The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2020: The Invisible Man (1933), directed by James Whale

 

The Trailer

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The Appropriate Tune: "Invisible Man", by The Breeders

      This is something of a weird confession, but I don’t think I’ve ever read “The Invisible Man”. No, not the book by Ralph Ellison, although I should probably read that one too, but the work by British novelist and science fiction pioneer H.G. Wells. I was a pretty big fan of Wells’ work when I was a kid, readily absorbing works like “War of the Worlds” and “The Time Machine”, but I’m fairly certain I’ve only touched the first paragraph, first chapter at most, of his third most famous work. “The Stolen Bacillus” got in before “The Invisible Man”, to give some idea to those three people who get that reference, and to give some clarification to how weird one’s priorities can be at times. Does that work as an opening paragraph? I dunno.

      I say that partially to undercut my own credibility and also to lead into the remark that it seems like I’m not the only one who hasn’t read it. “The Invisible Man” is certainly known, but it seems like pop culture is more infatuated with the concept rather than the story. The Hollow Man franchise, Memoirs of an Invisible Man starring Chevy Chase, that one TV show in the 90s with the liquid metal effect, even Alan Moore uses an original character in the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, as a serial rapist who is himself brutally raped to death (because how could you take him seriously as a writer if he didn’t sprinkle rape into every story he could). Not much at all in the way of proper adaptations compared to The Time Machine or Island of Dr. Moreau, although calling Marlon Brando’s interpretation of Moreau ‘proper’ might be doing a disservice to everyone’s favorite vivisectionist. So why not throw Herbert’s baby boy a bone and completely avoid the Invisible Man movie that’s supposed to be out this year to instead talk about a movie that’s almost 90 years old instead? If this blog is anything, it’s timely and relevant with its content.

      Released in 1933, with a screenplay by R.C. Sheriff and directed by blog patriarch James Whale, The Invisible Man was one of the earlier additions to Universal’s catalogue of genre-defining horror films. On a dark and snowy night in the sleepy town of Iping, a mysterious man enters the Lion-Head inn and tavern and rents a room, sparking a flurry of rumours from the townsfolk. This man, played/voiced by Claude Rains, is revealed in a roundabout way to be Jack Griffin, your average chemist’s assistant who disappeared under mysterious circumstances a few weeks prior. ‘Disappeared’ being the choice word here, as through the wonders of 1930s science Griffin has rendered himself completely invisible, and he’s having a hell of a time trying to figure out how to make himself un-invisible. It’s enough to drive someone absolutely insane, and as they always say, it’s the naked crazy guys that you can’t see that are the problem.

      The Invisible Man is a film of two minds. On one hand scenes like the ones in Iping, or where people are throwing around questions about how Griffin’s invisibility works, a lot of the more comedic moments feels in line with what you’d expect from the Wells story, but the rest feels like Universal trying to squeeze a square peg into a round hole. Flora’s entire character feels like the most blatant example of a studio mandate I’ve seen lately, for example, that movies like this need some eye-candy to flaunt around so Invisible Man must have it too damn it. Except the women in those films were generally relevant to the plot, if only as cliche ‘damsels in distress’, and Flora isn’t even that. I have to assume that she was supposed to be this humanizing moment for Griffin, to show the man he once was and how far he’d fallen, but it never really feels legitimate because she has one conversation with the fucker in the whole movie. They even have the possibility of setting up a love triangle between her, Griffin and other assistant Kemp, but they completely sidestep that angle to make sure that you could completely excise those characters and that attempt at backstory and nothing would change. Considering that Dracula and Frankenstein weren’t 1:1 adaptations either, there’s really no excuse.

      There’s also some things on the technical side that are just weird. For example, there’s a scene early on in the film where a distraught Flora walks into another to moan about Griffin, and the Kemp comes in to be a creep. Rather than do something like have Flora rush offscreen, you hear a door slam, and then cut to the room with Kemp coming in, instead they do this one shot where they show Flora move into the room and Kemp follows her, but the camera is pulled back so far that you can see where the wall ends. I don’t know if that was supposed to be the architectural style of the time or if it’s something that came out in the transfer of the film to different aspect ratios, like how in the ‘remastered’ editions of Buffy the Vampire Slayer you can see the cameras and such, but for whatever reason it’s so distracting to me. Then later on in that same scene, we’re focused on Kemp and in your head your head you think it’s going to do a closeup on his face, maybe in frame with a flower for symbolic reasons, but instead the camera backs away until the scene ends with Kemp’s head peeking out of a large bush. It’s so weird looking! The rest of the movie is fine, so I don’t know if James Whale was sick that day or what, but man did they hit hard and heavy.

