Oct 111933
 
two reels

Trenul

A Joker pulls the emergency cord to stop the train in order to retrieve his hat that had flown out a window. This causes the train to arrive at the station late, and with no other trains coming until morning, stranding a group of passengers. Besides the Joker, the group include a newly Married Couple, a Cute Girl traveling with an Earnest Man, a teetotaling, Prissy Lady with a parrot, and a Doctor. They are warned by the Station Master that the station is haunted and that a ghost train comes by at night, and if they want to survive, they need to leave. They refuse, and the Station Master abandons them in fear of the ghosts. What follows is a string of spooky events, including a death and then the disappearance of the corpse, strange sounds and lights, the arrival of a crazed woman, and the passage of the ghost train itself.

ghosttrainplay

The Ghost Train was a very popular British play. Written by Arnold Ridley in 1923, it had a successful run and has seen numerous revivals. It was adapted for the screen in 1927 in a British-German coproduction, and like so many other Dark House movies, it was remade once sound was in place just a few years later, in 1931, this time just by the British. Next, in 1933, came two from the European continent, the Romanian Trenul fantomă and Hungarian KisĂ©rtetek Vonata. The French Un Train Dans La Nuit was released in 1934, but that one will get no more discussion here as no prints are known to survive. In 1939 the Dutch joined in with De Spooktrein. And finally the Brits took it back in 1941. There have been four more official versions since then, and a number more that “borrowed” from it, but I’ll stick with the years from ’31 to ‘41.

It’s surprising how much alike the five surviving films are. The basic plot is exactly the same, with all the same major events occurring in the same order, and with few changes to even the minor ones. While the character names change (I’ll use descriptive names for each), their personalities shift only a bit. Footage is even shared between three of them, and the 1941 version had the same director as the 1931, so perhaps it isn’t that surprising.

The Ghost Train is an Old Dark House story transplanted to a railway station. The characters are properly quirky, there’s a dead body and strange lights and talk of ghosts, plenty of comic relief, and an eerie atmosphere. The story line is entertaining enough, and certainly has been popular. The characters are not complex or deeply developed, but rather were intended to represent a cross section of British society in the 1920s, thus supplying a bit of commentary while also being easy to identify. Everything is here for a thoroughly entertaining film. However, a few flaws are inherent to the structure that have been magnified in different productions. The story is good, but it’s brief, at least as executed in all five films (I’ve never seen the play and am curious how it fills nearly two hours). There’s approximately an hour’s worth of material. When an adaptation gets much over that, it drags. As the story was written for the stage, there’s a tendency to replicate that a bit too closely. I’m not a fan of opening up a film for no purpose when made into a movie, but most of these renditions could be converted back into a stage play without making any changes. A few more locations or some clever manipulation of the camera to better tell the tale would be nice. But inventive cinematography is not in abundance. Also, the Joker is supposed to be annoying to the other passengers, but he can easily become annoying to the audience. And if the film features him as the lead instead of part of the ensemble, as several do, he can become downright unpleasant.

How do the individual adaptations fare?

Trenul fantomă and KisĂ©rtetek Vonata can be reviewed together. Just as Hollywood used to film the same feature in multiple languages for release in different countries (for example, Dracula and DrĂĄcula from 1931), these were shot together, one for Romania and one for Hungry. They use the same sets, have the same style and pacing, and both use the same exterior shots, taken from the 1931 British version. However, they had different cast and crew, and of course, different languages. Both are short, one at 64 minutes and the other at 71. I can’t find reliable information on the original lengths of either film, but neither seem to be cut. The major difference between them is that while both add a song performed by the Joker and Cute Girl to entertain the others, Trenul fantomă adds another early in film that feels out of place and stops the film dead. Outside of that, these are well paced compared to the ’31 version. They also tone down the Joker, making him only a little irritating. Since he and the Cute Girl are clearly the stars, the others get short shrift. This is partly mitigated for The Couple, who are made more affectionate, thus giving them something to do, which is kissing and fawning over each other.

ghosttrain33These are low budget films—not surprising with the reuse of footage—and it shows with static shots, uninspiring sets, and drab lighting. There’s little movement even in the main room, and people rarely leave it. But superior pacing beats out the lack of funds, making these enjoyable renditions. And there’s little to choose between them. Without seeing them side by side I wouldn’t be able to tell the lead actors apart. I give KisĂ©rtetek Vonata the edge, partly for the lack of the early song, but more for Marika Rökk as the Cute Girl, in these versions named Mary. A star of German musicals, she’s electric: sexy, intense, and funny. She’s the only actress in all five films who stands out in the part.

