Universal Horror, part I: the foundation

I haven't posted here in a month for a number of reasons, one among them being that we let our membership at the Michigan Theater lapse, which I may have mentioned before, but also because I picked up a collection of Universal's horror films a while back, which is 30 of them (for $30) from the beginning of what they would now refer to as the "Dark Universe" (sigh...) to its last real high peak in the mid-50s and decided to watch one of them each day in the month of October because obvsly. I finished them last night (just in time for Halloween, appropriately) even though there were some days that I didn't have time to watch even one of these short-by-modern-perceptions films, but I achieved my goal and figured I'd give some general impressions of the set as a whole. I had seen over half of them prior to this month, as they were regular entries on some of the local TV stations in Detroit on shows like Sir Graves Ghastly and The Ghoul, but hadn't seen the rest of them because they were, largely, not very good. I'm going to list them the way I watched them, in production order, because I thought it'd be interesting to see how said production developed over the quarter-century that these films covered. At the very least, the first segment that I'll detail in this post are almost all considered to be horror classics but, as with most properties, it's kinda difficult to keep the quality going over so many years as most ideas simply run out of steam and should have a finite ending. But they keep coming back from the dead-! Anyway, I'm not going to go into extensive detail about them because that's been done in many other places already, so some of them will seem like they've been given short shrift (mostly in this first post) and others will probably be given more attention than they deserve...

Dracula (1931)- This is the kickoff and it's immediately understandable as to why it became part of the foundation of everything that followed (along with its compatriot in the next listing) as it's based on a classic work of Victorian-era literature and the visuals are among the most iconic of Hollywood history and not just horror history. Bela Lugosi, a bit player in film to this point but a regular on Broadway, established himself as a Hollywood star with the intense glares of the title character and his deep, resonant, "exotic" voice. As much as the other monster roles have changed hands not only within the Universal era but since then, there is no one who has made this role their own in the way that Lugosi did. His portrayal basically established the idea of who and what Count Dracula is and everyone else has paled (and not just because of their skin tone) in comparison. Another important factor is the set design and lighting, two concepts that weren't entirely understood or often emphasized in this era, but which heavily contributes to the end product here. Throughout the film, even when we're not in Castle Dracula, the sets (Russel Gausman, John Hoffman, Herman Rosse) and lighting (Frank Booth) maintain the presence of the dread that the other characters feel in the course of the story. This early period of film meant that, like Lugosi, a lot of the cast were coming from the theater, where people were trained to "act to the back rows" which means a number of instances of what modern audiences would consider "chewing scenery." Lugosi is no exception to this but, again, that performance laid the baseline for everyone after him, such that those taking a more restrained "modern" approach to his physical movement often seem like they're just pantomiming. And those elements of overacting play into the Victorian-era atmosphere of the original story and lend to the continued declaration of this film as a classic and not just of the horror genre.

Frankenstein (1931)- The other pillar on which all the rest stand, this film drips with elements that still resonate in modern productions, from the angst of the title character (Colin Clive as the doctor) to the literally explosive ending. Lugosi had originally wanted to play the now "Henry" Frankenstein (renamed because "Victor" supposedly sounded too "harsh" for American audiences) but producer Carl Laemmle (whose name shows up in many of these early films) wanted him to play the monster. Lugosi quit, which has been seen as a career-level error, but it allowed Boris Karloff and Clive to step into what are now considered their signature roles. Like Dracula, this film retained a lot of the gloom of Frankenstein castle, even when showing scenes not set in that building, likely because many of the uncredited names such as Herman Rosse (set design) and now John P. Fulton (special effects) were present on this film, as well. One of the most identified cultural icons of the film, the presence of the doctor's assistant, Igor, isn't even a reality here, as Dr. Frankenstein's assistant is instead named Fritz (played by the capable Dwight Frye.) The Igor character wouldn't be present until later in this series, even if his stereotypical role is played by others, as is the case here. The most interesting aspect to Karloff's performance is that the tenderness of the monster, shown most prominently when he accidentally drowns the young Maria (Marilyn Harris), was displayed in the scenes like that one that were most subject to state board of film censors in the US. It's hard to know whether Karloff's monster would have become the legend that it was if Universal had hesitated and allowed the censors to block the performance that became legendary because of the people who couldn't stand the name "Victor." This is also James Whale's first contribution to the series and his influence and sense of style has been a lasting one throughout its existence.

The Mummy (1932)- Like the absence of Igor in Frankenstein, one of the more hilarious aspects to the first of the Mummy films is that the title character, played again by Karloff, spends about three whole minutes as the bandage-wrapped monster and instead spends the rest of the film appearing as he does above, in the role of the priest, Imhotep. For the most part, there really is no mummy in The Mummy. As a result, this is a somewhat slower story than the previous two films, in that the monster of the title being absent tends to diminish the "horrific" aspects to it. Karloff spends a lot of time being a devious criminal in the modern era, but less time actually threatening people; instead trying to avoid them to enact his plans to resurrect his beloved princess. He does get some good "glare time", akin to Lugosi in Dracula, though, and makes good use of it. This film also intersects the present culture of that day and we begin to see some of the Dashing Hollywood Scientist elements that aren't present in the folk tales/literature of the previous two films. At one point, Helen Grosvenor (Zita Johann) bemoans the present-day Islamic Egypt in favor of the "classical" Egypt which isn't too far from the unintentional stance of many Egyptophiles today and kind of the baseline of this film, taking place shortly after a period when ancient Egypt (and stolen treasures of that period) were all the rage among the upper class (the Victorian era and then again in the 1920s.) Despite the cultural and film history underpinnings that this film created, I certainly wouldn't elevate it to the level that the previous two established if only because it was less about the concept of a man coming back to life and more about the attempts of that man to reach a utopia that he's not even certain can be achieved. That's definitely a more interesting story, but I think it needed to go one way or the other.

