The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2022: The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939), directed by Sidney Lanfield

 

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: 'Hounds of Love' by Kate Bush

       Now that the obligations are out of the way, it’s now time to get into the gimmick of this year’s Marathon: Book Club Month! For the rest of the month, every film is going to be based on a written work, primarily short stories and novels but there’ll probably be adaptations of other forms of the written word popping up here and there. And what better way to kick things off than with one of the most famous literary figures in the whole of Western civilization?  Maybe if we had some whiskey and mozzarella sticks, but this ain’t a T.G.I. Friday’s buddy, this is blog country.

      Released in 1939, The Hound of the Baskervilles was directed by Sidney Lanfield, written by Ernest Pascal and produced by Gene Markey and Daryl F. Zanuck, based on the 1902 novel of the same name by Arthur Conan Doyle. The year is 1889. Sir Charles Baskerville has died, heart failure wouldn’t you know, and Henry Baskerville (Richard Greene) is set to inherit the Baskerville estate, located in the middle of Dartmoor in Devonshire. Trouble is, a lot of people believe that Charles’ death wasn’t simply heart failure, but a heart attack brought about by pure, unbridled fear. Fear of the Hound of the Baskervilles, a ghastly canine said to haunt the moors of Dartmoor, and to bring death to all who bear the Baskerville name. In order to ensure that doesn’t happen to Henry, close family friend Dr. Mortimer (Lionel Atwill) enlists the aid of that most famous of detectives, Sherlock Holmes (Basil Rathbone) and Dr. Watson (Nigel Bruce) to discover the truth of things. In this case however, the truth may turn out deadlier than fiction.

       As the out-and-out ‘spooky’ story of the Holmes canon one might expect the film version of Baskervilles to reflect that, and that is indeed the case. Whether it’s the damp streets of Victorian London or the barren, almost alien wastes of Dartmoor, wherein Baskerville Hall looms on the horizon cold and menacing, this is a world of gloom and mold wrapped in a fancy coat. That Fox was trying to replicate the Gothic horror atmosphere that Universal had utilized to great success is speculation but would hardly be surprising, and to their credit they pull off an impressive facsimile. I’ve looked at the entire list of Universal Monster Movies and for a second I still thought that the Holmes movies were part of them. Probably the gratuitous amount of Lionel Atwill, the man was the oregano of genre films.

       The golden years of Holmes’ life under the eye of Arthur Conan Doyle coincided with the birth of film as a medium for storytelling, and of those early men who portrayed the detective Basil Rathbone is above and away the most famous. Looking at him in this film, the slicked hair, the aquiline nose, he looks exactly as you’d imagine Holmes himself to be (and like how Sidney Paget drew him), and the way Rathbone carries himself you could believe he's the smartest guy in the room. Personally I think he’s written as too personable; Holmes to me, which essentially means as he was portrayed by Jeremy Brett, is best when written as an aloof and occasionally acerbic man who takes on cases out of curiosity more so than any moral compulsion. This Holmes by contrast is firmly entrenched in the hero role, and while I’m sure that was useful when they made Holmes into a franchise player, but personally I find him to be rather bland because of it. 

       This film was also one of the pushers of the ‘dumb Watson’ trope in the Sherlock pop culture consciousness, which is a pet peeve of mine. Of course one of the conceits of the series is that Watson is in awe of Holmes’ deductive powers, but it’s also the case that he was a capable medical practitioner and writer (the Holmes stories are written as if he’s transcribing them after all), a fact that doesn’t seem to gel with Nigel Bruce’s portrayal of the character as this bumbling buffoon. One of the sins of writing smart characters I’ve heard is writing the characters around them as idiots to make them seen more capable, and Watson is the most egregious example of this sin.

       Therein lies the major issue with this version Hound of the Baskervilles -- that the most interesting character of the movie, Holmes, is missing for a good chunk of it, leaving us to flounder with the Watson the Lesser and the rest of the cast, who are bog standard 30’s actor. Richard Greene is the kind of paint-by-numbers leading man types that were infesting the industry at the time, a Zeppo with less charisma, and his relationship with Beryl Stapleton is toothless at best. It’s fun to see Lionel Atwill and John Carradine much in the same way that nerds like picking out references in superhero movies, but they don’t contribute much. 

