The Invisible Man (1933) -- James Whale

In the 1930s Universal Studios hit upon a terrifically popular genre of film which featured distinctive monsters and spooky creatures that thrilled and excited movie audiences with suspense and danger. Because the genre was so commercially successful, the studio often developed horror series that showcased the characters and their offspring over the next ten to twenty years. The characters helped defined the legacy of the featured actors, and the films remain some of the most enjoyable classics, in large part for the obvious creativity of the directors and technicians employed to bring the stories to the screen.

The studio started it all with Dracula (Bela Lugosi) in 1931, and quickly followed with Frankenstein (Boris Karloff) later that same year. Today, most movie-lovers would consider these first two, Dracula and Frankenstein, as the dual kings of the creature features. But other scary characters came quickly on their heels, including The Mummy (Karloff again) in 1932; The Invisible Man (Claude Rains) in 1933; and The Wolf Man ( Lon Chaney Jr.) in 1941.

While you wouldn't want to meet any of these fellows on a dark night, if asked to choose, you might feel safest with The Invisible Man. However, in that you would be mistaken. The gauze-wrapped one was the most dangerous, racking up a staggering body count of at least 122.

One of author H.G. Wells best creations, the Invisible Man was published as a science fiction novella in 1897.  The story concerns a scientist who learns too late that there are some things that man must not meddle in. Director James Whale's cinematic take on the novella retains the basic elements, though the script adds a love interest, deletes a key character who briefly is coerced into helping The Invisible Man, makes the relationship between the Invisible Man and a former colleague much more familiar and recent, and alters the capture sequence.

Whale introduces the main character in a wonderfully atmospheric scene. A heavily garbed figure trudges through the swirling snow to the Lion's Head inn in search of a private room. His face is obscured behind dark glasses, a low-brimmed hat, and gauze wrapped tightly about the head.

The Invisible Man makes an ominous entrance.

The reaction of the inn's patrons to this strange apparition is fun to see. You can't blame them for wondering what type of man dresses so. The inn is run by horror film staple Una O'Conner, who will soon unleash her signature screaming, and is occupied by fellows who look like they spend a good amount of time in saloons. Familiar faces pop up throughout the film, including Henry Travers (Clarence the angel in It's a Wonderful Life); Walter Brennen; and Dwight Fry (Renfield in Dracula and Fritz in Frankenstein).

The strange boarder just wants to be left alone to conduct his mysterious experiments. He soon fills his room with test tubes, percolating beakers of liquid, and other scientific equipment. When O'Conner makes too much of a nuisance of herself, The Invisible Man loses his temper and knocks the woman's hen-pecked husband down a flight of stairs, prompting a call to the police. The Invisible Man disrobes and soon, police and patrons are wrestling with an unseen figure. This incident seems to push the man over the edge psychologically. He goes from being a desperate scientist to a mad fiend intent on world domination.

Whale infuses the film with several moments of intended humor: an unseen force knocks off a man's hat and throws out a quip; an empty shirt appears to dance in the air; and most outrageously, pants with nobody inside them cavort down the street as The Invisible Man sings "Here we go gathering nuts in May." The character occasionally unleashes a maniacal laugh. None of these are particularly funny today, but may have been to audiences eighty years ago.

Una O'Conner.

The special effects, however, are still remarkable, an aspect of the film that makes it memorable. Audiences of the 1930s must have been amazed, and it's easy to imagine youngsters leaving the theater and playing "invisible man" for weeks afterwards. My favorite are the footprints that magically appear in the snow near the end, as police smoke the trapped villain out of a barn. You'd think Whales would have been more careful--the prints show a man in shoes rather than bare-feet. Another is a spectacular train wreck caused by the Invisible Man. We later learn that this accident resulted in the death of 100 passengers. 

Jack Fulton did the special effects. He'd win two Oscars during his career, one for The Ten Commandments. Nominations for best effects came with three of the The Invisible Man sequels. Fulton wasn't the only crew member that helped director Whales produce a top-notch thriller. Pioneering cameraman Arthur Edeson gave the film a sharp look with technically ground-breaking shots, including two overhead crane shots used to show police closing in on the murderer. Edeson was one of the best in the business. He'd worked with Whale on Frankenstein. Among his other credits are the spectacular All Quiet on the Western Front, Mutiny on the Bounty, and The Maltese Falcon.