      Ultimately though, Universal movies live or die by their monster, and Claude Rains does not disappoint. He doesn’t have the iconic accent like Lugosi and Karloff, but he makes up for it with this overwhelming presence that makes you sit up and take notice. Doesn’t matter if he’s singing nursery rhymes or making megalomaniacal speeches, you believe in him completely. Honestly he’s almost too good for the part, like he should be running SPECTRE or fighting Superman, not berating middle-aged Irish women over unpaid rent. Not much else to say, it’s just a damn good voice.

      So Claude Rains, the small-town Brit silliness, and seeing the novel ways in which James Whale and crew tackle the ‘invisible man’ problem… I’d say that’s enough to warrant a recommendation. I wouldn’t say it’s a priority, if you’re only passing familiar with the Universal horror there are films you’ll want to check out first, but if you’re intrigued it’s barely over an hour long so no worries about a big time investment. Throw in Erle C. Kenton’s Island of Lost Souls and this year the H in H.G. Wells might just stand for Halloween.

Reelin' In The Years -- Frankenstein (1931), directed by James Whale

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Right On, Frankenstein!", by Death From Above 1979

       Years ago, when in a fit of youthful arrogance I decided to give this whole ‘movie review’ thing a try, the film I decided to choose to kickstart the whole affair was James Whale’s film Bride of Frankenstein, released by Universal Pictures in the year 1935. Proper logic, or at least good etiquette, might have suggested that I start with the original film in the series first. If Star Wars has taught us anything, it was that starting the middle of a story and then going backwards doesn’t work out too well after all. I had seen Young Frankenstein though, I had read Mary Shelley’s novel and I had good ol’ cultural osmosis, so I figured that was good enough and went through with it. And the rest is history, really bad history.

       Years later, when I decided to revisit old movies and old monsters, my mind naturally turned to Frankenstein. Rather than covering the original though I went with another sequel, the under-appreciated Son of Frankenstein. I believe my thinking at the time was that because I had already seen Frankenstein outside of the review process, which I believe I had at some point, then it was no longer a first impression and thus less legitimate of a review. Whether that’s the right mindset is also something I’ve considered, but when I compiling the missing years for the Reelin’ in the Years tour and discovered 1931 was one of those years, it seemed like fate was telling me it was finally time to close the book on this case. Taking a look back 1931 wasn’t a bad time for the cinema; Not only did you have Dracula, but Fritz Lang’s landmark crime thriller M, Charlie Chaplin’s City Lights, Robert Mamoulian’s City Streets, and on and on. Yet of all the films it could have been, it could only truly be Frankenstein.

        Released on November 21, 1931, Frankenstein was directed by Thunderblog alum James Whale, who would later work with Universal on Bride of Frankenstein, The Invisible Man and The Old Dark House. The screenplay was done by Francis Edward Farough and Garrett Fort, while the story was by John L. Balderston and Richard Schayer, obviously based on the novel by Mary Shelley as well as the stage play by Peggy Webling. I think by this point the plot goes without saying, but in case you’re going in blind, here it is: Dr. Frankenstein, a frustrated young genius in the field of medical science, decides the only way to prove his radical theories is to steal a bunch of body parts and organs, stitch ‘em all together and zap the whole thing till it comes to life. Which he does, and it works, only the brain he used was part the expiration date and the Monster ends up going nuts. Thus Frankenstein is moved to destroy his creation, questions are raised about mankind’s hubris, and it is finally determined that fire bad. Also if you live by a lake you should make sure your kids know how to swim.