Oct 081933
 
five reels

Egomaniacal filmmaker Carl Denham (Robert Armstrong) plans to make his next picture on a mysterious island. When no actress will take such a dangerous job, Denham picks homeless Ann Darrow (Fay Wray) off the street, and the next day they are at sea. The island is home to a degenerate tribe that lives behind a great wall built by their ancestors. Beyond the wall is their god, King Kong, a giant ape. Kong wants this new, strange blonde woman.  First mate Jack Driscoll (Bruce Cabot) wants Ann as well. Denham wants Kong, to take back to America and turned into a commercial attraction.  They all aren’t going to get what they want.

Is there anyone who needs a review of King Kong?  Most people have seen it.  Those who haven’t, who have only heard of Kong from a thousand cultural references including greeting cards, Halloween costumes, and sitcoms,  probably have little interest in it.  I could discuss it in the context of its times (the Great Depression was the golden age for Lost World stories, etc.) or examine how it has changed cinema (would we have the Ray Harryhausen movies or Godzilla or Jurassic Park without it?  When would music specifically designed for the action on screen have come into existence if  Kong hadn’t done it?).  I could argue feminist theory (Ann is plucked off the street for what appears to be sexual purposes, degraded as only trouble by the crew, and glared at and stripped by Kong), or document homosexual subtexts (the men on the ship really don’t want a woman along—they want to be alone with other men).  But all that is pretty obvious.  There really isn’t much to say.

So, I won’t say much.  Simply, King Kong deserves it’s classic status.  It’s as good now as it was 70+ years ago.  It’s a rollicking adventure, that keeps a nearly perfect balance between comedy, action, romance, and drama.  It never slows down, yet jams in several themes and a plot that lesser storytellers would require twice as long to present (no offence to Mr. Jackson, but his still-enjoyable 2005 remake ran 187 minutes and didn’t add a thing; that’s nearly an hour and a half longer).  It is at all times a fantasy, which is enhanced by the dream-like stop-motion animation.  It has marvelous, developed, larger-than-life characters (OK, not so much for Jack Driscoll, but that’s only one flaw) that you will both want to cheer for and strangle, and Kong is the grandest of them all.  It is sentimental without getting saccharine.  It’s just damn fine entertainment.

Now I love the big hairy guy, but what always hits me while watching, what takes me away to another world, is the gigantic gate.  Deep in mist, it is a primeval symbol…plus it looks so cool.  Numerous critics have pointed to it as a flaw in the film, asking: Why would the natives build a gate that wasn’t for themselves, but for a monster they never want to let in?  The question misses its beauty.  In a world where immense pyramids rise out of a desert, and the Empire State building hangs over New York, are those gates really odd?  Kong isn’t a monster to the natives, he’s a god.  And for your god, of course you would build him an entrance, and then you’d do everything in your power to stop him from using it.  Personal visits from gods never turn out well.

Most of the filmmakers returned for a poorly received sequel, Son of Kong, later in 1933.  Kong, considerably larger and obviously a man in a suit, was brought back by Toho for the ludicrous King Kong Vs. Godzilla (1962) and its semi-sequel, King Kong Escapes (1967).

There have been two remakes: Dino de Laurentiis’s unintentionally funny 1976 King Kong (which he followed with a sequel, King Kong Lives, in 1986) and Peter Jackson’s lengthy 2005 version, also titled  King Kong.

Oct 081933
 
two reels

After villagers start turning up dead, drained of blood, the burgermeister declares it must be a vampire. Local policeman Karl Brettschneider (Melvyn Douglas) disagrees, looking for a human killer. Only Brettschneider’s girlfriend, Ruth Bertin (Fay Wray) and the greatly respected Dr. Otto von Niemann (Lionel Atwill) have avoided the hysteria. The mob blames feebleminded Herman (Dwight Frye), who keeps bats as pets. But all is not as it seems.

Watching The Vampire Bat is like having a few old friends, who you haven’t heard from in years, over to chat. Everyone is familiar and listening to what they have to say is fun, but you’ve heard it all before, and you’ve got new friends that you like better. This isn’t genius filmmaking, but it’s comfortable.

Advertising and title aside, this isn’t really a horror film, but a who-done-it with vampire and mad doctor elements. You won’t be surprised by the “twists,” but then how many mysteries from the ‘30s really shock you?

It is the cast that keeps this one interesting. Melvyn Douglas is a better lead than most poverty row pictures could afford. He doesn’t do anything requiring great talent, but he displays a distinct personality and has a voice that would have worked in radio suspense shows.  Horror regular Lionel Atwill (Mark of the Vampire, Son of Frankenstein, The Ghost of Frankenstein, Frankenstein Meets The Wolf Man, House of Frankenstein), playing his standard mad doctor character, teams up with Fay Wray for the second of three features they shared in under two years (Doctor X and Mystery of the Wax Museum being the other two). Dwight Frye rounds out this iconic cast, doing his Renfield-shtick from Dracula.