An Example of the special effects -- The Invisible Man in a chair.

Having escaped the melee at the inn, and later mortally wounding a skeptical police officer with a bench to his head--his first murder--The Invisible Man makes his way to Dr. Kemp, a colleague he hopes to convince to partner with in a Reign of Terror. We learn that The Invisible Man's name is Jack Griffin. In an explanatory sequence, we are presented with the back story: Griffin has been fixated on secret research into optics. The novella goes into more detail than the film, but in essence it involves how objects absorb and reflect light. Griffin has learned to make himself invisible, but can't figure how to reverse the procedure.

Kemp, who'd like to get Griffin out of the way so he can pursue Griffin's fiance, Flora (Gloria Stuart of Titanic), calls in the police. Enraged, Griffin vows revenge, a promise he manages to achieve in what must be one of film's first "car over the cliff " sequences. Bound in the back seat, Kemp can only watch in terror as Griffin sends the car over the edge to a satisfying fiery explosion at the bottom.

The police eventually track the prey thanks to snow on the ground and Claude Rains finally gets revealed as The Invisible Man. Classic film-lovers, of course, recognize the distinctive voice from the first scene, but in 1931, American audiences got their first look at a man who would become one of our favourite character actors, securimg four Oscar nominations during the 1940s in the process.

Author H.G. Wells.

Author H.G. Wells was a prolific writer of science fiction and other genres. The Invisible Man was not the first film based on his work. French director George Melies found inspiration for his A Trip to the Moon (1902), featured in the recent film Hugo, from the works of Wells and Jules Verne. And Island of Lost Souls (1932) was based on the Wells novel, The Island of  Dr. Moreau. Wells continues to be a source for film-makers, one of the most famous being the 1960 feature, The Time Machine. Wells died in 1946.

The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) -- James Whale

The villagers think that they have killed the monster that was terrorizing the countryside, having trapped it and his creator, Victor Frankenstein, in a grain mill, which was burnt to the ground. However, both monster and creator survived the inferno. While recovering from the incident, Dr. Frankenstein receives an unwelcome visitor in the strange Dr. Pretorios. He comes with a ghastly proposition for Frankenstein and will force his cooperation through blackmail -- create a female version of the monster.

The Bride of Frankenstein is justly considered one of the best sequels in the history of film. Coming just four years after the sensational Frankenstein, producer Carl Laemmle Jr. was able to gather the most important principals from the earlier hit: director James Whale and actors Colin Clive and Boris Karloff. Dwight Frye is along as the dwarf assistant, though in this one his name is Karl instead of Fritz. And because Whale used even better craftsmen for some of the other crew members for the production, the result surpasses the original.

Elsa Lanchester as the Bride.

While the first film is loosely based on Mary Shelley's 19th Century horror novel, Bride is an entirely original story. Director Whale cleverly starts it in the Shelley drawing room. A storm rages outside. Shelley friend, Lord Byron, is talking with Mary and Percey about her book. Scenes from the first film play over their conversation to remind viewers what took place. Mary explains that her book was a moral lesson: punishment for mortal man who attempts to act like God. Prompted, she tells the two that there is more to the story. From there, the film is the visual representation of her tale.

Picking up where the first film left off, the exultant crowd of villages, complete with pitch forks and rakes, disperses from the wreckage of the torched mill. One man and woman stay behind, the parents of the girl the monster threw in the lake in the first film. It's a poor decision as the monster is alive. It soon dispatches both. The woman's death is particularly effective. She reaches to grab a hand she thinks is her husband's, who has fallen through the weakened floorboards to where the monster has gone into hiding. After drowning the husband, the monster is climbing out. It's quite a surprise.

Among the new elements are a terrifically eerie score by Franz Waxman, and highly effective performances by Una O'Conner as a nervous villager, and Ernest Thesiger as the disturbingly unhinged Pretorious. O'Conner has a memorable cackle when she believes the monster is dead, and a signature scream when she first sees him alive. 

Thesiger as Pretorius, the mad scientist. 

Thesiger looks and acts the part. His introduction is a creepy one, and reminiscent of how Director William Friedken introduced Max von Sydow in 1973's The Exorcist. The door opens to reveal a somewhat emaciated figure, clouded in mist. In one scene he sits in a crypt eating his dinner, talking to a skull he has propped on a coffin. Pretorius is an old acquaintance of Frankenstein's from the university. We don't know their whole background together, but apparently they were once colleagues of some sort. Pretorius reveals that he was kicked out of the university so we know there is something wrong with him. He has been conducting some weird experiments of his own and wants Frankenstein's help to create a woman. Crazy enough to think the two creations might procreate, he raises a glass of wine and offers a toast: "To a new world of gods and monsters!" Frankenstein is appalled, but intrigued.

