Dracula's Daughter (1936)- In truth, this film probably could have been included in that first cycle, since it was the continuation of Universal's interest in the horror genre that would be put on hold for three years after the Laemmle family lost control of the studio when producer Carl Laemmle, Jr. had to borrow a cool million from Standard Capital to make up the holes in the studio's budget. When Standard called the debt a year later, they took over the studio and had decided that horror films weren't profitable enough to keep doing. Similarly, Gloria Holden, who plays the title role of Countess Marya Zaleska, also didn't want to be in the film as she, like many actors of the day, looked down on horror films. Likewise, the only reason Universal had the film in the first place is because MGM had bought the rights to Dracula's Guest, reputedly a chapter of the original novel that Bram Stoker had cut, from Stoker's widow and then decided that it wasn't worth pursuing. On top of that, the director that Laemmle wanted for it, James Whale, had no interest in doing another horror picture and no actor from the original except Edward Van Sloan (whose character was now named "Von Helsing", rather than "Van Helsing") wanted to join the effort, either. It was the little film that no one wanted. And, in the end, the story does turn out to be a weird cross-hatch between modernist and boilerplate that lacks direction. Zaleska has decided that she hates the curse of vampirism and first tries to destroy her father's body to release said curse before approaching a psychotherapist to cure her of the impulse for blood. When that doesn't work, she decides to kidnap said psychotherapist's secretary and return to Castle Dracula. The main theme that came from this whole production is the overt lesbian overtones that Universal and director Lambert Hillyer did their best to alter or conceal when confronted by the Production Code Authority, but which shine through to anyone with eyes and were even used by Universal in marketing the film ("Save the women of London from Dracula's Daughter!") In that respect, it was progress in that women were definitely the central focus of the film for doing something other than screaming, but when Universal returned to the genre three years later, they were largely back to being scream queens. It's kind of fascinating as a cultural artifact, but really isn't much of a film, despite Jack Pierce and John P. Fulton combining to produce a new approach to makeup that contributed to Holden's unearthly pallor.
Son of Frankenstein (1939)- Carrying on/initiating the future "Son of" meme, the most notable feature of this film is Bela Lugosi's performance as the new Dr. Frankenstein's assistant, Ygor. (Yes, that's pronounce EE-gor, not EYE-gor.) Despite Wolf von Frankenstein (somehow we've added a "von" to the family name) being played by Basil Rathbone, there's no doubt that Lugosi steals the show here from minute one to minute 99; an extraordinarily lengthy film by the era's and the series' standards. That length may have been the effect of the plot and screenplay actually having some meat to them, rather than just being a gimmick excuse for a sequel as is the result of so many other "Son of"-type productions. Wolf brings his family back to the ancestral domain to restore the family name and we see the reactions of the local townsfolk beyond simply "Grab the torches and pitchforks!", as they spend some time interrogating local resident and former victim of a hanging execution, Ygor, warning him against any further perfidy by the returning Baron. This gives even more room for Lugosi's Ygor to engage his particular form of social impertinence and the story flows from there. It also firmly establishes the concept of the mad scientist's assistant "Igor" which is now the standard. In the end, both Ygor and the monster fall victim in true, happy ending fashion, which also includes the joyous celebration by the townspeople when Wolf and family wave happily to them from the departing train. This film is the initiator of the now-hallowed monster film and superhero story trope that is: "He's finally dead! Or is he...?" since the monster seemed deceased after Bride of Frankenstein and seems deceased after this film, as well, but continues carrying on in more and more unlikely circumstances because there's money to be made and (sometimes) stories to tell.
The Invisible Man Returns (1940)- I think there was some awareness here that, unlike even the rest of the monsters in Universal's stable, the novelty of this situation is an even harder load to carry from film to film (as we will clearly see in the next entry in the Invisible Man series.) There were three people credited for the story (Joe May, who also directed, Curt Siodmak, who has a lengthy history in this genre, and Cedric Beffrage) and two for the screenplay (Lester K. Cole and Siodmak) but that many hands in the stew, which is often a disaster, actually created a decent plot that engaged the original film's situation but in an entirely new premise. Sir Geoffrey Radcliffe (the legendary Vincent Price, in his first major film role which launched him, like Claude Rains, largely without being seen) has been accused of a murder he didn't commit and begs Frank Griffin (John Sutton), the brother of Rains' character, to give him the invisibility serum, despite the warning that it will drive him mad in the same way. The approach to the serum takes a slightly more "scientific" angle, in that its function is tied to its presence in the blood and a transfusion will eliminate said presence and its effect. This is in line with the trend in horror/fantastic films of the era to provide more explanations, rather than simply declaring it to be "Magic!" or "Super Science!" This followed with that general trend in society, where the population was more interested in the development of science for things like, y'know, vaccines... This is also the first Universal film that largely pivots away from the dark and brooding atmosphere that surrounded previous entries to the genre, in that most of the action takes place in broad daylight and the tragedy is centered around a single figure, rather than the threat to the community at large.