If The Vampire Bat stands out at all from the crowd of similar films, it is due to its greater amount of humor, usually supplied by silly old ladies. The lighter side is played up, making this a fun romp, provided you are in the mood for mobs with torches and all the old clichés.

Sep 181933
 
three reels

In the castle of Robert von Helldorf (Lionel Atwill) they are celebrating the 21st birthday of his daughter Irene (Gloria Stuart). In attendance are her three suitors, Captain Walter Brink (Paul Lukas), reporter Frank Faber (Onslow Stevens), and brash Thomas Brandt (William Janney). The castle and grounds also contain a groups of extremely suspicious-acting servants. The topic turns to a discussion of the Blue Room, a room in the castle that has been locked for years because of three mysterious deaths that occurred there, all at the stroke of 1:00am. To impress Irene, Thomas suggests that he’ll show his bravery by sleeping in the Blue Room tonight, and that the others do so on the two following nights. These leads to disappearances and deaths, and the summoning of Police Commissioner Forster (Edward Arnold).

As this was supposedly Universal’s lowest budget picture for the year, it shows what a real studio can do. I’ve been watching a lot of Poverty Row Old Dark House features lately, and none of them have this kind of quality. This may have been a cheep picture, but it looks great. The house interiors are ornate, attractive, yet slightly creepy. There’s enough corridors and rooms to get lost in. It got a boost in this regard from the left over sets from James Whale’s The Old Dark House as well as the castle exterior shots being taken from the first version of this story, the German Geheimnis des blauen Zimmers.

It’s shot in that wonderful high contrast B&W that I expect from 1940s A-Pictures. Add in tight editing and we’ve got a quality production.

It also has an excellent cast of second-stringers. Atwill is one of the unsung heroes of ‘30s horror and suspense, a solid actor who didn’t dominate, but could hold a scene together. Arnold is another recognizable face; too often cast as the heavy in gangster films, he has a good deal of charm to go with his strength. Lukas tended to be restricted due to his accent, but he was a competent actor and here supplies grace and style. And Stuart is lovely, even if she does little besides scream and tremble.

Even with the multiple mysterious, Secret of the Blue Room plays fairer than most Old Dark House films, with a mystery that’s solvable and follows from what we’ve seen (perhaps a little too solvable). Surprisingly it doesn’t explain what happened in the past, but sticks with the current mystery(ies). While it earns its horror film credentials on its chilling aura alone, I suspect this will play better for modern mystery fans than horror fans.

Universal remade it twice, first adding wacky comedy for The Missing Guest (1938) and then musical numbers for Murder in the Blue Room (1944). I’ve only been able to find substandard video copies of Geheimnis des blauen Zimmers (1932), without subtitles, and my German is poor. It looks as if Secret of the Blue Room was a close remake with some scenes staged to match it.

Aug 091933
 
one reel

A maniac is killing people, and attaching news clipping to their bodies. Those news clipping must be an important plot point… Nope. Never mind. Anyway, the Maniac is of little interest to Professor Arthur Hornsby (George Meeker), who has discovered a secret formula which allows a person to survive in suspended animation. At his lab inside the Rinehart mansion, he prepares for his grand experiment: To be buried alive. Richard Rinhart (Tully Marsh) is supportive, but worried, particularly about Arthur keeping the formula to himself. His daughter, Mary Rinehart (Sally Blane), is engaged to Arthur, but is being pursued by extremely pushy and obnoxious reporter Tom Hartley (Wallace Ford), who is the hero for some reason. The household servants include Degar (Bela Lugosi), who is apparently some sort of South-Asian
maybe, and Seka (Mary Frey). who is maybe a gypsy, or an Indian
 It’s hard to say. She can go into trances and see the future, which is very upsetting to Degar for no reason that’s ever explained. Degar is also constantly acting mysteriously, I suppose because that’s what South-Asian Hungarians do. The Maniac drops by while Richard is sneaking around in the lab, and kills him. Unfortunately, the Maniac doesn’t kill either the somewhat annoying police, or the too annoying to live, and yet he does, reporter. Enter John Rinehart (Bryant Washburn), Richard’s greedy slimeball of a brother, and his bigoted wife, Sarah (Gertrude Michael). And there’s also a Black stereotype chauffer named Martin, who is only around to act cowardly. All of these folks stay in, or hang around, the old house, when four scientists show up to observe Arthur’s experiment.

