QUEEN OF SPADES

Thorold Dickinson, 1949

Starring: Anton Walbrook, Edith Evans, Yvonne Mitchell

Based on a story by Alexander Pushkin and set in 19th century St. Petersburg, Queen of Spades concerns a down on his luck Russian soldier, Captain Suvorin, who is determined to improve his lot in life, but cannot without the necessary finances or political connections for a promotion. After reading a book on the occult, he believes that a local aristocrat, Countess Ranevskaya, has sold her soul to the Devil in order to win a vast fortune gambling. Determined to discover the Countess’s secrets, Suvorin learns she has a niece, Lizaveta, who she treats as a maid. He woos Lizaveta in order to get into the Countess’s home, even though another honest, aristocratic solider is actually in love with her. Suvorin makes his way into the house, but before he can pry the Countess’s secrets from her, she dies. He admits his plan to Lizaveta, whose heart is broken. But the Countess’s death is not the last Suvorin will hear from her.

Queen of Spades made somewhat of a comeback in recent years, but it’s incredible to believe that this film has been neglected for so long. It’s easily one of the best British films of the ‘40s and deserves to have a much wider audience. Though it was well received at the time of its release, it never really made its way to the US and has languished in obscurity over the years, though it should be mentioned in the same breath as Gothic films like Rebecca, Jane Eyre, and Gaslight.

Though this is more of a historical melodrama, there are a number of horror tropes, such as secret passages, ghosts, and occult tomes, and the story is fairly lurid. The Countess sold her soul in order to save her reputation; she had an affair with a member of her husband’s regiment and would have been ruined both socially and financially if her husband had found out. It is intimated that this affair was not the first and the Countess used a secret chamber in the house to indiscriminately sneak lovers into her bedroom, but the money she makes gambling ultimately protects her from these indiscretions. 

The impressive cinematography from Otto Heller -- who also worked on the even more impressive Peeping Tom -- is stark, textured, and certainly one of the film’s strong points. There are sounds and images layered on top of one another, perhaps influenced by Citizen Kane, such as a wonderful scene where Lizaveta lays on her bed and reads Suvorin’s deceptive love letters and the camera looks at her through a spiderweb. Images are reflected in mirrors and windows and the characters are regularly framed next to dramatic portraits and statues. 

In addition the memorable visuals, the performances are all wonderful. Stage actress Edith Evans is great as the Countess and the lovely Yvonne Mitchell (Demons of the Mind) is sympathetic as Lizaveta in her first film role. Ronald Howard (Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb and son of renowned British actor Leslie Howard) is likable as Andrei, Lizaveta’s quiet, earnest, and concerned savior, and fortunately does not overdo his portrayal as the romantic hero. Keep an eye out for Anthony Dawson (Dial M for Murder, Dr. No), who has a small, but memorable role as the Countess’s grandson.

This is -- swoon -- absolutely Anton Walbrook’s (The Red Shoes) film. He has such a commanding presence that the scenes without him pale in comparison. Though Suvorin is unlikable and there is almost something perverse about him, Walbrook makes him compelling and charismatic, and he is undoubtedly one of the decade's best Byronic villains. He runs the full range from charming to mad and malevolent to pathetic and his performance here is a good example of the wide range of his talent. It is easy to believe how the impressionable, naive Lizaveta could have fallen in love with Suvorin, despite the fact that she knew nothing about him. Walbrook and highly underrated director Thorold Dickinson had previously worked together on the first version of Gaslight (1940) -- not to be confused with the enjoyable American remake with Ingrid Bergman -- which also comes recommended.

Walbrook was in roughly 50 films throughout his career, but he should have been in a lot more. Seriously, look at this profile. His picture should be in the dictionary next to the word "smoldering," as he fits both definitions.

Queen of Spades is a great film and only suffers from a few minor flaws. There are a few slow moments (mostly those without Walbrook) and overall I wish more time had been spent on the Faustian, supernatural plot rather than the melodramatic love story -- an issue with a lot of the Gothic melodrama-horror film mashups produced during the '40s. There are two scenes with singing and dancing, one set in a gambling hall and another during a ball, and though these look great, they feel as though they are only there to pad out the running time. 

Queen of Spades comes highly recommended. It’s on DVD with another underrated British horror film from the same period, Dead of Night, or on a superior region 2 disc from Studio Canal. You can also find it various places streaming online. It's definitely an appropriate choice for the Halloween season.

DEAD OF NIGHT (1945)

Alberto Cavalcanti, Charles Crichton, Basil Deardon, Robert Hamer, 1945

Starring: Michael Redgrave, Mervyn Johns, Frederick Valk, Roland Culver

One of the first horror anthology films, Dead of Night inspired a decade of beloved horror anthology films from Britain, such as Tales From the Crypt, Vault of Horror, and The House That Dripped Blood, as well as later American films like Creepshow and the Tales from the Crypt TV series. Though it may seem dated to some horror fans, it is certainly one of the most enjoyable entries in this subgenre, though I’m undoubtedly biased as I love horror anthology films and television shows. 

Made by Ealing Studios, who were primarily known for their comedies, Dead of Night was the first true horror film produced in Britain after the anti-genre boycott in place during WWII. Ealing used a handful of their regular directors, writers, and cinematographers to weave together five horror tales within one central framing narrative. Brazilian director Alberto Cavalcanti (Nicholas Nickleby) was responsible for segments "Christmas Party" and "The Ventriloquist's Dummy," Charles Crichton (A Fish Called Wanda) made the comedic “Golfing Story,” Robert Hamer (Kind Hearts and Coronets) directed “The Haunted Mirror,” and Basil Dearden (The Captive Hearts, Khartoum) was responsible for the opening story, “Hearse Driver,” and the rest of the framing story. 

An architect, Mr. Craig, arrives at a cottage in the English countryside and meets a room full of other people. He tells them that he has been having reoccurring dreams about all of them. The other guests encourage him to tell his story. They tell supernatural themed tales and treat the whole thing as a game -- all except the serious and rational Dr. Van Straaton, a psychiatrist, though he eventually has a story to tell. 

The first story, “Hearse Driver,” is abut a race car drive involved in a crash. While recuperating in the hospital, he sees a hearse pull up outside. The driver tells him, “Room for one more inside, sir.” Later, after he is out of the hospital, he prepares to get on a bus, but the bus driver tells him the same thing. Spooked, he misses the bus, which crashes moments later. This is based on E.F. Benson’s story “The Bus Conductor” and was adapted several times, namely for a Twilight Zone episode. Though this opening tale sets the tone, it is unfortunately the dullest entry.

“Christmas Party,” the second story, is told by the young Sally. It concerns a holiday party she attended with a number of other children. During a game of hide and seek she got lost and came across an upset little boy, who she consoled and put to bed. It turns out that the boy was a ghost, killed years earlier by his insane sister. This is a fairly utilitarian story, but is well told and entertaining. Based on a real life murder case, where 16-year-old Constance Kent brutally murdered her younger brother Frances in 1860, the same story also allegedly inspired Wilkie Collins’ novel The Moonstone, an early British horror classic.

The third, “The Haunted Mirror,” is one of the two best. A woman buys her fiancé a mirror that turns out to be haunted. At first, he begins to see a Victorian style room behind him every time he looks in the mirror. Soon he falls ill and becomes paranoid that she is having an affair. It turns out the mirror was last owned by a paralyzed man who killed his wife when he thought she was cheating on him. A similar plot was used in the Amicus anthology film From Beyond the Grave (1974).

