Classic Films in Focus: THE STRANGE DOOR (1951)

Loosely adapted from a short story by Robert Louis Stevenson, director Joseph Pevney's The Strange Door (1951) plays like a primer for one of Roger Corman's Poe pictures, and fans of those films will find much to appreciate here. Gothic elements abound, including a forbidding castle filled with instruments of torture, but the movie's chief spectacle is Charles Laughton as a deranged nobleman bent on sadistic revenge. Boris Karloff also makes a memorable appearance in a supporting role, although Laughton takes the monster's part for this twisted tale. The Strange Door is a minor entry in the horror canon, and by no means a perfect film, but it's worthwhile viewing for Laughton devotees who love his most unsavory characters.

Richard Stapley plays young Denis de Beaulieu, who finds himself an unwilling house guest when Sire Alain de Maletroit (Charles Laughton) thinks he's blackguard enough to be imposed as a bridegroom on the nobleman's niece, Blanche (Sally Forrest). De Maletroit secretly keeps Blanche's father (Paul Cavanagh) locked up in his dungeon, where the prisoner is attended by his faithful servant, Voltan (Boris Karloff). The villainous lord forces Denis and Blanche to marry in the hope that they will hate each other heartily, but when they fall in love instead he resorts to extremes to exact his long-desired revenge.

Laughton revels in his role as the malevolent de Maletroit, making even the most casual lines drip with veiled cruelty. The audience knows immediately that he's a villain, but the extent of his evil is revealed more slowly, building toward his climactic attempt to murder his entire family. Laughton's fleshy, sly face is perfectly suited to this kind of deviant character; he combines the urbane menace of Vincent Price with the corpulent self-indulgence of Sydney Greenstreet. He both fascinates and repulses as we watch him torment his victims, even as he himself is egged on by his henchmen. It's true that de Maletroit's actions don't make a lot of sense, especially his scheme of marrying Blanche off by force to the first cad he can find, but Laughton makes us believe that the character is crazy enough to cook up such a cock-eyed plot. In a Pre-Code picture he might have devised a far more gruesome fate, and Price's heavies in the Corman films certainly put more thought into their nasty plans. Foolishly, De Maletroit doesn't foresee the possibility that his young people might actually start a romance and spoil his little game.

Stapley and Forrest fill their straightforward roles well enough, but the other supporting characters have more interesting parts to perform. Karloff, who had played plenty of monstrous heavies over the years, here gets a more sympathetic role in Voltan, who hopes to free his original master from the usurper's power. He's not exactly heroic, given that he hasn't managed to get poor Edmond out of the cell in twenty years, but he has a pathetic, loyal quality, something like a faithful dog, that really comes to the foreground in the final scenes. Paul Cavanagh does a lot with the minor role of Edmond, who pretends to be insane while waiting for a chance to escape his brother's clutches. His madman act is so convincing that it's a shock to see him come out of it. William Cottrell and Michael Pate play de Maletroit's lackeys with grim enthusiasm, and Alan Napier turns up for a brief but effective performance as a friend who tries help Denis escape from his wedding banquet.

For another adaptation of a Stevenson short story, try The Body Snatcher (1945), in which Karloff takes a more prominent role. Joseph Pevney also directed the Lon Chaney biopic, Man of a Thousand Faces (1957). Catch Laughton being even more horrible in Island of Lost Souls (1932), or see his kinder, gentler side with Ruggles of Red Gap (1935). Richard Stapley acted under the name Richard Wyler later in his career and starred in the TV series, Man from Interpol.

Classic Films in Focus: THE PREMATURE BURIAL (1962)

Ray Milland takes over from Vincent Price as Roger Corman's lead actor in The Premature Burial (1962), which builds a feature-length story of obsession and betrayal around a much simpler tale by Edgar Allan Poe. Price's absence makes this entry into Corman's Poe canon less of a favorite among classic horror fans, but those who appreciate Milland on his own merits will find him capable and even quite chilling in the picture's third act. Horror queen Hazel Court also gives a memorable performance, but those who like to see familiar stars in unusual roles will particularly enjoy the presence of Alan Napier and Heather Angel as supporting characters with their own motives for watching Milland's morbid protagonist succumb to his fears. Less deliriously Gothic than some of the best Poe pictures, The Premature Burial is nonetheless an entertaining contribution to the Corman collection and a good example of the horror director's distinctive style.

Milland plays Guy Carrell, a middle-aged gentleman gripped by his fear of being buried alive. Despite the objections of his sister, Kate (Heather Angel), Guy marries the lovely Emily (Hazel Court) and tries to be happy, but events around his home constantly remind him of his phobia. He builds an elaborate mausoleum for himself equipped with numerous escape routes, but when he suffers a bout of catalepsy and is mistaken for dead he is, of course, confronted with the realization of his worst nightmare.

