(1935) Directed by Lew Landers; Written by David Boehm;
Based on the poem, “The Raven,” by Edgar Allan Poe; Starring: Boris Karloff,
Bela Lugosi, Jeffrey Matthews, Irene Ware, and Samuel S. Hinds; Available on Blu-ray
(included in The Universal Horror Collection, Volume 1) and DVD
Rating: ***½
This review is part of the Secret Places and Trippy Houses Blogathon, hosted by Rebecca Deniston from Taking Up Room. Many thanks to Rebecca for
making this event a reality! The following review illustrates that wherever Bela
Lugosi and Boris Karloff go, dark, hidden laboratories follow…
“Death is my talisman, Mr. Chapman. The one indestructible
force, the one certain thing in an uncertain universe. Death!” – Dr. Richard
Volling (Bela Lugosi)
“You can’t make people believe in you if you’re playing a
horror part with your tongue in your cheek. The screen magnifies everything,
even the way you are thinking. If you are not serious, people will sense it. No
matter how hokum or highly melodramatic the horror part may be, you must believe
in it while you are playing it.” – Bela Lugosi (excerpt from New York Times Interview)
It’s good to have a hobby. Some folks like stamp collecting,
needlepoint, or model trains. Dr.
Richard Vollin (Bela Lugosi), on the other hand, an ardent Edgar Allan Poe enthusiast,
constructs a secret torture chamber based on his favorite author’s works. Following their exceptional performances in The Black Cat
(1934), Lugosi and Karloff paired up again in The Raven, a twisted tale
of sadism, infatuation and obsession. Although Karloff received top billing*
this was clearly Lugosi’s film as the maniacal Dr. Vollin. Under the brisk direction
of Lew Landers (aka: Louis Friedlander) and a script by David Boehm,** The
Raven was produced on a budget of $109,750 (which eventually grew to
$115,209.01).
* Fun Fact #1: Despite Lugosi dominating the film, as well
as the screen time, he only enjoyed second billing, under Karloff (both are
billed with their last names, only). He took home $5,000 for five weeks’ work,
compared to Karloff’s $10,000 for four weeks’ work.
** Fun Fact #2: Although Boehm received sole writing credit,
the script passed through several hands before it reached him, starting with
Guy Endore (Mark of the Vampire). The script subsequently received new
iterations from Clarence Marks, Michael Simmons, Jim Tully, and John Lynch. Following
his predecessors, Boehm created three complete versions of the script,
including some last-minute touch-ups on the final version by Dore Schary.
The movie begins with our heroine, Jean Thatcher (Irene
Ware) driving a treacherous winding road in the middle of a stormy night. She
loses control of her vehicle, skidding over an embankment. Jean is rushed to
hospital, where she lies in a comatose state with nerve damage to her neck, hovering
precipitously between life and death. When help is beyond the capabilities of the
resident doctors, her father, Judge Thatcher (Samuel S. Hinds), persuades
retired surgeon Dr. Vollin to come out of retirement, arguing he’s the best and
only hope to save his daughter’s life. Ego appropriately massaged, Vollin agrees.
She makes a rapid recovery, but in Vollin’s mind, her obligation to him goes
far beyond her father’s gratitude. There’s only one wrinkle – she’s engaged to
be married to Vollin’s younger colleague, Dr. Jerry Halden (Lester Matthews),
but this obstacle is purely academic to the elder surgeon, who’s becomes
entranced by her. When Judge Thatcher senses his infatuation with Jean, he naïvely
tries to make him see reason “You don’t want a young girl like Jean falling in
love with you.” (Yeah, right.). But Vollin, incapable of taking no for an answer,
plots his next move.* Every evil mastermind needs his lackey, and Dr. Vollin
finds one in the form of escaped convict Edmond Bateman (Boris Karloff), a man
with a propensity towards violence. When Bateman bursts into Vollin’s house,
demanding to have his face changed, he gets his wish, but not the way he
intended. Vollin severs several nerves, rendering half of his face withered and
droopy, including one dead, unblinking eye.**Vollin presents Bateman with a
proposition: if he wants his face fixed, he must carry out the doctor’s
bidding. Thus begins Vollin’s warped scheme of revenge, which will subject Judge
Thatcher, Jean, and her fiancé to the tortures awaiting them in his hidden basement
dungeon.***
* Fun Fact #4: Consider another movie from 1935, Mad Love,
released just a month later, also about infatuation gone toxic. Despite similar
themes and a standout performance by Peter Lorre, the arguably superior film
from rival studio MGM wasn’t a hit at the time.
** Fun Fact #3: Considering the fact that makeup pioneer
Jack P. Pierce created Karloff’s makeup, the eye (made of bees’ wax and cellophane)
looks rather unconvincing. In Pierce’s defense, an earlier version of the makeup
used a glass eye, but because it reportedly horrified studio censors, he opted
for the makeup used in the film.
*** Fun Fact #5: Vollin’s dungeon was a recycled, repurposed
set originally used in Bride of Frankenstein (1934).
It’s easy to tell Lugosi is having a blast as the deranged
Dr. Vollin, who has an unnatural obsession with the works of Poe that goes far
beyond a complete library of first editions. In a hidden basement, away from
prying eyes, he’s re-created some of the torture devices described by Poe, including
a pendulum and a room with moving walls to crush his victims. The self-aggrandizing
Vollin views himself as something more than human. After he entertains his
adoring patient Jean with haunting music from his pipe organ,* she refers to
him as a god. He quickly corrects her: “A god with the taint of human emotions.”
When his advances are spurned, he switches into revenge mode, as if he had been
waiting for an excuse (any excuse) to try out his torture devices. Judge Thatcher
is shackled to a platform, where a swinging bladed pendulum looms every closer.
When the judge makes an appeal for sanity, Vollin replies, “I am the sanest man
who ever lived! But I will not be tortured! I tear torture out of myself by
torturing you!” But Vollin reserves a more Poe-etic death for Jean, when he has
her thrown into the crushing chamber with her husband (“You will never be
separated, never.”).
* Fun Fact #6: In addition to featuring Toccata and Fugue in
D minor (Bach’s go-to classical piece for villains everywhere) in The Raven,
the composition was played by Boris Karloff’s character Hjalmar Poelzig in The
Black Cat (1934).
Karloff does a fine job in a supporting role, as Edmond
Bateman, managing to find the humanity in a character who has done horrible
things. When his ruined face is first revealed, Dr. Vollin sadistically reveals
a wall of full-length mirrors, which Bateman proceeds to shoot out. Vollin’s cruel
laughter is offset by Bateman’s growls of frustration and rage, reminiscent of Karloff’s
role as Frankenstein’s monster. Besides being the victim of Vollin’s cruel
torment, Bateman evokes sympathy for his disfigurement, when the initially
shocked Jean apologizes to him for being scared. It is this moment of kindness
that will eventually redeem Bateman, and will be Vollin’s undoing.
Much ado has been made about the supposed rivalry between
horror titans Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi (perpetuated by the fun but factually
dubious Ed Wood (1994) and its primary source, Nightmare of Ecstasy,
by Rudolph Grey). While there may be a kernel of truth about Lugosi’s resentment,
there’s no concrete evidence there was any outward animosity between the two
actors. In their several collaborations, Karloff always received top billing,
as well as the higher salary, but ultimately both enjoyed their craft,
displaying a strong sense of professionalism.
Despite several concessions to restrictions mandated by the Production
Code,* the finished movie didn’t go over well with critics of the time, who lambasted
it for its sadistic themes. The required nips and tucks to the film also didn’t
prevent it from being the object of scorn from regional censors, who each took
a crack at it (The Raven was banned outright in China, the Netherlands,
and in Ontario, Canada). Proving no publicity was bad publicity, however, The
Raven was a hit at the box office, and time has vindicated the movie as an
example of two horror greats in top form. It’s best not to dwell on the film’s
logic (or lack thereof), or the logistics of Vollin constructing an elaborate
underground torture chamber underneath his house (Did he hire contractors or
did he carry out the construction himself? If he did hire contractors, which
seems the most likely option, how did he get them to maintain their silence? So
many questions, so few answers.). If you’re anything like me, you’ll stop
worrying about what does or doesn’t make sense, and just run with it. The Raven
had the unfortunate luck to follow Karloff and Lugosi’s greatest paring, just a
year before, in The Black Cat (1934), which has always overshadowed the
actors’ subsequent efforts. But even if it’s considered a somewhat “lesser”
effort you’re bound to have a devilishly good time.
* Fun Fact #7: The British Board of Censors were so incensed
by The Raven that they refused to evaluate any further horror films… resulting
in Hollywood temporarily halting production of horror movies.
Sources for this article: DVD commentary by Steve Haberman; “A
Good Game: Karloff and Lugosi at Universal, Part Two”; Karloff and Lugosi –
The Story of a Haunting Collaboration, by Gregory William Mank