Later, when Frankenstein tries to back out of the deal, Pretorius secures his help by having the monster steal the wife.

The set direction and sound in the scientists' laboratories might be the aspect that lingers most from watching both films. Bride's is the superior of the two, however, with its elaborate winch sequence and giant kites. Electricity pulsates and hums along large electrodes and diffusers. Smoke and sparks explode and snap. Whale interjects the action with some wonderful closeups of the actors. Rarely has black and white cinematography played such an important part in setting the mood of a scene.    

The director makes sure we sympathize with the monster. Karloff as the monster cries when he sees his ugly reflection and is made a Christ-like figure when captured by the villagers. And at the end of the film, we'll see him make the supreme sacrifice.

The faux crucifixion scene.

Before the big laboratory scene we see the monster wandering in the woods. He meets and befriends a blind man, the first person to show him any compassion. The message here, if obvious, is still essential: real beauty is under the surface. The monster only wants peace. He's violent because that's the only way he knows how to react. To emphasize the point that the monster is more human than some of his pursuers, Whale has a tear role down his cheek as he listens to the blind man's violin. (The scene was later famously parodied by Mel Brooks in his comedy Young Frankenstein.)

A good action sequence follows the monster's capture. He's been hauled into jail like an animal trophy, and secured with heavy chains. He yanks the heavy chains out of the concrete and breaks down a door, sending the villagers running for their lives. The jail, as well as Frankenstein's castle, and the cemetery are wonderful Gothic settings. And pre-dating Film Noir, shadows and sharp angles fill the frame.

Karl is a dutiful assistant, a thankless role if ever there was one considering his scant screen time. He helps steal a corpse for the scientists' experiment and gets to kill a girl to secure a fresh heart. His best line comes at the height of the lightning storm: "The kites! The kites! Get 'em ready! He wants the kites!" The actor Dwight Frey was a staple of Universal's 1930 horror classics, his most famous role as the loony Renfield in the 1931 classic, Dracula. One wishes he had a larger role here.
 

A trusty assisant. 

The Bride (Elsa Lanchester) doesn't make her memorable appearance until almost the last scene. The buildup has been nicely paced and the payoff is one of film's great introductions, a biological abomination wapped tight as a mummy and held together by large safety pins. Pretorius removes some gauze from her face to reveal her eyes, open and alert, (Waxman overscores it with a marvelously screaming note), and Dr. Frankenstein again gets to marvel, "She's Alive! Alive!" She bears the same facial scars as her predecessor. Many viewers will remember the Bride's crazy hair, piled ridiculously high with a zig zag running up one side, but it's the bird-like movements of her head that most fascinate.

What follows is the most poignant scene in any of the early Universal horror classics. When the monster first sees the Bride his face looks on in happy wonderment. He tries to hold her hand, and for a moment the two might be any couple sitting on a park bench. Alas it is not to be. She hisses in disgust and screams at the sight of her intended mate. She too finds him hideous. Not only are the creators punished (here, Pretorius), but the created as well. Once rejected by one as repulsive as he, the monster knows he can never find happiness. He says he would rather be dead.

Yet inexplicably, he somehow finds pity on Dr. Frankenstein and allows him to escape before destroying himself and the rest by bringing the castle down on their heads. In this final act, he shows far greater compassion than any of the humans in the film. 

One woman's reaction to a blind date.

Clive is wonderful as the tortured Dr. Frankenstein. Racked with guilt over his earlier creation, he has blood on his hands. I suspect his escape was a conscious decision by the studio to keep the character alive in case there was another sequel. There would be, but Clive wouldn't be available. The actor suffered from tuberculosis and drank himself to death in 1937.

If the film has a flaw, it is Whale's decision to have the monster speak, something it did not do in the original. Frankenstein says little but utter "Gooood," "Baaaad," and "Friendddd," to convey his feelings. Perhaps it is because the effect has been so parodied over the years, but the words sound cartoonish today. Karloff was a good enough actor that his emotions were evident without speech.

Here's a trailer for the film: