Dracula (1931, starring Bela Lugosi as the Count, Dir by Tod Browning, DP: Karl Freund)
Bela Lugosi was born in what is now Romania. Lugosi began his career in his native country, appearing on stage. After serving as an infantryman in World War I, Lugosi moved into the movie industry and appeared in silent Hungarian films. The young Lugosi was an activist, involved in labor issues and trying to unionize the Hungarian film industry. When a new government came to power in Hungary in 1920, the politically-active Lugosi moved first to Germany and then eventually ended up in the United States. After a period of working as a merchant seaman, Lugosi returned to acting.
He first played Dracula on stage in New York City. In 1928, while touring in the role of Dracula, he moved out to California and quickly became a part of the Hollywood community. When Universal produced a film adaptation of Dracula in 1931, Lugosi was the obvious choice for the lead role. The film made Lugosi a star and it also typecast him. Lugosi never stopped acting, though the films varied widely in quality. By the end of his career, Lugosi was a member of the Ed Wood stock company. Even appearing in something like Bride of the Monster, Lugosi still made an impression.
In the scene below, from 1931’s Dracula, Lugosi suggests that Edward van Sloan’s Van Helsing should perhaps leave the country.
143 years ago, on this date in Kentucky, director Tod Browning was born. Though Browning was a director who was comfortable working in any genre, he is today best remembered for the horror films that he directed for Universal studios. Today’s scene that I love comes from Tod Browning’s 1931 adaptation of Dracula.
In this scene, Count Dracula (Bela Lugosi) is introduced to Prof. Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan). Van Helsing notes something interesting about Dracula’s reflection, namely that he doesn’t have one. Needless to say, the Count is not amused.
For our first Scene that I love for this year’s Horrorthon, I’m sharing the opening of the 1931 classic, Frankenstein. The scene below features neither Colin Clive or Boris Karloff. Instead, Edward Van Sloan breaks the fourth wall and, in his humorously avuncular way, lets the audience know what’s in store for them.
Today, of course, we all know the story of Frankenstein and his monster. However, imagine how audiences in 1931, many of whom probably knew nothing about the story they were about to watch, must have felt when Edward Van Sloan specifically took a minute to warn them that they were about to see something terrifying. You have to remember that Van Sloan was talking to the first generation of regular filmgoers and he was introducing them to one of the first true horror films of the sound era. Today, it’s easy to smile when Van Sloan says, “You can’t say we didn’t warn you.” In 1931, I imagine it probably sounded more like a dare. Van Sloan was asking, “Do you have the courage to stay in theater?” It’s kind of charming, isn’t it?
Edward Van Sloan was a bit of fixture when it came to the early Universal horror films. Not only did he play Henry Frankenstein’s mentor but, in the same year, he played Prof. Van Helsing in Dracula. He also had a key supporting role in The Mummy. When it came to explaining the supernatural and the undead, no one else did it with quite the class of Edward Van Sloan.
The summer after I graduated high school, I took a trip to Italy.
I absolutely loved it. There’s nothing more wonderful than being 18 and irresponsible in one of the most beautiful and romantic countries in Europe. I also loved it because everywhere I looked in Italy, I saw the remains of history. When I was in Rome, I visited the Colosseum. When I was in Southern Italy, I visited Comune di Melissa, the village where some of my ancestors once lived. When I visited Florence, I became so overwhelmed by the beauty of it all that I nearly fainted.
And then there was Pompeii. I spent a day visiting the ruins of Pompeii and it was an amazing experience. The eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in 79 AD may have been horrific for the Romans but it’s also gave history nerds like me a chance to step right into the past. Beyond just the thrill of seeing how the world once was, I have two main memories of Pompeii:
First, there was the visit to Pompeii’s brothel. An Australian tourist lay down on one of the stone slabs so that his family could take pictures of him.
Secondly, there was the fact that I wore a really pretty red dress for my visit but I failed to take into account that 1) the area around Pompeii is very hilly and 2) it was a very windy day. So, I can say that I’ve not only visited but I’ve flashed Pompeii as well.