The fourth entry is the comical “Golfing Story,” about two men fighting over the same woman. During a golfing game, they compete to the death for the woman they love and the loser is forced to commit suicide. He winds up coming back as a ghost and following his friend around, very much like An American Werewolf in London. This is a delightful story, though it feels a little out of place, and stars comic team Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne, who essentially played the same characters in The Lady Vanishes and other films throughout the ‘40s. 

Finally there is the excellent “The Ventriloquist’s Dummy,” the most famous segment of the film, which stars Michael Redgrave as a man accused of murder. His secret is that his dummy, Hugo, has a mind of its own. A version of this tale has been filmed many times since -- for everything from Buffy the Vampire Slayer to The Twilight Zone, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Knock on Wood (1954), and Magic (1978) -- and the ending will not come as a surprise to modern viewers, but it is still effectively creepy. Redgrave, as always, is fantastic and I wish he had been in more genre films. There is a wonderful twist ending that implies Craig will never be able to leave his nightmare, something borrowed for later horror anthology films.

Overall, this comes highly recommended. It’s biggest flaw is that what was clever and horrifying in 1945 has been done to death since then, so there won’t be a lot of surprises for well versed genre fans. There is a two disc, restored version from Anchor Bay, which also includes another British horror film from this period, Queen of Spades (1949). It is sadly out of print, but if you search hard enough online, you will definitely be able to find it. Strangely, this was Ealing Studios only major contribution to the horror genre, but it's one of the strongest genre films of the '40s and represents a solid start for British horror cinema. Watch it on a dark and stormy night, or, as in the British tradition, at Christmas time. 

THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE (1946)

Robert Siodmak, 1946

Starring: Dorothy McGuire, George Brent, Ethel Barrymore, Elsa Lanchester

One stormy night, a young mute woman, Helen, is in danger when a serial killer begins targeting handicapped women in her neighborhood. She works as a companion to the sick, elderly Mrs. Warren, a proud but kind woman, who wants Helen to flee the house as soon as possible. Mrs. Warren doesn’t trust anyone in the house, which includes a number of servants and her two stepsons, Albert, a stern professor, and Steve, a playboy visiting from Europe. Dr. Parry, the new local doctor, has fallen in love with Helen and wants to take her to Boston for psychiatric treatment to help her regain her voice. Can he get her out of the house in time? Unfortunately a storm moves in and Parry is called away to help a sick boy and Helen is left on her own, with no one to hear her scream...

Based on Ethel Lina White’s novel Some Must Watch, The Spiral Staircase benefits from a number of strong female performances. Though she doesn’t speak, Dorothy McGuire (A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Old Yeller) is likable as Helen and though she is overshadowed by some of the other actresses, this fits perfectly with Helen’s character. Helen’s impairment, muteness, is a perfect ingredient for a horror film and helps to emphasize the film’s sordid underbelly. She is unable to speak because of past trauma, further linking her with the numerous characters who have questionable pasts or worrisome secrets. The indomitable Ethel Barrymore has maybe three or four scenes, but completely owns the film, including the surprising ending, though Elsa Lanchester is also quite good as the drunk Mrs. Oates. 

Unfortunately most of the male characters are forgettable. George Brent (The Painted Veil) is decent as Professor Warren and Gordon Oliver (West of Shanghai) is likable as Steven, though he could use a little more screen time. Dr. Parry might look familiar to fans of classic horror. He is played by the reliable Kent Smith, who co-starred in Cat People and Curse of the Cat People. There are actually a number of familiar faces from classic horror. Elsa Lanchester (The Bride of Frankenstein) is the kind, but alcoholic housekeeper and Rhys Williams (The Son of Dr. Jekyll) plays her husband, the handyman. Sara Allgood from The Lodger (1944) is the tyrannical nurse. 

Director Robert Siodmak made a number of horror films, including Son of Dracula and ridiculous cult favorite Cobra Woman, though The Spiral Staircase is his finest. It's not outright a horror film and also has plenty of film noir elements. He was also known for noir films, such as the classic The Killers, as well as Phantom Lady, The Dark Mirror, and beloved adventure film, The Crimson Pirate, starring Burt Lancaster. There is certainly a noir flavor here and the film also borrows from Hitchcock’s early suspense films. 

There is the constant air of dread, anxiety, and suspense, which kicks off with the murder of a woman in her hotel room. Surprisingly effective and scary, the woman does not know that a killer awaits in her closet and all we see is his maniacal eyeball before he strikes. She is killed while a number of people, including Helen, are below watching a silent film. After this Helen walks home in the beginning of a thunderstorm, though she briefly gets a ride from Dr. Parry. She has to make her way through a sinister looking forest and in the background, someone in a shiny, black raincoat watches her, prefiguring at least one giallo stereotype. Later, the film also introduces a killer with black gloved hands. 

There were a number of ‘40s films that turned the home into a place of murder and violence, namely for women. Gaslight, and Hitchcock’s Rebecca and Shadow of a Doubt are two key examples and The Spiral Staircase is certainly in the same tradition. The enormous house is almost a character in itself, with plenty of shadowy corners and foreboding places, including the labyrinthine basement and titular staircase. Nicholas Musuraca’s (Cat People) incredibly beautiful cinematography emphasizes its threatening and claustrophobic elements. Though the house is creepy enough on its own, the ever present storm adds a certain tension and expectation that bad things are about to happen at any moment.

The Spiral Staircase comes highly recommended and is available on DVD from Anchor Bay. It is a simple, direct film that may move a little slowly for modern horror fans, but the suspense is expertly built and the film refuses to overplay its hand. Avoid the two lousy remakes at all costs. 

THE WOMAN WHO CAME BACK

Walter Comes, 1945

Starring: Nancy Kelly, John Loder, Otto Kruger

Lorna Webster is returning to Eden Rock, Massachusetts after being away for a few years. During her bus ride there, a strange old woman wearing an odd black veil sits next to her. The woman claims to be Jezebel Trister, a witch burned at the stake in Eden Rock 300 years prior. There is a bus accident and Lorna is the only survivor, but comes to believe that she has been possessed by Jezebel. 

Her former fiancé, Dr. Matt Adams, is the only person in Eden Rock who is happy to see her and becomes actively engaged in her recovery. During this process they their rekindle their relationship. Lorna becomes obsessed with Jezebel and begins to see the old woman’s face in mirrors around her house. A number of strange things happen, such as flowers immediately dying when Lorna touches them, and she finds Jezebel’s confession in the church basement that confirms the witch’s supposed three hundred year pact with the Devil. 

The townsfolk are obviously unhappy to see her and become superstitious, if not outright hysterical. They believe she is involved in the illness of a child, Matt’s niece Peggy, after the girl tried to take shelter at Lorna’s home during a storm. The villagers come to believe she really is possessed and a strange, black dog begins to follow her everywhere. Will Lorna succumb to Jezebel Trister’s evil destiny?

Made by one of the many poverty row studios operating at the time, Republic Pictures, The Woman Who Came Back is a subtle and compelling film that borrows much from Val Lewton’s horror production for RKO during the same period, such as Cat People and The Leopard Man. There’s also a dash of Carl Dreyer’s excellent witchcraft hysteria film, Day of Wrath, thrown in for good measure. Though this is undeniably a cheap production and suffers from a number of plot issues, it is an interesting experiment in the supernatural, suspicion, and hysteria. 

