Supernatural (1933)

In 1932, siblings Victor and Edward Halperin released their independent horror film "White Zombie", which had actors Madge Bellamy and legendary Bela Lugosi in the main roles. Directed by Victor Haperin, "White Zombie" turned out to be the Halperins' first real hit (they began their careers in the silent era), and its success made them receive an offer from Paramount studios to make a horror film for them. Certainly, this was an offer the Halperins could not turn down, because working for Paramount meant a bigger budget to work, and a better distribution for their work. With this in mind, the Halperins gathered again their crew from "White Zombie" to make the movie that would receive the title of "Supernatural", a story of ghosts that would also include the added value of having in its cast an actress that later would become one of the greatest of her time: Carole Lombard. Unfortunately, the movie wasn't the box office success that Paramount was hoping, finishing with this the Halperin's career with the major studios. Something that's a bit unfair, as the movie isn't really bad.

"Supernatural" begins with the arrest of Ruth Rogen (Vivienne Osborne), a merciless serial killer who is condemned to death for her crimes. Rogen is convinced by Dr. Carl Houston (H.B. Warner) to donate her body to science, as Houston has the theory that a supernatural influence takes place after the execution of a killer. In the meantime, rich heiress Roma Courtenay (Carole Lombard) is mourning the tragic death of her twin brother, situation that's quickly exploited by phony medium Paul Bavian (Alan Dinehart). Inviting Courtenay to his establishment, Bavian employs his theatrical skills to convince Rom that he has truly been contacted by her deceased brother. ROma's fianceé, Grant Wilson (Randolph Scott) is decided to prove that Bavian is a fraud, so he asks help to his dear friend Dr. Houston. However, the strange experiment that Houston is conducting with Rogen's corpse takes an unexpected turn when Roma becomes possessed by Ruth Rogen's spirit, whom holds a grudge with the mischievous Paul Bavian.

Based on a story written by Garnett Weston (whom also penned "White Zombie"), the screenplay for "Supernatural" was written by Weston himself collaborating with scriptwriters Harvey F. Thew and Brian Marlow. While certainly the structure of the story is problematic, there are many interesting elements in "Supernatural"'s plot line, the first of those being the fact of presenting a cold blooded female serial killer as starting point for the story. Another interesting point is the contrast done between the characters of medium Paul Bavian and Dr. Houston: both claim to be able of finding life after death, though only devoted scientist Dr. Houston actually makes it, while Bavian is merely a fake psychic. Something interesting about "Supernatural" is that the scriptwriters dedicate screen time for character development, as even when they begin as stereotypes, a defined identity begins to be developed for them as the story unfolds. However, it's worth to point out that this also makes the plot to move slowly at the beginning, while the second half of the tale gets solved in a somewhat rushed manner.

As in their previous film, "White Zombie", director Victor Halperin again employs atmosphere as the main element in "Supernatural", giving great use to the work of his usual collaborator, cinematographer Arthur Martinelli. However, unlike the static style of silent cinema employed in "White Zombie", in "SUpernatural" Halperin uses a more dynamic narrative style, moving his camera through the spaces with great detail, making them integral part of the characters that inhabit them (as different are Bavian's humble apartment from Houston's laboratory and Roma's luxury mansion). Despite the urban atmosphere the story has, Martinelly and Halperin manage to give the film a quite haunting visual style, employing skillfully the lighting and their scenery to create an ominous supernatural atmosphere. However, despite Halperin's achievement of creating a visually strong film, not everything works that fine in "Supernatural", mainly due to problems inherent to a screenplay that feels a tad incomplete, and a cast that'ts a bit irregular.

In "Supernatural" there's the unusual casting of Carole Lombard in a horror role. While by 1933 Lombard still wasn't the big star that she would become, her career was already on the right track thanks to the many comedies she starred during the early years of sound, so Lombard didn't considered herself appropriate to horror. Nevertheless, Lombard was assigned to "Supernatural" despite her disagreements (and the Halperins' as well, as they would had preferred Madge Bellamy), so it's probable that her performance suffered due to those frictions. While Lombard doesn't make a bad job in the role, she surely feels insecure and without the spark she had in her comedies, resulting in her performance being overshadowed by the superb work done by Vivienne Osborne, who plays the sadistic Ruth ROgen. With a great skill to move from subtlety to intensity, Osborne makes the best performance in the film despite not having much screen time. H.B. Warren also makes an effective job as Dr. Carl Houston, taking good advantage of a role that, while limited, allows him good chances to shine.

As Roma's fianceé, young Randolph Scott feels wooden and rigid in his role, lacking the necessary strength to make a good counterpart to Lombard. However, it's actually Alan Dinehart who delivers the worst performance in the film, making a villain without a defined personality. Certainly, the character is interesting by its own right, but Dinehart fails at making him memorable (it would had been interesting to see someone like Lugosi in the role). Despite those problems with the cast, what truly affects "Supernatural" is having a screenplay that feels incomplete in its final act. While Halpering manages to create an interesting group of characters and an intriguing premise (that would be exploited in many films during the following decade), during the second half of the film it seems as if they had cut down the screenplay given how rushed the climax unfolds itself. Also, there are several holes in the plot that remain unexplained at the end, showing that the writers should had worked a bit more on the screenplay (perhaps Paramount's pressure explains this).

Despite its multiple flaws, "Supernatural" is a pretty entertaining and interesting horror film. The Halperins have earned a reputations as "one hit wonders" due to the abysmal difference between the mastery shown in "White Zombie" and the ineptitude of its sequel, "Revolt of the Zombies" (1936) and their subsequent works. But while maybe "Supernatural" isn't up to the level of their legendary zombie classic, it's is proof that Victor Halperin's talent wasn't limited to just one occasion. Sadly, after the box office failure of "Sipernatural" and a lawsuit by the company that helped to finance "White Zombie", the Halperin saw their reputation severely damaged and their resources diminished to the point that their posterior films show a complete lack of interest in filmmaking. Anyways, "Supernatural" stands as an interesting project that allows us to see a quite different side of the legendary Carole Lombard.

7/10
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Der Student Von Prag (1935)

During the 1920s, German cinema experienced an artistic development that had its roots in the Expressionist movement that had been explored in architecture and painting. Films such as "Das Cabinet Des Dr. Caligari" (1920) and "Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens" (1922) showcased the trademarks of the movement: a stylish and geometrical art direction, use of low-key lighting and the embrace of psychological themes. Expressionism was about the expression of the inner side, as opposed to a mere representation of the reality. Though short-lived, the movement left an enormous influence in cinema, particularly in the horror genre, which found in Expressionism the perfect style for its nightmarish worlds. The American horror films of the 30s are perhaps the best example of this, mainly because of the fact that key members of the movement who had moved to America were behind the camera. However, they weren't the only ones. In Germany, veteran director Arthur Robison attempted to update a classic story of the silent German Expressionism: "Der Student von Prag".

Set in the 1860s, Balduin (Anton Walbrook) is a young and gallant student, a dreamer whose greatest pleasure is to have a good time with his friends at the inn's tavern and compete with his friend Dahl (Fritz Genschow) for the affections of Lydia (Edna Gryeff), the innkeeper's niece. However, everything changes one day, when the group is celebrating Lydia's birthday, as that day the famous opera singer Julia Stella (Dorothea Wieck) stops by the inn, and casually offers the group a brief display of her talents. Amazed by the singer, the young Balduin immediately falls in love with her, but to his misfortune, she is always surrounded by the cream of the crop of society, people like the rich Baron Waldis (Erich Fiedler), so the poor student Balduin thinks he has no chance. It's in this moment when the mysterious Dr. Carpis (Theodor Loos) enters the scene, and promises Balduin the status he desires. However, by accepting this deal Balduin will become a pawn in Dr. Carpis' revenge against Julia.

The original version of "Der Student Von Prag" was written by author Hanns Heinz Ewers as a horror version of Edgar Allan Poe's "William Wilson" and the Faust legend. Director Henrik Galeen's remake was more refined, but nonetheless faithful to Ewers' story. This version, written by Hans Kyser and director Arthur Robison himself, makes several important changes to the original tale. The most obvious are the fact that Balduin's love interest is no longer a member of the royalty but a famous singer, and the link between Dr. Carpis and Julia, inexistent in previous versions. The figure of Dr. Carpis receives considerable development, no longer being only a Mephistophelian figure, Dr. Carpis acquires a defined motivation and becomes a true villain in Robison's "Der Student Von Prag". However, the truly most important change is subtler: the fact that Balduin loses more than his reflection in the bargain, he loses his identity, his personality, his dreams. Robison's "Der Student Von Prag" is certainly closer to Wilde's "Dorian Gray" than to Poe's "William Wilson".

A veteran from the years of German Expressionism ("Schatten - Eine nächtliche Halluzination" being his most famous film), director Arthur Robison gives his version of "Der Student Von Prag" an ominous atmosphere of dread thanks to the great work of cinematographer Bruno Mondi (another Expressionist veteran), who captures the story of Balduin in a style that quite appropriately, becomes progressively darker as the story unfolds. Reflecting the changes to the plot, Robison's film is less an Expressionist nightmare and more a Gothic tragedy, with the emphasis now on the psychological horror instead of the visceral one. For this effect, Robison carefully develops the story of Balduin's damnation, giving enough space for the characters to grow (even the secondary ones), all with a slick and elegant visual narrative. His "Der Student von Prag" lacks the remarkable visual flair of Galeen's version, but instead Robison gives his movie a quite appropriate somber tone of ambiguity, with the nature of Dr. Carpis' power over Balduin left in the dark.

The acting is one of "Der Student von Prag"'s strongest elements, as it has several great performances from its cast. As the tortured Balduin, Anton Walbrook (still known as Adolf Wohlbrück) makes a remarkable job at portraying the change in Balduin's soul. Beginning the film as a carefree young lad, his character's obsession with Julia grows and takes him to make the pact with Dr. Carpis, which seals his fate. Without the help of any make up or special effects, Walbrook manages to create two very different personalities for his character, and often without saying a word: his facial expression telling all that's needed to known about the inner struggle for Balduin's soul. The beautiful Dorothea Wieck plays Balduin's love interest, Julia, and her work in the role is also of great quality. Wieck achieves to create an equally complex character, as her Julia is as guilty as Carpis of Balduin's ruin. Half Mephistopheles and half Svengali, Theodor Loos' Dr. Carpis may not be a physical imposing figure, but the strength he gives to his voice creates a convincing Gothic villain in the film.

An interesting update on "Der Student von Prag", Robison's film has in its favor an intelligent screenplay, a stylish technique and a collection of great performances. The twist that writers Kyser and Robison have given to the story is particularly meaningful, as it does give a new readings to the story. While in the past the result of Balduin's deal was that his mirror image gained life of its own (becoming a doppelgänger), in Robison's film the loss of his mirror image represents the loss of the best in him. The sentimental dreamer (as he is called in the film) becomes a cynic man twisted by greed and obsession. While he's still the young handsome student on the outside, his personality has been transformed by the powers granted by Dr. Carpis, eager to fuel Balduin's ambition to achieve his evil purposes. As a film made during the Nazi regime, it does make for an interesting parallel to the changes that were taking place in German society in the years before World War II.

One of the last films produced before all film production in Germany became subordinated to the Reichsfilmkammer, Arthur Robison's version of "Der Student von Prag" is more than a mere sound remake of a famous tale, it's a great horror film by its own right. Full of symbolism and of great technical quality, the 1935 version of "Der Student von Prag" has been unfairly forgotten, often overshadowed by its silent predecessors; however, it's probably the best version of the tale. "Der Student von Prag" would be Robison's last film before his death (he would not live to see it released), and also one of the last films Anton Walbrook would do before leaving Germany. In a way, "Der Student von Prag" marks the end of an era of German cinema.

8/10
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Torture Ship (1939)

In multiple ways, the rise of the studio system in 1913 paved the way to the consolidation of American cinema as a major film industry, with Hollywood as its capital. During the following decades, the seven "major studios" would define a new era for cinema in the United States, from D.W. Griffith's revolutionary filmmaking to the Golden Age of Hollywood. However, American cinema wasn't only about the majors, as many independent producers were also around, fighting for survival in a very demanding business. The Halperin brothers, Victor and Edward were amongst them, and their 1932 triumph "White Zombie" served as proof that not only Hollywood was able to make good movies. The box office success of "White Zombie" took the brothers to a major studio, Paramount, for which they made "Supernatural" the following year. Sadly, the film's commercial failure took the brothers back to the Poverty Row. The Halperins tried to make another hit, but each of their subsequent attempts failed to capture the magic of "White Zombie". 1939's "Torture Ship" is sadly one of their very worst.

In "Torture Ship", Irving Pichel is Dr. Herbert Stander, a brilliant scientist decided to cure the "criminal mind", but who ends up in trouble for his controversial experiments in human beings. Stander finds an interesting way to keep on working: he transforms a ship into a laboratory, kidnaps several high profile criminals, and sails to international waters in order to experiment with them. Stander's nephew, Lieutenant Bob Bennett (Lyle Talbot) is the ship's captain, and so Stander begins his experiments with endocrine injections. Unfortunately, things will get complicated as the criminals, not exactly happy with being the guinea pigs for Dr. Stander's experiments, decide to take over the ship and begin to plot mutiny. Amongst the criminals is Joan Martel (Julie Bishop), an innocent secretary girl who just happened to work for the wrong people, her boss was Poison Mary Slavish (Sheila Bromley). Bob makes friends with Joan, and soon romance blooms. Sadly for the lovers, Dr. Stander has decided that now he needs to test his experiment in a good man: Bob.

Loosely inspired by a Jack London short story ("A Thousand Deaths", published in 1899), "Torture Ship" begins with a fairly interesting (albeit somewhat implausible) premise. The idea of having several criminals together in a closed space to wreak havoc is not really bad for a horror film, as it potentially offers a group of different characters and situations to explore. Unfortunately, the screenplay by George Wallace Sayre and Harvey Huntley fails to exploit the premise's potential and the result is a trite storyline in which very few interesting things take place. While there's a connection, actually very few remains of London's story, and perhaps a closer approach to the source (which deals with a scientist resurrecting a man) would had increased the appeal of the story. Sadly, the group of characters gathered never become anything more than stereotypes, lacking any development beyond the necessary. Certainly, "Torture Ship" has a couple of clever twists, though the overall sensation is one of missing potential.

Director Victor Halperin shows even less inspiration than in his "Revolt of the Zombies", and crafts his film without any real style or or defined vision. Cinematographer Jack Greenhalgh (who would become a prolific veteran of Poverty Row films) limits his work to give the proper light and shoot. It's certainly one Halperin most uninspired films in his career, as the story unfolds slowly in long talky scenes of dialog. Unlike "White Zombie", there is not a single attempt to build up atmosphere, and instead the film has a monotonous dullness that makes it tiresome and boring. While at least in "Revolt of the Zombies" Halperin managed to extract some sense of thrill and excitement out from his screenplay, in "Torture Ship" there's nothing but a series of events that just advance the plot without much fanfare. Certainly Victor Halperin wasn't working with a great screenplay to begin with, but the apparent lack of motivation to make something interesting out of the screenplay is appalling.

The tragedy of the screenplay's failure is enhanced by the way a particularly interesting cast is wasted performing it. In this aspect, "Torture Ship" looks like a collection of classic B-movie character actors. Sadly, not even one of them has a nice role to shine. Legendary Irving Pichel as Dr. Stander is for the most part effective in his role as the film's mad scientist, though the role is never anything more than an archetype. The film's protagonist, Lyle Talbot, fails to be engaging as the hero type, though at least there's some commitment in the way he recites his lines. Julie Bishop fares much better, though her character is one of the film's weakest links, as there's not really a reason for her character to exist. Sheila Bromley, Russell Hopton, Wheeler Oakman and Skelton Knaggs are some of the actors playing the criminals, ranging from acceptable to downright mediocre in their work. Skelton Knaggs is one of the better, though like everyone else, suffers from having to work in a poorly developed role.

"Torture Ship" is certainly a film full of problems, so many of them that's actually difficult to believe that it was made by the same team that delivered "White Zombie". It's clear that the budget the Halperins had was low, even lower than in "Revolt of the Zombies", as it's reflected in the almost non-existent art direction the film has. Nevertheless, there are things that can't be blamed on low production values, as there are movies done with the same resources that against all odds still manage to shine. "Torture Ship" doesn't have low budget as its worst enemy, the real problems are an awful screenplay and an uninspired vision. As written above, "Torture Ship" fails at exploiting its premise, and instead delivers a pretty forgettable tale of mad science that fails at being thrilling. It's just simply not interesting. On top of that, Halperin's work is so dull that fails to improve a doomed storyline. Filmmaking is not only about good stories, it's about telling the story in an interesting way. Sadly, Halperin fails miserably in this aspect.

Sadly, the Halperin brothers never again replicated the success of "White Zombie", neither artistically nor commercially, and two more movies after "Torture Ship", director Victor Halperin retired from the film industry. Given the result of "Torture Ship", it's not hard to think that Halperin was already tired of filmmaking, though that's something that perhaps only he could answer. What can be known, is that "Torture Ship" is far from the brothers' best work, and it's one of those Poverty Row films that are perhaps only of interest when digging about the history of independent cinema, as it's cast is a particularly attractive one for historic reasons. Other than that, "Torture Ship" is a strong contender for the title of Victor Halperin' worst movie.

3/10
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Revolt of the Zombies (1936)

In 1932, American producers Victor and Edward Halperin released what is now considered as the very first feature length zombie film, the highly atmospheric "White Zombie". Directed by Victor Halperin and starring Bela Lugosi as a powerful necromancer, the film received mixed reviews upong release, but has earned cult status thanks to its eerie expressionist visual design and its ominous atmosphere. Anyways, while modest, the box office was quite big for an independent film and allowed the Halperin brothers a greater budget for their follow up, "Supernatural". Unfortunately, they couldn't repeat the success and the brothers returned to more modest productions. So, hoping to recover themselves, the brothers decided to go back to what had initially worked and make a sequel to "White Zombie". Unfortunately for them, the brothers got into a legal battle with the company that had helped them to finance "White Zombie", which prevented them to promote the sequel, titled "Revolt of the Zombies". Though given the resulting film, it would had been hard to promote it anyway.

