Classic Films in Focus: THE SUSPECT (1944)

Warning: This review contains spoilers for The Suspect (1944).

Director Robert Siodmak weaves Victorian sensibility with noir energy in the justifiable homicide story of The Suspect (1944), which sees a mild-mannered Charles Laughton driven to murder by his extremely disagreeable wife. It's an unusual tale in that it pitches our sympathies toward the murderer throughout, even though we know the Hays Code won't let the picture - or its protagonist - get away with the crimes. Laughton, equally adept at comedic and horror roles, here plays an amiable working man who never stops being likable even as the corpses pile up. Ella Raines gives a sweet performance as the young woman whose affection ironically plunges the protagonist into violence, while Rosalind Ivan and Henry Daniell are delightfully horrible as the two antagonists who threaten him to their peril.

Laughton stars as Philip Marshall, a pleasant middle-aged man who manages a cigar store and does his best to placate the wrath of his hectoring, hateful wife, Cora (Rosalind Ivan). After Cora drives away their son, Philip takes comfort in a new friendship with pretty, young Mary (Ella Raines), but his hopes for a second chance at happiness are dashed when Cora refuses to give him a divorce. Cora's threat to ruin both of the lovers by publicly exposing them proves too much for Philip, but his snap decision to take drastic action has unexpected effects, especially when his abusive, alcoholic neighbor, Mr. Simmons (Henry Daniell), sees an opportunity for blackmail.

The success of this picture relies very much on Laughton's ability to play a truly kind, sympathetic man who is also believably capable of outright murder. Philip Marshall is no smiling sociopath like Joseph Cotten's character in Shadow of a Doubt (1943), nor is he incompetent once he commits to the deed. It helps that Cora and Mr. Simmons are so thoroughly rotten that even a saint might be forgiven for wishing them dead. Cora is unhinged enough that she doesn't seem to realize or care that ruining Philip's career would put her in the poorhouse, too; she means to torment him until death do them part. The revelation that Mr. Simmons beats his long-suffering wife (Molly Lamont) makes Philip and the audience hate him long before the blackmail attempt, as ironic as that seems when we consider that Mr. Simmons doesn't actually murder his wife. The Scotland Yard detective, Inspector Huxley (Stanley Ridges), enters this story as a most unwelcome pest; he's determined to prove Philip's guilt but doesn't care at all about the circumstances or the consequences. He might not be a corrupt cop, but he's willing to tell lies, set traps, and ruin lives without a moment's hesitation because he believes in his own moral superiority.

Touches of romance and comedy constantly lighten the mood to remind us of Philip's essential decency and the happiness he and Mary might enjoy if only fate would deal them a better hand, but there are fully realized moments of thrilling noir tension, too. Some of the sweetest scenes feature Raymond Severn as the errand boy, Merridew, whom Philip treats with paternal affection. The mix of moods also leads to black comedy, including a perversely entertaining sequence where Philip attempts to hide a body behind a couch while also entertaining unexpected guests. Laughton carries all of it beautifully, even the tenderest scenes with Raines, which might easily be rendered ridiculous by the difference in their ages and Laughton's cherubic curls atop a round, sad face. The ending might not offer what the audience really wants, but it's as gentle as possible given the inevitable conclusion to Philip's experience, and it leaves some poignant questions hanging in the air. Can you forgive a murderer depending on who they murder and why? How does that change the nature of justice and who gets it? What does the end of the story mean for Mary, or Mrs. Simmons, or Philip's adult son, John? The Suspect is the kind of murder story that begs for group viewing and discussion.

Robert Siodmak's other films from the 1940s include classics like Phantom Lady (1944), The Spiral Staircase (1946), and The Killers (1946). Charles Laughton won the Oscar for Best Actor for his performance in The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933) and was nominated again for Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) and Witness for the Prosecution (1957), but be sure to see him in Hobson's Choice (1954), too. Ella Raines also stars in Phantom Lady, The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry (1945), The Web (1947), and Brute Force (1947). If you like mild-mannered men embroiled in murder, pair The Suspect with The Woman in the Window (1944) or Scarlet Street (1945), both starring Edward G. Robinson.

Classic Films in Focus: THE OLD DARK HOUSE (1932)

Of course it's a dark and stormy night when Raymond Massey, Gloria Stuart, and Melvyn Douglas stumble into a strange old house whose occupants are even more menacing than the raging floods outside, and director James Whale milks the atmosphere for all it's worth in this delightfully dire horror comedy. The Old Dark House (1932) delivers on all points, with thrills and giggles in equal measure thanks to the performers who make up the cast, including Boris Karloff, Ernest Thesiger, Charles Laughton, and Eva Moore.