At the end of the film, the Maniac addresses the audience, telling them not to reveal the identity of the killer. Yeah
 I don’t think anyone was going to bother. Granted, the actual mystery isn’t bad, but there’s less time spent with the mystery than with the cops acting like idiots and Tom doing the fast-talking, pushy reporter routine. While the rest of the cast, minus the chauffer, are in a horror mystery, they are in a comedy. And that’s where I get confused. Clearly they are intended to be funny, but they’ve never been given jokes. The police/reporter dialog is constructed from the leftovers of a weak comedy, after you’ve yanked the jokes. They seem to be setting up something
and then
nothing. It’s a cheap movie in every way, so expecting jokes was expecting too much.

The only reason to watch is Lugosi, who is charismatic, though his character seems to be randomly designed. Why does he violently want to stop the sĂ©ance? Who knows. Lugosi was given top billing, but he’s not the star. It’s one of several butler roles for which he was never suited. His name was put high on the poster to sell a few tickets, although if they considered him a draw, why not make him the lead? I can’t believe this script took more than an afternoon to write, so just write a new one.

Like for all Old Dark House films, the house is one of the characters, and in this one it isn’t very interesting. Maybe some rain would have helped. It’s got a secret passageway and tunnels, but as those don’t show up till the last 5 minutes, we’re left with a few reasonably ornate sets, shot from a limited number of angles. It isn’t interesting enough to make up for any of the film’s myriad flaws.

There’s no harm in watching Night of Terror, but there’s not much reason to either. It wasn’t available anywhere for 60+ years, so you can feel like you’re uncovering some lost treasure chest filled with wooden nickels. I give it a weak thumbs down. There are better Old Dark House mysteries, better mad doctor movies, and better Lugosi films.

 

Lugosi’s other horror films of the 1930s are Dracula (1931), Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932), White Zombie (1932), Island of Lost Souls (1932), The Black Cat (1934), Mark of the Vampire (1935), The Raven (1935), Phantom Ship (1935), The Invisible Ray (1936), The Gorilla (1939), The Dark Eyes of London (1939), Son of Frankenstein (1939).

Jul 281933
 
two reels

While Hunter Eric Gorman (Lionel Atwill) is on an expedition to bring back animals for a zoo, he tortures and murders a man who made a pass (or more) at his wife, Evelyn (Kathleen Burke). She seems to get a lot of attention from men, though it is not clear how much of that she seeks or returns. Gorman is possessive and jealous, though he seems to mostly blame the men
 Mostly. He delivers the animals, only to suffer, as we the viewers suffer, though the bizarre comedy relief of the zoo’s new alcoholic, incompetent, public relations man, Peter Yates (Charlie Ruggles). In between a whole lot more of Yates, there’s time for toxicologist Dr. Jack Woodford (Randolph Scott) and his fiancĂ©e Jerry Evans (Gail Patrick) to study the green mamba snake that Gorman has supplied. After some more Yates gags, Evelyn makes plans to run off with cocky Roger Hewitt (John Lodge), which means he’s next in Gorman’s sights.

Paramount Pictures was confused by horror. Sometimes it got luckily, as in Island of Lost Souls, sometimes it mutilated good material, as in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and sometimes it had no idea even what a horror film was, as in Supernatural (1933). With Murders in the Zoo, it did a bit of everything.

It’s starts wonderfully, with a chilling, sadistic scene: Gorman is sewing a man’s lips shut as he squirms, held down by two of Gorman’s aides. Gorman’s later offhand remarks about it (“He didn’t say a thing”) and that man’s death by tigers makes it all the more gruesome. Throughout the film, Atwill adds to this darkness, seeming to glow evil, while Burke displays an equal talent for portraying fear.

And then Charlie Ruggles shows up. He’s not in a horror picture, but a children’s movie. He mugs for the camera. He does double takes with googly eyes. He yelps and screams and jumps in fear. It’s embarrassing stuff, but I’ve seen worse from sidekicks in horror comedies of the era. Except besides him, this isn’t a horror comedy. And he isn’t a sidekick. He has no part in the story (Jack Woodford is our hero), but he’s got more screen time than anyone except Atwill, and Ruggles is top-billed. The film is just over an hour and all that wasted Ruggles time could have been spent developing the tension and the characters who count.