Set during World War I, "Revolt of the Zombies" begins on the Franco-Austrian frontier, where Armand Louque has find a priest from Cambodia, Tsiang (William Crowell), claims to have the ability to turn men into zombies. The priest is murdered by General Mazovia (Roy D'Arcy), who wants to create an army of zombies to conquer the world, however, he only gets part of the secret. The death of Tsiang prompts the Allied powers to send an expedition to Cambodia to destroy the secret of the zombies, thinking it may have fallen in the wrong hands. So a group is sent to find the city of Angkor Wat, which suppousedly was built using zombies. Louque is in the expedition, as is his friend Clifford Grayson (Robert Noland), General Duval (George Cleveland) and his daughter Claire (Dorothy Stone). Armand falls in love with Claire, but she in turn prefers Clifford, which hurts Louque's feelings badly. The expedition fails after several accidents take place, but a melancholic Louque stumbles upon the secret. So instead of returnig home, he decides to find the secret and prove himself worthy of Claire's love.

Written by director Victor Halperin himself along writers Howard Higgin and Rollo Lloyd, "Revolt of the Zombies" starts off with a most exciting and intriguing premise: the creation of an army of zombies to fight the war. These zombies are of course, of the classic Voodoo type and not the shambling corpses of modern horror filmmaking. Another interesting element is the fact that Louque, whose arguably the protagonist of the story, is more of an anti-hero, being seduced by the power in his determination to prove his worth. While Clifford and Mazovia are the archetypal hero and villian type of the 30s, Armand Louque moves between sides as the story unfolds. It's an interesting character development that unfortunately never really succeeds as the screenplay is a quite big mess. As soon as the expedition begins, the story focuses entirely on the love triangle, and leaves behind any trace of the horror that was at its roots. Of course, there's the development of Louque as an antihero, but the execution trades horror for melodrama.

In "Revolt of the Zombies", director Victor Halperin's work seems so tacky that it seems difficult to believe that he's the same man that crafted "White Zombie". While "White Zombie" has atmosphere, depth and artistry, "Revenge of the Zombies" feels like a poor imitation of the typical adventure serials of the time. Certainly, the Halperin brothers were in need for a hit at the time of planning "Revolt of the Zombies", and this need of commercial success may explain the differences between the two films. Having started his career in the silent era, Halperin's "White Zombie" had more in common with the silent German horrors than with big studio talkies. On the contrary, "Revolt of the Zombies" has little silence and instead places more emphasis on big expository dialogs. Also, the dark atmosphere of dread is replaced by the lively jungle adventure, and the horror tone traded for that of a melodrama. Changes that perhaps sounded good to draw more audiences, but that Halperin was just unable to pull off.

The acting is another of the film's problems, though certainly not its greatest one. A young Dean Jagger (years before his Academy Award nomination) plays Armand Louque, probably the film's most interesting character, as he begins the film as a weak willed man often ignored by his superiors, and later becomes the master of the zombies of Angkor. While perhaps the only cast member truly commited to his role, Jagger still delivers an over the top performance as the tortured Louque, brooding as his beloved Claire leaves him for his best friend. Unfortunately, Jagger is not the worst in the cast but the best, as Dorothy Stone, who plays Claire delivers a terribly poor performance as the love interest. Equally weak is Robert Noland's turn as Clifford, who never really stands out and limits himself to just play the archetypal hero on his looks alone. Same can be said of Roy D'Arcy, who looks far from his best years in silent cinema and delivers a poor imitation of Lugosi's character from "White Zombie".

As written above, the difference between "Revolt of the Zombies" and the original "White Zombie" is so abysmal that it's hard to believe that it was made by the same team, and yet it was. Even cinematographer Arthur Martinelli worked on both films with remarkably different results. Certainly, big troubles must have taken place at the top levels of the film's production, as the big decrease of the film's quality was general. Perhaps the root of the problem is in the decision of leaving out the horror tone and atmosphere of the first film, and instead developing the story as a melodrama set in the jungle. In fact, the most celebrated elements of "White Zombie" are left out and traded for bigger versions of its weakest parts. Halperin, who must had been more comfortable in silent cinema, seems lost at directing a sound film, with the characters reciting their lines as if was a theatre. The overall style of the acting is too stagy, as if the film was merely a filmed play. And not even a good play to begin with.

Perhaps one of the most dissapointing sequels of horror cinema, "Revolt of the Zombies" has little of what made "White Zombie" great and a lot of what could be find in any typical adventure serial from the 1930s. Granted, by 1936 times had changed and the existence of the Hays code meant a stricter censorship. However, the problems of "Revolt of the Zombies" seem to be more related to the Halperins' inability to understand their audiences. An inability to see which elements of "White Zombie" worked and which didn't, and a huge neccessity to make a hit. In their desire of making "Revolt of the Zombies" appealing to a broader audience, the Halperins forgot what made "White Zombie" unique and made the sequel a quite generic film.

4/10
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The Drums of Jeopardy (1931)

Though nowadays the name of Harold MacGrath is not exactly well known, during the first decades of the twentieth century he was one of the most popular authors in America. A regular collaborator in several of the major magazines of his time, MacGrath was also one of the first famous authors to write specifically for the big screen, like the lost film "The Adventures of Kathlyn". Such was MacGrath's popularity that several of his short stories and novels were also adapted to Broadway plays and movies. The 1920 novel "The Drums of Jeopardy" is one of the best examples of this, as only two years after its publishing, the novel became a stage play in 1922, and a film in 1923. Nevertheless, nowadays this work is perhaps best known for having its villain's name based on the artistic name of a young British actor who didn't want to be recognized as William Henry Pratt, but as Boris Karloff. Incidentally, in 1931, less than a year before "Frankenstein" made Karloff a superstar, a new version of "The Drums of Jeopardy" was released.

"The Drums of Jeopardy" begins in Czarist Russia and is the story of Dr. Boris Karlov (Warner Oland), a scientist who discovers that his daughter Anya (Florence Lake) has been dishonored by a nobleman and decided to take her life. Vowing vengeance, Karlov discovers that the responsible is a member of the Petroff family, and decides to destroy them. Time goes on and the Bolshevik revolution takes place, the Czars' rule comes to an end and with that the noble families of Russia are being hunted, so the Petroff family has gone to America on exile. Karlov, now a prominent Bolshevik leader, finds and murders the older Petroff, so the two younger brothers, princes Nicholas and Gregor (Lloyd Hughes and Wallace MacDonald respectively) are taken to the mansion of Kitty Conover (June Collyer) to hide under the protection of agent Martin Kent (Hale Hamilton) of the Secret Service. Each time a Petroff is about to die, he receives from Karlov one of the fabled Drums of Jeopardy, cursed gems that signal their doom.

Adapted to the screen by Florence Ryerson (whom years later would be one of the driving forces during the writing of "The Wizard of Oz"), this version of "The Drums of Jeopardy" is a mash up of genres that works like a film divided in two very clearly defined halves. The first half works like a tale of adventure, with Karlov hunting down the older Petroffs mercilessly; while the second half deals with the events that take place inside the mansion, essentially transforming the story into a murder mystery of the style that was so popular at the time. However, what perhaps is the greatest merit of "The Drums of Jeopardy" is its construction of the villain: Dr. Boris Karlov is driven by vengeance, and his thirst for blood transforms him into a quite sadistic foe. Nevertheless, while the character may be drawn as a caricature of a communist, his motivations are still "noble". While not entirely the sympathetic villain that Universal studios would perfect later, at times it kind of points into that direction.

Seasoned veteran George B. Seitz is the man at the helm of "The Drums of Jeopardy", and the fast-packed first half of the film does show Steiz' particular expertise gained crafting adventure serials during the silent era. In simple, yet effective set pieces, Seitz gives life to the threatening menace that Dr. Boris Karlov should represent to the Petroffs, and transforms him into a presence that seems to lurk around every corner. Seitz unfolds his film with a fast, appropriate pace, though later the rhythm slows down perhaps a bit too much for its own good during the second half. While owner of a style that put more emphasis on practicality than on artistry, Seitz does manage to create an entertaining film that makes great use of its budgetary limitations. The cinematography of Arthur Reed (who would make a prolific career in B-movies) has some nice touches, particularly during the second half, which takes place in an old dark mansion and his playing with light and shadows comes handy.

The cast is for the most part good, though it's certainly Swedish actor Warner Oland who's got the best role. As Dr. Boris Karlov, Oland hams it up perfectly, as the role of sympathetic villain allows him several dramatic moments of great quality. Nevertheless, Karlov is also a sadist, and Oland manages to make him creepier by restraining his act at the appropriate moments. It's certainly one of his best performances, as despite not being a complex role, Karlov is a character that allowed Oland to explore different sides of a villain character. As Nicholas Petroff, Lloyd Hughes is appropriate, though not particularly surprising in his turn as the hero of the film. However, his counterpart June Collyer is also another highlight of the film, easily overshadowing Hughes, and every other actor in the film, with the exception of Oland. The rest of the cast ranges from mediocre to good, though it's interesting to see Mischa Auer in an early role as one of Karlov's henchmen.

