October Horror-thon #25: "Night Monster" (1942)

Welcome to Ingston Towers, home of the looniest tunes to ever grace a Universal production. Patriarch Kurt (Ralph Morgan) is confined to a wheelchair, his sister (Fay Helm) thinks she's going insane, and a would-be swami (Nils Asther) has made himself at home. It's to this funny farm that Kurt summons a trio of doctors he plans to astound with a medical breakthrough. Our friend the yogist has apparently taught him how to repair human organs and tissue using nothing but his mind. But while the doctors dispute this fantastic claim, something strange has taken to prowling the Ingston estate at night, an evil force introducing those who cross its path to an early grave.

It's safe to say that Universal had its fair share of corny fright flicks. They can't all be classics, so it's only natural that the occasional oddity turn up. But none have been as downright puzzling as Night Monster, an unassuming mystery that plays like The Old Dark House by way of David Lynch. Disorientation is key, as viewers are launched into what feels like a story already in progress; you'll swear there's 20 extra minutes floating around somewhere. The film also has a habit of jumping from character to character, each one loopy enough to star in their own B-vehicle. Eventually, Night Monster settles down a bit and adopts a traditional whodunit format, though once the initial, "What the hell?" shock has passed, it turns out to be a pretty by-the-books picture.

For one, Night Monster sure makes the story a breeze to figure out. Without giving too much away, there's one moment fairly early on where if it seems like the movie's telling you exactly what's going to happen, it is. Plus, this "revelation" really does test one's commitment to the fantastic. We've come to accept the walking dead and all sorts of supernatural boogeymen over the years, but Night Monster doesn't play its cards well enough for audiences to buy into its baloney. Other than that, it's a decent enough spook show, with an entertaining turn from Morgan as the crippled Mr. Ingston. Even Bela Lugosi puts in an appearance as the obligatory butler, a glorified cameo that nevertheless highlights one of the more lucid moments of his career.

Night Monster may bat for Universal's bush leagues (outdone even by obscure fare like Captive Wild Woman), but it makes for an all-around quirky watch. As fleetingly unconventional as it is, such nuttiness does stir things up and add a little flavor to this silly cinematic stew.

October Horror-thon #22: "Tower of London" (1939)

It's the 15th century in jolly ol' England, and the air is thick with royal hullabaloo. King Edward IV (Ian Hunter) has snatched the throne away from the delusional Henry VI (Miles Mander), but further treachery still brews behind the scenes. Richard, Duke of Gloucester (Basil Rathbone), has his eyes on the kingdom and will resort to the most lowdown methods possible to seize control. With the assistance of sadistic executioner Mord (Boris Karloff), Richard has gruesome fates in store for those next in line, including his own brother, the Duke of Clarence (Vincent Price). But as Richard moves closer to the crown, an exiled subject (John Sutton) plots in secret to end the tyrant's reign before it begins.

Right about now, you're probably interested in where the whole horror aspect figures into Tower of London. Truth be told, I'm still trying to figure that out, too. All things considered, it's a solid film, but it doesn't quite fit into Universal's thriller pantheon. I'm guessing Karloff's presence played a big part in its categorization, not to mention his character's knack for enjoying his job a little too much. Plus, Rathbone's Richard is one ruthless mofo, knocking off potential successors by way of everything from stabbing to drowning in a vat of mine. But Universal played up the historical horror angle more so in films like The Black Castle and The Strange Door. Tower of London has nary a hint of exploitation to its name, although the story's constant backstabbing and shifting alliances do allow for ample intrigue.

In any case, pound for pound, Tower of London has one of the best casts in any Universal chiller. Of course, there's Karloff, suitably menacing as club-footed madman Mord, but other familiar faces put in an equally good show. Rathbone appeared in just a few horror flicks (spending most of his Universal tenure as Sherlock Holmes), but he turns in a pitch-perfect performance here. He plays Richard as a perfect schemer, a man charismatic enough to mask how he's practically snarling beneath the surface. The film's meat stems from just how low he'll go to claim the throne, reaching a fever pitch when he targets his young nephews for assassination. No stranger to horror himself, Price also shows up in a role that's brief but impressionable, thanks to a memorable scene in which he engages in a deadly drinking game with Richard. The remainder of the cast is fine enough, though their basic medieval material is greatly overshadowed by Richard's homicidal goings-on.