The Invisible Man (1933)- This film, OTOH, drops you right into the action. There is no preamble or setup as is present in the first three films of the series. We encounter the title character, played by Claude Rains, right at the start as he staggers through the snow toward a local inn, already beset/enabled by the transformation that is the heart of the plot. In this way, it mirrors the novel that is its source (written by H.G. Wells, the acknowledged "father" of modern science fiction) and the screenplay is probably stronger because of it. As with Frankenstein, the central threat is in many ways a tragedy, beset by circumstances beyond his control, but these circumstances were in Dr. Jack Griffin's control and his consequent behavior seems somewhere between mental instability caused by his situation and his general amoral outlook. Rains does excellently to toe that line and I've always found it kind of funny that this film launched his film career (he was already a leading man on Broadway and in the West End) when you can't see him for all but about 15 seconds of it. Certainly, it's more difficult to perform when you're never actually "on screen" or are wearing prostheses that hide your expression when you are (as above) but it wouldn't have been difficult for his face to show up on a movie poster afterwards as "the star" and for many to not know who he was. This is director James Whale's second effort in the series which likely explains the attachment to the sense of tragedy, even as we watch the perfidy that Griffin gets up to. It's not difficult to imagine that Whale might have appreciated the overall concept, being a gay man in Hollywood. I will say that his fondness for the screeching Una O'Connor as comic relief was something I've always had to endure rather than appreciate, but for the Invisible Man character being one of the less-appreciated of the (sigh) "Dark Universe", this is far and away one of its best films.

Bride of Frankenstein (1935)- The first spinoff! Both of Whale's previous entries were so good that the studio wanted him to be part of its continuance in the culture. The idea of "X of [monster]" was essentially set up with this film and would continue to be a trend/overworked idea/meme from that point forward. To the writers' (James Hurlbut and John L. Balderston) credit, they were smart enough to base their premise on a subplot of the original novel, in which the monster attempted to blackmail Frankenstein into creating a mate for him, so the story foundation is solid. To that end, Whale chose to begin the film with a prologue, showing Lord Byron and Percy Shelley badgering Mary into telling them the continuation of her original tale. Elsa Lanchester plays both Mary and the Bride in a nice casting touch. The only problem is that, for all that the film is titled 'Bride of Frankenstein', Lanchester gets about 5 whole minutes of screen time between the two roles. This is the film where Whale kind of steps off the "horrific" approach and begins to engage the "camp" side of the Universal Monsters concept. The story is less about atmosphere and more about process and the score is much more adventuresome than eerie, especially in the scenes where the local townspeople are present. It's less about the horror of the concept and more about the implied threat of the monsters to modern society (see also: every Godzilla sequel after the original Godzilla.) To that end, once again, Whale's attachment to O'Connor is... trying. In that respect, I bemoan the loss of the talented director but not his preferred stable of actors. From the perspective of how sequels might be more trivialized than the originals, in looking for identifying images, there's simply no other that can be used for this film than that of Lanchester's famous screen upon being confronted with her supposed mate. This is the film, despite the presence of returnees like Karloff and Clive. Does that make it a gimmick? Maybe. But I think much of the imagery present stands on its own, as well.

Werewolf of London (1935)- Wait! Not The Wolf Man? No. That film wouldn't emerge for a few more years and it was this one that would set the tone not only for lycanthropes in Universal's series, but also for Hollywood, in general. The concepts of bipedal wolf/man hybrids, changing under the full moon, and transmission of the disease/condition by bite were invented right here and are now considered bog-standard, despite having nothing to do with the original folklore. That's to the credit of writer, John Colton. OTOH, his story approach and director Stuart Walker's pacing did make it pretty reminiscent of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, a Paramount production from 1931, and for which this film was criticized at the time of its release. On the topic of alternate identities, it's interesting that the main "villain" role is taken by Warner Oland as Dr. Yagami, as Swedish actor who may have had enough Sámi in his origins to present enough of a stereotypically "Asian" look that he was routinely slated for Chinese roles in American films. An unfortunate parallel for him here is that he was a hardcore alcoholic which frequently led to erratic behavior during his career, so very "man deals with inner beast." The film is kinda slow and most of the moments of tension are fairly obvious, so it's not a real high point in the course of the series, but it's interesting enough to get the first look at Jack P. Pierce and Armand Triller's makeup effects (alongside John P. Fulton on SFX) that would be built upon by werewolf filmmakers from this point forward. Also, I challenge anyone in the vicinity of my age to not see this title and immediately begin hearing the piano introduction from Warren Zevon's most famous track.

I think that's a good stopping point, having introduced the five "archetypes" and the first sequel that would define the tenor of the series as a whole. Next up, another sequel in the form of Dracula's Daughter...