While at first sight it could seem that the only thing that "The Drums of Jeopardy" has to offer is the curious trivia of Karlov's name, it is actually an entertaining thriller that combines with a certain degree of success aspects of adventure serials and the murder mystery subgenres. While the novel has Karlov as an evil Bolshevik kind of character (and director Seitz plays on this by having Oland look like a mix of Lenin and Stalin's images), the screenplay of Florence Ryerson has a certain degree of empathy towards the character, that makes this mad scientist closer in spirit to the Frankenstein monster than to the Fu Manchu kind of character he is supposed to be. And it's in this aspect where Oland's performance finds a gold mine to exploit. One could only wish that "The Drums of Jeopardy" had been executed by most daring hands, as Seitz' directing, which opts to play it simple, doesn't seem to take full advantage of the material he had to work with, and it's perhaps the reason why the film feels more like a missed chance than like an entirely satisfying experience.

Certainly, "The Drums of Jeopardy" has not aged well, specially when one considers the films that were released merely months after it. Universal Studios would change the history of horror cinema with "Dracula" and "Frankenstein", and the world would be introduced to a new style of monsters. Gone were the days of murder mysteries and mastermind criminals (at least in major films, as b-movies would continue churning this kind of films for another decade), and it was now the birth of the movie monster. Films like "The Drums of Jeopardy" were soon forgotten, though in the case of this film, perhaps it would be nice to rediscover this product of its time. If only, to enjoy the remarkable work of June Collyer and Warner Oland.

6/10
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Yira, yira (1930)

Certainly, one of the greatest figures of Argentina is without a doubt singer, songwriter and actor Carlos Gardel. The most prominent figure in the history of Tango revolutionized the culture of his time that despite having died tragically at the height of his career (in a plane crash), his name is the one most often associated with the culture and music of Argentina. Born in 1890, Gardel arrived to Buenos Aires at a very young age, and grew up in the Abasto neighborhood. Like many singers of his time, Gardel began his career working at bars, but soon his singing talent and charming look took him to the studio to make recordings in 1917. That very same year cinema found Gardel, and his talent made its way into the film "Flor de Durazno". Naturally, Gardel's career on cinema didn't make much progress in the silent era, so he focused on singing. However, by 1930 sound in film was now a reality, and so Gardel and cinema met again, in an early series of musical short films directed by sound pioneer Eduardo Morera.

"Yira, yira" (often known in English as "Go round... and round...") is one of those musical shorts, which basically consisted in an introduction to the song and then the execution of the song by Gardel himself. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is done by Gardel and the song composer, the legendary Enrique Santos Discépolo (at the time a young 29 years old man), with Gardel asking Enrique Santos about the meaning of the song. Enrique explains Carlos that the song is about despair, hopelessness and loneliness; to which Carlos answers surprised that such is the feeling he had received from the song. Enrique praises Gardel's singing, though Carlos wonders with a little naiveté if the song's main character is a good man despite the brooding tone. Enrique makes a joke about it, which Carlos doesn't seem to catch at first, though he later does and both men laugh. The film then cuts to Gardel's interpretation of Santos Discépolo's "Yira, yira", with a musical group.

As in most of Morera's shorts, the centerpiece of the film is Gardel's singing "Yira, yira", however, the introductions to the songs, while probably scripted by Morera or Gardel, give a glimpse of the magnetic personality that the famous singer had. In the case of "Yira, yira", the introduction is twice interesting as it showcases Enrique Santos Discépolo, the composer of this popular tango. Whether the dialogs recited were scripted or are in fact improvised is sadly not known, though two things can be noted in the film: the great camaraderie and respect between both artists, and the natural charm and ease in front of the camera that Gardel displays. It's clear that both Morera and Gardel understood very well the possibilities of the film, and thus the image of the singer is carefully detailed in the brief introduction. Gardel is shown as a humble singer, respectful of the composer, and owner of a child-like curiosity. The fact that Morera makes the joke be on Gardel is part of this: Gardel owns the spotlight, but he shares it willingly with his friends. With his people.

Now, the interpretation Gardel makes of "Yira, yira" is one of his best, capturing in his performance the very same feeling of despair and loneliness that Enrique Santos Disépolo was explaining in the introduction. The touch of irony that the song has is not lost, though perhaps a bit diminished by Gardel's strongly melancholic performance, which adds a bit of optimism to the song. Tango singing (specially of Gardel's time) often requires a bit of dramatic emphasis on the voice, not only because of its common themes of loneliness and lost love, but also because of its very rhythm. In this aspect, Gardel delivers a masterful performance, and "Yira, yira" proves that Morera wasn't wrong when he decided that no matter what may had happened in the failed experience of "Flor de Durazon", Carlos Gardel was truly worthy material for cinema. In the introduction, Carlos Gardel wonders if the character is a good man. In his performance, it's clear that when Gardel sings it, the brooding main character is a good man indeed.

As expected from an early experiment in sound film, Morera's set up is fairly basic, with cinematographer Antonio Merayo framing both scenes (introduction and performance) in a simple yet effective manner. Certainly, Merayo's work is much more interesting when Gardel is singing, though that's perhaps the result of a directorial decision rather than a flaw on Merayo's side. "Yira, yira", along nine other of Morera's short films were later compiled in 1931 to form a longer movie called "Diez canciones de Gardel" or "Encuadre de canciones" (literally "Ten songs by Gardel" or "Assortment of songs"); however, Morera's shorts work much better on their own, as they were intended to be. In this aspect, Morera's Gardel shorts can be seen as precursors of modern music videos. Given the quality of Gardel's performance, and the fact that Morera's succeeded in what he was set to achieve (to prove Gardel could be a major film star), it can be said that his humble experimental short films more than fulfilled its goal.

10/10
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Wuthering Heights (1939)

When first published in 1847, Emily Brontë's novel "Wuthering Heights" received mixed reviews from audiences and critics, whom while pretty appreciative of Brontë's talent, were turned off by the novel's ambiguity, grounded on characters driven so much by passion that can be seen as cruel, hateful or unlikeable. Nevertheless, the tale of the unfortunate love between Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw would later receive its proper reevaluation, and earn its rightfully deserved reputation as a classic of English literature. And like most classics, Brontë's Gothic romance was soon seen as good material for an adaptation to the new medium of cinema. 1920 was the year the earliest version of "Wuthering Heights" was released, directed by British actor A.V. Bramble. Unfortunately, that version is apparently lost now, however, better luck had the following adaptation: a Samuel Goldwyn's production released in 1939. Directed by William Wyler and starring Laurence Olivier, this would become the most famous and better known version of Brontë's classic.

Like the novel, "Wuthering Heights" opens with a traveler, Lockwood (Miles Mander) arriving to the estate of the title, looking for a place to stay the night. Lockwood is received in a quite rude manner by the master of the house, Heathcliff (Laurence Olivier), but still, he is allowed to stay in an abandoned room upstairs. During the night, Lockwood is awaken by the voice of a woman calling him, and as soon as Heathcliff learns this, he runs away into the cold night. Lockwood remains puzzled, but then the housekeeper Ellen (Flora Roson) begins to explain how is it that "Wuthering Heights" ended this way. It all began when Heathcliff arrived to the estate, a poor orphan boy adopted by Mr. Earnshaw (Cecil Kellaway). Working as a stable boy, Heathcliff develops a passion for Catherine Earnshaw (Merle Oberon). However, she can't reconcile her love for Heathcliff with her disdain for his lack of status. Heathcliff leaves broken hearted, and swears vengeance over those who mistreated him for his social status.

Adapted by two of the most prolific scriptwriters of their time, Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur, "Wuthering Heights" follows the classic pattern of most adaptations of the story. That is, it focuses entirely on the first half of the book, and omits the second generation's story. This abridged version of the novel is entirely dedicated to detail the passionate love between Cathy and Heathcliff, from its roots in childhood friendship to the way it dooms their adult life. Like the book, it's narrated as a flashback, and a fair share of time is dedicated to source of Heathcliff's anger: his rivalry with Cathy's brother Hindley, his undying love for Cathy, and his grudge against the society that humiliates him due to his lack of status. Certainly, Hecht and MacArthur's screenplay seems more interested in exploring Heathcliff's psychology than Cathy, whose character seems somewhat reduced by this condensation of the source material, less a complex and passionate force of nature and more a merely capricious and passive spoiled girl.

What truly elevates "Wuthering Heights" above the typical costume melodrama of its time, is the remarkable work done by two men: director William Wyler and specially cinematographer Gregg Toland. Wyler's vision of "Wuthering Heights" plays with the ambiguity of the novel, lavish when the characters are young, stark when they are older, truly reflecting the Gothic atmosphere that's present in Brontë's novel. In Wyler's film, atmosphere is the key, and the brilliant work of Gregg Toland plays an instrumental role in building up such a haunting atmosphere. Painting with shadows, Toland creates images of great beauty in "Wuthering Heights", fully capturing the brooding mood of the novel in his depiction of the Yorkshire moors. Wyler's narrative is particularly fluid and dynamic in the way he uses camera movements to wander through Wuthering Heights and its surroundings. All in all, Wyler's technique is impeccable, though the film feels a tad rushed by its last third, probably the result of the condensed screenplay and of course, his famous clash with producer Goldwyn.