The destruction of Pompeii has inspired several books and more than a few films, as well. One of the earliest was the 1935 film, The Last Days of Pompeii.
The Last Days of Pompeii opens with Marcus (Preston Foster), an extremely bitter blacksmith who lives in the bustling city of Pompeii. Marcus is bitter because he’s not rich and his family has been just been run down by some jackass in a chariot. Marcus does find brief fame as a gladiator but he’s stricken with guilt after he kills a man and then discovers that he’s made an orphan out of the man’s son. Marcus adopts young Flavius, just to then discover that the boy is seriously ill. A fortune teller informs Marcus that Flavius will be healed by “the greatest man in Judea.” Marcus naturally assumes that this is a reference to the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate (Basil Rathbone). However, upon traveling to Judea, Marcus meets a different great man and then watches as his adopted son is healed.
Jump forward about two decades. Marcus is now a rich man and is in charge of Pompeii’s gladiatorial games. Flavius (now played by John Wood) has grown up to be an idealistic young man who barely remembers the day that he was healed. What Marcus doesn’t know is that Flavius has been helping slaves escape from Pompeii. When Flavius is arrested, it appears that Marcus is doomed to watch his own son be killed in the arena.
But wait a minute — what’s that coming down the mountain? It’s kinda smoky and red and it looks like it might be really hot and …. oh damn.
Now, there’s two problems here. First off, from a historical point of view, the film’s timeline doesn’t work out. Jesus was crucified in 33 AD. Pompeii was destroyed 46 yeas later, in 79 AD. Therefore, there’s no way that Flavius should only be in his early 20s. Secondly, just the fact that the film takes place in Pompeii pretty much gives away the ending before the story even begins. Since you know that the volcano is eventually going to kill everyone, it’s hard to get too caught up in any of the drama. You just find yourself sitting there and going, “When isssssssssss the volcano going to eeeeeeeeeeeeerupt!?”
On the plus side, Preston Foster is one of the more underrated of the Golden Age stars and he does a pretty good job here. Plus, you have to love any film that features Basil Rathbone as a semi-decadent Roman. Rathbone plays Pilate as both a bored libertine and a guilt-stricken convert and, both times, he’s impressive.
Despite being directed by the team behind the original King Kong, The Last Days of Pompeii is a bit slow but, if you’re specifically a fan of old sword-and-sandal epics, it’s entertaining enough. See it for Foster, Rathbone, and the ghosts of old Pompeii.
Two hundred years ago, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley unleashed her novel FRANKENSTEIN upon an unsuspecting world. The ghastly story of a “Modern Prometheus” who dared to play God and his unholy creation shocked readers in 1818, and over the past two centuries has been adapted into stage plays, radio dramas, television programs, comic books, and the movies, most notably James Whale’s seminal 1931 FRANKENSTEIN, featuring not only a star-making performance by Boris Karloff as the Creature, but ahead of its time filmmaking from Whale.
Director James Whale and his star
James Whale had directed only two films before FRANKENSTEIN (JOURNEY’S END and WATERLOO BRIDGE), but the former stage director certainly adapted quickly to the new medium of talking pictures. The story had been made three times for the silent screen, but the new sound technology adds so much to the overall eeriness of the film’s atmosphere. Whale was obviously influenced by…
I was going to start this review with a quote from Gandhi: “A nation’s greatness is measured by how it treats its prisoners.” That was something that I first heard from a perpetually stoned ex-seminarian who used to live in a trailer park in Lake Dallas. I always figured that, being as stoned as he usually was, he probably knew what he was talking about but, upon doing research for this review, I have discovered that Gandhi actually didn’t say that. What Gandhi said was, “A nation’s greatness is measured by how it treats its weakest members.” Fortunately, it’s the same basic idea and, regardless of how you phrase it, it’s a quote that perfectly encapsulates the message of the 1936 film, Road Gang.