       I also have my doubts on how well it presents the mystery separate from the original story, although to be fair it’s been years since I’ve read it. We get some clues right at the beginning, then there’s the gulf where they try to make us care about Henry and Beryl, then the end where we just find out who the killer is and they wrap things up like they were having a celluloid shortage. We do have a ‘laying out the crime’ scene of a sort, but the film doesn’t lay out these clues for the audience, so when it’s revealed the reaction is ‘ooh…ok.’ Which is my reaction to this entire movie.

       The Hound of the Baskervilles does not get the recommendation. While the visuals were on point, as an adaptation I think the charm of Sherlock Holmes was lost in translation, and given the ubiquitous nature of Doyle’s character I can’t think of a reason to watch it unless you have a keen interest in the Rathbone Holmes movies. Just read the book, or if you have a phobia of fonts watch the adaptation of Baskervilles starring Jeremy Brett as Sherlock, that’s arguably the better option. Grab yourself a nice frothing syringe of cocaine and have a chill evening.

Raffles (1939), directed by Sam Wood

The Trailer
and
The Appropriate Tune: "Thief", by The Fratellis

       If you ever went through a Victorian literature phase as a child or spent a weekend binging on Benedict Cumberbatch vehicles, then chances are you’ve probably heard of Arthur Conan Doyle and his infamously intelligent detective Sherlock Holmes. What you might not know however is that Sir Doyle had a relative who was also a famous published author, at least at the time. Ernest William Hornung was his name, Doyle’s brother-in-law, and although his writing career began in 1887, it wasn’t until 1899 that he literary world got its first glimpse of what would ultimately be his most enduring creation: Ananias Justice Raffles, a charming, well-to-do cricketeer with more than a passing similarity to Hornung’s friend and fellow wordsmith Oscar Wilde who moonlighted as a gentleman thief known as The Amateur Cracksman, stealing hearts and valuables while dodging the bumbling bobbies of Scotland Yard. Raffles proved to be rather popular during the early part of the 20th century, spawning several more books, a couple of plays and of course several films in both the silent and sound era, but interest in the character seemed to wane after the 1930s. A film in 1958 and a short-lived TV series in ‘77, and that’s been about it for ol’ A.J. in the pop culture sphere ever since, aside from a cameo in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and maybe a Philip José Farmer book. I’ve not read the books, so I can’t claim this is some great oversight or anything, but it is surprising just how obscure Hornung and Raffles have become given that connection to Arthur Conan Doyle. You’d think that we would have already seen a big budget film where Tom Hiddleston Sherlock has to try and catch Idris Elba Raffles from stealing the crown jewels or something at this point. I mean if the Power Rangers can cross over with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles then anything is possible, am I right?

       By the way netflix, if you want to throw me a couple million dollars for that pitch, I won’t mind.

       Released in 1939 and produced by Samuel Goldwyn (who you might know from some shit film studio called MGM), the simply titled Raffles turned out to be not only the last film to star Hornung’s character for over a decade, but the second-to-last film to star him to date. David Niven, about a decade away from his award-winning performance in Separate Tables, plays the titular A.J. Raffles,  a cricketing star who happens to be the master thief known as The Amateur Cracksman. Or at least he was, until a meeting with his lady love Gwen Manders (Olivia de Havilland, herself a few years away from Academy gold for To Each His Own) convinces him to give up a life of crime. Or at least it might have, if his old school chum and Gwen’s brother Bunny didn’t come to him begging for a thousand pounds in order to settle some gambling debts. Reluctantly Raffles decides to pull out The Amateur Cracksman for one last job, figuring the Lord and Lady Melrose are easy enough marks, only to discover that Scotland Yard has somehow gotten wind of a future robbery at the Melrose Manor and now have eyes and ears on the place. With the deck stacked against him on multiple fronts, can Raffles make it out with the loot and pay off Bunny’s debt, or will London’s greatest thief finally see in the inside of a prison cell? And will it involve wickets of any kind, sticky or otherwise?