The cast's performance is another one of the film's greatest strengths, with a remarkable turn by Laurence Olivier as Heathcliff, in his debut in American cinema. While a bit old for the role, Olivier embodies nicely the image of the tortured Byronic hero of Brontë's novel, driven by his unconsumed passion for Cathy and his hatred for those who have scorned him. Olivier's performance is still a bit stagy, though he compensates it with a strong screen presence that often says more than his hammy delivery. As Cathy, Merle Oberon is effective, though nowhere near the level of Olivier's Heathcliff. Certainly her character is a tad underwritten, though Oberon does little to improve this. Quite the opposite is Geraldine Fitzgerald, who plays Heathcliff's wife Isabella and delivers a magnificent performance as the naive young woman in love with the wrong man. David Niven, who plays Cathy's husband Edgar is also underwritten, though Niven adds elegance and dignity to the role with great ease.

William Wyler's "Wuthering Heights" is a beautifully crafted film that manages to translate to the screen the passion of Emily Brontë's classic novel. However, certain elements prevent the film from being truly a masterpiece. Perhaps the most significant one is the way the screenplay seems to side with Heathcliff, leaving no room to other characters to breathe. The condensation of the novel may have had a hand in this, but it truly affects some elements, particularly Cathy's character, whose change from Heathcliff's loyal friend to ambitious socialité is perhaps too abrupt to ring true, and makes her character much less likable and difficult to relate (a problem since Brontë's characters aren't really likable to begin with). Cathy's husband Edgar is also diminished, and it would have helped to explore more the contrast of the differences between him and Heathcliff, beyond wealth and social status, that could have given more insight into Cathy's actions.

Nevertheless, those are probably minor quibbles result of a contrast with the novel, as such flaws do not really diminish the sheer power of Wyler's "Wuthering Heights". It's certainly a movie that demands to be seen, not only for the celebrated work of cinematographer Gregg Toland, but for the fantastic performance of Geraldine Fitzgerald (an actress often forgotten today). As a version of Brontë's classic, Wyler's "Wuthering Heights" may not be the most fortunate one, but judging it purely as a film, it's certainly up there with the many masterpieces that were released in 1939, often called (and not without a good reason) as the best year in the history of American cinema. Producer Samuel Goldwyn (who added the epilogue against Wyler's objections) considered his favourite, and he had pretty good reasons for that.

8/10
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El Hombre Bestia (1934)

Despite being a country that quickly adopted cinema as an art form, Argentina's filmmakers weren't too keen of venturing into the fantastic genres, and the themes of Argentine cinema remained based on the country's literary tradition. Comedy and drama derived from theater were the prominent genres of the silent era, and the arrival of sound didn't do much to change this, as it only meant that Argentina's rich musical culture would finally be translated to the screen. However, one man decided that Argentina could also produce fantastic stories, and in the early 30s began to produce what would become as Argentina's first horror film. That man was journalist Camilo Zaccaría Soprani, and the film was titled "El Hombre Bestia", an independent production done without money or talent, but perhaps with lots of passion. The film was presumed lost for almost 70 years, until it was finally found and released again in the year 2002. While it's good to see it again, this may be a case of a film whose historical importance is greater than its artistic value.

The story of "El Homre Bestia" (literally "The Beast Man") begins with Captain Richard (Saverio Yaquinto), a brave pilot during World War I, whom is forced to land in the jungle, crashing his plane. The captain survives, but is unable to return, and uses his survival skills to live in the jungle, when he becomes more and more savage as years go by, eventually transforming Richard into a feral man not too different from Tarzan. Twelve years after his plane crashed, fate plays on Richard's favor and another plane lands in the island. The savage Richard murders the pilot and uses the plane to return to civilization, however, loss of fuel forces him to land in the house of the strange Dr. Marchessi (Raúl D'Angeli). Now, Richard immediately captures the attention of Dr. Marchessi, who becomes interested in his beastly traits and manages to inject an experimental formula in the unsuspecting Richard. The formula transforms Richard into a crazed monster driven by lust, and begins to kidnap beautiful young ladies.

The screenplay, by C. Z. Soprani himself, is basically a collection of the many bizarre adventures that captain Richard endures, from his days as a pilot to his survival in the jungle, and later to his dealing with Dr. Marchessi and the manhunt that the families of the kidnapped girls organize to stop him. In fact, a lot of things happen in the barely 50 minutes of runtime the film has, clearly an indicator of Soprani's desire of creating a tale of action and adventure that had a bit of everything. Unfortunately, it all feels forced and contrived due to the poor organization the story has. And so, the tone and mood of the movie varies in every segment, as it initially begins as a tale of adventure which soon becomes a strange horror film as the story unfolds. In fact, Richard himself goes from being the film's apparent protagonist (the film often bears a subtitle translated as "The Adventures of Captain Richard"), to transform into essentially one of the villains, as Dr. Manchessi's formula makes him even more savage.

Like Carl Theodor Dreyer's classic "Vampyr", Soprani's "El Hombre Bestia" is somewhat of an hybrid of a silent film and talkie, with some scenes having intertitles and texts to follow the plot, while others have the recorded audio of the dialogs. However, unlike Dreyer's surreal tale of vampirism, in Soprani's film this is done without real care, and instead of looking more like a mere budgetary decision than like a purely artistic choice. And looking the film, it seems like budget was behind most of Soprani's directorial decisions, as it seems like many different scenes where done in the same locations, and Soprani shows a taste for borrowing archival footage for the most complicated scenes. Soprani's visual style feels closer to silent cinema than to the kind of filmmaking that was being done in the early 1930s, and the cramming of the many adventures of captain Richard is done without real care or sense of pacing, resulting in a tacky narrative that seems disjointed and even incoherent at times.

Acting in "El Hombre Bestia" is pretty poor, which given the lack of experience of the performers may be understandable. Like the whole visual style of the film, the acting also feels more at home in a silent film, even in the scenes where there's sound. Saverio Yaquinto, who plays captain Richard, isn't really that bad, playing efficiently the stereotype character of the feral man so often seen in many silent films about jungle adventures. Certainly he seems hammy in his role, though in his case this is more likely the result of a pretty poor direction, as his role becomes merely physical, and limited to performing stunts. The real problems begin with the actors not playing a silent feral man, which would mean everyone else, as they are all wooden at best, and atrocious at worst. Raúl D'Angeli, who plays the evil Dr. Marchessi is perhaps the worst offender, delivering a truly uninspired performance. Nevertheless, all things aside, in the end it all comes down to C. Z. Soprani's terrible job as a director.

Certainly, "El Hombre Bestia" is plagued with problems that make its enjoyment somewhat difficult. For starters, it's bizarre plot that includes almost every element from American adventure serials (war scenes, jungle peril, mad scientist, monster on the loose, detectives, and the list goes on) all crammed in about 50 minutes of footage, is something to consider. Without regards for logic or coherence, the story moves from episode to episode moved by weird circumstances that truly defies the strongest suspension of disbelief. Even for its time, it's a great leap to think of "El Hombre Bestia" seriously, which leads to the other problem the film faces: for a 1934 production, it feels more than antiquated, it's certainly archaic. Beyond the fact that its an hybrid of a silent film and a talkie, its plot sounds like something from the early years of silent cinema, where everything was new and unexplored. While certainly its low budget is behind many of its problems, it's not a valid justification for most of the many illogical things that take place in the film.

Probably when Camilo Zaccaría Soprani decided to make "El Hombre Bestia" he hoped it could rival with the popular American serials. It's definitely the style of film he attempts to reproduce in his movie, but sadly his ambitious were way beyond his skills. Still, the passion and love for the genre that Soprani had, can really be felt through its mish mash of outrageously weird scenes. The first horror film made in Argentina, "El Hombre Bestia", failed to find an audience and was quickly lost in time. It would take eight more years until Argentina could release its first masterpiece of horror (Manuel Romero's "Una Luz en la Ventana"). As a historical film, "El Hombre Bestia" is invaluable, as the action/horror film it wanted to be, it's pretty forgettable.

4/10
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Island of Lost Souls (1932)

Creator of immortal classics of modern literature such as "The War of the Worlds" and "The Time Machine", author H. G. Wells is without a doubt one of the most important writers of science fiction in history. Amongs his varied output, "The Island of Dr. Moreau" stands as one of his darkest "scientific romances", not only because of the horrific experiments it details, but also because of the complex personalities of complexities of its characters. Though officially adapted to cinema on just three occasions, many other "apocryphal versions" have been done about Dr. Moreau and his creations, as the novel continues to capture the imaginations with its dark pessimist tone, its theme of "nature versus nurture", and the horrors it contains. The first official film adaptation of the sound era, 1932's "Island of Lost Souls", is a film that takes a very strong focus on the horror side of the novel, something that Wells himself decidedly disapproved. However, it is this particular focus what makes "Island of the Lost Souls" a real classic of the horror genre.