Massey and Stuart play married couple Philip and Margaret Waverton, who, along with their traveling companion, Penderel (Douglas), literally wash up at the old dark house during a massive storm. They're not exactly welcomed in by the occupants, a strange brother and sister whose other family members haunt the upper floors of the gloomy mansion, but they settle in to stay the night and are soon joined by fellow refugees Sir William Porterhouse (Charles Laughton) and Gladys (Lilian Bond). Things take a turn for the worse when the looming, mute butler, Morgan (Boris Karloff), gets drunk and releases the house's most dangerous resident, a pyromaniac murderer called Saul (Brember Wills).

If you're already familiar with Whale's sense of humor from Frankenstein (1931), The Invisible Man (1933), and Bride of Frankenstein (1935), you'll appreciate more of the same in The Old Dark House (1932), especially with the crusty, deaf Rebecca Femm (Eva Moore) and her brother, the fey, nervous Horace (Ernest Thesiger). The brief appearance of their father, Sir Roderick, turns out to be a treat, too; the whole family is mad as hatters, which keeps the reluctant house guests in a constant state of confusion. Karloff's shambling Morgan is a scarier version of Lurch from The Addams Family; he spends a lot of time trying to molest Margaret, who has inexplicably changed out of her wet traveling clothes into the least practical evening dress one could possibly wear in a cold, damp lunatic asylum pretending to be a family home. The sense of impending doom is also lightened by the whirlwind romance of Penderel and Gladys, with Penderel seeming to nurse something of a foot fetish where his new love interest is concerned.

The atmosphere and cinematography also make this film a lot of fun, with fabulous camera shots lingering on Morgan's scarred face in closeup or building terrible suspense with just Saul's hand at the top of the stairs appearing in the frame. There's plenty of striking storm scenery, too, especially as the Wavertons wend their hazardous way through the deluge. Flickering candles and uncertain electrical lights add to the sense of dread; nobody wants the lights to go out in this house. The Gothic ambience and focus on crumbling heaps recall Poe's "The Fall of the House of Usher" but also Horace Walpole's Castle of Otranto, and Whale shares Walpole's characteristic mingling of the ludicrous and the sublime. The joke of the title reveals the film's keen awareness of its place in relationship to earlier Gothic horror; the "old dark house" motif was a cliche of the genre long before 1932, but Whale's direction is always winking at us about the familiarity of it all.

Whale, Karloff, and Thesiger reunited for Bride of Frankenstein, while Gloria Stuart also stars in Whale's adaptation of The Invisible Man. Melvyn Douglas is not generally remembered for his horror films, but you'll also find him in The Vampire Bat (1933), and, much later, The Changeling (1980) and Ghost Story (1981). While Charles Laughton plays a solid fellow in this film, he really gets to work the horror vein in Island of Lost Souls (1932) and The Strange Door (1951). Don't miss Raymond Massey doing his own Karloff inspired turn in Arsenic and Old Lace (1944). William Castle made his own version of The Old Dark House in 1963, so you could make a double feature of it by watching both adaptations of the novel by J.B. Priestley.

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 BARRETTS OF WIMPOLE STREET (1934)

Once upon a time, the romance of Victorian poets Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning was one of the world’s most celebrated love stories, although today it’s a tale that only English majors with a particular interest in the 19th century are likely to know well. The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934), adapted from the play by Rudolph Besier, takes the usual poetic license with history, but it’s a lovely vision, nonetheless, with strong performances from Norma Shearer and Fredric March as the literary lovers. Viewers don’t really need to know anything about the poets to appreciate the elegant costumes, the tender love scenes, or the striking depiction of Victorian domestic dysfunction, but those well-versed in the works of both Barrett and Browning are likely to enjoy the film that much more. Memorable appearances by Charles Laughton, Maureen O’Sullivan, and Una O’Connor will give classic movie fans a particular thrill, as well.

Norma Shearer plays celebrated poet Elizabeth Barrett, an invalid who lives at Wimpole Street with a large collection of siblings and their overbearing father, Edward (Charles Laughton). The younger Barretts live in fear of Edward, who refuses to let any of them marry, and even Elizabeth, his favorite, shrinks from his relentless control. Strong-willed Henrietta (Maureen O’Sullivan) engages in a forbidden romance that enrages her father, but his ire is even greater when he suspects that Elizabeth has more than platonic feelings for the energetic young poet, Robert Browning (Fredric March).

Shearer embodies Barrett’s intelligence and frailty beautifully, and she looks fabulous in the sumptuous period gowns and the poet’s signature curls. Her performance earned her an Oscar nomination for Best Actress, the fourth of her career. Fredric March makes an excellent foil to her languid lady with his boundless energy and enthusiasm; he dashes into the room at their first meeting, an irresistible force determined to pull Elizabeth into life and love despite her own misgivings. The two talk of poetry briefly, invoking Browning’s early work, Sordello, in particular, but their later conversations turn almost entirely to affairs of the heart. That reluctance to be literary might be one of the film’s real weaknesses, since it denies uninitiated viewers a chance to figure out what these two poets are actually famous for, and it seems a shame that Barrett’s “How Do I Love Thee?” never gets an airing, since it was first written during the period that the film chronicles.