There are a lot of welcome genre tropes, such as Lorna’s creepy old house, dying flowers, the black dog that follows her, old books on witchcraft, some stormy nights, and threatening shadows at every turn. Director Walter Colmes opens and closes with some nice Halloween scenes, making this a perfect film to watch for the upcoming Halloween season. Nancy Kelly (The Bad Seed) is likable as Lorna and doesn’t succumb to full on hysteria until the end of the film, helping with the understated tone. John Loder (The Private Lives of Henry VIII) is decent as her determined and rational fiancé. Otto Kruger (Dracula’s Daughter, Another Thin Man, Saboteur) is great as the town’s reverend, seemingly the only levelheaded person in the film, and it’s a shame he wasn’t given more screen time. 

This is not a perfect film and I can’t say it’s a must watch, but anyone who enjoys classic horror will like it. There are a number of flaws in the script, namely the fact that a few things go unresolved. Why did Lorna leave Matt (and town) years earlier? Why does she hide the child’s doll? The film could take a few things a bit further, particularly where Lorna’s ancestor and Jezebel’s black dog are concerned, but shies away from these particularly during the second half of the film. 

The ending is rushed and hastily slaps a rational explanation onto the proceedings, which sort of ruins the wonderful build up and strange events that have been occurring throughout the film. Still, it is worth watching at least once. There is an out of print Image DVD, plus the film is streaming on Amazon, Hulu, and YouTube.

AND THEN THERE WERE NONE (1945)

René Clair, 1945

Starring: Barry Fitzgerald, Walter Huston, C. Aubrey Smith, Louis Hayward

Eight strangers are invited to an island off the English coast to spend the weekend at the mansion of Mr. Owen. None of them know their host, but they are greeted by two servants who were hired solely for the weekend. During dinner their host fails to arrive, but one of the servants puts on a record where a man's voice, presumably Owen, accuses each of them of murder. General Mandrake is accused of sending his wife’s lover to his death, a woman named Emily is accused of causing her young nephew’s suicide, Dr. Armstrong is accused of accidentally killing a patient while drunk, Russian Prince Starloff is accused of killing a couple in a hit and run car accident, etc. Even the two servants, a married couple, are accused of murdering their former employer. Mr. Rogers, one of the two servants, reveals that his instructions were signed by U.N. Owen, which they realize means “unknown.”

They want to leave, but as the boat from the mainland won’t return till Monday, they are stranded. Prince Starloff is the first to die. When he admits to killing the couple, he is immediately poisoned to death by a drink. On the table sits a centerpiece of ten Indian figurines and one disappears as each of the ten guests are gradually killed. Will they find out who their accuser is in time for some of them to survive the weekend? And are all of them really guilty of murder?

Based on Agatha Christie’s very popular novel Ten Little Indians, And Then There Were None is not really a horror film, but is a gripping murder mystery that borrows from the old dark house subgenre and includes a number of genre tropes. French director René Clair (Le Million, À nous la liberté, I Married a Witch) puts his expertise to work here and the film is beautifully shot, well paced, and full of suspense and dark comedy. The characters are mostly unlikable, or at best morally ambiguous, but it is impossible not to sympathize with the group desire to stay alive. 

There are also a number of solid performances. Though there are admittedly a lot of characters and it’s difficult to keep them straight at first, the script succeeds in giving every character at least one defining scene. Character actor C. Aubrey Smith (Rebecca, Another Thin Man, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) particularly shines as the uptight General Mandrake and Russian actor Mischa Auer (You Can’t Take It With You, Mr. Arkadin) is over the top as the drunk Price Starloff. Dame Judith Anderson (Laura, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof), Walter Huston (The Devil and Daniel Webster and grandfather of Angelica Huston), and Barry Fitzgerald (Bringing Up Baby, The Naked City) all also brighten up the proceedings significantly. 

There are some changes from the novel, mostly because some of Christie’s plot was a bit racier than the Hays Code would allow and included themes like teen pregnancy. The ending is also different, which is a shame, because the ending of the novel is much darker. But I will leave it up to you to read it and figure that out, as the end result is basically the same. Another important change worth mentioning is the name of the novel. Christie’s book was first published as Ten Little Niggers, which was soon after considered offensive enough that it was changed to Ten Little Indians. The film’s title is a line from the disturbing poem, which I’m reprinting here simply because I enjoy how morbid it is.

Ten little Indian boys went out to dine;

One choked his little self and then there were nine.

Nine little Indian boys sat up very late;

One overslept himself and then there were eight.

Eight little Indian boys traveling in Devon;

One said he’d stay there and then there were seven.

Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks;

One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.

Six little Indian boys playing with a hive;

A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.

Five little Indian boys going in for law,

One got in Chancery and then there were four.

Four little Indian boys going out to sea;

A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.

Three little Indian boys walking in the Zoo;

A big bear hugged one and then there were two.

Two little Indian boys sitting in the sun;

On got frizzled up and then there was one.

One little Indian boy left all alone;

He went and hanged himself and then there were none.

Some of the deaths stick to the poem, but there are a few surprises. The film is available on Blu-ray and a number of very cheap DVD releases, because 20th Century Fox allowed the rights to lapse and the film fell into the public domain. Hopefully someone will do a properly restored print with some special features eventually. Fans of mystery and early classic horror will want to seek this out, as it is a ton of fun and plenty of horror films (including John Carpenter’s The Thing) borrow liberally from it. This comes highly recommended and is one of my primary comfort films. Anyone who loves Clue will also want to check out the source material, 80% of which is lifted from And Then There Were None.

HANGOVER SQUARE

John Brahm, 1945

Starring: Laird Cregar, Linda Darnell, George Sanders

George Bone, a London composer, fears he may be a murderer when he has periods of blackout and does not remember his activities. He solicits the help of a Scotland Yard doctor, Dr. Middleton, who keeps an eye on him along with Barbara, the pianist daughter of his mentor, Lord Henry. Meanwhile, he falls in love with Netta, a cabaret singer who thinks she could become famous after selling a song he wrote for her on a lark. But Netta is merely using and manipulating Bone and has fallen in love with a rich and handsome promoter. When it is revealed that she is marrying the promoter, Bone has another black out and strangles Netta. Will the police discover what he has done? Will he remember?

The atmosphere is wonderful, full of cobblestone streets drenched with fog, a Victorian setting, and enough shadows and sharp angles to make many critics consider this to be a noir film. While there are some noir elements, the femme fatale for instance, this is unmistakably a horror film with some deep German expressionist influences. Actors Laird Cregar and George Sands, German director John Brahm, and screenwriter Barre Lyndon also worked together on the equally excellent remake of Hitchcock’s The Lodger (1944), which bears many themes in common with Hangover Square. As with The Lodger, the script is quite simple and centers around a troubled man killing women.

But unlike other horror films and serial killer-themed suspense films from the period, in both The Lodger and Hangover Square, Cregar’s character is likable or at least wholly sympathetic and we suffer with him throughout the films. In both, Cregar (I Wake Up Screaming, Heaven Can Wait) is the pillar on which this film rests and it is tragic that he passed away before Hangover Square was even released. Known for being a large man (over six feet tall and often over 300 pounds), Cregar was depressed about constantly playing villains and went on a crash diet to be in Hangover Square. This contributed to his early death of a heart attack at 28. 

There are also appearances from Alan Napier (Marnie, Batman TV series) as Bone’s mentor and the great George Sanders (Rebecca) as the Scotland Yard doctor who tries to help Bone, though he doesn’t have quite as much to do here as in The Lodger. Linda Darnell (Unfaithfully Yours) is good as Netta, but suffers from having a thoroughly unlikable and duplicitous character.