The movie begins when traveler Edward Packer (Richard Arlen) finds himself the sole survivor of a shipwreck. Rescued by a freighter, Packer gets into a fight with the Captain (Stanley Fields) while the boat is delivering cargo to the island of Dr. Moreau (Charles Laughton), a scientist conducting a secretive research in the tropics. The captain resolves to leave Packer in the island, so he ends up making a forced stay at Moreau's installations. Following Moreau's and his associate Montgomery (Arthur Hohl), Packer is invited to dinner, where he meets Lota (Kathleen Burke), a beautiful woman who seems very interested in him. However, soon Packer discovers Moreau's "House of Pain", where he finds a humanoid monster receiving surgery from Moreau and Montgomery. Packer tries to escape, but he finds himself surrounded by other monstrosities, humanoid figures with animal features. Saved by Moreau, Packer begins to realize what is going on in the mysterious island, where Moreau is a God and the animal-men follow his law.

Writers Waldemar Young and Philip Wylie crafted the screenplay, in what could be seen as the passing of the torch from the seasoned veteran Young to débutant Wylie (who later would pen several science fiction classics). Young and Wylie's take on Wells' novel is decidedly one based on the horror aspects of the tale, making Packer's venture into the island of Dr. Moreau quite a nightmarish one. Written in the days before the enforcement of the Hays code, "Island of Lost Souls" implies a fair amount of grizzly violence and disturbing imagery, as well as a good dose of eroticism. While indeed it could be stated that the story has been simplified and the characters reduced to archetypes, the essence of the story remains intact, with Dr. Moreau being more complex than a mere mad scientist. Moreau's obsessive dedication to science and quest for perfection is in sharp contrast with his cruelty, and his fascination with being a God gives the movie a quite interesting point regarding similarly minded totalitarian rulers.

Director Erle C. Kenton crafts his movie with an effective mix of sober elegance and an aggressive, visually arresting style that is quite unlike anything else he ever directed. With an ominous, haunting atmosphere courtesy of cinematographer Karl Struss (who had previously done a masterful work in "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" in 1931), the movie has an increasingly nightmarish, almost surreal look as Packer enters the island and discovers its secrets. Taking advantage of the jungle setting, Kenton crafts a nightmare where the jungle is set to represent the savage nature of the beast, the wild nature that Moreau is trying to suppress in everyone of this creations but that lays dormant in each and every one of the animal-men. In "Island of Lost Souls" the jungle is a dark beast that preys and devours the sanity of Moreau, whom Kenton makes perhaps less the scientist of H. G. Wells and more the self-proclaimed God of Conrad's "Heart of Darkness". The make-up, by Wally Westmore, is effective for the most part, though Struss lighting is what makes it work nicely.

However, "Island of Lost Souls" would not be the same without one person: Charles Laughton, whom in this movie, one of hist first American films, demonstrates his enormous talent. As Dr. Moreau, Laughton crafts a complex character that, while at first sight seems like a jungle variant of mad scientist archetype, is actually much more than that. Classy and elegant, yet viciously cruel and aggressive, his Dr. Moreau is quite vivid and intense, and his powerful presence can be feel through the island even when Laughton is not on-screen. As Packer, Richard Arlen is not really a match for Laughton, and is easily the weakest link in the cast. Arlen plays the handsome hero in a very basic manner, which at least this time works, as the inhabitants of the island are much more interesting than his character. As Lota, Kathleen Burke is quite effective, appropriately sexy and owner of a wild eroticism that's perhaps better used in "Murder at the Zoo". As the Sayer of the Law appears Bela Lugosi, whom despite having limited screen presence completely owns some of the best scenes in the film.

While a flexible filmmaker, Kenton was more adept to making comedies than serious horror (even the rest of his horror output always verged towards comedy in some way); however, "Island of Lost Souls" is a powerful tale of horror and madness by its own right, eerily disturbing and full of unforgettable scenes. An interesting feature of "Island of Lost Souls" is how purely visual it is, not merely as a collection of disturbing or shocking images, but as a visual trip through a nightmare. The intensity that Laughton and Lugosi bring to their characters is so powerful, that even without sound their strength is felt. Kenton began his career directing silent films, and that background can be seen put in action in "Island of Lost Souls", blending that visual style captured by Strauss with the strong performances of the cast. And on this subject, whereas it could be said that Laughton overacts, his work is perfectly appropriate, as it goes well with the character's Victorian elegance and self-made image of God and ruler of his island.

Less famous than the horror films made by Universal in the same decade, but no less interesting, "Island of Lost Souls" stands as a masterful display of 30s horror and pre-Hays code filmmaking. The eroticism inherent in the film, though perhaps less suggestive that the one found in the afore mentioned "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" or "Murders in the Zoo", is in the film an intrinsic part of the plot, relating it to the wild nature that is present in the human being. Along with the diverse examples of violence in the film (in which Moreau, a human, ends up as crueler than the animal-men), one wonders if perhaps H. G. Wells was wrong in his statement that the film lacked his philosophical ponderings. In my opinion, they are there, under the guise of a very different though no less magnificent beast.

9/10
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Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933)

In the late 20s, Hungarian director Michael Curtiz was a recently arrived foreigner working at Warner Bros. after having impressed legendary producer Jack Warner with the Biblical epics he crafted while working in Austria (he would make a Biblical epic for Warner in 1928, "Noah's Ark"). Part of that influx of European filmmakers that arrived in those years, Curtiz began to make himself a name as a hard working director who managed to work efficiently under the studio system, working in several films a year. In 1931 Universal studios had found success with horror films, and Warner decided to enter the game as well, and so Curtiz found success with the horror films "The Mad Genius" and "Doctor X", proving to be not only and efficient filmmaker, but also one able to make box-office hits. It was the success of "Doctor X" what prompted Warner Brothers to make another horror movie in the same style (in two-strip Technicolor), with the same same cast, and keeping Michael Curtiz as director. The result was the now classic, "Mystery of the Wax Museum".

In the film, Ivan Igor (Lionel Atwill) is an extremely talented sculptor of wax figures in 1921 London, however, his investment partner Joe Worth (Edwin Maxwell) thinks that Igor's business is not making enough money for both of them, and starts a fire at Igor's Wax Museum in order to collect the insurance money. Thirteen years later, Ivan Igor is tragically crippled and unable to use his hands, but with the help of his students he is finally ready to reopen his wax museum in New York City. In the meantime, the police is baffled by the case of several corpses stolen from the City's morgue, including the one of a famous socialité, model Joan Gale (Monica Bannister). The case attracts the attention of Florence Dempsey (Glenda Farrell), a young and ambitious reporter looking for the story that would launch her career. Dempsey immediately starts to investigate, and her suspicions lead lead her to important clues. Igor's strange obsession with Florence's roommate Charlotte (Fay Wray) will take her to uncover the dark mystery of the Wax Museum.

The key word in "Mystery of the Wax Museum" is "Mystery", as unlike it's better known 1953 remake (which focuses instead on more graphic horror and suspense), this version of Charles Belden's short story behaves more like a traditional, yet really captivating, murder mystery where the main character, Florence, must discover who is committing the crimes, and more importantly, "how". Adapted to the screen by Don Mullaly and Carl Erickson, the movie has a pretty nice twists, a good amount of suspense and a very original premise (for the time) that keep the mystery and suspense high as the plot unfolds smoothly despite the fast pace of the film. The fact that it was written before the days of the Hays code allows the film to include lots of sexual innuendo and situations that, while the Hays code would later consider immoral, do add a lot of the story. The characters are overall very well developed, and the addition of comedy (courtesy of Farrell's wisecracking character) works nicely within the creepy mystery of the story.

One of the lasts movies to be shot in the primitive two-color Technicolor system, "Mystery of the Wax Museum" has a marvelous bleached look that suits perfectly the modernist art-deco style of the sets designed for the film. As in "Doctor X", director Michael Curtiz allows himself to show the influence he received when working in Europe during the years of German expressionism, and gives the film an ominous dark look as Florence gets deeper inside the Wax Museum. While maybe not as visually striking as the Gothic horror of Universal Studios (or Curtiz' own "Doctor X"), the dark atmosphere of "Mystery of the Wax Museum" is still felt in the art-deco walls through the camera of cinematographer Ray Rennahan. Anton Grot's work of art direction is certainly, a highlight of the film, as it truly has a very unique visual style. The use of two-strip Technicolor is superb, adding a lot of emotion to the already atmospheric work of cinematography (the fire scene at the beginning is particularly great). The result is probably the best that was done using this technique.

The cast delivers performances of great quality, although it is of course difficult not to make comparisons with the performances of the better known 50s version. Lionel Atwill offers one of the best and most underrated performances of his career as the sculptor Ivan Igor, and while he lacks the charm that Vincent Price would give to the role, Atwill has a strong presence and dignified stoicism that makes him very believable as the tortured artist, victim of a misfortune that has rendered him unable to do the work he loved. Glenda Farrell's turn as Florence Dempsey is terrific in the classic role of the wisecracking reporter. Her comedic timing and joyful attitude truly elevate her role beyond the typical archetype of murder mysteries. In fact, Farrell manages to overshadow the more famous Fay Wray; who while looking stunningly beautiful in "Mystery of the Wax Museum", lacks the presence that would make her an icon in "King Kong". Granted, her role is probably the weakest and falls between the more interesting roles of Atwill and Farrell.

