The Raven

 

(1935) Directed by Lew Landers; Written by David Boehm; Based on the poem, “The Raven,” by Edgar Allan Poe; Starring: Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Jeffrey Matthews, Irene Ware, and Samuel S. Hinds; Available on Blu-ray (included in The Universal Horror Collection, Volume 1) and DVD 

Rating: ***½ 

This review is part of the Secret Places and Trippy Houses Blogathon, hosted by Rebecca Deniston from Taking Up Room. Many thanks to Rebecca for making this event a reality! The following review illustrates that wherever Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff go, dark, hidden laboratories follow…

“Death is my talisman, Mr. Chapman. The one indestructible force, the one certain thing in an uncertain universe. Death!” – Dr. Richard Volling (Bela Lugosi)

“You can’t make people believe in you if you’re playing a horror part with your tongue in your cheek. The screen magnifies everything, even the way you are thinking. If you are not serious, people will sense it. No matter how hokum or highly melodramatic the horror part may be, you must believe in it while you are playing it.” – Bela Lugosi (excerpt from New York Times Interview)

It’s good to have a hobby. Some folks like stamp collecting, needlepoint, or model trains.  Dr. Richard Vollin (Bela Lugosi), on the other hand, an ardent Edgar Allan Poe enthusiast, constructs a secret torture chamber based on his favorite author’s works. Following their exceptional performances in The Black Cat (1934), Lugosi and Karloff paired up again in The Raven, a twisted tale of sadism, infatuation and obsession. Although Karloff received top billing* this was clearly Lugosi’s film as the maniacal Dr. Vollin. Under the brisk direction of Lew Landers (aka: Louis Friedlander) and a script by David Boehm,** The Raven was produced on a budget of $109,750 (which eventually grew to $115,209.01). 

* Fun Fact #1: Despite Lugosi dominating the film, as well as the screen time, he only enjoyed second billing, under Karloff (both are billed with their last names, only). He took home $5,000 for five weeks’ work, compared to Karloff’s $10,000 for four weeks’ work.   

** Fun Fact #2: Although Boehm received sole writing credit, the script passed through several hands before it reached him, starting with Guy Endore (Mark of the Vampire). The script subsequently received new iterations from Clarence Marks, Michael Simmons, Jim Tully, and John Lynch. Following his predecessors, Boehm created three complete versions of the script, including some last-minute touch-ups on the final version by Dore Schary.

The movie begins with our heroine, Jean Thatcher (Irene Ware) driving a treacherous winding road in the middle of a stormy night. She loses control of her vehicle, skidding over an embankment. Jean is rushed to hospital, where she lies in a comatose state with nerve damage to her neck, hovering precipitously between life and death. When help is beyond the capabilities of the resident doctors, her father, Judge Thatcher (Samuel S. Hinds), persuades retired surgeon Dr. Vollin to come out of retirement, arguing he’s the best and only hope to save his daughter’s life. Ego appropriately massaged, Vollin agrees. She makes a rapid recovery, but in Vollin’s mind, her obligation to him goes far beyond her father’s gratitude. There’s only one wrinkle – she’s engaged to be married to Vollin’s younger colleague, Dr. Jerry Halden (Lester Matthews), but this obstacle is purely academic to the elder surgeon, who’s becomes entranced by her. When Judge Thatcher senses his infatuation with Jean, he naïvely tries to make him see reason “You don’t want a young girl like Jean falling in love with you.” (Yeah, right.). But Vollin, incapable of taking no for an answer, plots his next move.* Every evil mastermind needs his lackey, and Dr. Vollin finds one in the form of escaped convict Edmond Bateman (Boris Karloff), a man with a propensity towards violence. When Bateman bursts into Vollin’s house, demanding to have his face changed, he gets his wish, but not the way he intended. Vollin severs several nerves, rendering half of his face withered and droopy, including one dead, unblinking eye.**Vollin presents Bateman with a proposition: if he wants his face fixed, he must carry out the doctor’s bidding. Thus begins Vollin’s warped scheme of revenge, which will subject Judge Thatcher, Jean, and her fiancé to the tortures awaiting them in his hidden basement dungeon.*** 

* Fun Fact #4: Consider another movie from 1935, Mad Love, released just a month later, also about infatuation gone toxic. Despite similar themes and a standout performance by Peter Lorre, the arguably superior film from rival studio MGM wasn’t a hit at the time. 