Vincent Price is so closely associated with the Corman Poe movies that it's strange to see Ray Milland step into his place as the haunted protagonist, and Milland certainly plays Guy differently from Price's usual style. Early on he seems much more normal and sane than we might expect, his mania about death excepted, and we wonder why such a charming, ordinary man doesn't just shake off his grim daydreams and get on with his life. Milland's intensity bursts forth in his darker moments, when he rejects flowers and his wife's intrusions, but he really transforms into a figure of madness after his premature burial takes place and he sets off to punish everyone he holds responsible for his fate. This is, after all, the actor who won an Oscar for going on an epic bender in The Lost Weekend (1945), and when he cuts loose Milland shows that he really can work his way around a Gothic fit of violent insanity.

The other players also offer more subtle performances that complement Milland's approach to the protagonist, with the third act finally seeing each character's true nature revealed by the aftermath of Guy's interment. Hazel Court has a spectacular conclusion that justifies her presence, while Alan Napier's Dr. Gault turns out to be a much more heartless old scoundrel than his paternal demeanor suggests. Gault's grave-robbing expedition is the event that first propels Guy into his ongoing fear of live burial, but Gault is the kind of man who will have the corpse of his own son-in-law dug up for medical experimentation, so poetic justice practically begs to catch up with him. Heather Angel is the most inscrutable of the lot; she plays Guy's sister with impeccable reserve, so that we never know how she really feels about her brother and his wife until the very last scene. Richard Ney has the relatively thankless job of playing Miles, a foil to Milland's character who once courted Emily and still harbors strong feelings for her.

Corman presents viewers with the Victorian atmosphere and constant swirling fog that feature in so many of his Poe films, along with copious cobwebs and a handful of dry corpses. If the themes of catalepsy and live burial seem repetitive after House of Usher (1960) and The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), that has as much to do with Poe's obsessions as Corman's. The influence of German Expressionism and the importance of art also recur in this outing, with Guy's dream sequence awash in blue and green light and his surreal paintings depicting the disordered state of his mind. Corman also evinces a sly, twisted sense of humor in his use of the old song, "Molly Malone," as a persistent theme. We never hear the actual lyrics sung in the film, but the refrain of the song is "Alive, alive, oh," which serves as an ironic summary of Guy's obsession.

Like many classic stars, Ray Milland made a number of horror features late in his career, but for a great example of his earlier work in the genre see The Uninvited (1944). He also gives a standout performance in Alfred Hitchcock's 1954 thriller, Dial M for Murder. Look for Hazel Court in The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) as well as Corman's The Raven (1963) and The Masque of the Red Death (1964). Heather Angel appears in Suspicion (1941), The Undying Monster (1942), and Lifeboat (1944), but you might also recognize her as the voice of Mrs. Darling in Disney's Peter Pan (1953). Alan Napier is best remembered today as Alfred on the 1960s TV series, Batman, although his long career spanned more than 50 years and nearly 150 roles.

Classic Films in Focus: THE INVISIBLE MAN RETURNS (1940)

This sequel to the 1933 classic, The Invisible Man, stars Vincent Price as the latest victim of the invisibility formula that brings madness and doom to those who use it, a fate already experienced by Claude Rains in the original outing. Much like the first film, The Invisible Man Returns is primarily a showcase for its star’s distinctive voice and a series of special effects, although it lacks the pitch-black comedy and perverse genius of James Whale’s earlier work. Still, the 1940 installment provides enough entertainment in its performances and visual tricks to make for very good matinee fare, and Price fans are certain to appreciate the star’s early foray into the horror genre.

Price plays Geoffrey Radcliffe, who has been convicted of killing his brother and sentenced to hang. Innocent but desperate, Geoffrey accepts the help of his friend, Frank Griffin (John Sutton), the brother of the original invisible man. Frank has learned how to replicate his brother’s invisibility formula, which Geoffrey uses to escape prison and hunt his brother’s real killer, with the help of his fiancée, Helen (Nan Grey). Pursued by a Scotland Yard inspector (Cecil Kellaway) and rapidly succumbing to insanity caused by the formula, Geoffrey walks a fine line between hero and monster as he closes in on the secret enemy who framed him for his brother’s murder.

Although his mellifluous voice is heard almost constantly, Price spends most of the picture wrapped in bandages or completely unseen, which is a shame considering the actor’s youthful good looks. When we do see him, we understand why Helen is attracted to him, even though she recoils in horror from his invisible form. Price’s Geoffrey has more masculine appeal than either John Sutton’s nervous Doctor Griffin or Cedric Hardwicke’s oily Richard Cobb, but he also evinces a wry gallows humor that presages the kind of performance Price would become famous for in later years. Price’s delivery of his lines helps us believe in the invisible man as much as the special effects that show his movements, perhaps more so since only Price’s dialogue clues us in to Geoffrey’s many moods, from mounting insanity to melancholy and mournful despair.