As written above, it's hard not to make comparisons, but while 1953's "House of Wax" tends to get the upper hand when compared to the original version, "Mystery" is by no means a bad movie, simply a very different one. Perhaps more than other horror films of the same period, "Mystery of the Wax Museum" focuses completely on the mystery aspect of the story, and while it does have its fair share of horrific elements, they are minimal when compared to Universal horror films, not to say the lavish Gothic horror of "House of Wax". True, "Mystery of the Wax Museum" certainly looks dated by today's standards, but the movie has a notorious modernist touch in its production design that makes it a quite interesting piece to look at. This, coupled with the suggestive lines in its dialog and fast wisecracking comedy give the film an edge, making it different than the norm. All in all, Curtiz' "Mystery of the Wax Museum" is a stunning tale of mystery which suffers, simply, of having aged badly.

Nevertheless, that's far from being an impediment for the enjoyment of the film. On the contrary, it allows (perhaps more than any of Universal horror films) to take a look at a 30s horror from a urban perspective. There are no Gothic castles, no somber cemeteries, instead we have a monster from the old world roaming the modern museums and apartment buildings of the new world. Quite a concept. Personally, I find in "House" and "Mystery" the perfect example of what a remake should be: a reinvention, as the two are excellent movies that explore the same story under very different angles. Overshadowed by the legendary Vincent Price film, "Mystery of the Wax Museum" is a very interesting movie that deserves to be rediscovered as a definitive must-see for those interested in horror movies of the 30s.

8/10
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Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan (1933)

Spanish filmmaker Luis Buñuel, considered now a master of cinema and one of the greatest artists of surrealism, had quite a troubled career during his first 10 years as a director. Having worked closely with Jean Epstein as assistant director, Buñel debuted in 1929 with the short film "Un chien andalou" ("An Andalusian Dog"). The innovative, surreal short film (written by Buñuel and painter Salvado Dalí) faced great controversy on its release, but that was nothing compared to Buñuel's follow up: "L'Âge d'Or". Funded with the aid of French nobleman Vicomte Charles de Noailles and released in 1930, "L'Âge d'Or" ("The Golden Age") was a fierce and merciless attack to social conventions and the Catholic Church under the guise of an experimental comedy. Not surprisingly, the response against it was even larger, to the point that the Police of Paris effectively banned the film. After this controversy, Buñuel returned to Spain, where anarchist Ramón Acín decided to fund Buñuel's next project. This project turned out to be 1933's "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan".

"Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" (known in English as "Land without Bread") is basically an exploration of the region of Las Hurdes, in Extremadura, Spain. The short documentary depicts the life in this high mountain region, as the crew moves from town to town, showcasing the difficulties the inhabitants face in this hostile region, which get worse due to the state of misery in which they live. Poverty, hunger and disease haunt the villagers, and their only way they have to face those demons are their own set of superstitious beliefs (which sometimes turn up to be remedies of even worse consequences). Buñuel's travelogue moves from one bleak image to another, covering the way the inhabitants of Las Hurdes live, die, work and try to find some solace amidst the darkness. Education, farming and health care in Las Hurdes is showcased as deficient, as the film is actually a harsh attack to the government's policies. While originally a silent film, a narration in French by Abel Jacquin was added afterwards, that describes the events depicted in a very grim and detailed manner.

Given Buñuel's reputation as a master of surrealism and creator of oniric images, the idea of a documentary crafted by him sounds a bit strange; however, in "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan", realism and surrealism collide and result in a powerful hybrid vehicle to deliver Buñuel's message. Written by Buñuel along Rafael Sánchez Ventura and Pierre Unik (who were assistant directors), "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" was inspired by Maurice Legendre's study of the region's inhabitants. This very real ethnographic work served as basis to the surreal vision of misery that is "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan". A bleak world so real that ultimately feels unreal, enhanced by Buñuel's eye becomes surreal. Surrealism in "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" exists, and is present not to create fantasy, but to accentuate reality. To exaggerate it, to mercilessly use the documentary format to make a point because, "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" is anything but objective. Already a true master of visual symbolism, Buñuel uses images the way Soviet filmmakers used montage.

Of course, there is a certain degree of truth in the film, people of Las Hurdes in those years did live in extreme conditions and poverty and disease were the norm; however, Buñuel carefully has selected (or even created) the appropriate images and the necessary words to bring out the emotions in his audience, to transmit that bleak atmosphere of Las Hurdes and, most importantly, to deliver profoundly his arguments. And those arguments are quite harsh: that the people of Las Hurdes are primitive ignorants prone to superstitions and inbreeding (an stereotype as old as Lope de Vega), and that the government does nothing to improve their condition. Pretty strong accusations in the middle of the political turmoil that was prevalent in Spain during the 30s (Civil War would soon begin in 1936). And the way Buñuel delivers it is quite powerful: Eli Lotar's cinematography captures the misery of Las Hurdes with real documentarian eye, and it is Buñuel's editing and narrative what makes those images transcend reality.

The bold decision of making "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" was not without its consequences: the film was banned in Spain since its release until Spanish Civil War began. Ramón Acín, the producer, was killed by fascists in 1936 because of his anarchist activities. Buñuel, like many Spaniard artists and intellectuals of his time, decided to move to America, escaping from the fascist regime of Francisco Franco. Buñuel would not direct a film until 1947. After a brief season in the U.S., Buñuel traveled to Mexico, and it would be in Mexico where Buñuel's talent would bloom again. Visually strong, and highly inventive, "Las Hurdes: Tierra sin pan" is a documentary film ahead of its time, and a movie that shows the growing talent of Luis Buñuel.

8/10

L'Âge d'Or (1930)

In the mid 20s, a young and enthusiast Luis Buñuel was decided to get involved in the French film industry after having been fascinated by the works by Fritz Lang. This determination took him to get a job as a production assistant in Jean Epstein's 1926 film, "Mauprat". Buñuel's dedication soon made him assistant director in later works by Epstein and Mario Naplas, where he would learn the basics of the craft. Finally, Buñuel would debut as a director in 1929 with a 16-minute short film titled "Un chien andalou" (literally, "An Andalusian Dog"). Written by painter Salvador Dalí and Buñuel himself, "Un chien andalou" was an experimental film that followed a surreal storyline composed of a series of allegoric (and often nightmarish) scenes based on dreams that Dalí and Buñuel had written. The innovative short film was a success amongst the French artistic community, and increased interest in the Spaniard filmmaker. French nobleman Vicomte Charles de Noailles and his wife, Marie-Laure de Noailles, decided to produce Buñuel's first feature-length film: "L'Âge d'Or".

Known in English as "The Golden Age", "L'Âge d'Or" opens with images that seem like a fragment from a documentary about scorpions, detailing their nature and habits, making emphasis in their lack of tolerance to others and their poisonous sting. Then the "main storyline" begins properly, which presents the efforts of a man and a woman to love each other despite the forces that conspire against them, namely society, authority and religious organizations. This story unfolds through a series of vignettes tied together without any apparent structure; however, these vignettes in fact represent Buñuel and Dalí's own subversive ideas about society, put together in accordance to the surrealist principles they were familiar, pretty much in a similar way to their previous effort, "Un chien andalou". Nevertheless, while "Un chien andalou" works as a nightmare (or better said, a vision) come to life; "L'Âge d'Or", works more like a graphic representation of the train of thought that these two artists had at the time. Is it a revolution or a joke? Perhaps, "L'Âge d'Or" tried to be a bit of both.

Written by director Luis Buñuel and painter Salvador Dalí (though Buñuel argues that Dalí's collaboration was minimal), the vignettes of "L'Âge d'Or" contain a darkly perverse brand of humor, employing an apparently light-hearted comedy to deliver its sharp, merciless attacks. Nothing escapes from Buñuel's sting, from the Catholic Church to the militia, the happily ignorants and the arrogant intellectuals, the civil authority, the government and of course, at the top of all, the bourgeoisie society. The message being, apparently, that love can't reach its full potential because it suffers under the oppressive moral of society, which represses sexuality while at the same time breeds and propagates vices of worse nature. Violence and its absurdity is also tackled by Buñuel, as violence seem to be the only available escape for the otherwise repressed passions. Violence that goes from the abuse of a little dog to the cold blooded murder of a child. Of course, all this is handled with the same light-hearted tone that Buñuel uses through the film, accentuating its absurdity.

In this his first feature length film, Buñuel certainly showcases his domain of cinema as an artistic expression. "L'Âge d'Or" is a film that oozes symbolism, and practically every vignette was carefully planned to convey a certain, very specific message. Still, while even at this early stage Buñuel's mastery of cinema as a language is out of the question, at the time when "L'Âge d'Or" was made Buñuel was still learning the technique, and it shows in several parts. The disjointed, surreal narrative, while powerful and effective in "Un chien andalou", feels broken and incomplete in "L'Âge d'Or". Buñuel's editing is still abrupt and forced, and some vignettes would benefit of an easier transition (granted, "L'Âge d'Or" was not meant to be a film easy to digest). Albert Duverger's work of cinematography is truly exquisite in certain scenes (the famous scene of the religious statue for example), but there are points in which it feels surprisingly amateurish. Certainly, Buñuel's eye was still developing his very own style, but as a whole, it feels a work a tad amateurish at first glance.