There is a wonderful score from Berman Herrmann, one of his finest, that allegedly influenced Stephen Sondheim on Sweeney Todd. Herrmann regularly worked with Hitchcock and composed some of his finest work for the great director. There are a number of Hitchcock connections with Hangover Square. Cinematographer Joseph LaShelle also worked with Hitch on Alfred Hitchcock Presents and Brahms directed a number of episodes of the show. Hangover Square is based on a novel by Patrick Hamilton, who also wrote the source material for Hitchcock’s Rope.

Though you may not be a fan of classic horror or suspense, there are some truly remarkable scenes in Hangover Square that make it worth watching at least once. There is a scene where Bone strangles Netta and dumps her body on top of a bonfire pile of effigies to be burned for Guy Fawkes Day. This scene is chilling, rich with symbolism, and is matched only by the conclusion. Having remembered his deeds and unable to escape from the police, Bone sets the building on fire during the performance of his moving new symphony. He continues to play the piano as the building burns down around him in a truly bleak and effecting move. These are certainly two of the most stunning and impressive moments in ‘40s horror.

Hangover Square comes highly recommended and is available in the Fox Horror Classics Collection, a three disc set that includes Brahm’s The Lodger and Undying Monster with a number of very nice special features.

GASLIGHT (1944)

George Cukor, 1944

Starring: Ingrid Bergman, Charles Boyer, Joseph Cotten, Angela Lansbury

Beloved opera singer Alice Alquist is murdered and her young niece, Paula, is sent to Italy to recover and train as an opera singer. While there she is swept off her feet by a man she barely knows, Gregory, and decides to put her career on hold and marry him. At first things are blissful, but he convinces her that they should move into her aunt’s old house in London, which has been left to Paula in her aunt’s will. 

Here Gregory becomes increasingly controlling. Paula is told she can’t go out or receive visitors because she is not “well enough,” and Gregory accuses her of misplacing things, forgetting things, and making things up. They board up her aunt’s belongings in the attic room and Gregory has a violent outburst when she discovers a letter to her aunt from a man named Sergius Bowers, sent only a few days before her death. Gregory later tells her the letter was a figment of her imagination. There is also something going on with the house: the gaslights randomly dim and brighten in the evenings and Paula hears footsteps above her bedroom. 

Gregory takes her out on a tour of the Tower of London, though she loses a brooch he gave her and is near hysteria. They run into a man who seems shocked to see her. He is Inspector Cameron, a fan of her aunt Alice in his childhood, who takes a new look at Alice’s murder case. Paula insists on attending a dinner party, but Gregory accuses her of stealing his pocket watch and drives her to hysterics. She fears he is going to have her committed, but Cameron begins a deeper investigation and is determined to come to Paula’s aid. 

What has been hinted to us early on is revealed by Cameron. Gregory is Sergius Bauer and murdered Paula’s aunt many years ago in order to steal some jewels he became obsessed with. Unable to find the jewels on the night of the murder, he seduced and married Paula and has driven her insane so he can search for them uninterrupted during the night. He does find the jewels, but it is too late. Cameron used his absence to enter the house and speak to Paula. He ensures her that she is not insane. They are able to apprehend Gregory/Sergius and force him to admit his guilt. Cameron declares his feelings for Paula and says he will be there for her recovery process. 

Seemingly building upon the gothic themes and female inspired horror of novels like Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, Gaslight is one of a number of films in the ‘40s where the home is a prison or a place of horror for women; Hitchcock’s Rebecca and Shadow of a Doubt are key examples, as well as more overt horror films like The Spiral Staircase. While Gaslight will likely not interest fans of Universal’s more supernatural driven horror tales of the ‘30s and ‘40s, it is a successful exercise in subtle, suspense-fueled terror. Though essentially a film about emotional spousal abuse, the themes of madness and murder launch this into horror territory. 

Gaslight is both a remake of a 1940 British film and an adaptation of a play by Patrick Hamilton. The script had a few notables working on it, including John L. Balderston, who penned numerous horror scripts for Universal, including Dracula and Frankenstein, and John Van Druten, who would adapt Christopher Isherwood’s Berlin Stories into a play, I Am a Camera, which was the basis for Cabaret. The crowded, Victorian style house looks amazing, thanks to art direction from Cedric Gibbons and his team, and it provides some wonderful atmosphere for the film. There is also a heavy reliance on shadowy rooms and foggy streets. The cinematography from Joseph Ruttenberg (Brigadoon among many more) is certainly one of the film’s finest points.

Gaslight seems like an odd choice for director George Cukor, more known for his comedies and musicals, such as The Philadelphia Story, Adam’s Rib, Pat and Mike, My Fair Lady, and more. Cukor did make a great number of films with strong female characters and that serves him well here. The film is sympathetic to Paula and ultimately allows her to get her revenge. 

Shockingly, Bergman was passed over by the Academy for Casablanca, but won her first Academy Award for her performance here. She is excellent as Paula and effectively carries the film. Allegedly, to research the part, she spent time in a mental institution. As with The Picture of Dorian Gray, a very young Angela Lansbury plays a small side role. While she was lovely and sweet in the former film, here she plays a rude maid who openly dislikes Paula and flirts with Gregory. Allegedly this role was a lot smaller, but Cukor was so impressed with Lansbury that he gave her more screen time. The part wound up earning her a Best Supporting Actress nomination. 

Charles Boyer (Algiers, Hold Back the Dawn) is well cast as Gregory. He is both charming and slimy, carefully manipulating Alice in every scene and driving her inexorably toward madness and breakdown. Ultimately his character seems a little ridiculous, but historically, patterns of spousal abuse indicate that a man doesn’t need the motivation of jewels to emotionally abuse his wife and empty her life of support. Joseph Cotten, in an early role, doesn’t have much to do as Inspector Cameron, but he is likable and, as Boyer’s opposite, was a good choice for the film’s hero. 

Gaslight is available on DVD from Warner and comes highly recommended, though primarily to fans of classic suspense films. The original 1940 British film directed by Thorold Dickinson is also included with the Warner DVD and provides an interesting counterpoint. 

THE BEAST WITH FIVE FINGERS

Robert Florey, 1946

Starring: Robert Alda, Peter Lorre, Andrea King, Victor Francen

One of the most enjoyably ridiculous films I've seen in a long time, The Beast with Five Fingers is not sure if it wants to be a whodunnit murder mystery, a haunted house film, a psychological thriller, or a minor creature feature. It doesn't work particularly well as any of the above, but is a hell of a good time, in part because of the delirious performance by the great Peter Lorre. He’s not quite on the level of M or Mad Love, but is still utterly delightful. As with Mad Love, The Beast with Five Fingers is somewhat based on German expressionist horror film The Hands of Orlac.

Francis Ingram, a famous, albeit tyrannical piano player, dies leaving behind a questionable will. It seems that he wanted to leave his considerable estate to Julie, his young nurse that he fell in love with, but his greedy, American nephew is contesting it based on an earlier will in which everything was left to him. Hilary (Lorre), Ingram's librarian, secretary, and musicologist, is obsessed with the library and a number of rare, valuable occult books and is determined to keep them regardless of who gets the rest of the property. Ingram also has plans of his own - his spectral hand begins to haunt the manor, presumably killing anyone it comes across, and bodies start piling up. Are the murders the work of the diabolically possessed hand or is the killer all too human?