The supporting players also work to suspend our disbelief in their unseen companion. Nan Grey is actually quite lovely as Geoffrey’s love interest, and she reacts with credible terror without seeming too weak to be worthy of Geoffrey’s devotion. Cedric Hardwicke pulls off some especially tricky physical business toward the end of the picture; he might be telegraphing Richard’s true intentions a bit too forcefully early on, but the movie doesn’t seem interested in making the real killer’s identity much of a mystery. Poor John Sutton has little to do beyond kicking the plot into motion as Dr. Griffin, since his character is basically a third wheel in every other scene with Geoffrey and Nan, although we do get the idea that he also harbors an unrequited passion for Nan. Character actors Alan Napier and Cecil Kellaway both make the most of their roles, with Napier getting some comical action as the drunken Spears and Kellaway managing to keep his policeman likable even though we know he has given orders to shoot on sight at an innocent man.

The Invisible Man Returns impressed the Academy with its special effects; it earned an Oscar nomination for them but faced stiff competition that year and lost to The Thief of Bagdad (1940). Joe May, who directed the film, also directed Vincent Price in The House of the Seven Gables (1940). See more of the inimitable Price’s work from this era in The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), The Song of Bernadette (1943), and Laura (1944). For more invisible man movies, try The Invisible Woman (1940), Invisible Agent (1942), and The Invisible Man’s Revenge (1944).

Classic Films in Focus: THE UNINVITED (1944)

The Uninvited (1944) is an old-fashioned ghost story with deep roots in the Gothic tradition. Adapted from a 1941 novel by Dorothy Macardle, the story borrows major themes and motifs from Rebecca (1940), just as Daphne du Maurier’s novel had borrowed from Jane Eyre. In all three tales, romance mingles with mystery and horror generated by dark family secrets, but in The Uninvited the idea of the heroine being haunted by other women becomes quite literal. With its seance scenes, ghostly moans, and strange apparitions, The Uninvited offers abundant otherworldly thrills for Gothic romance fans, who will find plenty to love in this atmospheric tale of love and hatred from beyond the grave.

Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey star as siblings Roderick and Pamela Fitzgerald, who buy an old estate on the rural English coast only to discover that its cheap price stems from its reputation as a haunted house. The previous owner, Commander Beech (Donald Crisp), seems glad to be rid of the place but stubbornly refuses to see the new residents as friends, while his granddaughter, Stella (Gail Russell), welcomes the society of the Fitzgeralds, despite her grandfather’s orders to avoid them. As Roderick and Pamela confront the restless dead that roam their home, they begin to uncover the mystery of Stella’s past, but it turns out that the ghosts are not the only ones who wish deadly harm to the innocent girl.

The Fitzgerald siblings function as detectives and drive the narrative forward with their supernatural sleuthing, but Gail Russell’s Stella is the central heroine, the lynchpin on whom all these manifestations and secrets depend. The young actress’ fragile, melancholy beauty perfectly suits the ambience of the story and her character’s situation. Only twenty years old and accustomed to being controlled by her grandfather’s relentless will, Stella blooms when Roderick takes a romantic interest in her. The leap into sexual maturation inspires her to disobey the Commander, a dangerous but necessary step because it brings her into contact with the ghosts of Windward House, who must be laid to rest before Stella and Roderick can be united. Sexual subtext dominates much of the narrative, especially when another character reveals a passionate obsession with one of the dead women from Stella’s past.

Most of the scenes unfold with an emphasis on mystery rather than horror, with Roderick and Pamela interviewing everyone who might be able to shed some light on the shadowy past of Windward. The ghostly moments are reserved, like a rich treat, for periodic enjoyment; we get one thrilling scene of disembodied weeping or terrified pets and then have to wait a while before the next one presents itself. Each new manifestation increases the Fitzgeralds’ sense of urgency and also reveals the danger that the house presents to Stella. The film wisely limits its use of the floating apparition, relying instead on more subtle effects or the characters’ descriptions of their experiences within the house. Rooms turn cold, perfume fills the air, and an unseen hand flips the pages of an open book. These moments inspire the audience with delicious, spine-tingling chills, especially when ghostly moaning fills the house and a seance calls forth the spirits of the dead.