The film also has a weird view on the animals. Part of the problem comes with the times. That is, I can’t blame the film for showing how poorly they kept animals in 1930s zoos, though it reaches absurd proportions with their tiny, barren enclosures. The zoo would have also been shut down years ago from all the dead bodies as anyone can fall into the alligator pit or be clawed by a lion. But the real oddity is in how Murders in the Zoo wants us to think of the animals. It pauses early on so we can follow a kid watching them—because animals are strange. OK. That messes with the tone again, but Ruggles was about to kill the tone, so that’s not a big problem. What is a problem is that Yates is not only afraid of animals, but he dislikes them, and we, the viewer, are supposed to sympathize. He asks Gorman incredulously if he actually likes these creatures, and is taken aback by the answer that he does, and in fact, prefers them to many people. This is used as a sign of Gorman’s madness. Good people don’t like animals or care for them; the only one who ever takes care of an animal in the film is Gorman, who is genuinely concerned that a chimp has a cold. After the chimp scene, I was on Gorman’s side, and against Yates, and I’m sure that is not how the filmmakers wanted me to feel.

Similarly, I was quite ready for Lodge, to die, which I think comes from Roger Hewitt’s stiff, snobbish acting style. Paramount did well with Atwill, Burke, and Patrick, but the rest are miscast, though Randolph Scott was less of a detriment than usual since Woodford was supposed to appear distracted. Appearing not to care or notice what’s happening around him is a skill Scott had.

The ending is ridiculous (good advice for life: do not invite killers around to meet with you privately so you can accuse them) both in character and science. There’s a good movie here—perhaps a great one—but it is stirred in with failed comedy, poor acting, and silly plot turns, making it frustrating.

Attwill would make many horror films in the ’30s and ’40s, normally in supporting roles and often as the villain. Burke appeared as the panther woman in Island of Lost Souls the same year. Scott would unfortunately appear in Supernatural, doing an even poorer job. Lodge gave up acting, to no one’s dismay, and became a career politician.

May 111933
 
2.5 reels

ghosttrain33

A Joker pulls the emergency cord to stop the train in order to retrieve his hat that had flown out a window. This causes the train to arrive at the station late, and with no other trains coming until morning, stranding a group of passengers. Besides the Joker, the group include a newly Married Couple, a Cute Girl traveling with an Earnest Man, a teetotaling, Prissy Lady with a parrot, and a Doctor. They are warned by the Station Master that the station is haunted and that a ghost train comes by at night, and if they want to survive, they need to leave. They refuse, and the Station Master abandons them in fear of the ghosts. What follows is a string of spooky events, including a death and then the disappearance of the corpse, strange sounds and lights, the arrival of a crazed woman, and the passage of the ghost train itself.

ghosttrainplay

The Ghost Train was a very popular British play. Written by Arnold Ridley in 1923, it had a successful run and has seen numerous revivals. It was adapted for the screen in 1927 in a British-German coproduction, and like so many other Dark House movies, it was remade once sound was in place just a few years later, in 1931, this time just by the British. Next, in 1933, came two from the European continent, the Romanian Trenul fantomă and Hungarian KisĂ©rtetek Vonata. The French Un Train Dans La Nuit was released in 1934, but that one will get no more discussion here as no prints are known to survive. In 1939 the Dutch joined in with De Spooktrein. And finally the Brits took it back in 1941. There have been four more official versions since then, and a number more that “borrowed” from it, but I’ll stick with the years from ’31 to ‘41.

It’s surprising how much alike the five surviving films are. The basic plot is exactly the same, with all the same major events occurring in the same order, and with few changes to even the minor ones. While the character names change (I’ll use descriptive names for each), their personalities shift only a bit. Footage is even shared between three of them, and the 1941 version had the same director as the 1931, so perhaps it isn’t that surprising.

The Ghost Train is an Old Dark House story transplanted to a railway station. The characters are properly quirky, there’s a dead body and strange lights and talk of ghosts, plenty of comic relief, and an eerie atmosphere. The story line is entertaining enough, and certainly has been popular. The characters are not complex or deeply developed, but rather were intended to represent a cross section of British society in the 1920s, thus supplying a bit of commentary while also being easy to identify. Everything is here for a thoroughly entertaining film. However, a few flaws are inherent to the structure that have been magnified in different productions. The story is good, but it’s brief, at least as executed in all five films (I’ve never seen the play and am curious how it fills nearly two hours). There’s approximately an hour’s worth of material. When an adaptation gets much over that, it drags. As the story was written for the stage, there’s a tendency to replicate that a bit too closely. I’m not a fan of opening up a film for no purpose when made into a movie, but most of these renditions could be converted back into a stage play without making any changes. A few more locations or some clever manipulation of the camera to better tell the tale would be nice. But inventive cinematography is not in abundance. Also, the Joker is supposed to be annoying to the other passengers, but he can easily become annoying to the audience. And if the film features him as the lead instead of part of the ensemble, as several do, he can become downright unpleasant.