The supporting players fill the Wimpole Street house with well-defined characters who help to shape the lovers’ story in one way or another. Charles Laughton offers a compelling argument for patricide in his portrayal of Edward; the incestuous nature of his obsession with Elizabeth spills out in one climactic scene, but throughout the entire film he makes the viewer’s skin crawl with his thick lips, pitiless religiosity, and absolute suffocation of his children. Maureen O’Sullivan, as Henrietta, gets several excellent scenes of rebellion against him; she’s less a saint than Elizabeth, but her fiery courage makes us root for her to escape her father’s clutches by any means necessary. (The real Henrietta Moulton-Barrett did eventually marry Surtees Cook, although her father immediately disinherited her.) The delightful Una O’Connor also makes a noteworthy contribution as Elizabeth’s maid, Wilson, who loves Elizabeth far more than she fears Edward.

In addition to the Best Actress nomination for Shearer, The Barretts of Wimpole Street also earned a nod for Best Picture, but it lost on both counts to the big winner of 1934, It Happened One Night. Director Sidney Franklin liked his film so much that he remade it in 1957 with Jennifer Jones as Elizabeth Barrett and Bill Travers as Robert Browning. See more of Norma Shearer in The Divorcee (1930), A Free Soul (1931), and The Women (1939), and catch Fredric March in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931), A Star is Born (1937), and The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). The versatile but always brilliant Charles Laughton also stars in Island of Lost Souls (1932), The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), and Witness for the Prosecution (1957). Look for Una O’Connor in The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) and The Adventures of Robin Hood (1939), and see quite a lot of Maureen O’Sullivan in Tarzan the Ape Man (1932) and its sequels.

Learn more about Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning from The Poetry Foundation.

Classic Films in Focus: THE CANTERVILLE GHOST (1944)

It's surprising how many times Oscar Wilde's story, "The Canterville Ghost," has been adapted for the screen, although most of the productions have been for television rather than film. The supernatural title character has been played by John Gielgud and Patrick Stewart, among others, but the 1944 theatrical release, starring Charles Laughton, is the classic rendition. Although its World War II setting immediately reveals its broad deviation from Wilde's original, The Canterville Ghost is worth watching because of Laughton's terrific tragicomic performance and the presence of noteworthy classic stars like Robert Young and Margaret O'Brien, as well as spirited direction from Jules Dassin.

Laughton plays Sir Simon de Canterville, a 17th century nobleman whose own father (Reginald Owen) walls him up alive in the family castle for dishonoring the Canterville name with his cowardice. Three centuries later, Sir Simon has become the most terrifying ghost in England, with a long trail of horror stories adding to his fame, and the castle's present owner, six year old Lady Jessica (Margaret O'Brien), lives in fear of him. The ghost's reputation is ruined, however, when a rowdy group of American Rangers takes up residence in the castle and turns the tables on him. As it turns out, one of the Americans, Cuffy Williams (Robert Young), is actually a descendant of the Canterville line, making him Sir Simon's best hope for breaking the curse that has held him on earth for so many years.

The story mixes fantasy with wartime themes of courage under fire and self-sacrifice, the very qualities that Sir Simon originally lacks and that Cuffy - and Jessica - must find within themselves. The special effects for the ghostly manifestations are entertaining but not terribly scary; they have the same sense of fun as Disney's Haunted Mansion and are unlikely to frighten even the youngest modern viewers. Laughton, however, looks fantastic in each of the ghost's ludicrous disguises and fully milks each opportunity for humor laced with pathos. Portly, in puffy period garb, and sporting an improbable set of whiskers, Laughton makes Sir Simon both a buffoon and a truly tragic figure, lonely and weary after his long centuries of immortal exile. The movie's most terrible scene is certainly the moment when Sir Simon's father condemns him to a slow, nightmarish death, ironically within the heart of the very home that renounces him.

Robert Young and Margaret O'Brien mostly supply reactions to Sir Simon's antics, but Young exudes the appropriately sturdy charm of the American soldier, and O'Brien is wide-eyed and effectively cute as Lady Jessica. The Canterville Ghost came out right in the middle of O'Brien's most productive period, between Jane Eyre (1943) and Meet Me in St. Louis (1944). She was a major child star in the 1940s, and little girls who like Shirley Temple ought to enjoy O'Brien, as well, even if she doesn't sing and dance. Una O'Connor doesn't get enough screen time as the housekeeper to provide her trademark hysteria in response to the ghost's manifestations, but classic movie fans will be glad to see her as well as Mike Mazurki and Frank Faylen among the supporting cast.

The Canterville Ghost makes a very good choice for a family film, especially for kids who enjoy ghost stories and fantasies. Try a double feature with Blackbeard's Ghost (1968) for a night of kid-friendly thrills, or follow it with Topper (1937) and I Married a Witch (1942) for more classic supernatural comedy. Charles Laughton won the Oscar for Best Actor in The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), but he also stars in Island of Lost Souls (1932), Ruggles of Red Gap (1933), and Witness for the Prosecution (1957). Actually, Laughton is brilliant in almost every movie he did, and once you start watching him it's hard to stop. Don't miss his sole directorial turn in The Night of the Hunter (1955). Robert Young also stars with Margaret O'Brien in Journey for Margaret (1942), and you'll find him with Shirley Temple in Stowaway (1936).  For Young's darker films, try They Won't Believe Me (1947) and Crossfire (1947). He went on to television fame in Father Knows Best (1954-1960).

Classic Films in Focus: ISLAND OF LOST SOULS (1932)

H.G. Wells’ disturbing tale of vivisectionist horror has been adapted for film several times, but the 1932 version of The Island of Dr. Moreau, titled Island of Lost of Souls, stands out for its chillingly effective performances and its sexually charged subtext. Directed by Erle C. Kenton, this Paramount production is not as well known today as contemporary Universal classics like Dracula (1931) or Frankenstein (1932), but the three movies have much in common, and Kenton’s picture holds its own against both of those iconic peers. In fact, Island of Lost Souls surpasses many other horror movies of the 1930s by retaining its ability to shock, frighten, and unnerve a modern audience, especially if they are paying attention that what is really going on.

The story follows the perpetually unlucky Edward Parker (Richard Arlen), who survives a shipwreck only to be cast ashore on a mysterious island by the unscrupulous captain whose ship picked him up.  The ship has delivered a cargo of exotic animals to the island, along with Mr. Montgomery (Arthur Hohl), who turns out to be the right hand man of the island’s master, Dr. Moreau (Charles Laughton). Parker soon discovers the inhuman nature of Moreau’s secret research, which puts his life in danger, but the arrival of his fiancée (Leila Hyams) at the head of a rescue party brings even more peril as Moreau sets his beast men loose upon the intruders. 

The monsters, of course, are the characters to watch. They are a fascinating menagerie of horrors, with teeth, fangs, and crooked limbs that suggest their weird origins as creatures very different from men. As Lota, the loveliest of the lot, Kathleen Burke convincingly inhabits the liminal space between predatory panther and island Eve, with beautiful but wild, unnatural eyes that watch Parker’s every move. Horror icon Bela Lugosi grins madly as the leader of the island’s bestial man; you might not even recognize him beneath all that hair. Charles Laughton, however, is the scariest monster of them all as the sadistic, obsessed Dr. Moreau, a man who wants nothing more than to mate his creatures with real human beings and see what results. Laughton plays the role with surprising restraint, but watch his eyes and the way they light up madly when he talks about his obscene work. 

The humans can be a bit dense at times. Do they really think that the locals are just ugly, hairy natives of the island? They are, however, necessary to the plot, both as spectators who provide an outsider’s view of events and as potential victims for Moreau’s most ambitiously horrific plans. Parker’s fiancée, Ruth, is particularly important, since her arrival makes Lota’s wooing of Parker himself unnecessary. Moreau realizes that his beast men, already torn by a storm of unstable urges, will abduct and rape Ruth with only the slightest encouragement. Moreau cares only for the results of such an experiment; can his creations procreate with a human being? Astute viewers will shudder in horror and disgust at this prospect, which invests the whole story with a deeper and more lingering sense of menace. Even more terrible is the final scene, in which Moreau’s miserable creations exact a just but awful vengeance on their maker. 

Rejected by more than a dozen US censor boards and banned outright in Great Britain, Island of Lost Souls also displeased H.G. Wells, but it remains the best adaptation of his story more than 75 years later. The 1977 and 1996 versions of The Island of Dr. Moreau both fail to live up to its standard.  For more from director Erle C. Kenton, try The Ghost of Frankenstein (1942), House of Frankenstein (1944), and House of Dracula (1945). The great Charles Laughton also stars in Ruggles of Red Gap (1935), The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939), and Witness for the Prosecution (1957). Look for Leila Hyams in another shocking horror classic from the same year, Tod Browning’s Freaks (1932). 

You can rent or buy Island of Lost Souls on DVD from the Criterion Collection. Their version also includes some great interviews with Rick Baker and other genre notables about the making and legacy of the film.