In its desperation to resolve things rationally, the conclusion is a little disappointing, but is similar to other horror films of the period with Scooby Doo-like endings. Despite a script by Curt Siodmak (The Wolfman and a number of other Universal horrors), the plot, which was already a bit of a disaster, is made more complicated by a love story between nurse Julie and Ingram's young friend Conrad, a conman and ex-concert pianist. As long as you don't question any of the more absurd elements, the film is endearing and enjoyable and really worth seeing just for the scenes where Lorre battles with an undead, disembodied hand. Director Robert Florey (Murders in the Rue Morgue) worked with Lorre previously and they obviously had a lot of fun here, though Florey allegedly didn’t want to direct this. Despite that, Florey’s sure direction and use of some lovely, spooky visuals make this look far more polished and expensive than it probably deserved. This was both Florey and Lorre’s last film with Warner Bros.

The Beast with Five Fingers comes highly recommended if you like older, campier horror where there are genuine chills as well as plenty of laughs, intentional and otherwise. As in everything, Lorre is wonderful and steals the film away from every other actor, except maybe Universal B movie regular J. Carrol Naish, the roguish police inspector. There are also some decent performances from Victor Francen (End of the World) as Ingram, though he doesn’t stick around long, and Robert Alda (The Devil’s Hand) as the con artist with a heart of gold. 

For the musically inclined, the score was chosen by Max Steiner and is an arrangement of Bach's chaconne from the Violin Partita in D Minor as transcribed by Brahms, intended to be played with the left-hand only. The pianist shown on screen is Nyiregyhazi, a famous Hungarian-American musician.

Unfortunately The Beast with Five Fingers is shockingly not yet available on DVD, though you can still find it used on VHS and, with a bit of cunning, it can be easily tracked down on the internet. 

THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY (1945)

Albert Lewin, 1945

Starring: George Sanders, Hurd Hatfield, Donna Reed, Angela Lansbury, Lowell Gilmore

“The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.”

Oscar Wilde ranks among my favorite writers of all time and, as a result, I often have a difficult time with adaptations of his work. I was delighted when I finally got to see this 1945 adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890), Wilde’s most famous work and his only published novel. Partly a post-gothic drama and partly a classic horror film, it mostly follows the plot of Wilde's novel with a few deviations that make sense in terms of pacing and time period.

The beautiful, young, and well-off Dorian Gray is having his portrait painted by the morally upstanding Basil Hallward. Basil's rakish friend Lord Henry looks in on them and begins schooling Dorian in the ways of the world and opens Dorian's eyes to the fact that his youth and beauty will not last. He insists that Dorian should make the best of them while he can and live a life motivated by pleasure. Dorian makes a wish of sorts on the painting that he will always mirror it and never change.

Later he meets a much lower class singer and actress, Sibyl Vane, who he falls in love with. He begins to court her and proposes marriage, but changes his mind on a whim and cruelly breaks her heart. He regrets this, but before he can reconcile things, Sibyl kills herself. Dorian is heartbroken with what he has done, but squashes his emotions and proceeds to live the most debaucherous life imaginable. All the while, the portrait, which he has locked away in a secret room, begins to look twisted and ugly. Many years later, Basil catches a glimpse of the portrait and confronts Dorian about his bad behavior, which leads to a downward spiral of death and deception until Dorian is forced to face himself.

This is the fourth film adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray after a British film from 1916, a German version from 1917, and a Hungarian version from 1918. Though there have been subsequent adaptations for film and television, I think this 1945 version remains the finest. Hurd Hatfield (Dragon Seed, The Diary of a Chambermaid) is wonderful as Dorian, but there is something about the shape of his face and the length of his chin than reminds me of another one of my favorite writers, H.P. Lovecraft. I think the weird union of two of my favorite authors is part of what made this film so endearing to me. Hatfield also plays a colder, more reserved, and less charming version of Dorian, which works with the horror elements in the film. 

George Sanders, one of my favorite actors, looks a bit odd with a mustache and goatee, but is wonderfully cast as the rakish Sir Henry Wotton and steals the film from Hatfield in their scenes together. Keep your eyes peeled for a very young Angela Lansbury as Sibyl Vane. Unfortunately I grew up watching Murder She Wrote re-runs and can only see her as an old woman using her powers of deduction, which is a little disorienting in this case. Another familiar face, Donna Reed, appears in a role towards the conclusion of the film as a young woman in love with Dorian.

The Picture of Dorian Gray was written and directed by Albert Lewin, whose earlier film, Pandora and the Flying Dutchman, may also be of interest. It is a noir influenced tragedy starring Ava Gardner and James Mason about a femme fatale unable to fall in love and an undead prisoner of the Flying Dutchman. Yes, you read that plot synopsis correctly.

Any readers who live in Chicago can visit the wonderful painting created specifically for this film by Ivan Albright, as it is now housed in the Art Institute there. Coincidentally, though the film was shot in black and white, look out for two weird Technicolor sequences that showcase the painting in vibrant color. Kind of an odd choice, but an interesting one.

On a final note, this is a melancholy, lovely film with some great cinematography from the wonderful Harry Stradling (My Fair Lady, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Suspicion, Johnny Guitar, A Streetcar Named Desire), for which the film won an Academy Award. Stradling won two Academy Awards for his cinematography (this and My Fair Lady) and was nominated for 12 more. The dialogue in Lewin’s script makes excellent use of Wilde's wit, though it takes a sad and humorless note for much of the film. The score also makes great use of Chopin, another one of my favorite melancholy artists. 

The Picture of Dorian Gray comes highly recommended and is available on a simple region 1 DVD from Warner. I also obviously recommend the novel, which is one of my favorites, as well as all of Wilde’s work and the wonderful biography from Richard Ellman. 

THE UNINVITED (1944)

Lewis Allen, 1944

Starring: Ray Milland, Gail Russell, Ruth Hussey

A composer and his sister, Rick and Pamela Fitzgerald, are on vacation on the English coast when they see an abandoned house, fall in love with it, and learn it is for sale. Known as Winward House, it has a possibly questionable background and a cold, reserved former owner, Commander Beech, but the price is right and they eagerly purchase it. They also meet Beech’s lovely, imaginative granddaughter Stella. At first she doesn’t want them to buy the house, but Rick and Pamela befriend her and Rick begins to develop feelings for her. 

Stella has a somewhat unhealthy attachment to the house, because it is the place her mother died when Stella was a child. Rick and Pamela come to believe the house is haunted and one night at dinner, Stella is overcome by a presence and nearly throws herself off the cliffs. The Fitzgeralds seek the help of local physician Dr. Scott, who tells them about the house’s torrid past. Stella’s father, an artist, had an affair with his model, Carmel, a Spanish gypsy. Mary, Stella’s mother, insisted they take Carmel far away to Paris and leave her there. But Carmel eventually returned and tried to throw the infant Stella over the cliffs. When Mary came to her rescue, Carmel threw Mary over and died of pneumonia soon after. 

Believing there are two spirits in the house, benevolent Mary and evil Carmel, they preform a seance. Stella becomes possessed and speaks in Spanish; afterwards she falls ill and Beech secretly sends her to Miss Holloway, her mother’s old best friend who runs a strange sanitarium. Stella is afraid of Miss Holloway and is kept locked up all day. Unaware that Stella is there, the Fitzgeralds visit Miss Holloway and learn more about the family history, though they think she may be lying. Dr. Scott informs them that there may be something odd about Holloway and that she likely killed Carmel with medical neglect. They learn Stella is there and launch a rescue mission, but Holloway has sent Stella back to the house - and to the cliffs - alone. 