       I don’t know if any adaptation of a work has proven so influential over a premise as Universal’s Frankenstein has been to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The whole idea of the Monster being created by stitching body parts together and zapping it to life with lightning comes from this film (although it’s technically not lightning that does it), as well as Karloff’s now iconic flat-top,bolt-necked appearance. There’s a few things that never really carried over; Frankenstein’s name being Henry rather than Victor (although there’s a character named Victor here just to make things confusing) for example, and ‘Henry’s’ hunch-backed assistant named Fritz would be largely be replaced by his hunch-backed assistant named Igor, but for the most part this film has informed 99% of everything Frankenstein going forward. Even films that try to look more period-appropriate or stick more closely take some measure of influence from this film, especially in regards to the creation of the Monster. So strictly from a historical perspective Universal’s Frankenstein has more than earned a recommendation, although that doesn’t necessarily say much about it as a movie beyond being the first past the post (aside from the one movie Edison did back in 1910). 

       As a movie then, Frankenstein feels a bit off. Rather than starting with ‘Henry’ Frankenstein’s origins and the building up to the act, we start in media res, with the Monster being brought to life almost immediately. Then immediately after that we jump into the Monster going crazy and all that, with characters and relationships just kind of happen. I assume that this is largely a result of the film being an adaptation of the stage play rather than the novel, but apparently this was in the days when adapting the theatre to the theater was still in its infancy. Lots of tell and not enough show, if you catch my drift.

       Of course Frankenstein is the role that introduced the world to Boris Karloff, in spite of the fact that his career started back in 1918, and seeing him here it’s easy why and how this version of the Monster became THE version of the Monster. Karloff would portray the Monster several times after this, but he’s never looked as good as he does here. The sunken cheeks, the lifeless eyes set in dark sockets, the way he stumbles and stomps about like his legs barely work, I don’t think even Night of the Living Dead captured the premise of a living corpse. He captures your eyes as soon as he gets on screen, and it’s surprising that such an iconic character doesn’t actually get all that much to do. Of course you’ve got the infamous scene with the girl at the lake, and a little bit of stuff when he’s introduced, but it’s not until Bride of Frankenstein that the Monster as a sympathetic character was fully established. For now he’s just a grunting weirdo in big shoes.

       We move on to Colin Clive then, whose inclusion in this film is also rather bittersweet in hindsight. Colin Clive’s portrayal of the titular Frankenstein is almost as iconic as that of Karloff’s, exuding an air of supreme arrogance and barely restrained mania, and his frantic shout of ‘It’s alive!” is easily one of the most famous lines in cinema. However, that Frankenstein only exists in the first third of the movie, the rest of the time he’s just Henry, the dude who’s just there. Even near the end of the film, the point which you’d think would be ‘Frankenstein is finally driven to destroy his creation’, and the film claims it as such, Frankenstein feels like an ancillary character through the whole thing. His entire climatic final showdown with the Monster amounts to him getting beat up and thrown off a balcony, and I’m not counting that as a spoiler because I covered the sequel almost a decade ago. At the very least you could say that they build the romance subplot between Henry and Elizabeth (played by Mae Clarke) better than we would see in The Invisible Man a few years later, even hinting at a love triangle with Victor. The very least is about the only way you could describe it too; Mae Clarke isn’t very good, she and Clive have zero chemistry, Victor is a plank of wood with a mustache drawn on it, and any hint of that triangle is dropped like a bag of rocks almost immediately. Frankenhooker was a more intriguing love story than Frankenstein.

       Let’s see, what else is Frankenstein remembered for...the German Expressionist inspired art design? Great, love the shot of Fritz walking down the dark and winding staircase, but again that only appears near the beginning and a bit towards the end. The laboratory? Same thing, and honestly done better by Mel Brooks in Young Frankenstein. The aforementioned infamous scene with the girl at the lake. Not in the beginning of the movie, but a scathing critique of mob violence if you felt like getting analytical. It’s kind of bizarre to think that so much of what makes this a defining film of the horror genre takes place before the first half hour. Like this is just as much about a wedding as it is about subverting the laws of nature.

       So I guess if you were really pressed for time, you could watch a clip or two and get the gist of it. In spite of my criticisms though, for its time Frankenstein is a fine film, and because of my history with the story and the history the film embodies it gets the recommendation. Of Universal’s Horror line it’s one of the better movies I’ve covered so far, if I were a grading kind of guy I’d probably place it below The Invisible Man but above The Mummy, and since it sets you up for Bride of Frankenstein (currently the best UH movie that I’ve covered) it’s a great deal. And once you’re done watching you can hop back on the Reelin’ In The Years tour bus, as we head for our next stop. It'll be a big step out of our comfort zone, but it’s a pretty big film too. 

