Some mid-winter horror films.

Night of the Demon (1957), directed by Jacques Tourneur. This film was released in America as Curse of the Demon with some 13 minutes trimmed. The longer version has more character development and nuance. Controversy over the inclusion of a seriously hideous monster/demon has followed this film, and we know that its director, Tourneur, did not want to show the monster in the detail that it has in the finished film. In any case, with Tourneur at the helm, Night of the Demon has the atmosphere of creepiness we might associate with the Val Lewton films of the 1940s, three of which were directed by Tourneur. The plot pits Professor John Holden (Dana Andrews), a psychologist sceptical of things supernatural, against Dr. Julian Karswell (Niall MacGinnis), practitioner of the black arts. Early scenes are bathed in daylight, while later scenes move into darkness and terror. Even the daylight scenes, however, convey a sense of the macabre. A wonderful scene that takes place on Halloween shows a children’s party where Dr. Karswell, dressed as a clown, conjures candy and also a terrific storm. We also have a scene in which a séance takes place, perhaps the most jaunty séance on film. I even enjoy the appearance of the demon monster at the beginning and then again at the end of the film. The final scene is, perhaps, a tad too willing to give credence to the existence of the supernatural, but Tourneur’s ability to merge monster and train does give us pause. Perhaps Karswell imagined that he saw a demon while he ran wildy down the train tracks. 

 

Comedy of Terrors (1963), directed by Jacques Tourneur. Boasting a cast list that includes Basil Rathbone, Peter Lorre, Boris Karloff, and the inimitable Vincent Price as an inebriate undertaker, Comedy of Terrors can hardly fail to please. Oh, and it has the director of The Cat People, I Walked With a Zombie, and Night of the Demon to keep things brisk and atmospheric. As the title indicates, this photoplay has a Shakespearian overlay, especially in Rathbone's spouting of familiar soliloquies from the Scottish Play. The whole thing is played broadly. The sets and cinematography have the look of Roger Corman's Poe films of the same period. Along for the ride is the chanteuse Joyce Jameson, whose voice manages too shatter glass and wilt flowers. The whole thing has a knowingness that winks at the audience throughout. "What did you step in?" "What place eez this?" "Is this a dagger I see before me?" The hijinks are completely unbelievable and the grand ending plays like Hamlet mixed with a happy-ending Romeo and Juliet. 

 

Shutter (2004), directed by Banjong Pisanthanakun and Parkpoom Wongpoom. I first watched this horror film from Thailand ten or more years ago and it scared the heck out of me. We decided to dust off the DVD and watch it again. The viewing did not disappoint, although I have to confess it did not scare the heck out of me this time. The film does, however, know how to construct a convincing and creepy psychological thriller and without all the Kensington gore we see in Hollywood attempts at horror these days. Shutter is closer to a film like Hitchcock’s Psycho, than to the Saw franchise or the Hostel franchise or to the remakes of Japanese horror films or even the remake of this film. In fact, we have one jump scare that comes right from Psycho. The two directors begin the creepiness near the beginning and never let up. Scenes in the developing room are frightening as is the "bed scene." The walking-on-the-ceiling scene is cool. A second viewing also allows us to see just how much of what we see throughout prepares for the revelations as we close on the end, an end that is a zinger, a hum dinger, and both inevitable and satisfying and creepy. As horror films go, this is a worth putting on your viewing list.

 

The Mummy (1932), directed by Karl Freund. Freund was a superior cinematographer known for his expressionistic lighting and camera work. Under his guidance The Mummy is a moody romance rather than a terrifying horror film. It draws on the success of Universal Studio’s earlier Dracula (1931), and has the loony person who lets the danger loose upon the unknowing by reading from the Scroll of Thoth, something he should not have done. It has David Manners who was in Dracula. It has a Van Helsing-like scientist/occultist played by Edward van Sloan who played Van Helsing in Dracula. It has moody lighting and shadowed rooms. It has a villain who has mesmeric powers. When I say “villain,” I misspeak somewhat. Imhotep/Ardath Bey, the ancient Egyptian mummified man who revives to seek his long-lost love is not your typical evil villain. He just wants to renew his love for Anck Su Namun, the woman he lost 3,700 years ago. Boris Karloff plays this character with dignity and just a whiff of melancholy that draws on the audience’s sympathy. Zita Johann as Helen Grosvenor/Anck Su Namun, the love interest and reincarnation of the ancient Egyptian princess, is suitably exotic and alluring. If the film has any serious concerns, these may have something to do with the plundering of ancient artifacts for profit as much as for knowledge. This theme is perhaps even more evident in this film’s sequel, The Mummy’s Hand (1940).