The Mummy's Hand (1940)- As you can see from the dates, when Universal got back into horror films, they went all in, with three produced in one year after the gap of three years. Because both Son of Frankenstein and The Invisible Man Returns were financial successes, they decided to (ahem) revive another of the franchises with The Mummy's Hand. In contrast to the other two, this film isn't a sequel, as the story is independent of the plot of The Mummy and names the title creature as Kharis (Tom Tyler), as opposed to the Imhotep of the original. Nevertheless, with the "modest budget" of this one, it reused footage from the original film, as well as lifting almost the entire score from Son of Frankenstein. As with the feeling of Bride of Frankenstein, the general atmosphere of the film was more of an adventure story than a horror story, with heroic archaeologists Steve Banning (Dick Foran) and Babe Jenson (Wallace Ford) presaging Indiana Jones in their attempt to uncover the past. Ford's role was more of comic relief in a Lou Costello style, which also draws this story away from the "classic" horror of the 30s. Without any "star" names like Lugosi's to attach, it's perhaps understandable why Universal low-balled their approach on this one. That includes evading union rules for the actors, as Peggy Moran, who plays Marta Solvani, complained that since she was under contract they could work her from 6 AM one day to 4 AM the next. One imagines she'd be staggering around like Kharis after that. This is the first film of the series that could be slotted under the "eminently forgettable" category, but it does have a couple points of interest, not least the direct attacks by the title creature, as opposed to the first film.
The Invisible Woman (1940)- Did I say "eminently forgettable"? Yeah. Not only was this the fourth film produced in 1940, but I didn't list it as one of the "horror" films produced because it's not. It's not a horror film. It's a quirky adventure film about a woman trying to escape the confines of her job and life status, although it's also more of an SF film than its predecessors because the process of turning invisible has gone from a serum to a device created by Professor Gibbs, played by John Barrymore who was at the age where he began having trouble memorizing his lines. The rest of the cast said that he came with no ego attached, despite knowing that the film wasn't going to be at the level of his normal stature. John Howard, playing Richard Russell, the wealthy sponsor of this invention, said that "no one took [the film] seriously" as a way of explaining Barrymore's lack of pretense. But that sentiment is also part of why the film is pretty bad. Virginia Bruce, who plays Kitty Carroll, the invisible woman in question, was even a stand-in for the actor that Universal had originally wanted. Everyone was just here for a paycheck, which is part of what the plot is about, as well, since Carroll, Russell, and Gibbs are all simply involved because someone is paying them or they want to make money. As seen above, the SFX, again by John P. Fulton, had definitely improved since Claude Rains had a harness on his head, but that's about the best thing that can be said about it. There was some concern about how risqué the film was, given that the invisible person is always supposedly nude during their scenes, since clothes don't turn invisible and, in this case, that person was a woman (Gasp!) There's no mention of the fact that Rains and Price were also nude because that was OK as they were actors, whereas women at this stage were still at least partially objects. So it goes.
The Wolf Man (1941)- As something of a rescue for this segment, we arrive at the film that most think of when it comes to the starting point of werewolves in popular culture, as well as the arrival of the last of the Big Names in Universal's horror lineup, Creighton Tull Chaney, better known today as Lon Chaney, Jr. His father, of course, had been the Man of a Thousand Faces in the silent film era, with his most famous outing being in Universal's 1925 version of The Phantom of the Opera. Creighton was discouraged from the show business life, as his father kind of detested it and didn't want that for his son. So Jr. waited until after his father's death in 1930 to begin acting. He didn't have a significant success until the film version of Of Mice and Men in 1939, at which point he changed his credit from "Lon Chaney, Jr." to "Lon Chaney" which he carried into the Universal horror films and which is how he's best remembered. But two other big Universal names are also present here in Claude Rains, playing the father of Chaney's character, Larry Talbot, and Bela Lugosi, in a small role as a Roma chieftain who first infects Larry with the disease/condition of lycanthropy. This film follows right in line with Werewolf of London in terms of the fictional folklore for the werewolf's appearance, but dispenses with the need for wolfsbane to be blooming; only requiring the moon to be full. It's emphasized in a short poem that everyone in the film, regardless of origin or social status, seems to be familiar with, as it's constantly repeated. Makeup artist Jack Pierce became famous for the process of turning Chaney into the Wolf Man and, indeed, this was the process he'd developed for Werewolf of London only to be vetoed by the producer for making it too hard for the audience to tell that it was still Henry Hull under all the yak hair. Producer/director George Waggner had no such concerns in this film. Overall, it's a solid story that injects the kind of legendary status into the character that places it at the level of its more famous predecessors. In that vein, it also restores some of the Universal "horror" sensation that most associate with this series of films.
Next up, we're back to sequels with the return of Frankenstein's monster...
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