The Long Dark Marathon of the Soul 2019: The Old Dark House (1932), directed by James Whale

The Trailer

and

The Appropriate Tune: "Hyacinth House", by The Doors

       There’s something pure about the idea of the ‘haunted house’ in movies. In this modern cinematic landscape dominated by 80’s reboot serial killers and bloated CGI monsters, we can often forget that one of the basest methods of building fear and suspense is putting people in a place that they don’t want to be in. From the ‘based on a true story but not really’ chills of the Amityville series to the cartoonish surreality of Nobuhiko Obayashi’s House, to the underrated animated gem of Monster House, creepy houses have long been a staple of the horror genre, but who were the pioneers? Who were the creepy houses that paved the way for creepy houses in cinema, the foundation for those houses if you will? Can you believe that’s what we’re talking about now?

One of the earliest members of the now famous horror movie line put out by Universal Pictures, The Old Dark House was directed by Frankenstein’s James Whale and based on a novel by J.B. Priestley. On a dark and stormy night (natch) in the Welsh countryside, a young couple known as the Wavertons and their devil-may-care friend named Penderal find themselves boxed in by flooding and mudslides, and are ultimately forced to seek refuge in a nearby old dark house. The residents of said house, neurotic Horace Femme (Ernest Thesiger, who some might remember as Dr. Praetorius in Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein), curmudgeonly sister Rebecca, and brutish manservant Morgan (Boris Karloff) do their best to engender an atmosphere of awkward tension and general unpleasantness, which is only heightened by the arrival of more guests, businessman Bill Porterhouse (Charles Laughton) and chorus girl Gladys Duscayne. You see lurking within the halls of Femme Manor are things most foul, secrets which are connected to the Femme family’s history of madness, death and debuachery. Secrets which, if they are released, could spell the doom for not only the remnants of the Femme family, but their guests as well. In a way that’s completely original and not at all reminiscent of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher.

       I keep trying to figure out a way to start off this paragraph, and the thing I keep coming back to is The Old Dark House is a very low key type of film. Very much like a stage play, which was common for film at the time, but The Old Dark House feels especially theatrical. From the large room where the majority of the film takes place to the small cast of characters, it’s like a little Agatha Christie mystery come to life. Which isn’t bad necessarily, but aside from a scene in the beginning featuring a mudslide and a short scene in Rebecca’s room there’s not much that really takes advantage of the medium. It’s not much of a visual standout either, compared to the German Expressionist-inspired visuals of Whale’s Frankenstein films. It’s got old and it’s got dark and that’s it, which is a little underwhelming considering the talking up from the family would make you think they would share an interior decorator with the Addams Family.

        Not much to say about the casting. It’s nice to see Ernest Thesiger back on the Thunder-blog of course, Charles Laughton is always a treat and the actress who played Rebecca Femme is the anchor of the film. Boris Karloff is underutilized, thrust into yet another silent monster role but with none of the emotional depth of Frankenstein’s Monster. Everyone else is just kind of there, in fact you could excise the Wavertons from the film entirely and not much would change, but they perform their duties.

       Unfortunately The Old Dark House suffers from a condition that many classic horror films suffer from, in that it’s likely not going to be scary to a modern audience. Even when compared to its fellow Universal movies, where there's a possibility of a monster lurking in the shadows waiting to strike The Old Dark House seems tame by comparison, relying almost entirely on its setting to attempt to induce fear in its audience. It ends up producing some bizarrely disconnected scenes, such as one where Ms. Waverton, for some reason that escapes me at the moment, runs around the empty living room in a panic, rushes to the door but apparently isn’t frightened enough to walk outside in the rain, and then cut to the next scene. Even the dramatic finish doesn’t hit as hard as it could, because it like the rest of the film lacks any bite. Perhaps if the pace had been slowed down a bit, because it does feel like the abridged version of a mystery novel, but when the biggest scare in the first half hour of your movie is a window being blown open I can’t say for sure.

       If you’ve already seen the big Universal monster movies and you’re ready to dig a bit deeper this Halloween, then there’s no reason not to give The Old Dark House a watch. By that same token however, if you’re not interested in those 30s horror movies there’s nothing about The Old Dark House that’s really going to pull you in. Besides the thought of home ownership in this day and age, I guess.

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