       At times Raffles can be fairly interesting. The actual scene of the Melrose theft is actually rather tense, done as it is in almost complete silence, and the cat & mouse interplay between Raffles and Inspector Mackenzie is the most entertaining dialogue in the film. However, as a story meant to introduce audiences to the character it falls flat. Why did Raffles become The Amateur Cracksman? No idea, aside from the implication that cricketing doesn’t pay the bills. Is being old school chums with Bunny really worth Raffles risking arrest and imprisonment? Apparently so,  since Bunny is barely a character in the damn movie and he’s too much of a milksop to endear himself to an audience. And most important of all, why should I care that if he’s caught or not? I mean this guy isn’t Robin Hood after all, there’s no theme of social injustice  or combating corruption here, he’s a member of the idle rich who plays a sport that’s only popular in about three countries and who steals from other idle rich to pay his bills. That’s not relatable, at least to me, and although there are moments where they try to make Raffles seem compassionate, more often than not he came across as smarmy and manipulative. Which could also be said of Sherlock Holmes, but then Holmes stories not only have Watson as the humanizing element, but they have a mystery for the audience to focus on. Not so for this film, and I feel like it suffers for it.

Of course the main purpose of this film was likely to be a vehicle for David Niven and Olivia de Havilland, and as far as that goes they’re not too bad when they’re not trying to be romantic. Maybe it’s because the most dialogue they ever share with each other at once might be an expository scene where they explain why these two characters are supposedly in love, but every time they try to do a romantic moment it comes across as slightly awkward to me. It would have likely helped if Gwen was more of a character and less of an object devoted to Raffles, but I’m guessing that was too radical for 1930s Hollywood. Olivia de Havilland looked pretty nice though, I’ve gotta say. 

Combine all that with a middle of the road score and a setting that consisted mostly of various rooms and you’ve got yourself a by-the-books average kind of movie in Raffles. If you’re into Victorian literature and you were looking for something beyond the surface level, or you’re looking for something to double feature with your Basil Rathbone Holmes movies, then this might be worth a watch. If not, then there are plenty of other movies in the sea. Probably not that many that involve cricket though.

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2017 - Son of Frankenstein (1939), directed by Rowland V. Lee

The Trailer
and
The Appropriate Tune: "Son of Mr. Green Genes", by Frank Zappa

     Although the Universal Monster movies are very much the foundation of horror in film (at least in the sound era), and some might go as far to say the pinnacle of the genre, they were not impervious to to the fine art of exploitation. Before Hollywood had perfected its formula of endless reboots and nostalgia plays you see, film studios dabbled in pumping out as many films in a series as they thought they could get away with, and Universal was no exception. Dracula, the start of the Universal Monster trend? Two sequels, the oft-overlooked Dracula’s Daughter, released in 1936 and 1943’s Son of Dracula, the originator of the ‘Alucard’ concept that would later be revisited in the Castlevania series of video games. The Creature from the Black Lagoon, featuring the grisly Gill Man? Two sequels, 1955’s Revenge of the Creature and 1956’s The Creature Walks Among Us. The Mummy, a tale of lost love, gruesome death, and a dessicated Egyptian corpse? 5 sequels, 1940’s The Mummy’s Hand, 1942’s The Mummy’s Tomb, 1944’s The Mummy’s Ghost, later in 1944’s The Mummy’s Curse, and of course 1955’s infamous Abbott and Costello Meet The Mummy. I know we’re used to a deluge of movies in this era of cinematic universe, but 4 Mummy movies in 4 years is still a lot of Mummy to take in.

     Similarly, Universal’s adaptation of Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus” also enjoyed a multi-film run back in the day, including his own run-in with Abbott and Costello. After the wildfire success of the original Frankenstein back in 1931, the film that launched the career of the legendary horror icon Boris Karloff, the idea of doubling down wasn’t even in doubt. The end result, 1935’s The Bride of Frankenstein, was also a success, and arguably even better than the original. Directed by James Whale, who also directed the original, Bride takes what was already a weird movie and takes it into bizarre and surreal new directions. It was also the first film I ever reviewed on this blog, so if you want to read more about it you should check out that entry.