Road Gang tells the story of Jim (Donald Woods) and Bob (Carlyle Moore, Jr.). Bob is fun-loving. Jim is more serious and engaged to marry heiress Barbara Winston (Kay Linaker). Jim and Bob live in an unnamed Southern state (though I’m going to assume that the state is supposed to be Georgia, just because). Jim has just written an article that exposes the corruption of political boss, J.W. Moett (Joe King). The article is so good that both Jim and Bob have been offered jobs in Chicago! There’s a lot of corrupt political figures who can be exposed in Chicago!
However, while driving up north, Jim and Bob are arrested on trumped-up charges. At first, Jim and Bob laugh off Moett’s desperation but, unfortunately, another criminal happens to be breaking out of jail at the same time that Jim and Bob arrives for booking. That criminal kills the arresting officer and then forces Jim and Bob to drive him across the state. Eventually, the police recapture the three of them. However, the escaping criminal is killed and Jim and Bob are arrested as accessories. Under the advice of their lawyer, Mr. Dudley (Edward Van Sloan), they plead guilty and accept a deal. What they don’t know is that Dudley works for Moett and that, as a result of pleading guilty, they are going to be sentenced to five years in a prison camp.
Okay, so the film gets off to a pretty melodramatic start. And, to be honest, the entire film is extremely melodramatic. A lot of time is devoted to Barbara trying find evidence that Jim and Bob were set up, something that is made difficult by the fact that Barbara’s father, like Mr. Dudley, works for Moett. Fast-paced and not-always-logical, this is a B-movie, in every sense of the term.
And yet, as melodramatic as it is, Road Gang is deadly serious when it comes to portraying the brutality of the prison camp. From the minute that Bob and Jim arrive, they find themselves at the mercy of the corrupt warden and his sadistic guards. The prisoners are largely used as slave labor and subjected to punishments that are often arbitrary and extreme.
Road Gang doesn’t flinch when it comes to portraying why prison often not only fails to rehabilitate but also helps to transform minor offenders into hardened criminals. There’s a disturbing scene in which Jim, Bob, and the other prisoners are forced to listen as another prisoner is whipped. The crack of the whip and his howls of agony explode across the soundtrack in a symphony of pain and sadism. Jim and Bob have two very different reactions to being in prison. One survives. One allows himself to be killed rather than take one more day in confinement.
Road Gang is often compared to I Am A Fugitive From A Chain Gang. Actually, beyond the theme of a fatally compromised justice system, there is no comparison. The angry and fact-based I Am A Fugitive From A Chain Gang is a hundred times better and, quite frankly, Donald Woods was no Paul Muni. However, Road Gang still has its moments of power. Decades after it was made, the issues it raises continue to be relevant. Do we send people to prison to rehabilitate them or to punish them and are the two goals mutually exclusive? And how can we say that someone has “paid his debt to society” when, even after a prisoner serves his time, the stigma of having been imprisoned closes and locks most doors of opportunity?
Road Gang shows up occasionally on TCM. There’s where I recorded it on January 23rd of this year.
Barbara Stanwyck uses sex as a weapon and screws her way to the top in BABY FACE, an outrageously blatant Pre-Coder that had the censors heads spinning back in 1933. Miss Stanwyck plays Lily Powers, a young woman who works in her Pop’s speakeasy in smog-filled Erie, PA, where Pop’s been pimping her out since she was 14. Lily has a black female friend named Chico who seems to be more than just a friend (though it’s never stated, the implication’s definitely there). All the men paw over her like dogs with a piece of raw meat except the elderly Mr. Cragg, who gives her a book by Fredrich Nietzche along with some advice: “You have power… you don’t realize your potentialities… you must use men, not let them use you… exploit yourself, use men! Be strong, defiant!”.