How do the individual adaptations fare?
Trenul
Trenul fantomă and KisĂ©rtetek Vonata can be reviewed together. Just as Hollywood used to film the same feature in multiple languages for release in different countries (for example, Dracula and DrĂĄcula from 1931), these were shot together, one for Romania and one for Hungry. They use the same sets, have the same style and pacing, and both use the same exterior shots, taken from the 1931 British version. However, they had different cast and crew, and of course, different languages. Both are short, one at 64 minutes and the other at 71. I can’t find reliable information on the original lengths of either film, but neither seem to be cut. The major difference between them is that while both add a song performed by the Joker and Cute Girl to entertain the others, Trenul fantomă adds another early in film that feels out of place and stops the film dead. Outside of that, these are well paced compared to the ’31 version. They also tone down the Joker, making him only a little irritating. Since he and the Cute Girl are clearly the stars, the others get short shrift. This is partly mitigated for The Couple, who are made more affectionate, thus giving them something to do, which is kissing and fawning over each other.

These are low budget films—not surprising with the reuse of footage—and it shows with static shots, uninspiring sets, and drab lighting. There’s little movement even in the main room, and people rarely leave it. But superior pacing beats out the lack of funds, making these enjoyable renditions. And there’s little to choose between them. Without seeing them side by side I wouldn’t be able to tell the lead actors apart. I give KisĂ©rtetek Vonata the edge, partly for the lack of the early song, but more for Marika Rökk as the Cute Girl, in these versions named Mary. A star of German musicals, she’s electric: sexy, intense, and funny. She’s the only actress in all five films who stands out in the part.

May 071933
 
three reels

Newly elected President Judson Hammond (Walter Huston) is a typical weak and corrupt politician of the early 1930s. He has no plans to do anything, just like his predecessor, so the depression will continue and crime will run rampant. Working for him is his non-corrupt secretary, Beekman (Franchot Tone) and his mistress, Pendola (Karen Morley). Everything changes when Hammond has an automobile accident. Instead of dying as his doctor’s predict, he recovers after seeing a glow that Pendola later identifies as the angel Gabriel. He awakes a changed man, possessed by the angel. Now upright and good, he sets out to solve the problems of the country by declaring martial law, killing and threatening those in his way, and generally becoming a benevolent dictator.

Gabriel Over the White House is an artifact of a specific time, of the Great Depression when people were willing to trade away freedom for food. When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. Despair gave rise to fascism in Europe, and this film suggested the same for the United States, and people listened. Luckily things didn’t turn out that way, and within a few years the events in Europe gave fascism a bad taste and this movie was buried for years.

The political weirdness comes from competing horrendous views. Mainly it was from the hand of newspaper oligarch and the film’s financier, William Randolph Hearst, but he had an assist from studio mogul Louis B. Mayer. Hearst, a pestilence upon the nation, was a fan of authoritarianism. He also opposed the Republican administration. Mayer supported the Hoover administration, which took the view that the evils of the country could be repaired by doing little except helping their wealthy friends and letting “lesser” people—the poor, Blacks, malcontents, etc.—die off so that the “worthwhile people—that is, the rich—could continue unburdened. Hearst countered that foul view with the notion of a benevolent dictatorship that could do whatever was needed. FDR wasn’t his candidate of choice, but he hoped that Roosevelt could become what he wanted, and this film was meant to support him. Hearst was later disappointed and became a fierce opponent of FDR. Mayer, who was friends with Herbert Hoover, fought to delay the film, and succeeded to keep it off screens until the election was lost.

What we have here is a propaganda film in support of dictatorship. The film paints the evils of the Republican right not coming from any ideology, but from corruption and weakness. Well, it isn’t as if they didn’t have examples to work with. President Hammond is modeled after Warren G. Harding at the beginning of the film—surrounding himself with his cronies, making appointments purely for gain, and keeping a mistress. The plan to use the military to stop a protest march in the film is a reflection of Hoover’s use of the military to murder protesting veterans. Yes, Hoover did that.

The film’s answer is for the president to shut down congress, create his own personal police force, and replace courts with military tribunals. And all of this is celebrated. Forget the Constitution. Hammond does as he ignores not only the division of powers, but the 18th Amendments as he opens government liquor stores to compete with the mob’s bootleggers. Hammond blames much of the US’s economic problems on Europeans not paying their war debts (a concern in 1930). The answer is to threaten these effete foreigners with war. After all, if you are right and act tough, then other countries will fall in line, right? 
right?

