she’s hardly a character at all. She’s the thing which drives Henry to action, rather than actually take action. It wasn't a progressive era in film, and I can understand that, but it also means that there isn't anything to say about her that I haven’t mentioned already. The same goes for the titular Bride (a symbol of false or tainted love, perhaps?), who you would think would have a more active role given that’s the name of the movie. But nope she doesn't even get to speak, meaning even the Monster gets more lines than her (the Monster picks up speech during his friendship with a blind violinist, the only person he’s able to talk to without accidental attempted murder). She does sport a rockin’ wig though, much like how putting a nice blanket on a chair makes it more visually interesting but does nothing for its bad jokes.

     With the inclusion of Pretorius, Henry becomes a victim of science as well, but the majority of sympathy is still focused on the Monster. The Universal horror library is filled with unwilling victims of circumstance, but you can say that all of them had peace or normalcy at some point before it was taken away, often times by their own actions. For the Monster, there is no peace, just a reminder every waking moment of his life that everybody (except blind guys I guess), including the person who made him, hates him and wishes he had never existed. His new found ability to speak forces us to recognize that he isn't some barely sentient creature, that he is intelligent and, despite his grisly origins, as human as those who despise him. Maybe he drowned a few more people than was warranted, but can you honestly say you wouldn't in the same situation? Think about it.

     The Bride of Frankenstein is not the iconic film that Frankenstein was, but as a film it’s fun and as a sequel it’s worthwhile. There’s an air of romanticism to it that I found infectious, and it gave the Frankenstein story a satisfying conclusion. Then they made more movies, kinda fucking up any sort of resolution you might have felt afterwards. Oh well. 

Result: Recommended