Retro Review: Dracula (1931)

"There are far worse things awaiting man than death..."

My last post on the most overrated horror movies of all time brought something interesting to my attention. A few people suggested that one of these films should be Tod Browning's original Universal production, Dracula. The reason this is interesting to me is that I both understand where these folks are coming from, yet I also strongly disagree with their assessment.

In my opinion, the 1931 Dracula is very slightly overrated, in that it gets often equated with James Whale's Frankenstein, a film which is superior to it. Nevertheless, I would not in a million years consider it one of the most underrated horror movies of all time, specifically because I think it is excellent. Flawed, but excellent. And it richly deserves to be one of the most famous horror films ever made.

Let's address the 500-pound gorilla first and foremost, and talk about Bela Lugosi. If you were to look up the word "iconic" in the dictionary, you may just see a picture of Lugosi as Dracula. The legendary Hungarian actor so completely merged himself with the role that to this day, we cannot think of the character without thinking of him. Literally. Say what you want about stagey-ness, but that's one seriously effective performance right there.

Lugosi, who had originated the part in the stage production, thoroughly and completely puts his mark on the role, forever transforming it--for good or ill--from Bram Stoker's conception of the Transylvanian count, with the assistance, of course, of Hamilton Deane and John L. Balderston's entrancing script. It is a script which drastically departs from Stoker's novel, taking the story in a sexually charged direction I don't believe was as strongly intended by the book, but which has permanently altered the vampire as perceived in popular culture.

On screen, Lugosi grasps your attention with a level of completeness that most actors only dream of. He is particularly strong in the first half of the film, during the scenes that take place in his native land, as well as his early encounters with Van Helsing, Mina, Lucy, and the other England-based characters. Stripping away the many decades of familiarity and kitsch that have accumulated around it, it is a performance that still has great things to offer.

And yet, for my money, the film's most powerful and memorable performance isn't even Lugosi--it's the impeccable Dwight Frye as the mad Renfield. Almost as iconic as Dracula himself is Frye's leering performance, complete with that unforgettable, oft-imitated laugh. There's a reason I named the Best Supporting Actor category of the Cyber Horror Awards after this man, and it has to do with performances like this one, in which he takes full advantage of his somewhat limited screen time to leave an impression on the viewer that lasts a lifetime. Every word that leaves his lips, every motion of his body, is perfection.

I will admit to a certain amount of stagey-ness to the overall production from a set design standpoint, even more so than other Universal flicks of the era such as Frankenstein and The Mummy. Dracula is quite literally a filmed play, and it's evident at times. And yet I consider this a forgivable trait of much early '30s cinema, which sees filmmakers still learning how to best make an effective sound picture in a studio. It's part of the experimentalism and maverick mentality that makes me cherish this era so much.

And this stagey-ness of the production certainly does not extend to the brilliant camerawork of Karl Freund, a German expatriate whose innovative talents for camera movement add a tangibly vibrancy and excitement to the film, most notably in the initial reveal of Dracula in his castle very early on. Freund's skills go a long way to counteracting the stagey feel of this adapted Broadway production.

When it comes to the kind of stiffness often referred to, the one actor who does come to mind is Edward Van Sloan in the role of Abraham Van Helsing. An accomplished stage actor who would later improve on what he could do in front of a camera, Van Sloan is indeed somewhat too stagey and deliberate, and a classic example of the bumps in the road that occurred as filmmakers continued to fine-tune the process of adapting to sound films--namely the type of dramatic performances that would work best in the new medium. It wasn't until Peter Cushing in the 1950s that filmgoers would get the definitive Van Helsing.

Dracula kicked off the venerable Universal cycle of monster movies, and while I wouldn't consider it the best of them, or even the second best, I do find it to be extremely effective and enjoyable, and the kind of film that I appreciate more each time I see it. It is hurt somewhat by a noticeably less engaging second half, degenerating just a bit from gothic horror into drawing room melodrama. Nevertheless, through it all, Lugosi and Frye keep us enthralled.

Some of the film's weaknesses have been attributed to director Tod Browning and his notoriously low comfort level with sound productions. An accomplished director of the silent era, he seems to be much more at home directing scenes which require the least dialogue. Some point to the famous wedding banquet scene of another classic of his, Freaks--a scene which could just as effectively played out without any sound, if not moreso. In Dracula, we get amazing, minimally verbal moments such as Renfield's encounter with the Brides, and the Count's subsequent "claiming" of him.

For moments like that, I'm also willing to forgive Browning's dated technique. He was a filmmaker with a flair for the visually stunning, and he puts that flair to great effect in this film.

In short, Dracula remains one of the most important and influential horror films of them all, with a level of quality that may not be at the exact same height as its importance or influence. Yet even if it's only to see Bela Lugosi create the most famous horror movie character in history right before your eyes, this is a film that is the very definition of a "must-see", and rewards the viewer each and every time. It is imperfect, yes, but it is also more powerful than the majority of horror films you will ever see.

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Retro Review: Freaks

"WEEBLE-WOBBLE, WEEBLE-WOBBLE, WE ACCEPT YOU, ONE OF US!"

These words will never fail to bring a chill to the spine of any fan of classic horror, and with good reason. For most of us, when we think Tod Browning, we think the 1931 Dracula. And rightfully so, the movie is a masterpiece. But nearly as much a masterpiece was the unfairly maligned Freaks, which came out the following year to critical outrage and ridicule, and box office apathy that was the result of a crippled distribution deal thanks to the "objectionable" subject matter.

This week, let's take an unflinching look at one of horror's true underrated pleasures, a film that was by far the most controversial of its era, and never quite got the respect or attention it deserved.

Right off the bat, the single most striking thing about the picture is its use of actual sideshow freaks as the carnival's unforgettable cast of characters. We have many of the most famous "celebrity freaks" of the day on hand, including little Harry & Daisy Earles, the infamous Hilton sisters, Johnny Eck, and the endearing "pinhead" known as Schlitze. This was a conscious decision on Browning's part, not to use actors--and it upset quite a lot of people. It was a time of more fragile sensibilities, for better or worse, and in the case of Browning's excellent film, worse was definitely the case.

Many were disgusted at what they perceived as exploitation, yet a closer look at the film demonstrates that Browning and screenwriter Clarence Aaron Robbins's goal is to demonstrate how the supposedly "normal" people can be much more monstrous and evil under the right circumstances than anyone who simply happens to look monstrous on the surface. Alas, much of that subtlety was lost on the censors.

Freaks gives us a unique and rare glimpse into a world shrouded in mystery, showing us a more-or-less accurate portrayal of life on the road for this collection of human oddities. Many of the performances are quite striking for folks who have never been called upon to pull off high drama before, especially from the poignant Earles, dwarf siblings playing husband and wife. And there is also a bona fide actor or two thrown into the mix as well, including in the role of Phroso the clown, Wallace Ford--who Universal lovers will recall from his comic relief part in The Mummy's Hand.

The movie is filled with unforgettable and often voyeuristic imagery, including armless Frances O'Connor eating dinner with her feet, the childbirth of the bearded lady, Koo-Koo the Bird Girl's bizarre dance, and of course "Living Torso" Prince Randian lighting a cigarette despite having no arms or legs.

Tod Browning was often accused of being trapped in the mindset of a silent film director, never being able to fully embrace the changes inherent in making talkies. To a certain extent this is true, as his stagey setups and often overly deliberate technique make evident. And yet, in Freaks, there are amazing moments where Browning's silent expertise comes into play as a positive--most notably the unforgettable wedding scene that is the centerpiece of the film, and plays out in such a way that we completely understand what is happening on a visual basis alone.

Yet the film was a public relations disaster for MGM, effective scaring the studio away from horror projects. Browning's career also never quite recovered from the stigma. In fact, it wasn't until the movie was rediscovered during the late-night drive-in craze of the 1950s and '60s that it began to be appreciated as the classic it is.

Freaks is highly recommended for any casual fan of early horror who has until now confined themselves to the Frankensteins and Draculas of the world. Here is a film ahead of its time, presenting horror not in the form of supernatural monsters, but lurking in the hearts of regular human beings. And the last scene is one of the all-time WTF moments in the history of the genre, so consider yourself warned!

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Gods & Monsters: A History of Horror Movies, Part 2

The advent of sound in 1927 opened the door to unheard-of possibilities in motion pictures. For the nascent horror movie genre, particularly in America, it seemed to provide the necessary impetus that allowed what had been an obscure niche curiosity to burst into the mainstream in a big way.
Of course, it wasn't just horror movies that grew in stature thanks to sound. It was at the beginning of the talkie era that the U.S., specifically Hollywood, became the center of the movie universe. And one American movie studio took it upon itself to kick off a golden age of terror flicks.
One of the smaller studios in Tinseltown, Universal didn't necessarily have the big bucks to attract the big stars and produce the prestige pictures. What it did have was visionary studio head Carl Laemmle, who in 1930 greenlit a film adaptation of the long-running stage production of Dracula. Directed by Tod Browning and starring stage headliner Bela Lugosi, the movie was a smash hit--America' first sound horror film. It was quickly followed in 1931 with another adaptation, this time Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, directed by James Whale and starring Boris Karloff as the misshapen monster. It was an even larger hit.
Horror was bigger than it had ever been, and Universal was leading the way. Lugosi and Karloff became icons of the genre, and their respective films each spawned a series of sequels, most notable among being the superlative Bride of Frankenstein. Taking some inspiration from the German Expressionist pics of the previous decade, the Universal horror movies were rich in atmosphere and, intially at least, took their subject matter very seriously. Frankenstein and Dracula were followed by such films as The Mummy (1932) and The Invisible Man (1933).
Universal's success inspired some of the other studios to try their hands at horror movies. A particular stand-out would be Paramount's 1931 production of Dr. Jeckyll & Mr. Hyde, starring Fredric March.
In 1934, driven in part by what it perceived as the shocking nature of the horror genre, as well as other "unsavory" aspects of movies in general, a certain rather conservative constituency in America led to the adoption of the Hays Code. Created by studio heads as a response to the moral outcry, the Hays Code reigned in some of the content seen in movies, and horror was one of the main areas affected.
In the latter half of the decade, Universal's pictures softened somewhat in tone. Despite still being enjoyable films, they fall somewhat short of the gothic masterpieces of a few years earlier.
Universal was still rolling along by the start of the 1940s, and in 1941 produced another classic monster, The Wolf Man, played by Lon Chaney Jr.--son of the silent horror star of a generation prior. Nevertheless, after the success of The Wolf Man, world affairs would play a part in the genre's imminent decline.
With the onset of World War II, horror films fell out of favor with the American public--in large part, many have felt, due to the real-life horror hitting so close to home on a daily basis. Most of the genre, including Universal's output, devolved into more juvenile and campy fare over the course of the rest of the decade, typified by such "monster team-up" flicks as Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943), or the grandaddy of all horror-comedies, Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948).
Still, there was some quality horror being made even during those doldrum years. Chief among the horror filmmakers of the era was Val Lewton, who produced a series of pictures for RKO that included such gems as Cat People (1942), I Walked with a Zombie (1943) and The Body Snatcher (1945).
By the end of the 1940s, the United States--and the world, for that matter--was a very different place from what it had been just a decade before. America's place in the world had changed; sensibilities had changed; and what frightened people had also changed. As horror movies inched toward another renaissance, the genre would reflect this as well.
Other major releases:

• Freaks (1932)
• White Zombie (1932)
• The Black Cat (1934)
• Werewolf of London (1935)
• Dracula's Daughter (1936)
• Son of Frankenstein (1939)
• The Mummy's Hand (1940)
• The Uninvited (1944)

Part 1: The Silent Dead

Soon to come: Part 3 - It Came from Hollywood

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