     After the success of Bride of Frankenstein, Universal decided to double down again, and four years later we got Son of Frankenstein (nothing else was really happening in 1939). Set years after the events of the previous films, SoF centers around Wolf von Frankenstein, the son of the infamous doctor. Having inherited the barony from his late father, Wolf and his family arrive to a cold reception to the village of Frankenstein. The townsfolk have had enough of guys named Frankenstein to last a lifetime, but Wolf is convinced that all those stories about a killer monster have been exaggerated over the years, and that his father’s reputation has been unfairly besmirched. The mad science apple doesn’t fall far from the mad science tree however, and when he finds his father’s secret notes he becomes very tempted to continue the family business. Then he meets Ygor, the resident corpse stealer and social pariah, who just might know what happened to that infamous monster...

     When you look at it, Son of Frankenstein has a lot of things going on. It’s the last appearance of Boris Karloff as the Monster, one of the most iconic performances in horror history. It’s the first of anyone named Ygor/Igor in a Frankenstein property, which would later be adopted in pop culture as the name of Frankenstein’s assistant (even though the assistant’s name was Fritz in the original movie). It was one of the few films to feature both Boris Karloff and Dracula actor Bela Lugosi, who played Ygor, as well as Sherlock Holmes star Basil Rathbone, who played Wolf. It posited the idea that it was cosmic rays and not lightning that brought life to the Monster, and we know how prolific cosmic rays came to be in movies and comic books. Best of all though, the plot of Son of Frankenstein is a definite inspiration for the Mel Brooks film Young Frankenstein, which is in the upper echelons of the fantastic comedy hierarchy. As far as contributing to the lore goes, Son might be the most influential film in the Frankenstein franchise since the original. How many other third films in a series can you say that about?

     Lore aside, SoF’s greatest strengths lie in its story, like watching a house of cards fall apart, and the performances from its primary characters. Basil Rathbone’s slow degradation from the honorable if naive Wolf into a nervous wreck all too aware of the situation falling out of control is brilliantly done, every bit as manic as Colin Clive in the original film. Bela Lugosi, known for his suave and seductive manner in Dracula, is totally transformed in his role of Ygor, a bestial savage with a penchant for gallows humor and a neck to match. Inspector Krogh, played by the Lionel Atwill, is the consummate soldier and detective. Sure the child actor isn’t great, but otherwise it’s a very strong movie in that regard.

     As for cons, well you’ll notice that I didn’t mention Boris Karloff as the Monster, which is 99% of the reason folks bought tickets to this movie in ‘39. That’s because the Monster isn’t really all that good in this movie. In the previous movies, the Monster was a terribly tragic figure, a creature just intelligent enough to be tortured by the nature of his existence and his inability to change it. While there’s a hint of that Son of Frankenstein, mostly he’s just devolved into a dumb brute who murders folks. If he shows up at all, for a Frankenstein film you’d be surprised at how little the Monster actually shows up on screen. I know at some point Karloff said that doing the Monster was too physically intensive, and maybe that accounts for his diminished presence. Still, it’s not an easily forgotten absence.

     Also, this movie doesn’t look as creepy as the previous films in the series in my opinion. Every now and then you get a hint of that German expressionist design that made Frankenstein and the rest of the early Universal Monster films feel so otherworldly (the shots of Castle Frankenstein look pretty good, and I remember a really nice hallway shot near the end of the film I liked), but I dunno, Son of Frankenstein feels like a grander film in some areas and a more mundane. Like they have these big, open spaces with nothing weird to put in them. The end result of Rowland Lee attempting to ape James Whale’s aesthetic preferences and stumbling at the finish line, perhaps.

     Those problems aside, Son of Frankenstein is still an entertaining movie, and it easily earned its place in the Universal Monster canon as well as a recommendation from me. For those interested in exploring old school horror, you would be doing yourself a service by throwing this film into the queue. Throw the whole Universal Frankenstein series into the pot in fact, you won’t find much better. Well, maybe not Frankenstein meets the Wolf Man, but it wouldn’t be Frankenstein without a few abnormal pieces, am I right?