The Mummy's Hand (1940), directed by Christy Cabanne. In the 1940s, Universal renewed its series of monster films, and The Mummy's Hand was one of this new series. The film is about two down-on-their-luck American archaeologists, played by Dick Foran and Wallace Ford, who think they have stumbled on the tomb of Princess Ananka in Egypt, and if they can find the tomb they will reap the rewards. Their mercenary motive nicely points out the unpleasantness of cultural despoiling, although the film does not pursue this theme with much heft. Anyway, unbeknownst to the two Americans, the dastardly Andoheb (George Zucco) has revived the mummy, Kharis. To do this, Andoheb has used nine tanna leaves. Woe betide if anyone uses more the nine tanna leaves. Kharis is now on the lookout for his lost love, Pricess Ananka, who looks much like the Magician's daughter. The magician (Cecil Kellaway), by the way, is an American travelling in Egypt with his daughter. These two are also down on their luck and looking for some ready loot, such as the various items that might be found in Princess Ananka"s tomb. The film uses stock footage from the earlier Mummy movie and from another film. This film's most striking touch are the black hollow eyes of the Mummy. This Mummy does not speak; he just shambles about here and there. He is played by the sometime cowboy hero, Tom Tyler. Tyler was also the screen's first Captain Marvel. The Mummy's Hand was the first of a few more Mummy movies from Universal in the ensuing decade.

 

Dracula’s Daughter (1936), directed by Lambert Hillyer. It took five years for this sequel to Tod Browning’s Dracula to appear, but the wait was worth it. This is the first vampire film to feature a female vampire, and also a vampire who desires to overcome the thirst for blood and live a normal life. Dracula’s daughter, Countess Marya Zaleska (Gloria Holden), cremates her father early in the film, then sits at her piano and plays Chopin’s Nocturne No. 5 hoping she has overcome the curse of her family. Then her servant Sandor (Irving Pichel) does a reverse Renfield and slyly convinces Zaleska to continue her evening walks about town seeking prey. The prey Zaleska finds, at one point, is a young woman wandering the streets alone. Zaleska seduces this young woman, inviting her to be her artist’s model. Desire here clearly involves more than blood, as Zaleska watches the young woman remove her blouse. Gloria Holden is a terrific vampire who manages to convey both lust and a struggle to be different from what she is. We also have Edward Van Sloan reprising his role as Professor Van Helsing, and of course we have the young couple whose lives are torn asunder by Zaleska’s vampiric desire. The film opens in London with the staking of Dracula by Van Helsing, and ends where the earlier film began, in Transylvania. We have some nice expressionistic touches, although the film is perhaps a tad thinner in this department than Browning’s film. Despite the difficulties in production, Dracula’s Daughter is an impressive and important addition to Universal’s series of monster films.

 

Bedlam (1946), directed by Mark Robson. This is the last of the Val Lewton produced pictures, and usually thought to be the lesser of the series of films he produced in the 1940s. The inspiration for the film is a series of drawings by the eighteenth-century artist William Hogarth, The Rake's Progress (1732-1734), and Hogarth even gets a writing credit for the film. Throughout we have shots of Hogarth's work to introduce and then to serve as transition pieces between scenes. The plot involves young Nell Bowen (Anna Lee), protege of the corpulent Lord Mortimer (Billy House), experiencing the dreadful conditions in a nearby Hospital for the insane, and setting out to improve conditions, much to the irritation of the Hospital director, one George Sims (Boris Karloff). In one scene, Sims puts on a masque for Lord Mortimer and his cronies, and one of the performers, the "Gilded Boy," dies because his body is covered with gilt and he cannot breathe. Nell is outraged and makes her opposition to Sims clear. He then conspires to have Nell committed to the Hospital where she becomes something of an angel to the patients/inmates. The ending has something of the Edgar Allen Poe touch. As we would expect with the Lewton productions, the film boasts atmosphere galore, the lighting, sets, compositions all working to accentuate the sense of dread that the hospital exudes and the decadent opulence of Lord Mortimer and his kind. I especially like the wigs!