Short Take: Waxworks

 

(1924) Directed by Paul Leni; Written by Henrik Galeen; Starring: Emil Jannings, Conrad Veidt, Werner Krauss, William Dieterle and Olga Belajoff; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ***½

“Ivan was a blood-crazed monster on a throne, who turned cities into cemeteries. His crown was a tiara of mouldering bones, his sceptre an axe. His council-room was a torture chamber, with the Devil and Death as chief ministers.” – Intertitle for "Ivan the Terrible" Segment 

Horror anthologies (and omnibus movies in general) are a special breed of film, providing several complete segments, linked by a branching story. As a result of their episodic nature, they’re often a mixed bag to watch, frequently varying in tone and quality. The beauty of the format, however, is that if you don’t like one story, you usually don’t have to wait too long for the next. Amicus productions arguably perfected the horror portmanteau in the ‘60s and ‘70s, with a string of macabre offerings, starting with Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors (1965), which was directly influenced by Dead of Night (1945). If Dead of Night was the father of the format, then the grandad was 1924’s Waxworks (aka: Das Wachsfigurenkabinett)* from director Paul Leni (The Man Who Laughs, The Cat and the Canary) and writer Henrik Galeen (Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror). Leni, who worked in many aspects of filmmaking, brought his signature visual flair to the film, before moving to Hollywood for the remainder of his all-too-brief career.*/** 

* Not-So-Fun-Fact #1: The original negative burned in 1925. The reconstructed 82-minute version that exists today is derived mainly from a British print, and is 25 minutes shorter than the version that premiered in Germany. 

** Not-So-Fun-Fact #2: Leni’s career was tragically cut short when he died of blood poisoning in 1929, only a couple of years after moving to Hollywood.

 In the framing story, a young writer (William Dieterle) visits a carnival sideshow featuring wax figures of some of history’s most notorious individuals: Harun Al-Rashid, Ivan the Terrible, Jack the Ripper and Rinaldo Rinaldini. After catching the eye of the proprietor’s daughter (Olga Belajoff), he’s hired to write their checkered backstories, which follow in a trio of segments. */** 

* Fun Fact #1: Why only three segments? Plans for a fourth story, concerning the Italian gentleman thief Rinaldo Rinaldini, were scuttled when the filmmakers ran out of funds. 

** Fun Fact #2: when the film premiered in its native Germany the order of the stories was completely different, starting with Ivan the Terrible, followed by Jack the Ripper, and concluding with Harun Al-Rashid.

The first (and best) story concerns Harun Al-Rashid (Emil Jannings), the capricious Caliph of Bagdad. When Assad, a lowly baker (William Dieterle, in a second role), inadvertently raises the ire of the Caliph, the ruler sends his Grand Vizier (Paul Biensfeldt) to dispatch the offending baker. After hearing a description of the baker’s wife Zarah (Olga Belaioff, also in a second role) from his vizier, the Caliph decides to roam the city incognito to catch a glimpse of her for himself. Meanwhile, in an effort to prove his worth, the baker schemes to steal the Caliph’s “Wishing Ring,” a magical ring that can grant any wish by the turn of its jewel. This segment is a visual delight, featuring a fanciful, expressionistic version of Bagdad that appears almost organic, with no straight lines or right angles.

Compared to the lighter tone of the first segment, the second, with Ivan the Terrible (Conrad Veidt), is noticeably darker. The focal point of the story is Ivan’s hourglass, which marks the time a poisoned victim has to live – it’s fittingly ironic that the device becomes the instrument of his eventual comeuppance. Veidt shines as the Russian despot, who keeps the population ensnared in a web of fear. Despite Veidt’s imposing performance and unique set design, the pacing is inconsistent in the second story, making it seem subjectively longer than the preceding (and objectively longer) segment.   

The third segment, by far the shortest,* focuses on Jack the Ripper (or “Spring-Heeled Jack” in the English-language version). It’s not big on story or plot, but a nightmare come to life. The writer falls asleep, dreaming he’s relentlessly pursued through the back streets and alleys by the ignominious killer (played by Werner Krauss, who also appeared as the titular Dr. Caligari).   

* Fun Fact #3: According to Julia Walmüller, who was involved with the film’s restoration, the Jack the Ripper story was always the shortest segment.

Waxworks isn’t easily classified into one genre – not exactly horror, but horror-adjacent.  While largely an exercise in style over substance (the superior Harun Al-Rashid segment notwithstanding), it’s undeniably gorgeous to look at. Although the sum is less than it could have been, Waxworks deserves its place as a revered classic that belongs on anyone’s list of must-see silent films. 

 

Sources for this article: Flicker Alley Blu-ray commentary by Adrian Martin; “In Search of the Original Version of Paul Leni’s Das Wachsfigurenkabinett: Interview with Julia Walmüller (Deutsche Kinomathek)” (2020)

Dead & Buried

 

(1981) Directed by: Gary Sherman; Written by Ronald Shusett and Dan O’Bannon; Story by Jeff Millar and Alex Stern; Based on the novel by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro; Starring: James Farentino, Melody Anderson, Jack Albertson, Dennis Redfield, Nancy Locke, Lisa Blount and Robert Englund; Available on Blu ray and DVD 

Rating: ****

“…We went for as much strangeness in the picture as we could.” – Gary Sherman (from DVD commentary)

“…I replace missing eyeballs with sawdust, glue the lids together. I’ve used bent aluminum combs for dentures. I’ve used the back part of the scalp when there was no front part, and I’ve folded one hand over wadded-up newspapers when the other hand had no fingers You find all this obscene, sheriff? You know what is really obscene? Look at this. Look at the work I’ve done. This is an art and I am the artist. What can you remember about a sealed box, a sealed casket? That is obscene. That is the death of memory. A cosmetologist gives birth. I make souvenirs.” – William G. Dobbs (Jack Albertson)

The word of the day is “scopophobia,” or the fear of being watched. As a big-city kind of guy, I can’t help but be suspicious of small towns (no offense intended to anyone living in one), where everyone knows everyone else’s business. Whether I’m simply passing through or visiting, I have the uncanny feeling that my every move is being tracked and catalogued by the locals, especially if I happen to step into a local establishment such as a store or restaurant. However absurd it may seem, I often expect to be greeted by blank stares the moment I walk in the door. Following the success of Alien (1979), the writing team of Ronald Shusett and Dan O’Bannon set their sights on Earth-bound terrors. Set in the fictional New England seaside village of Potters Bluff, Maine,* Dead & Buried reinforces our fears about venturing where we’re not wanted. 

* Fun Fact #1: Filming actually took place on the opposite coast, in Mendocino, California.

 

George Le Moyne (Christopher Allport), a vacationing photographer, arrives in Potters Bluff to take some shots of the beach. He’s approached by an alluring young woman in red (Lisa Blount), who lures him into a grisly trap. Sheriff Dan Gillis (James Farentino) discovers the tourist’s severely burned, barely alive body inside his van. George is subsequently rushed to the hospital, but before he can be questioned, he meets his demise. Dan’s investigation leads him to the town’s hotel, where the photographer was staying. The hotel’s proprietor suggests a link between George and Gillis’ school teacher wife, Janet (Melody Anderson). Although Janet contends her meeting with the now deceased photographer was innocent (purchasing photographic equipment for her school), the sheriff suspects she may know more than she’s telling. He plays a verbal game of cat and mouse with the town’s eccentric mortician/coroner, William G. Dobbs (Jack Albertson), who also seems less than forthcoming. As Gillis attempts to piece together the mystery of the photographer and other strange occurrences, signs lead to a conspiracy between Potters Bluff’s residents; the answer may lie within a tiny reel of film.

Jack Albertson (in his final motion picture role), steals the show as William G. Dobbs, who apparently has his finger on the town’s pulse. Much like the rest of Potters Bluff, he’s a throwback to an earlier era, driving a ‘50s era Cadillac ambulance/hearse, and listening to big band music on an ancient Victrola while he works. Albertson imbues his character with a sardonic sense of humor, complementing the moribund tone of the film. There’s a twinkle in his eye when he discusses his profession, taking pride in his handiwork, but lamenting the fact that it gets buried. Albertson’s performance is especially poignant considering that the actor himself was dying of cancer at the time of filming. Despite the morbid nature of the subject matter, he brings life and a much-needed sense of levity to the character. (SPOILER ALERT). Much to the sheriff’s horror, he learns that Dobbs has found a way to reanimate the dead. They go about their pre-programmed daily rituals in a perverse mimicry of life, like over-glorified Disney automatons. We never see what miraculous process Dobbs has perfected (“Call it black magic. Call it a medical breakthrough. I'll take my secret to the grave.”), which is wisely left to our collective imaginations.

James Farentino plays his role as Sheriff Gillis with intensity. His building frustration with Dobbs and the rest of the townspeople is palpable. Farentino’s performance occasionally lapses into histrionics, but it sells the more unpalatable moments. Melody Anderson (fresh off filming 1980’s Flash Gordon) brings a playful aspect to her character, Janet, evident in the scenes when she coyly sidesteps her husband’s questioning, or gleefully talks to her class about witchcraft.

The superior makeup effects by Stan Winston are appropriately stomach turning* – while not easy to look at, it’s easy to admire the care and artistry that he brings to his gruesome creations. In one scene, a murdered hitchhiker’s (Lisa Marie) mutilated face is meticulously reconstructed, layer by layer. In another sequence, Sheriff Gillis hits a town resident with his truck, leaving their severed but still twitching arm in the grill. At the behest of the distributors, the filmmakers reluctantly added additional gore sequences, but the absence of Winston’s involvement is conspicuous. When acid is pumped into an unfortunate victim’s nostrils, the melting face effect, while ghastly, isn’t nearly as convincing as Winston’s work.    

* Fun Fact #2: In one of the film’s most memorable scenes, a burn victim is stabbed in the eyeball by a syringe. Instead of a live actor, the figure wrapped in bandages was an elaborate, fully articulated dummy.

 

The murky visuals, often seen through a brownish haze, somehow work for the film (bright colors and sunny skies wouldn’t have done the story any justice), conveying an unrelenting sense of dread throughout. Sherman commented that he purposely desaturated the colors. With the exception of the opening scene (along with some distributor-mandated gore inserts) with the mystery woman, the filmmakers avoided reds. Like a fading photograph, Potters Bluff and its residents are lost in another era. 

* Fun Fact #3: Prior to filming, Sherman drew a map of Mendocino to plan his shots. He purposely filmed the town at different angles, to make it appear more claustrophobic and disorienting.

One of the primary challenges of the $3 million production was that the film changed hands with three different distributors,* each with a different vision. According to Sherman, Dead & Buried originally started as a dark comedy, but the final distributor wanted any comic scenes removed and a greater emphasis on shocks. Regrettably, the director’s cut of the film no longer exists, as the third distributor ordered all versions of Sherman’s cut destroyed. Considering the creative differences, Dead & Buried works remarkably well. Bits of dark comedy remain intact, especially the scenes with Jack Albertson. The film’s overall tone is somber, with an underlying sense of dread, deftly exploiting our fears and mystery surrounding death. It rewards upon repeated viewings, scattering many clues along the way. Despite the film’s many strengths, it wasn’t a box office success, failing to connect with audiences or some critics at the time (notably Roger Ebert). As with many cult horror films, Dead & Buried has proved to be much more enduring than once anticipated, gaining a small but ardent fandom. Much like Dobbs’ zombie creations, the movie has taken on a second life of its own. 

* Fun Fact #4: The first distribution company was Guinness (yes, the brewery), during their brief foray into the movie business.

 

Sources for this article: Blue Underground DVD commentary by Gary Sherman; Blue Underground DVD commentary by Ronald Shusett and Linda Turley (Shusett)