When Pop’s still blows to smithereens, taking Pop with it, Lily and…
Well, Bram Stoker might disagree but, according to Universal Studios, he did. Her name was Countess Marya Zaleska and, as played by Gloria Holden, she is the title character in 1936’s Dracula’s Daughter! Like her father, the Countess was also a vampire. The film never gets into just how she became a vampire. Was she born a vampire or, far more disturbingly, was she once a mortal who turned into a vampire by her own father? The film doesn’t tell us but it does establish early on that she hates being one of the undead. Unlike her father, she struggles with her urge to drink blood. When she discovers that Dracula has been staked, she and her servant, Sandor (Irving Pichel), steal the body from the morgue and burn it. The Countess thinks that this will cure her of her urges.
Sadly, it does no such thing.
So, what’s a reluctant, 20th century vampire to do? Well, she can always go to a psychiatrist and hope that science can somehow break the curse. She ends up as a patient of Dr. Jeffrey Garth (Otto Kruger). By coincidence, Dr. Garth has another famous patient — Dr. Edward Von Helsing. (That’s right, they changed the “van” to a “von” in Dracula’s Daughter. Despite the name change, Edward van Sloan returns to play the veteran vampire hunter.)
Von Helsing in on trial, accused of murdering Dracula in the previous film. Oddly enough, nobody mentions Renfield who, seeing as how we’re told Dracula’s Daughter starts exactly where Dracula left off, would have been found dead in the crypt as well. Even stranger, no one steps forward to defend Von Helsing. Dr. Seward, Mina, Johnathan Harker? Forget about them. Not a single one is to be found while Von Helsing is accused of murder.
Bastards.
Fortunately, Von Helsing has a defense! Since Dracula was already dead and had been for 500 years, Von Helsing could not have killed him. Helping him out with this defense is Dr. Garth…
Meanwhile, the Countess tries to resist the urge to attack every woman that she sees. She pours her frustrations out into painting. One night, Sandor brings the Countess a new model, a beautiful young woman named Lil (Nan Grey). The Countess orders Lil to undress and then, after staring at her, gives into her urges and attacks…
If you’re thinking that there’s a subtext here, that’s because there is. (In fact, Universal’s tagline for the film was, “Save the women of London from Dracula’s Daughter!”) Perhaps even more so than in Dracula,Dracula’s Daughter uses vampirism as a metaphor for forbidden sex. When the Countess stares at Lil and, later, when she prepares to bite the neck of Dr. Garth’s fiancée, she is embodying the hysterical fears of a puritanical society. When she unsuccessfully seeks a cure for her vampirism, we’re reminded that, in the 1930s, psychiatry classified homosexuality as being a mental illness. When the Countess struggles with her urge to drink blood, she is a stand-in for everyone who has struggled with their sexuality.
Gloria Holden plays the Countess as being as much a victim as a victimizer. Whereas Bela Lugosi turned Dracula into the epitome of evil, Gloria Holden gives a performance that is full of ambiguity. In fact, she at times seems to be so tortured by her vampiric state that, when she finally fully embraces the fact that she’s a vampire, you have to cheer a little. At least she’s finally being honest with herself! At least she’s no longer making apologies or allowing society to punish her for being who she is. Was Countess Zaleska the first reluctant vampire in film history? I’m not sure but Holden’s performance undoubtedly set the bar by which all other self-loathing vampires should be judged.
Dracula’s Daughter holds up surprisingly well. It’s definitely one to look for during this Halloween season.
It pains me to say it but, of all the classic Universal monster films, Dracula is probably my least favorite.
I hate to say that because I love vampires and I love the story of Dracula. I have read the book several times, I’ve seen several productions of the stage play, and I’ve seen a countless number of Dracula films. (Christopher Lee’s version is my favorite.) The 1931 version of Dracula — while hardly being the first vampire movie — was still a very important moment in the history of horror cinema. Every vampire film that has come out since owes a debt of gratitude to Dracula. Bela Lugosi’s performance set the standard against which almost all vampires are judged.
I always want to love Dracula but … no, the film just doesn’t work for me.