The imagery is shocking when you think that this wasn’t a joke. After the gangster are convicted in a kangaroo court, complete with statements from the “judge” about an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, they are taken out and shot by firing squad with the statue of liberty in the background. Liberty is all about eliminating troublemakers…

Gabriel Over the White House is directed well. It looks good and we get some interesting camera work (such as in the scene where there is a drive-by shooting of the White House—yes, there’s a drive-by shooting of the White House). Huston is as good as anyone could be in the role of fascist savior. Both Tone and Morley are amiable, which is handy as it is hard to like the guy running a star chamber and dressed as a secret policeman.

This is an interesting look at the past. I hope we’ve learned enough to see that the answers suggested in Gabriel Over the White House are dangerous.

 Fantasy, Reviews Tagged with:
Feb 161933
 
one reel
cryingwoman1933

After a man dies at night from the cry of a woman, Don Fernando (Paco MartĂ­nez) tells his nephew Dr. Ricardo de Acuna (RamĂłn Pereda) of the great danger his child is in. All the first born sons of the family die when they are four years old. He claims this is due to a curse placed on the family when their ancestor refused to acknowledge his mistress and child, resulting in her killing herself and the boy. A hidden book connects the curse to an indigenous princess in the time of the conquistadors, who swears vengeance after her son is stolen by the Spanish.

The folktale of La Llorona is well known in Central America. An indigenous woman is taken as a lover by an upper-class Spaniard, and then abandoned. In rage and grief, she murders her children and wastes away, becoming a white-clad, weeping woman, wandering the night killing children, or in some versions, killing anyone who she meets. The legend deserves a better film.

The strange treatment of La Llorona doesn’t help. We are shown two separate ghosts, but neither, in ghostly form, play any role in the “main” story. One kills an unknown man at the beginning, but otherwise the curse is carried out by cultists (or the descendants of the princess’s loyal servants if you prefer), one of whom is apparently possessed. Why not stick with the ghost?

The doctor’s behavior is also ridiculous. Sure, I’m with him in discounting a supernatural answer, but if every single first born of my family had died at age 4, then I’d come up with something better than “hey, it’s a big family and tragedies happen. ” This guy’s in deep denial.

Then there is the house, which is so filled with wide hidden passageways and huge secret room, that either the film needed to have been shot in an expressionistic style, or it should have been a comedy.

But the larger problem is that no one involved had the skill to make a movie. Clearly the scriptwriter and set designer were in over their heads, but no more so than the actors, who seem to think they are in a soap opera. And they excel next to the camera man – although I suspect money was the problem there. Even if everything else had been passable, The Crying Woman dies in editing. It is slow, sometimes bizarrely so. Excessive time is spent showing children sitting at a birthday party and focusing on the priest at a wedding, while the horror aspects are rushed. Every scene is poorly edited. The entire film is 73 minute film, yet it uses 27 minutes of that for the first flashback and another 7 for the second, leaving very little time for the modern story or the “main” characters.

Neither creepy nor interesting, The Crying Woman is just boring and sad.

Dec 221932
 
two reels

Young lovers Madeline Short (Madge Bellamy) and Neil Parker (John Harron) arrive in Haiti for their wedding, arranged by wealthy plantation owner Charles Beaumont (Robert Frazer). But Beaumont isn’t being helpful. He’s obsessed with Madeline and wants to steal her away. Failing to win her over with his charm, he settles on the mystical route of Murder Legendre (Bela Lugosi), who has the ability to convert humans into zombies.

The first zombie movie, White Zombie sits at the crossroads between talkies and silent pictures. The acting is stylized—flamboyant with a combination of stillness and wild waving about. There are pauses that would make William Shatner blush. The cinematography is simple, creating beautiful moments, but has little flow. The often static camera doesn’t help. The soundtrack is too quiet, with many pauses, but also with sudden bursts. Frankenstein seems as vital as it did in 1931; White Zombie is stogy and dated.

But those moments are enough: The tour of the mill, with the zombies mindlessly walking in circles; The zombies carrying the coffin; The enchanted Madeline having her hair combed, standing on the balcony of the castle, and descending the stairs. Together they may not do much, but separately, they are art.

The story starts solidly, and as long as you like your horror with a dose of melodramatic romance, isn’t too silly, but the ending is anticlimactic. The film is more about tone, and in that it is generally successful, as long as we are keeping to Lugosi and the zombies. The scenes with Parker and the priest are less successful and feel like they were pulled from a kids adventure serial.

In the hands of a more imaginative director, or with a plan to go more stylized into a near dream, perhaps White Zombie could have been the classic it was claimed to be when it was thought lost. If you are at all interested in cinema history, you need to see it. But for enjoyment, I suggest putting an animated gif of Madeline on the balcony in a video picture frame and choosing a more dynamic film to watch.