The Uninvited was the first Hollywood film to seriously examine ghosts and a haunted house without falling back on the two traditional tropes, crime and comedy, which were found all over Hollywood in the ‘20s and ‘30s in films like The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, The Ghost Goes West, Hold That Ghost, and various adaptations of The Cat and the Canary. While Universal embraced the supernatural with Dracula, The Mummy and somewhat with Frankenstein, Paramount were really the first to make an American ghost film.

Moody and atmospheric, director Lewis Allen doesn’t overplay his hand and is careful to make the use of the supernatural sparing, but effective. The early scenes of a woman crying during the night are a particularly clever entry way into the hauntings and manage to avoid the more ludicrous, comic ghostly cliches such as objects moving of their own accord. Charles Lang Jr.’s cinematography is another of the film’s strongest points and was nominated for an Academy Award. Between the wonderfully gothic Devon coast and the excellent lighting, The Uninvited is a beautiful film with a setting that perfectly matches it themes and tone. 

There are some strong performances. Ray Milland (The Premature Burial, Dial M for Murder) is likable as always and he feels a bit Cary Grant-like here. His character is responsible for some welcome, but well balanced comedy that never feels cumbersome. The lovely Ruth Hussey (The Philadelphia Story) is good as his sister Pamela and it is to the script’s credit that she takes charge for many scenes and does not dissolve into hysterics over the hauntings. Donald Crisp essentially reprises his role as the controlling, conservative parental figure from Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1941) and Alan Napier (Batman and Isle of the Dead) is likable as the friendly, concerned neighborhood doctor. The real star of the film is Gail Russell (Wake of the Red Witch) as the troubled Stella. Her performance carries the film and she is fittingly ethereal, nearly as haunted as the house. 

The Uninvited is based on the novel Uneasy Freehold by Dorothy Macardle. Though I have not read it, screenwriters Dodie Smith and Frank Partos supposed removed some excessive characters and streamlined the plot, making this a more simple, stripped down affair. In certain instances the film skates close to the line of what was acceptable in ‘40s Hollywood. Though there are somethings I can’t mention without ruining the final twist, Stella’s father’s affair with his model must have been somewhat shocking. Miss Holloway is obviously obsessed with Stella’s mother and though the lesbian undertones of that obsession are not fully spelled out, it is a fairly obvious subtext. 

While Robert Wise’s The Haunting (1963) is known as the best early American ghost film, it takes a number of plot points from The Uninvited, including the use of central female characters and their malevolent mothers. The excellent British film The Innocents (1961), based on Henry James’ Turn of the Screw, also bears a number of things in common with The Uninvited, perhaps accidentally, such as a torrid sexual affair that haunts the proceedings. It is important to keep in mind that both The Innocents and The Haunting were released in the early ‘60s. In the ‘40s, there were few serious horror films that could content with The Uninvited, with the exception of Val Lewton’s masterful horror films for RKO, such as Cat People and The Seventh Victim, all films essentially about female sexual repression. 

Though there is an out of print DVD and the film is available online, I recommend the brand new Criterion release, which will be available on both Blu-ray and DVD on October 22nd. Criterion is offering a newly restored print and soundtrack, and some nice special features. 

BLUEBEARD (1944)

Edgar G. Ulmer, 1944

Starring: John Carradine, Nils Asther, Jean Parker, Ludwig Stössel

Women are being murdered in Paris, but designer Lucille is not afraid and makes a new friend, the strange but kind painter and puppeteer Gaston Morrell. They develop a mutual attraction and he commissions her to design costumes for a new puppet show. Unfortunately we quickly learn that Morrell is the killer, driven to murderous fury every time he paints. He strangles his mistress and dumps her body in the river. He is determined to kill no more, but his art dealer, Jean Lamarte, wants him to keep painting because of the high demand for his work. 

One of the dead women is recognized in one of his paintings and Inspector Lefevre puts a policewoman, Francine, also Lucille’s sister, undercover on the case. Due to his greed, the art dealer convinces Morrell to do one more painting, as Francine is pretending to be the daughter of a local aristocrat who wants her portrait painted. When they are alone together, Francine confronts him and he strangles her with his tie. Lucille later recognizes the tie and confronts Morrell. He tells her he loves her and explains his sordid history. He fell in love with a prostitute who betrayed him just as his painting of her became famous and ever since, he must kill every woman he paints. Lefevre arrives in time to save Lucille and Morrell is chased through Paris by the police until he throws himself in the river and drowns.

As with his earlier, excellent The Black Cat, Ulmer’s Bluebeard has absolutely nothing to do with the source material it is named after. It feels much more like the earlier serial killer films coming out during this period, particularly John Brahm’s The Lodger, which I recently watched and can’t help comparing with Bluebeard. The plots are similar down to almost identical conclusions where the murderer, trying to resist his impulses because of his feelings for a beautiful woman, plunges himself into the river after a chase with the police. Unfortunately The Lodger is the superior film and it is difficult for me to think of Bluebeard as anything but second best. 

Director Edgar G. Ulmer had a difficult time of it in Hollywood, though he had a fruitful beginning in Germany, working with F.W. Murnau. Bluebeard bears a close resemblance to other German expressionist horror films, particularly The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, though it suffers from the very low budget provided by poverty row studio PRC. The atmosphere, though moody, tense, and all around excellent, is not enough to compensate for a weak script with many filler scenes and flat characters. For example, the marionette show, a production of Faust, which opens the film is interesting, but feels like a way to pass the time. 

While Bluebeard has nothing on Ulmer’s The Black Cat and is somewhat of a disappointment, it is worth seeing for fans of early serial killer-themed horror and for fans of John Carradine. Though I spent most of my youth thinking he had popped out of the womb as an old man, there is evidence in Bluebeard that, at one point, he was actually young. He does a good job here as Morrell, but I think he needed a little more screen time to ham it up, as he would later in his career. 

There are a number of other familiar faces from B-horror films, including Jean Parker (Dead Man’s Eyes) as the leading lady, the dashing Nils Asther (Laugh, Clown, Laugh) as Inspector Lefevre, and George Pembroke (The Invisible Ghost) as Inspector Renard. Other than Carradine, I can’t say there is anything special about the acting, but the performances are serviceable and Nils Asther, known as the male Garbo, is always lovely to look at. He has a funny scene at an inquest involving a number of women painted by Morrell and it’s a shame he didn't have more screen time. Teala Loring (Charlie Chan film Dark Alibi) is also good as Lucille’s sister, a surprisingly strong female character, and her murder comes as a surprise. 

Bluebeard is available in the Edgar G. Ulmer Archive collection, which includes Strange Illusion (1945), The Strange Woman (1946), and Daughter of Dr. Jekyll (1957). Also worth checking out are his two best films, Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi vehicle The Black Cat (1934) and the noir film Detour (1945). Bluebeard is also available alone in a cheap DVD edition. 

THE LODGER (1944)

John Brahm, 1944

Starring: Merle Oberon, George Sanders, Laird Cregar

A beautiful, up and coming singer and actress, Kitty Langley, lives with her aunt and uncle, who have recently fallen on hard times. To supplement their income, they take in a lodger, an odd scientist known as Mr. Slade, who comes and goes at odd hours. Meanwhile, Jack the Ripper is butchering women on the streets of London and the police are at a loss. It soon becomes clear that Slade is the killer, though Kitty and her family try to ignore the signs. Inspector Warwick, in charge of the case, falls for Kitty, but can he protect her from Mr. Slade’s murderous advances?