** Fun Fact #3: Considering the fact that makeup pioneer Jack P. Pierce created Karloff’s makeup, the eye (made of bees’ wax and cellophane) looks rather unconvincing. In Pierce’s defense, an earlier version of the makeup used a glass eye, but because it reportedly horrified studio censors, he opted for the makeup used in the film. 

*** Fun Fact #5: Vollin’s dungeon was a recycled, repurposed set originally used in Bride of Frankenstein (1934).

It’s easy to tell Lugosi is having a blast as the deranged Dr. Vollin, who has an unnatural obsession with the works of Poe that goes far beyond a complete library of first editions. In a hidden basement, away from prying eyes, he’s re-created some of the torture devices described by Poe, including a pendulum and a room with moving walls to crush his victims. The self-aggrandizing Vollin views himself as something more than human. After he entertains his adoring patient Jean with haunting music from his pipe organ,* she refers to him as a god. He quickly corrects her: “A god with the taint of human emotions.” When his advances are spurned, he switches into revenge mode, as if he had been waiting for an excuse (any excuse) to try out his torture devices. Judge Thatcher is shackled to a platform, where a swinging bladed pendulum looms every closer. When the judge makes an appeal for sanity, Vollin replies, “I am the sanest man who ever lived! But I will not be tortured! I tear torture out of myself by torturing you!” But Vollin reserves a more Poe-etic death for Jean, when he has her thrown into the crushing chamber with her husband (“You will never be separated, never.”). 

* Fun Fact #6: In addition to featuring Toccata and Fugue in D minor (Bach’s go-to classical piece for villains everywhere) in The Raven, the composition was played by Boris Karloff’s character Hjalmar Poelzig in The Black Cat (1934).  

Karloff does a fine job in a supporting role, as Edmond Bateman, managing to find the humanity in a character who has done horrible things. When his ruined face is first revealed, Dr. Vollin sadistically reveals a wall of full-length mirrors, which Bateman proceeds to shoot out. Vollin’s cruel laughter is offset by Bateman’s growls of frustration and rage, reminiscent of Karloff’s role as Frankenstein’s monster. Besides being the victim of Vollin’s cruel torment, Bateman evokes sympathy for his disfigurement, when the initially shocked Jean apologizes to him for being scared. It is this moment of kindness that will eventually redeem Bateman, and will be Vollin’s undoing. 

Much ado has been made about the supposed rivalry between horror titans Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi (perpetuated by the fun but factually dubious Ed Wood (1994) and its primary source, Nightmare of Ecstasy, by Rudolph Grey). While there may be a kernel of truth about Lugosi’s resentment, there’s no concrete evidence there was any outward animosity between the two actors. In their several collaborations, Karloff always received top billing, as well as the higher salary, but ultimately both enjoyed their craft, displaying a strong sense of professionalism.

Despite several concessions to restrictions mandated by the Production Code,* the finished movie didn’t go over well with critics of the time, who lambasted it for its sadistic themes. The required nips and tucks to the film also didn’t prevent it from being the object of scorn from regional censors, who each took a crack at it (The Raven was banned outright in China, the Netherlands, and in Ontario, Canada). Proving no publicity was bad publicity, however, The Raven was a hit at the box office, and time has vindicated the movie as an example of two horror greats in top form. It’s best not to dwell on the film’s logic (or lack thereof), or the logistics of Vollin constructing an elaborate underground torture chamber underneath his house (Did he hire contractors or did he carry out the construction himself? If he did hire contractors, which seems the most likely option, how did he get them to maintain their silence? So many questions, so few answers.). If you’re anything like me, you’ll stop worrying about what does or doesn’t make sense, and just run with it. The Raven had the unfortunate luck to follow Karloff and Lugosi’s greatest paring, just a year before, in The Black Cat (1934), which has always overshadowed the actors’ subsequent efforts. But even if it’s considered a somewhat “lesser” effort you’re bound to have a devilishly good time. 

* Fun Fact #7: The British Board of Censors were so incensed by The Raven that they refused to evaluate any further horror films… resulting in Hollywood temporarily halting production of horror movies. 