Take a moment to appreciate the supporting performances of Alan Napier as Dr. Scott and Cornelia Otis Skinner as Miss Holloway. Lewis Allen, who directed The Uninvited, also directed The Unseen (1945), Appointment with Danger (1951), and A Bullet for Joey (1955). See more of Ray Milland in The Lost Weekend (1945) and Dial M for Murder (1954). Ruth Hussey is best remembered for her supporting role in The Philadelphia Story (1940), while Donald Crisp plays more paternal types in How Green Was My Valley (1941), Lassie Come Home (1943), and National Velvet (1944). Sad-eyed Gail Russell also stars in Angel and the Badman (1947), Wake of the Red Witch (1948), and Seven Men from Now (1956). If ghostly Gothic romance thrills your heart, try Dragonwyck (1946) as a double feature with The Uninvited.

The Criterion Collection released newly restored Blu-Ray and DVD versions of The Uninvited on October 22, 2013. Special features include a visual essay, a trailer, two radio adaptations, and a booklet with an essay from classic movie blogger, Farran Smith Nehme.

Read more about Gothic romance:
THE HOUSEKEEPER IN THE GOTHIC FILM TRADITION
REBECCA (1940) 
DRAGONWYCK (1946)
THE INNOCENTS (1961)

Classic Films in Focus: HANGOVER SQUARE (1945)

Laird Cregar’s final film is the only one in which he received top billing, but Hangover Square (1945) shows just how much talent was lost with the star’s premature death in 1944, two months before the picture was released. Like the earlier Fox horror thriller, The Lodger (1944), Hangover Square features direction by John Brahm and a memorable supporting performance from George Sanders, but Cregar rules the screen as a mentally unstable protagonist who is both the monster and the ultimate victim of his own uncontrollable evil.

Cregar plays George Harvey Bone, a talented composer whose mild manner gives way to murderous psychosis whenever he hears discordant sounds. Despite the devoted concern of his girlfriend, Barbara (Faye Marlowe), and the support of his mentor, Sir Henry (Alan Napier), George falls under the seductive spell of singer Netta Longdon (Linda Darnell), who uses George to compose songs for her rising career. Netta thinks that George is merely a convenient sap, but her treachery provokes another of George’s deadly rampages. Meanwhile, Scotland Yard expert Dr. Middleton (George Sanders) struggles to uncover the truth about George’s disturbing blackouts.

The movie opens with a dramatic sequence in which we see George commit his first murder, so there is never any doubt that he becomes a killer during his mental lapses. Our knowledge of his hidden nature creates ongoing dramatic irony as we wait for George and the people around him to figure out what we already know, and the tension mounts because we realize that George will kill again whenever his mind is jarred by the right kind of sound. Cregar’s genius in the role lies in his ability to play normal George as a sweet, sensitive artist and then invest monstrous George with glassy-eyed, animal violence. Like Larry Talbot or Dr. Jekyll, George Harvey Bone is an unwilling and even unconscious killer; he remains sympathetic throughout the picture because he really can’t stop himself or control what his darker side does. Unlike most of the actors who play these other monsters, however, Laird Cregar performs both versions of his character without any special makeup or transformation, and he does a magnificent job, especially in the climactic sequence where he finally recognizes his own monstrosity while playing his deliriously Gothic concerto.

Although Cregar is clearly the star of the show, Linda Darnell stands out as the scheming, selfish Netta, who plays with fire so contemptuously that we yearn to see her burned. Our wish is granted in a very literal sense, for fire is another motif that recurs throughout the picture. The use of fire as a component in a gentle artist’s transformation into evil also figures in the later Vincent Price picture, House of Wax (1953), but Hangover Square offers parallels to many classic horror stories, including The Phantom of the Opera, The Wolf Man, and the many adaptations of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Like the 1931 and 1941 versions of the Hyde story, Hangover Square provides George with love interests who reflect his light and dark aspects, although Faye Marlowe’s angelic Barbara is far less interesting than Darnell’s naughty Netta. George Sanders, however, has a very good role as the cool, clinical doctor who acts as a foil to the nervously unhinged George.

Laird Cregar dropped a hundred pounds by crash dieting to remake himself as a traditional leading man for this role; the drastic weight loss and a subsequent gastric bypass surgery proved too much for his body and caused a fatal heart attack shortly after Hangover Square was completed. Be sure to pay attention to his very different appearance in his earlier films, including Blood and Sand (1941), This Gun for Hire (1942), and The Lodger (1944). John Brahm also directed The Undying Monster (1942), Hot Rods to Hell (1967), and many episodes of thriller and horror television series. See more of Linda Darnell in The Mark of Zorro (1940), My Darling Clementine (1946), and A Letter to Three Wives (1949). Don’t miss George Sanders in Rebecca (1940), The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945), and All About Eve (1950), although his own most memorable villain might be the tiger Shere Khan in Disney’s The Jungle Book (1967).