Acting through "L'Âge d'Or" is for the most part effective, considering the goals of the film, as it should be noted that given the nature of the film, the performances tend to be hammy, overacting every emotion and expression. It's after all, a parody of self-righteousness, and a film done in the style of silent cinema. As one of the two protagonists, Lya Lys plays the young girl (the characters lack names), and she basically portrays an archetype of femininity (feminity as understood by Buñuel of course). The young girl is fragile and elegant, yet at the same time full of passion. Gaston Modot, delivering a truly remarkable performance, plays her counterpart, the equally unnamed man (as if was to represent all men). Modot's character is also filled with passion, but as the authorities oppress him, his passion finds an outlet in violence, and begins his struggle to satisfy his love (or is it lust? Both are equally important in "L'Âge d'Or" as purer expressions of humanity). The rest of the cast is effective, for the most part, though nothing particularly surprising.

Certainly, "L'Âge d'Or" is quite an ambitious film, with its cruel yet humorous attacks to social order and its complex symbolism; nevertheless, I personally found it a bit too full of itself for its own good. Some of Buñuel's targets are pretty obvious and, since the attacks are anything but subtle, the film can feel less witty and more childish than what was expected. Of course, the disjointed narrative also becomes a bit of a problem as the movie, being of a higher complexity and longer runtime than "Un chien andalou", tends to lose its point at several parts, and some vignettes do feel forced within the narrative. It's clear that Buñuel had in mind something big with the making of this project but, it seems that it was a project still too big for his creative mind at that moment. Granted, "L'Âge d'Or" was designed to be more symbolic than explicit, more an experience than an entertainment, and definitely more emotional than rational; but the overall experience is one of an unfulfilled mission.

Of course, Luis Buñuel would tackle surrealism later in his career, with the crowing pieces of his surrealist oeuvre being his 70s films, "Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie" ("The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie") and "Le Fantôme de la liberté" ("The Phantom of Liberty"), which would earn him the title of master of surrealism. While probably not entirely satisfying, "L'Âge d'Or" was a clear signal of the interests of the young Buñuel and, despite its many flaws, shows that even at this early stage of his career the vision of Buñuel was already developed (His technique would improve and blossom later, during his exile in Mexico). "L'Âge d'Or" or "The Golden Age", is a difficult film to watch (personally, it wouldn't be my first choice for an afternoon), but truly a key one that has to be experienced to discover the origins of Luis Buñuel and the core of surrealist cinema.

7/10
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Watch "L'Âge d'Or" (1930)

The Ghoul (1933)

In 1909, British actor William Henry Pratt traveled to Canada looking for fame and fortune on stage. A relative of members of the British foreign service, Pratt decided to change his name hoping to prevent embarrassment to his family, and the name he took would become legendary: Boris Karloff. Eventually, Karloff made it to films, establishing a career as character actor until success came with Universal Studios' classic, "Frankenstein" in 1931. Almost instantly, Karloff became an icon of the horror genre, and his career rose to new levels. It was in this moment when he returned to the United Kingdom to make a horror film: 1933's "The Ghoul", a movie that was considered a lost film for decades until a pristine copy was finally found in recent years. After all those years spent in the dark, expectations about the film are definitely high, specially when it's a film where Karloff once again shares the screen with his "Bride of Frankenstein" co-star, Ernest Thesiger. All those factors make "The Ghoul" quite an interesting film to see.

In "The Ghoul", Boris Karloff plays Prof. Morlant, a famous Egyptologist who has dedicated his life to collect religious artifacts from Ancient Egypt. On his deathbed, Morlant has faith in the power of "The Eternal Light", a mysterious medallion that he wants to present to the Egyptian gods after death. Morlant asks his butler, Laing (Ernest Thesiger) to wrap the medallion in his hand, and promises that if anyone betrays him, he'll return from the grave for revenge. Morlant's threat is not without a reason, because he knows that people will be after the powers of the eternal light. And his fears become true when his lawyer Broughton (Cedric Hardwicke) enters his house. Morlant's heirs Betty Harlan (Dorothy Hyson) and Ralph Morlant (Anthony Bushell) also arrive for the reading of the will, as well as Nigel Hartley (Ralp Richardson), a parson who used to visit Morlant trying to get him back into the Christian faith. On top of that, Egyptians Aga Ben Dragore (Harold Huth) and Mahmoud (D.A. Clarke-Smith) also want the medallion, but nobody will be prepared to face the Ghoul.

Based on a novel and play by Dr. Frank King, "The Ghoul" features a complex plot that goes beyond the norm in horror films set in a dark house. While at first sight, the characters are once again the common collection of stereotypes, everyone has a defined personality and motive to be included in the plot, which twists and turns constantly in a dynamic, unpredictable way that moves with a very fast pace. True, they are still the basic archetypes of this genre of plays (the butler and the lawyer mainly), but the way they all interact with each other in the complicated storyline makes those stereotypes refreshing and quite interesting. The take on the religious confrontations between Morlant and Hartley are of great interest, and Morlant in general is certainly, an unusual villain for its time. Greedy, selfish and downright evil (unlike for example, the villains in Universal Studios horror films), Morlant is still the one who got robbed, and the plot really plays up on the audience's sympathies to make this bad guy the one to root for.

Director T. Hayes Hunter creates a wonderfully dark atmosphere in "The Ghoul", taking full advantage of the talents of cinematographer Günther Krampf and Art Director Alfred Junge, both of them seasoned artists from the years of German Expressionism. "The Ghoul" carries a lot from the Expressionist style, as the lavish sets make Morlant's mansion to become a powerful reflection of its malevolent owner. A director from the days of silent films, T. Hayes Hunter focuses on making a visually stunning movie that allows the wonderful work of Krampf and Junge to shine; nevertheless, despite this focus on the visual he also employs editing and sound in very interesting, even innovative ways (for its time). Certainly, young editors Ian Dalrymple and Ralph Kemplen (his first work) carried out several fresh ideas about editing while working on "The Ghoul". Nevertheless, while technically "The Ghoul" is a brilliantly done movie, certain problems, such as the stagy style that Hayes Hunter employs in his cast, as well as details with the screenplay stain what could really be a flawless work.

The cast is in general good, albeit the there's a general tendency to go over the top, as if it was a play instead of a movie. As Prof. Morlant, Karloff delivers a terrific performance, first as the weakened yet malevolent dying man and later as the resurrected ghoul, the legendary actor is truly at his best. Perhaps there's a bit of overacting that, while often appropriate for the role, at times it's just too much. Unfortunately, Karloff receives limited screen time, and one wonders why is it that he is off the screen for so much time. As his lawyer, Cedric Hardwicke is a nice counterpart, but like Ernest Thesiger, his characters is maybe a bit too simple for him to explore. While his performance is remarkable, Thesiger's role is also a one-note character. As the young couple of heirs, Dorothy Hyson and Anthony Bushell do an effective, albeit unimpressive job. Their problem being having to portray a couple of underwritten characters. In his first role, Ralph Richardson has a very interesting character to play, and he delivers nicely in what would be the beginning of a promising career.

As written above, the screenplay has details that damage what could had been one of the best examples of horror from the 30s. For starters, while there's a lot of care in creating an interesting and complex storyline, the development of characters suffers a bit, and some of them are still just a step above being mere stereotypes. Also, the movie seems to lack a real protagonist, because while interestingly, the sympathies seem to be with the evil Morlant (as everybody is after his treasure), he disappears from the film for the entire second third of the movie, leaving the focus on his heirs. Now, this wouldn't be a problem if Hyson and Bushell's characters had a bit more going for them than just their looks, because while the actors do a good job in those roles, the characters just lack the necessary development. Bushell's Ralph, lacks the charm and comedy a hero of Old Dark House films would need to carry the film, as in the end, despite the obvious references to Universal Studios' style of monsters (mainly "The Mummy"), "The Ghoul" is a Dark House mystery tale, and plays firmly by those rules.

It's kind of a shame that a movie so perfect in technical aspects and with quite a talented cast, could not result in the classic that it should be, but in the end, this is the case of "The Ghoul". While it is a real eye candy and has a story quite bold for its time, the lack of character development truly makes "The Ghoul" a bit difficult to watch without getting a bit bored; as even went the complex plot offers a nice refreshing twist to the Old Dark House mystery films, the lack of interest in the characters (and with the only one with real impact absent during most of the film) proves to be fatal for the movie. Anyways, due to its wonderful achievements in cinematography and art direction (not to mention that it's never bad to watch Karloof and Thesiger together again), T. Hayes Hunter's "The Ghoul" is an interesting film to see, and despite it's problems, I'd still be thankful that the film could be erased from the lists of lost films.

7/10
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