Of course, we all know the film’s story. Dracula (Bela Lugosi) comes to England from Transylvania. He turns Lucy (Frances Dade) into a vampire and attempts to do the same thing to Mina Seward (Helen Chandler). Mina’s fiancée, John Harker (David Manners) and father, Dr. Seward (Herbert Bunston), attempt to stop him with the help of Prof. Van Helsing (Edward van Sloan). Renfield (Dwight Frye) serves as Dracula’s servant and eats bugs. Dracula tells us that he does not drink … wine. He talks about the music of the night. His eyes get wide at the sight of blood and he hides his face when confronted with a cross.
Of course, though Dracula may have first appeared in Bram Stoker’s novel, the film is actually an adaptation of a stage play that was based on the novel. That’s the main problem with Dracula as a movie. It’s a very stagey film, one that never seems to quite break free of its theatrical origins. It’s a rather slow-moving film, one that is full of awkward scene transitions and moments of dead air. One need only compare it to F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu or Carl Theodor Dreyer’s Vampyr to see just how visually bland Dracula really is.
Dracula‘s blandness is especially surprising when you consider that the direction is credited to Tod Browning. Browning directed some of the best horror films of the silent era and, after the release of Dracula, he went on to direct the brilliant Freaks. Dracula doesn’t feel like a Browning film but perhaps that’s because it actually wasn’t. Reportedly, Tod Browning was struggling with depression during the filming of Dracula and was rarely on set. Instead, most of the film’s direction was handled by cinematographer Karl Freund. Freund had never directed a film before (though he would later acquit himself quite well with The Mummy) and Dracula‘s flaws were largely a result of that inexperience.
Well, that may be true or it may not. Here’s what we can say for sure: Bela Lugosi’s work as Dracula holds up surprisingly well. When seen today, it can be difficult to fairly judge Lugosi’s performance. We’ve seen so many parodies and bad imitations that it’s difficult to imagine the impact that it may have had on audiences in 1931. Lugosi was recreating his stage performance and it’s a very theatrical performance but, at the same time, Dracula is a character that doesn’t demand or require subtlety. There’s a power to Lugosi’s performance. Maybe it’s the piercing stare or the unbridled blood lust that seems to be reflected in his eyes. Maybe it’s the accent. Maybe it’s the haughty and arrogant way that he carries himself. Whatever it is, it works.
No, Dracula does not hold up as well as you might hope. But Bela Lugosi’s performance remains a classic.
No, not Victor von Frankenstein, though he certainly suffered greatly for playing God. How much he suffered depends on which version of the story you see or read. If you’ve read the book, you know that Victor lost his family, his love, his mentor, his best friend, and eventually his own life. Victor is usually a bit more resilient in the films. For instance, if you go by what we’ve seen in the Hammer films, Baron Frankenstein was pretty much indestructible. The only thing he lost was his sanity, sacrificed as he continually insisted on making the same mistake over and over again.
And when I say “Pity poor Frankenstein,” I’m not referring to the monster either, though he certainly deserves some sympathy as well. The monster never asked to be brought to life. He may have destroyed castles and killed people and tossed little girls into a lake but Frankenstein’s Monster rarely seemed to mean any harm. He was just scared, confused, and often abused.
Instead, when I say pity poor Frankenstein, I’m referring to the 1931 film. It’s a classic horror film, one that, after 85 years, still holds up remarkably well. It’s probably the best directed of all the Universal horror films, with James Whale bringing his own dark wit and idiosyncratic style to the film. As was often the case with films of the era, some of the performances are better than others but no one can find fault with Boris Karloff’s definitive portrayal of Frankenstein’s monster.
And yet, for a lot of filmgoers, Frankenstein will always just be that movie where Colin Clive rants, “It’s alive! IT’S ALIVE!” That scene is justifiably famous but it always bothers me when it shows up as an isolated clip, devoid of context. I’ve seen it used in documentaries. I’ve seen it used on snarky news programs where it’s almost always used to poke fun at someone. I’ve even seen it used in a car commercial.