Nov 281932
 
two reels
Unheimliche-geschichten-1932

Zealous reporter Frank Briggs (Harald Paulsen) hears a scream while driving down a road, and hops out to investigate, going to the house of inventor Mörder (Paul Wegener) who had just murdered his wife. This begins a chase that has the two passing through events from Edgar Allan Poe’s The Black Cat and The System of Dr. Tarr and Prof. Fether, and Robert Lewis Stevenson’s The Suicide Club.

Eerie Tales, also known in the US as The Living Dead for no damn reason, is a follow-up/semi-remake of director Richard Oswald’s silent film of the same name. Both are anthology films, the first with five tales, including two in this movie, The Black Cat and The Suicide Club. But what binds the stories together is new. Oswald doesn’t just reuse actors for each segment, as is common with these sorts of movies, but connects them into one narrative by inserting his two main characters into each part. It’s ingenious, and I wonder why it hasn’t been done more often. However, some of the stitching is rough and in several cases poor choices were made in the roles these two played in the stories. It’s a great idea, with mediocre execution.

Paul Wegener is a force on screen. Best known as the Golem in three silent pictures, he conveys his entire character with a few facial expressions. Mörder is filled with anger, fear, hate, and desire and I could feel it all. He gobbles up the screen and I was completely absorbed by him. When he was missing from a scene, I was just waiting for him to come back..

Harald Paulsen, on the other hand, is an emotional void. He brings nothing to the part, which is doubly unfortunate as the part supplies nothing on its own. He’s a reporter, and reporting is really important to him. And that’s all we know. Is he heroic? Is he brave or a coward? Is he intelligent, dim, kind, vicious, humble, proud? Is he even, in the broadest terms, the good guy? I’ve no idea. He’s nothing. That wouldn’t be a problem if he was just a shadow, always in the background chasing our villain, as he probably should have been, but he gets more screen time than Wagener. He’s there, lapping up frames, stretching out scenes, and giving nothing.

There was a lot of potential here, and occasionally, with Wegener and with the darkly comical inmates of the asylum, it comes close. Over all, Eerie Tales is a disappointment.

Oct 091932
 
two reels

David Gray, a man obsessed by the occult and no longer able to distinguish reality from fantasy, is awakened by a strange man who has entered his room. The man, who turns out to be the lord of a nearby manor house, is panicked about death, and leaves a book about vampirism. Later, Gray goes to the manor, finding the man mortally wounded, and determines that a vampire is at work and is after the lord’s daughter.

Released the year after Dracula and Frankenstein, but looking like it was made ten years before them, Vampyr is only technically a talkie. Filmed as a silent movie, the few lines of dialog were put in during post production and most serve no purpose. The story, what there is of it, is advanced through the used of intertitles (those cards that pop up between shots in silent films). Sometimes, they relate the text of the vampire book David Gray is given, while at others, they give information which should have been shot (one states that Gray walked across the park; as this is a movie, walking across the park is the sort of thing I’d expect to see, not read).

Writer-producer-director Carl Theodor Dreyer didn’t care about story, or about character, but was going for a mood. Events occur, then other events occur, with little connection between them. At times, he succeeds in creating a beautiful gothic world, particularly in an early shot when a man with a scythe rings a bell for a boatman to take him across the river. Shadows that move on their own, and a sequence where Gray, locked in a coffin with a glass window, rides in the back of a cart, effectively create an eerie atmosphere. But Dryer can’t keep the mood going. With nothing building on previous events, nothing matters and time just passes.

While initially a failure, Vampyr has caught on with critics who have always loved to discount horror except when it can somehow be classified as something else. In this case, they classify it as “a surreal dream.” As a dream, they can ignore the standards usually used in evaluating a film. And as a work of surrealism, it can be valued artistically above the monster films meant for the masses.

While overvalued by critics, is it worth seeing? Yes, but just barely. As a movie, it fails in almost every way, with stiff acting (the performers weren’t professionals) joining the lack of a coherent story and the failure of consistent mood. But it does have the occasional image that will stay with you. Those images would be moving still photographs. Too bad that isn’t the way Dreyer presented them.

The surviving prints of Vampyr are in terrible shape. The English dubbed versions are all lost (Dreyer dubbed the film in three languages; as the lines were added in postproduction, there was no original language). The cuts that exist are scratched and filled with static. The English subtitles, which only show up for half of the dialog, take up a substantial portion of the screen and are written in an ornate font that pops up with a black background. Whatever tone the film has established is destroyed whenever they appear.