CMBA Blogathon - The Fabulous Films of the 30s: THE INVISIBLE MAN (1933)

This post is part of the CMBA Spring Blogathon celebrating The Fabulous Films of the 30s. Visit the Classic Movie Blog Association for more information and links to participating posts!

Even among the great horrors produced by Universal in the 1930s, The Invisible Man (1933) stands out. It revels in madness and genius in equal measure, presenting viewers with a shocking example of a figure we now know all too well, the insane super villain. It's the movie that made Claude Rains a star, even though we can't see him, and that's all the more reason to be impressed with his stunning performance, which gains in grandeur by being set loose from the conventional experience of being seen. Just as Rains is the picture's unseen star, James Whale is its equally invisible yet utterly palpable director, putting his ineffable stamp on every moment of chaos and comedy. Between the two of them, Rains and Whale make The Invisible Man a cinematic work like no other, a dark delight that takes us over the edge with its tragically mad protagonist.

Rains plays Jack Griffin, who has already tried his fatal experiment with invisibility by the time we first meet him. His formula has worked, but Griffin has no way to reverse the effects, and murderous insanity turns out to be a secondary result of the transformation. Griffin works feverishly to find a cure for his condition even as his madness grows, while his mentor, Dr. Cranley (Henry Travers), and fiancee, Flora (Gloria Stuart), try to help him. Unfortunately for all of them, Griffin's humanity is also vanishing, and many lives must be lost before fate catches up with the doomed madman.

One of the great shared elements of the Universal horrors is their ability to present their monsters as figures of sympathy and pity in spite of the destruction they wreak. We feel bad for them because they once were human beings, and we understand that they have not chosen this fate, even though we also recognize that death is the only possible ending for their stories. Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, and both Lon Chaney Sr. and Jr. invest their monsters with enough pathos to complicate our feelings about them. Claude Rains follows this tradition, but he has to evoke those simultaneous responses of revulsion and sympathy without the usual makeup or even the expressions of his own face. His voice, however, is powerful enough all on its own, gripping the audience and holding it mesmerized throughout the picture. Through that exquisite instrument Rains conveys all the panic, despair, and horrific insanity that Griffin experiences. He is monstrous, murderous, an id utterly divorced from the higher powers that once controlled it, and yet he is heartbreaking in his struggle to reclaim his humanity and hold onto his love for Flora.

Whale creates scenes around Rains' invisible protagonist that heighten the horror but also undercut it with the director's usual pitch black sense of humor. The special effects are marvelous, even by today's CGI standards, but they are also jokes that Whale is playing on the audience. It doesn't take a genius to realize that Whale basically gets away with a movie in which a naked madman parades around destroying things and riding bicycles through town. We even get scenes in which Griffin chucks his clothes, highlighting the fact that he's only invisible because he's totally nude. For Whale, the joke has its deeper side, too; Griffin's naked id, unprotected by reason or morality, is set loose, just as Griffin's naked body breaks the bounds of social convention and self-protection. His nakedness hides him, but it also leaves him exposed, especially in the final scenes, when falling snow becomes a threat to him in more ways than one. Griffin has dreamed of greatness, influence, and power, but he is reduced to a naked animal, shivering in the cold, hunted and cast out from humankind. It's a tragic ending, and when we see Rains' face at last, we remember that Griffin was a man before he became a monster.

The supporting cast also makes The Invisible Man a memorable film. Be sure to appreciate the performances of Henry Travers, Gloria Stuart, William Harrigan, and the inimitable Una O'Connor. Compare Whale's work on The Invisible Man with his direction for Frankenstein (1931) and The Bride of Frankenstein (1935). See more of Claude Rains' work in the horror genre in The Wolf Man (1941) and Phantom of the Opera (1943). The Invisible Man inspired a number of sequels, including The Invisible Man Returns (1940), in which Vincent Price takes on the title role, and The Invisible Woman (1940), which stars Virginia Bruce as a calmer and more comedic unseen protagonist.

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.