You’ve seen it too. It’s one of those scenes that everyone has seen, regardless of whether or not they’ve sat through the entire movie:
When you watch this scene without any context, it’s easy to smirk. You might assume that the entire film is Colin Clive ranting and Dwight Frye snorting. It’s only after you’ve seen the entire film that you appreciate Clive’s performance. Throughout the entire first part of the film, Colin Clive plays Henry Frankenstein as being unstable but also rather withdrawn. He’s almost vampiric, hiding inside of his laboratory all day and only coming out at night to rob graves with the hunchbacked Fritz (Dwight Frye). He’s almost a recluse, which is why his fiancée, Elizabeth (Mae Clarke) asks his best friend, Victor (John Boles), and his mentor, Dr. Waldman (Edward Van Sloan, who also played Van Helsing in Dracula) to check in on him.
When the monster does move its hand and Clive shouts, “It’s alive!,” it’s the first sign of true emotion that Frankenstein has shown through the entire film. He’s spent a lifetime dreaming of playing God and, now that he has, it overwhelms his mind. Much like poor Ralph Norton in The Mummy, Clive sees something that defies all reason and he has a breakdown.
I have to admit that, for me, the first third of the film drags. That may not have been as much of a problem in 1931, when audiences were seeing the story for the first time and didn’t already know what was going to happen. In 1931, the slow start undoubtedly helped to build up suspense. But, when seen today, there is a temptation to say, “Get on with it!”
(Of course, I tend to say that with all Frankenstein movies, because I’m impatient and there always seems to be an endless number of scenes people digging graves and stealing brains until we finally get to the good part. If anything, the 1931 Frankenstein doesn’t take as long to get going as some of the later Hammer films, many of which treated the monster as almost an afterthought.)
Fortunately, Frankenstein does get on with it. When the monster finally comes to life and Colin Clive has his moment of divine madness (“This is what it feels like to be God!”), the film shifts in tone. If anything it becomes a bit of a dark comedy. Henry (who is noticeably more subdued after his outburst, a bit like a drug addict who is only now starting to come down after being awake for a week) and his friends now have to not only hide the monster but try to figure out how to deal with it. Every few minutes, it seems like another villager or Frankenstein relative is dropping by the castle. Having created life, Henry now has no idea what to do with it. Being God isn’t as easy as it looks. Having created life, all Henry can now do is keep the doors locked and attempt to go back to living a relatively normal life. In this case, that means preparing for his wedding.
It’s not until the sadistic Fritz torments the frightened monster with a torch that this horror classic truly becomes a horror film. And it’s significant that the true monster here is not Frankenstein’s Monster but instead Fritz. When the monster kills Fritz, he does it out of self-defense. When he strangles Dr. Waldman, it’s because Waldman was about to cut into him with scapel.
And then there’s the little girl. How this scene must have shocked audiences in 1931! It’s still shocking today, because we’re not used to children dying in movies, not even horror movies. Of course, the monster doesn’t mean to hurt the girl. The girl is the first person to show the monster any sort of kindness. It’s just that the monster doesn’t understand that the girl won’t float like the flowers.
The sequence where the girl’s father carries her body into the town square is perhaps one of the most devastating ever filmed. Not only does the father’s grief contrast with the happiness of the villagers but it also contrasts with the attitude of Henry and Elizabeth who are busy preparing from their wedding, ignorant of what Henry’s creation has done.
Or, at least, they are until the monster confronts Elizabeth in her bedroom.
I love that dress.
It all ends, of course, with a confrontation between Henry and his monster and a windmill being set aflame. There’s also a happy coda that, in the best tradition of horror, feels a bit tacked on. Fortunately, those of us who know our film history know that the story didn’t end with this film. It continued with The Bride of Frankenstein, which I’ll be reviewing tomorrow.
As for Frankenstein, it’s a classic and it’s pretty much required viewing for any film lover. Boris Karloff’s performance as the confused and often child-like monster is both poignant and menacing. Watching the film, you just wish that the world had been nicer to him.
(Then again, that approach didn’t exactly work out well for the little girl with the flowers…)
Frankenstein is so much more than just Colin Clive shouting, “It’s alive!” If you haven’t actually sat down watched the entire movie from beginning to end, you owe it to yourself to do so today.
Through the Shattered Lens 