While this is a remake of Hitchcock’s 1927 silent film The Lodger, in turn adapted from Marie Belloc-Lowndes’ novel of the same name, director John Brahm takes the film in enough of a new direction that it is a work wholly his own. Hitchcock’s film essentially followed his beloved “wrong man” plot and was set in the mid to late ‘20s. As with Fritz Lang’s M (1931), it is a film concerned with social hysteria, paranoia, and mob mentality. Brahm set this in Jack the Ripper’s time, the late 1880s, and focuses more on the psychological, sexual aspects of serial murder. While the finale of Hitchcock’s film was about discovering the identity of the real murderer, Brahm leaves little up to the imagination with Slade. Though he and screenwriter Barré Lyndon present the character sympathetically, Slade’s actions and dialogue leave little doubt that he is Saucy Jack. 

Surprisingly the moral codes of the day allowed a subtext to slide by: Slade’s obvious sexual obsession with his dead brother. His brother’s death, after having his life ruined by a beautiful actress, is Slade’s supposed reason for killing women with a connection to the stage. Apparently the Hays Code prevented the women from being prostitutes, as Jack’s victims were in real life, but it did not prevent a number of disturbing scenes where Slade discusses cutting the beauty out of women.

The film absolutely belongs to Laird Cregar, a large man, both in terms of height and girth, who struggled with his weight his entire life. He is perfect as Slade: menacing, psychopathic, pathetic, sympathetic, and he seems to wander much of the film in a crazed, hypnotic state with violence always brewing beneath the surface. The use of low angled shots make him overwhelm nearly every frame and the use of key lights give his eyes an insane, almost mystical glow. Cregar teamed up with Brahm and Sanders again for the similarly plotted Hangover Square, and the crash diet he used for that film led to his early death at just 31. If you enjoyed him here, he put in some good performances in noirish murder mystery I Wake Up Screaming (1941) and Ernst Lubitsch’s Heaven Can Wait (1943), among others. It is tragic his career was cut so short.

There are a number of other good performances in the film, including Sara Allgood and the always lovable Universal horror regular Sir Cedric Hardwicke as Kitty’s aunt and uncle. The lovely Merle Oberon looks wonderful here as Kitty, though she is best known for her role in Wuthering Heights alongside Laurence Olivier. 

I absolutely love George Sanders (The Picture of Dorian Gray, Rebecca, Foreign Correspondent) and it was a delight, as always, to see him in The Lodger. His role is fairly restrained as Inspector Warwick, though he still roguishly woos Kitty. They have a nice comic scene in Scotland Yard’s Black Museum, where he shows her memorabilia from some horrific historic crimes, all while asking her on a date to meet his mother. The development of their relationship mostly takes place off screen and it seems like Sanders was purposefully downplaying his role in order not to steal the film out from under Cregar. 

Director John Brahm made a number of films for Fox in a variety of genres, though The Locket, The Brasher Doubloon, and The Lodger remain his most famous films. He also did a lot of work in television for such genre shows as The Outer Limits, The Twilight Zone, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., and more. He does an excellent job here and if you’re unfamiliar with his work, this is the perfect place to start.

Brahm’s regular partner Lucien Ballard shot the film and, as with The Undying Monster, is responsible for much of it’s shadowy, fog drenched, and almost gothic imagery. He turns what looks like an indoor set into an expressionistic nightmarish version of Jack the Ripper’s London and the cinematography alone makes the film worth checking out. Ballard worked on a number of classic films and shot for directors like Sam Peckinpah, his mentor in Germany, Joseph von Sternberg, and Stanley Kubrick, among many more.

The Lodger comes highly recommended and is available in the excellent Fox Horror Classics Collection with two of Brahm’s other horror films, The Undying Monster (1942) and Hangover Square (1945).

THE CORPSE VANISHES

Wallace Fox, 1942

Starring: Bela Lugosi, Luana Walters, Tristram Coffin, Elizabeth Russell

“Up? I’ve been up all night with dead people!”

Young brides are dying and their corpses are being stolen by the mysterious Dr. Lorenz. Lorenz is using the virginal spinal fluid of these unfortunate young ladies to revive his wife, the Countess, who is determined not to age. He sends each of them a rare, poisoned orchid on their wedding day, which is noticed by reporter Patricia Hunter. Desperate to get out of covering weddings, she begs her editor to let her follow the lead. It takes her to Lorenz’s home, as he is the only person known to create the orchid hybrids, despite the locals insistence that she should not go there. She meets the kindly Dr. Foster, an associate of Lorenz’s, who gives her a ride. 

Due to a storm, they are forced to spend the night. Patricia is terrified by the Countess, one of their servants, and finds corpses in the basement. The next morning Lorenz and Foster insist it was a nightmare, though Foster later admits that he may have been sleepwalking. She returns to her editor, who almost fires her, but eventuallys believe her story. They set up a trap for Lorenz in the form of a fake wedding. It goes awry and Lorenz kidnaps Patricia, intending to use her as his next victim. Can Foster and the police save her in time?

Monogram, one of several poverty row horror studios operating in the ‘40s, made a number of completely ridiculous films, but The Corpse Vanishes really takes the cake. A lot of the ideas make no sense (Lorenz is somehow a doctor, physicist, and botanist, for example), but the movie plods through them all with glee and it is clear that much of the cast, Lugosi in particular, is having a great time. He is delightful, as always, particularly when he is convincing Patricia that she imaged the horrors in his home. My favorite line of the film is when he is explaining why he collects coffins and why she saw him sleeping in one. “I find coffins much more comfortable than a bed. Many people do.” 

This is one of the few films where other actors are able to outdo Lugosi at times, namely Elizabeth Russell, one of my favorite underrated actresses and Lugosi’s wife here. She appeared in Cat People, Curse of the Cat People, Weird Woman, and other horror films from the era. Though Russell was a very beautiful woman, there is something undeniably creepy and menacing about her that makes her perfect for these sorts of roles. And I don’t think anyone saw it coming when she unexpectedly slapped Patricia in the face. 

Then there is the rest of Lugosi’s household, made up of a decrepit old servant and her two sons, a dwarf (Angelo Rossito from Brain of Blood) and lumbering pervert Angel (Frank Moran). Angel pets Patricia’s hair to wake her up, in total creep fashion, and it is hinted at that he might be a necrophiliac. He also wanders the dark house chewing on what I think was a chicken leg. Lorenz’s house is also quite a wonder, full of secret passages and laboratories, as well as a mausoleum in the basement full of comatose women and a master bedroom outfitted with coffins. 

Luana Walters is surprisingly good as Patricia, though she borders on irritating a number of times. Fortunately she is given some pretty hilarious dialogue and more agency than women typically had in ‘40s horror. She does wind up being a damsel in distress in the final act of the film, but is the only one smart enough to realize Lorenz is suspicious. Her character borrows some elements from reporter tropes of the period, such as those found in The Return of Doctor X and Mystery of the Wax Museum, where she is almost fired unless she comes up with a great story. Tristram Coffin (Creature with the Atom Brain), despite his excellent name, is almost a total dud as Dr. Foster, but his amusing dialogue again makes up for some of this.

B-horror from the ‘30s and ‘40s is undoubtedly an acquired taste, but this film is so much fun that it comes highly recommended. The Corpse Vanishes is available on an incredibly cheap DVD from Alpha Video. Hopefully someone like Scream Factory or Kino will rescue it and restore it for Blu-ray, as Kino has recently done with another entertaining Lugosi poverty row feature, The Devil Bat.

THE UNDYING MONSTER

John Brahm, 1942

Starring: James Ellison, Heather Angel, John Howard, Heather Thatcher

Oliver Hammond, heir to the illustrious, but cursed Hammond family, is attacked by a strange creature along with a local nurse, who falls into a coma. Though his sister Helga thinks there must be a rational explanation, the family servants think it is due to the centuries old curse that dictates male family members will eventually commit suicide or die suspiciously. Robert Curtis, from Scotland Yard, and his assistant Christy are determined to solve the case, though they meet with some resistance from the family, local doctor, and servants. 

There are a number of suspicious occurrences around the house, including a locked room and strange foot prints. The nurse soon dies and the case is sent to court, where it is ruled that her death was the result of an unknown, but strange circumstance. Robert and Christy are still determined to overcome local superstitions and get to the bottom of things. He finds a strange wolf hair on the victim and evidence of a cobra venom injection. He is trying to work out what it all means when Helga Hammond is kidnapped  and they must try to save her before she becomes the next victim of... THE UNDYING MONSTER!!!

Sort of a cross between She-Wolf of London, The Wolf Man, and The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Undying Monster blends murder mystery, an age old family curse, and a hint of the supernatural. While it seems to be leading us towards a human perpetrator (as with She-Wolf of London), the surprise twist is that there is an actual werewolf, though we see little of him/her and the ending is rather ludicrously explained away. 

As with many films of this period, the studio simply tried too hard to cram humor into the plot. With The Undying Monster, this sometimes works and comes across as quick and witty, but sometimes just drags the plot to a grinding halt. The script was written by Lillie Hayward (Lady Killer), who would later go on to work with Disney, and is based on a novel by Jessie Douglas Kerruish. Though it has some effectively dark moments, the script is also kind of a mess and wavers back and forth between numerous genres, including slapstick comedy with the male and female detective team, a horror film, an atmospheric, supernatural murder mystery, a mad scientist movie, and a bland, dialogue heavy parlor room mystery.

The acting is decent, but not exceptional. As with many B horror pictures, there are a number of familiar faces, such as John Howard (The Invisible Woman, The Mad Doctor), Bramwell Fletcher (The Mummy), Heather Angel (The Mystery of Edwin Drood), Halliwell Hobbes (Dracula’s Daughter), etc. German director John Brahm fled to the U.S., along with many of his filmmaking country men, and is best known for his films with Fox, such as his excellent remake of Hitchcock’s The Lodger, Wild Geese Calling, The Locket, The Brasher Doubloon, Vincent Price film The Mad Magician, episodes of The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and more.

Brahm’s regular collaborator Lucien Ballard is responsible for the lovely cinematography, certainly one of the film’s strongest points. Though he worked with Brahm on many of his films (and even married The Lodger’s Merle Oberon for a time), he also shot several of Sam Peckinpah’s films, Otto Preminger’s Laura, and many more classics. As with Laura, The Undying Monster has an almost noir-like atmosphere, though it also borrows liberally from Universal’s fog drenched, gothic sets of the ‘30s to great effect. 

The Undying Monster is available in the Fox Horror Classics Collection Vol. 1 with Brahm’s Hangover Square (1945) and one of his most beloved films, The Lodger (1944). There is also a second collection, despite the fact that Fox didn’t make many horror films, which includes Lugosi vehicle Chandu the Magician, Vincent Price vehicle Dragonwyck, which is not remotely a horror film, and Dr. Renault’s Secret. The Undying Monster comes recommended to anyone who enjoys classic horror-mysteries and even though there are a few lulls, there are enough nice moments to make this worth watching at least once. 

THE FACE BEHIND THE MASK (1941)

Robert Florey, 1941

Starring: Peter Lorre, Evelyn Keyes, Don Beddoe

A Hungarian immigrant, Janos Szabo, comes to New York with a hopeful heart, though he nearly loses his money, and a friendly detective helps him find lodgings and work in a nearby hotel. Unfortunately, during his first night there, he is badly burned when the hotel catches fire. He survives, but his face is horribly disfigured and Janos can’t find work anywhere, despite his many skills and experience as a watchmaker. No one will talk to him or even look at him without revulsion and horror. He is about to kill himself by jumping into the river when he meets Dinky, a kind thief who takes Janos under his wing. Dinky soon falls ill and to care for him, Janos embraces a life of crime. 

Soon he is successful enough that he takes over the gang and can afford to buy a latex mask that resembles his own face. He also meets a beautiful blind woman, Helen, and falls in love. Janos tries to leave the gang and they fear it is because he has become a police informant. In response, they try to kill Janos, but accidentally kill Helen. He disguises himself and flies the gang out into the desert, where they will all die slowly of starvation in order for Janos to get his revenge. 

Though there are elements of horror, particularly towards the conclusion, this is really more of a crime film, almost a proto-noir. Like later noir cinema, this is essentially about outsiders and the failure of the American dream with an ending that rejects happiness or redemption for any of the characters. Lorre was also in Stranger on the Third Floor (1940), another early noir considered by some to be the first in the genre. He and director Robert Florey also worked together on The Beast with Five Fingers, though Florey is best known for the Bela Lugosi vehicle Murders in the Rue Morgue. This is one of his strongest films and it benefits from the German expressionist-like cinematography from Franz Planer. Planer, like Lorre, Murnau, Freund, and a number of other horror filmmakers and actors, recently emigrated from Germany and sought work in Hollywood.

The script by Paul Jarrico (Tom, Dick and Harry and many more until he was blacklisted by McCarthy), Arthur Levinson, and Allen Vincent was adapted from a play, Interim, by Thomas Edward O’Connell. The film deals with some issues not often tackled by horror of the period: crime, poverty, justice, and other wartime era social issues. While these bear far more in common with crime drama, Janos’s character is almost a classic horror villain. Almost like Frankenstein’s Monster he is deformed, yet innocent, desperate for human interaction or, at the least, a kind word. 

Everyone is so unkind to him that it is no wonder he is forced to turn to a life of crime for simple survival. There are moments that seem overly melodramatic, but overall Janos’s character is incredibly sympathetic, if not outright tragic. Lorre’s Janos is an outsider in every sense of the word. He is a foreigner, then later facially disabled, then a criminal, and then an outsider in his own gang because he has fallen in love and wants to reform. Lorre is particularly skilled at playing these characters, which he also does in M, Mad Love, The Beast with Five Fingers, and many more. Lorre gives a great performance here and it is somewhat incredible that this film is mostly ignored and forgotten.

His costars, George E. Stone (Some Like It Hot) as Dinky and the lovely Evelyn Keyes (The Seven Year Itch) as Helen, are also quite likable and don’t exaggerate their performances like some of the other side actors. It is also possible that we like them simply because they are the only people in the entire film who are kind to Janos, even though he starts out as innocent and sweet. 

The effects are simply, but creepy, with Lorre’s mask little more than some white make up and tape in the corners of his face. We barely see his burned, deformed face and for the first half of the film, he angles his face off camera with one exception: the scene where he glimpses his mutilated face in a mirror, shrieks with horror, and has a meltdown in the hospital. 

The Face Behind the Mask is primarily recommended for anyone who loves noir, non-supernatural early horror, or Peter Lorre. The film is available on YouTube, but, as far as I can tell, sadly still lacks an official DVD release.