 

Sources for this article: DVD commentary by Steve Haberman; “A Good Game: Karloff and Lugosi at Universal, Part Two”; Karloff and Lugosi – The Story of a Haunting Collaboration, by Gregory William Mank

 

 

The Mystery of the Wax Museum

 

(1933) Directed by Michael Curtiz; Written by Don Mullaly and Carl Erickson; Based on “The Wax Works,” by Charles Belden; Starring: Lionel Atwill, Fay Wray, Glenda Farrell, Frank McHugh, Allen Vincent and Gavin Gordon; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ****

“…It was kind of a beautiful feeling, because it was a wonderful gown, and it was a pleasure to just be still as possible, like a statue. And it was not eerie; it was a charming feeling...” – Fay Wray (on playing a wax statue) (archival interview from Blu-ray commentary) 

“My dear, why are you so pitifully afraid? Immortality has been the dream, the inspiration of mankind through the ages. And I am going to give you immortality!” – Ivan Igor (Lionel Atwill)

There’s something undeniably uncanny about wax figures, especially when they’re expertly done. Their mimicry of life can be so convincing that we may be prompted to wonder, “Is it a dummy or the real thing?” This premise has long fascinated and horrified filmmakers and audiences alike, toying with the idea that they might be more than they seem. Michael Curtiz’s follow-up to 1932’s Doctor X, The Mystery of the Wax Museum, was also filmed in two-strip Technicolor,* including much of the same crew as the previous movie, and once again pairing of Fay Wray with Lionel Atwill. Produced on a budget of $279,000, Curtiz, cast and crew worked extremely long hours under lighting that was five times the intensity required for black and white film stock, making the set unbearably hot. 

* Fun Fact #1: According to film preservationist Scott MacQueen, the movie was the last feature film made by Warner Brothers in the 2-color process, having fulfilled their contract with Technicolor.

Our story begins in London, circa 1921,* in Ivan Igor’s (Lionel Atwill) wax museum, where he proudly shows off his remarkably lifelike creations. To him, they’re more than just inanimate objects – he almost regards them as his children, especially the figure of Marie Antoinette (Fay Wray). As is often the case, however, art and finances don’t always mix, as evidenced by Igor’s business partner (Edwin Maxwell), who proposes the inelegant solution of torching the place to get the insurance money (apparently insurance investigators weren’t very picky in those days). Despite Igor’s ardent protests, the museum goes up in flames. Skip forward to present-day (well…uh, 1930s-era) New York City, where Igor is set to open a new wax museum. With his hands irreparably damaged from the fire, he can no longer create the figures himself, so he supervises (okay, browbeats) a team of sculptors to make his dream live again. Meanwhile, ace reporter Florence (Glenda Farrell)** is looking to get a scoop (any scoop) for New Year’s Day that will save her job from the chopping block. When she learns the city morgue is one corpse short (a young socialite who committed suicide), she begins to dig deeper into the mystery. Her investigation leads to a sneak peek at Igor’s menagerie, where something seems fishy – in particular, a Joan of Ark statue, which bears a remarkable resemblance to said socialite. Her roommate Charlotte (Fay Wray) happens to date one of Igor’s sculptors, Ralph (Allen Vincent), when a visit to his workplace catches the eye of Igor (Surprise! She’s a dead ringer for his long-lost, beloved Marie Antoinette). Charlotte innocently accepts his request to pose for him, unaware that a more sinister purpose lies in store for her. 

* Fun Fact #2: In the U.K., the caption indicating the time and place was removed, due to its association with a real fire that occurred at Madam Tussaud’s in 1925 London.

Although Fay Wray was billed above her, it’s really Glenda Farrell’s movie, as the go-getting reporter Florence,* who’s not afraid to poke her nose where it isn’t wanted. She shares an apartment with Charlotte (Wray), where we catch a glimpse of the dynamic between the two young women in a scene where they debate the relative virtues of marrying for love versus money. It’s a shame there weren’t more scenes with the two verbally sparring together, which could have been a movie in itself. Instead, we’re treated to some fun banter between Florence and her gruff editor Jim (Frank McHugh), proving she’s more than a match for any man. She’s not intimidated by a male-dominated world or being assertive when the situation demands it. As a result, it’s more than a bit disappointing when she ultimately sacrifices her career for financial security with a millionaire playboy. 

* Fun Fact #3: Farrell’s plucky character was the inspiration for ace reporter Lola “Torchy” Lane (also played by Farrell) in the 1937 movie The Adventurous Blonde, which in turn became the inspiration for Superman co-creator Jerry Siegel to create the character, Lois Lane.

Wray is charming as usual, in the role of Charlotte Duncan. As befits one of the original scream queens, there’s more than ample opportunity to exercise her lungs in a few scenes, but she’s more than just a pretty face. In contrast to Florence’s brash, take-no-prisoners approach, Charlotte is sensitive and demure, managing to look glamorous without being overbearing. Compared to her money-obsessed roommate, she’d rather spend her days with a starving artist. 

Top-billed Lionel Atwill is compelling as the tortured Ivan Igor. Atwill brings pathos to the role as a man who watched his life’s work go up in smoke and is subsequently forced to defer his craft to others, in an attempt to recreate what he lost. His motivation for revenge against his deceitful former business partner is relatable. Unfortunately, our sympathy for him goes off the rails when he resorts to body stealing and murder to achieve his ends. In his mind, it’s all for the love of his art – pesky things like morals and ethics need not apply.

Cinematographer Ray Rennahan, art director Anton Grot, and costume designer Orry-Kelly make the most of the limitations of the film stock’s predominately red/green palette,* allowing our minds to fill in the blanks for the missing colors. If anything, the two-strip process lends the movie a somewhat unworldly look, perfect for the ghoulish subject matter. Likewise, the set design adds a level of unreality to the mix, ideal for such an outlandish tale. One example is the impressive workroom, where Igor carries out his fiendish plans, with its massive steel beams bathed in green light and a giant vat of boiling wax. I can’t address the practicality of such a setup, but it’s sure great to look at. 

* Fun Fact #4: Due to the limitations of the format, photographing pure white objects/clothing was impractical. As a workaround, the filmmakers opted for off-white/beige, in place of white.

The Mystery of the Wax Museum is a contender for one of the most disturbing films from the 1930s. Seeing the wax figures* melt and collapse in the prologue is sheer nightmare fodder. Another sequence that must have made some audience members jump in their seats depicts a freshly embalmed corpse rising up with a loud sigh, giving a novice coroner the fright of his life. I can’t speak for the veracity* of the scene, but it’s undeniably creepy. A subsequent sequence when a sheet-covered body is lowered outside the morgue window prompted cries for its removal. The film fared far worse in some countries outside the U.S., with censors calling for substantial cuts or the film being banned outright. Another moment (which reportedly was too much for Fay Wray during the first take) was the big reveal of Lionel Atwill’s face makeup, by an uncredited Perc Westmore. 

* Fun Fact #5: Two to three extra heads were kept on hand for the primary wax figures, in case their heads melted under the intense lighting. 

** Fun Fact #6: According to one funeral director’s FAQs, bodies are “physically incapable” of sitting up. As far as sounds emanating from corpses, however, it’s possible for trapped air to pass through the vocal cords, creating a semblance of moaning (Sleep well, folks!).

While The Mystery of the Wax Museum wasn’t a favorite with most critics* or regional censors,** it went on to be a hit at the box office, earning a respectable $1.1 million. The theme of creepy wax figures or clay sculptures being more than they seem has been re-used, recycled, and regurgitated for more than a century. The Mystery of the Wax Museum was remade in the 1950s, in Eastmancolor and 3D, as House of Wax, starring Vincent Price in the Lionel Atwill role, and revived in the early 2000s, once again, as House of Wax (the less said about that version, the better) From Waxworks (1924), to Santo in the Wax Museum (1963), to Wax Mask (1996), one thing is for certain. We haven’t seen the last of this perpetually enduring (and blood-chilling) subject. 

* Fun Fact #7: Here’s a sampling of 1933 review quotes from the New York premiere at the Strand Theatre (Personally, I’m with the third quote):

·       “…it is an absurd and tedious film of the thriller-chiller school.” (American)

·       “…the result is too ghastly for comfort (Times)

·       “Director Michael Curtiz makes an obvious endeavor to keep audiences’ toes a-tingling. And how it succeeds!” (News)

·       “In spite of the intenseness on the macabre, it never achieves anything but a wax-like imitation of horror.” (Post) 

** Fun Fact #8: In the town of Hereford, England, the film was initially banned for being “a very objectionable film,” only to have the ban lifted a week later, although it could not be shown on Sundays.

 

Sources for this article: Blu-ray commentary by Scott MacQueen, head of preservation, UCLA Film & Television Archive; “Remembering Fay Wray” (interview with Wray’s daughter, Victoria Riskin); “New York Reviews,” The Hollywood Reporter (Feb. 21, 1933); “Hereford Film Ban,” Kinematograph Weekly (Sept. 14, 1933); “Hereford’s Second Thoughts,” Kinematograph Weekly (Sept. 21, 1933); “The Mystery of the Wax Museum,” by Scott MacQueen, American Cinematographer (April 1990)