Showing posts with label the mummy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the mummy. Show all posts

10.05.2011

the doctor is in

boris karloff and bela lugosi are obviously indispensable as architects of horror cinema. only one man, though, appears throughout the holy trinity of universal's monster cycle. that man is vitagraph favorite, edward van sloan.

eventually becoming one of america's most durable character actors, he appeared in only one silent film, slander (1916), prior to those career-defining roles at universal. that fifteen year gap in between was filled with a lot of stage work, most notably as dr. abraham van helsing in the 1927 broadway production of dracula. it was the role he was born to play and, fortunately for us, he was also selected by universal to reprise the role when they filmed their tod browning-directed version of it in 1931. everything i love about van sloan is here in spades. he is a dedicated man of science doing battle with otherworldly forces, rational enough to understand the nature of evil, pragmatic enough to understand that there are things which defy reason. he is encouragingly paternal yet he will countenance no nonsense. most importantly, he is one tough old bastard. with his inimitable delivery, severe crew cut and flinty eyes magnified by thick glasses, he stands toe to toe with the count and does not flinch.

he is an implacable font of arcane knowledge with an almost suicidal fearlessness. he stands like a stooped colossus, an indomitable center of gravity and will in a house swirling with madmen, bats and silly young lovers. he wastes no time, ever. the very moment he deduces dracula's true nature when the count casts no reflection in the mirror, he lets him know he is onto him. he does not devise ridiculous traps and hunt only by day. he openly declares war. all this is not to say he doesn't know how to have fun, though. look at the joy in his face as he taunts renfield with wolf's bane. he doesn't walk, he runs, into carfax abbey. this is a man who clearly loves his work. while hugh jackman's van helsing is out shopping for hair care products, van sloan's is ensconced in his library, getting smarter, better, stronger.

ready for action!

the next time we see van sloan is in james whale's frankenstein (1931), where he takes time out of his busy schedule being a badass to issue this warning:



it's a kinder, gentler van sloan this time around and that costs him dearly. here, he portrays dr. waldman, henry frankenstein's former mentor and friend. prevailed upon to draw henry out of madness and seclusion, he accompanies henry's fiancée and friend to henry's castle laboratory just in time to see frankenstein's experiments bear blasphemous fruit. again, he is the stern but loving father figure, espousing common sense and dispensing valuable advice.

for instance, when selecting a brain to put into a reanimated body made of corpses, don't use the one marked "abby someone".

it's a complicated line dr. waldman walks. he is conservative, a card-carrying member of the medical establishment that has ostracized frankenstein. he tries time and again to warn henry of the potential dangers of his research, that evil will most certainly prevail. yet, he does not leave. his scientific curiosity gets the better of him. though he is repelled by the nature of henry's experiments and fearful of their outcome, he cannot completely divest himself of them or his former student. they are too fascinating. even when it becomes clear that the monster must be destroyed, he cannot quite pull the trigger before investigating a little further, which proves to be his undoing. the lure of forbidden knowledge is strong, even to someone as buttoned-down and practical as waldman. if only he'd had the fortitude of van helsing.

finally, a few months later, we arrive at my favorite of the golden age universal horrors, karl freund's the mummy (1932).

once again, van sloan is on the scene, laying down the law. think of how much destruction could have been averted in the thirties, if only people had listened to him. he portrays dr. muller here, an expert in egyptian occult lore. this time around, although still as astringent as ever, he is possessed of a romanticism that was not present in the other two films. this van sloan is much more deeply acquainted with recondite forces. he is as knowledgeable as van helsing and conscientious as waldman but the ancient mysteries of the desert manifest something quite different in him as he prophecies ruin. he struggles vainly to get everyone to acknowledge the gravity of the situation, ultimately ending up impotent against karloff's threat himself, his vast knowledge and respectful fear of the secrets of the dead being of no use to him at all. he must sit idly by and, in a rare turn of events in horror cinema, watch the heroine save herself. he suffers that terrible fate of every man with an inquisitive nature - that of having wisdom which brings no profit to the wise.

so, how did he do?
dracula - staked the villain in the final reel
frankenstein - strangled by frankenstein's monster
the mummy - powerless to help, but survived

one win, one loss, one draw - a very respectable record against cinema's greatest monsters. he would go on to play a number of doctors, doomed and otherwise, until 1950, but would never surpass this trio of films. in a span of just under two years in the early thirties, he cemented his reputation as your board-certified herald of disaster in a way that left an indelible mark on the landscape of horror cinema. my prescription? take all three of these as needed, every october. to quote another highly esteemed medical man, dr. john, "don't be ashamed to call the doctor when there ain't nobody left".

good for what ails you!

10.02.2010

twice the thrills! twice the chills!

there are all kinds of reasons to celebrate here at vitagraph today. this entry marks my 100th post and october is here, the best time of year, as it contains both my birthday and halloween. so, in honor of this miniature milestone and these seasonal delights, i thought i would take the opportunity to launch a project that i hope a number of you folks take part in - twice the thrills! twice the chills!


the concept is pretty basic - you have one theater for one halloween night. what double feature do you program and why? two films and your motivations for selecting them, otherwise no limits. i leave it to your unfettered imaginations.

the first thing you'll notice when you get down to making your decision - this is hard. there are so many choices. do i go with a theme? do i choose what i would like to see on the big screen, audience be damned? how about interactive elements a la the rocky horror picture show (1975) or the midnight spook shows of yore? slow zombies or fast zombies? there's a lot to consider and a lot of winnowing to be done. time to start making some cuts!


my selections for this experiment, much like the blog (right down to the title), are a reflection of my personality as a film fan. at heart, i am a classics guy. i like things that stand up over decades. initially, i thought these picks were a little on the safe side, but, in retrospect, they are just honestly what i love and would like to share with an audience. most of you have probably seen them, but i think that fits in with my general approach as well. i like to encourage re-examination and i enjoy finding the surprising relevance in things once we blow the dust off them. plus, there is a different dynamic that takes place with an audience that is re-watching a film together. there is a camaraderie. there is a bonhomie. there are other french words. you can relax, enjoy the familiarity of a thing together, share the anticipation of the scare that's just around the corner. it also frees you to look for the more subtle surprises you may have missed the first time around. with that in mind, let's dim the lights...

my first selection for the evening is karl freund's the mummy (1932).


i couldn't very well do without the universal monster pantheon and the mummy is, without a doubt, my favorite of the lot. it is the most romantic horror film i have ever seen. the horror lies not so much in the supernatural elements, but in the agony of a forbidden love suspended through centuries of decay and torment. karloff "crossed oceans of time" to find his girl a full sixty years before gary oldman, only to have the opportunity he waited so long for crumble to dust, with his bones following suit soon thereafter. it's a beautiful film and i would show it, first and foremost, because no one has done it better in the ensuing seventy-odd years. the new series with brendan fraser is just CG idiocy, in my opinion. they are cinematic cotton candy, completely devoid of anything that makes the original resonate to this day. it's a shame they are even loosely associated via the title. hammer films produced a version of the film in 1959 that i like a great deal. it delivers shocks with a more violent monster than the 1932 version and does so all in lurid technicolor but it still lacks the gravity of the universal version. i think the center of that gravity, the key to the original's endurance, is boris karloff.


karloff's quiet dignity and implied strength is the other reason why we should watch this film again. sorry bela, but boris was it, the real deal, the king. no one else in the genre could make me believe so steadfastly that their character was capable of the grim tenacity that it took to cheat death. no one else could make me believe they could harbor the nearly-unendurable ache that could propel them through centuries. and no one else could so effectively make me pity and sympathize with what i should have instead feared. his expressive eyes, his measured gestures, not a single wasted movement - it's my favorite performance from one of the true masters of horror cinema.

the criticism i hear leveled at these universal films by contemporary audiences most often is that "they're not scary". my senses may be a bit blunted from the consumption of a lifetime of these films, but all i can think in response is "how many movies really are?". i don't watch any film expecting to be scared. i wish i was, and i'll keep chasing it because it's such a great feeling, but it seldom happens. i watch them as more of a barometer of what we, as a culture, are afraid of. in the case of the mummy, king tutankhamun's tomb had only been discovered a few years prior and accounts of a "curse" associated with it were reported in the ensuing years by sources as reputable as the new york times. the anxieties of a culture frequently turn up, sometimes exaggerated, sometimes frighteningly not, in the horrific and fantastic art of the time. it's no coincidence that the villages that spawned the universal horrors of the thirties and forties were vaguely german, with world war two looming. most of the mutations and paranoia of atomic age horror aren't exactly subtle. and the second feature of my dream double bill is perhaps the seventies' most shining example of just what we were all afraid of then...

ladies and gentlemen, the texas chain saw massacre (1974).


wonder what's about to happen there?

there are a lot of reasons for me to show this one. top of the list - it's scary as all hell. close second - there is no one i would rather see taking a saw in the belly than that whiny bastard, franklin. go cry in hell, franklin!


yes, i know he's a paraplegic. i stand by my declaration.

seriously, the real reason why this makes the cut is because this thing is a watershed film - all hideous zeitgeist and pitch black humor piled on top of jangling nerve endings. not to mention, you have the introduction of the first iconic mask in seventies horror. the unprecedented televisual access to the meat grinder of vietnam changed horror forever in america. we exchanged "us against them" for "us against us". it might as well be the eisenhower era that's about to be put on that hook in the picture above. couple this with gas shortages/manson family/watergate/a million other things and you have an environment that is ripe for this hysterical, in connotation and denotation, skewering of the american family. the incongruous comedic elements and jarring sound design serve to keep you off balance and make the brutality even more distressing. by the time we get to the family dinner sequence that comprises the bulk of the finale and marilyn burns essentially screams for twenty straight minutes, we know how she feels. laughing, crying, howling - all of it, one unending scream. this may be my austin-based bias talking, but i think it's nearly perfectly terrifying. it's cacophonous. it's exhausting. it's one of a handful of films that leaves me feeling wrung out and i think that alone is reason enough to show it. it safely allows you to experience hell. you have survived, but what is left of you?


well, there it is. hope you enjoyed the show. i'm not the type to do that "tag five people, blah, blah, blah" thing but i sure would appreciate seeing what the rest of you would choose. if you have a blog and you feel like participating, please feel free to do so. and please send a link so i can post an update and point people to you. if you have friends that would be interested, please let them know, by all means. or, if you don't blog and just want to participate via the comments section here, jump right in. the more, the scarier. thanks.