Tower of London suffers a few kinks in the armor (some rushed editing, battle sequences on par with Ren Faire re-enactments, etc.), but it holds its own rather well. Though I wouldn't call it straight-out horror by a longshot, it does work such elements into the plot's costume drama structure with relative ease. Besides, any film that gets you to fear some of classic horror's most famous icons without pounds of make-up involved is aces in my book.

October Horror-thon #21: "Abbott and Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" (1953)

In turn of the century England, Dr. Henry Jekyll (Boris Karloff) hopes to curb mankind's murderous instincts by way of medical experimentation. Unfortunately, in the process, he unleashes Mr. Hyde, a ghastly alter ego who's embarked on a citywide killing spree. But who better to take down one of literature's most terrifying characters than Bud Abbott and Lou Costello? Well, a lot of people are more qualified, but that doesn't stop the dynamic duo, as a pair of bumbling American cops, from setting out to nab Hyde themselves. But with a lab full of diabolical potions and a hulking assistant at his disposal, Jekyll has more than enough firepower to stop the boys in blue from ruining his plans to woo his young ward (Helen Westcott).

Universal Studios had a huge horror roster to its name, but the one property it never staked was Robert Louis Stevenson's "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." That is, unless you count this pow-wow with the masters of schlock treatment themselves, Abbott and Costello. This picture came after the guys already tangled with the Frankenstein monster and before their rendezvous with the Mummy. It also arrived near the end of their cinematic career, which is all too evident from how often the script's joke well runs dry. Abbott and Costello were corny from the start, but they're just scraping the bottom of the barrel here. This was a chance for Universal to have fun at its own expense, and it wastes its time having Lou trip his way from set to set, while Bud shakes his head in shame.

Granted, the humor is innocent enough and nowhere near as campy as other Universal thrillers that tried being serious. But the schtick does get old fast, and you wonder why they didn't just make a straightforward horror flick instead. It already has a solid production design, boasting sets and atmosphere that'd be right at home in a traditional tale of terror. But it all goes to pot when you first glimpse at the absolutely unacceptable make-up effects. Hyde is bad enough, looking much like a melted caveman, but there's a curious mouse transformation about halfway through that's a few steps below just buying a Halloween mask from the drug store. I really expected more from Bud Westmore, who helped design the Black Lagoon's Gill Man but whose work here is reminiscent of a five-year-old's first day at make-up school.

The only thing that Abbott and Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has going for it is its third-billed star, my boy Boris Karloff. Though Hyde duties were reportedly assumed by a stuntman, it's interesting to see Karloff play Jekyll as equally evil as his other half. It's a unique twist on the character deserving of a much better film, and though it adds a little juice to one of A&C's last screen adventures, it's far from a gut-busting monster mash.

October Horror-thon #11: "The Old Dark House" (1932)

If you're searching for the haunted house formula at its most basic, look no further than The Old Dark House. It's on a particularly stormy evening that the Wavertons (Raymond Massey and Gloria Stuart) and their roguish amigo (Melvyn Douglas) find themselves in dire need of shelter. Luckily, the pals make their way to a foreboding mansion, home to the eccentric Horace Femm (Ernest Thesiger) and his religious fanatic sister Rebecca (Eva Moore). The reception they receive is chilly indeed, one that only grows more arctic after learning about the house's other residents. In addition to the Femms' disfigured butler Morgan (Boris Karloff), there's a brother who may or may not be mad locked up on the top floor. As more wayward travelers stop by, the group can only bide their time before dawn breaks and hope that neither the Femms nor their extended brood do them harm.

I can forgive older horror flicks for many things. The budgets weren't always there, and the acting often skewed overdramatic, but if a film's effect surpassed these hurdles, it made the success all the more savory. But one thing I can't overlook is a poorly-drawn story, in which case I must unfortunately call out The Old Dark House. It kills me to do so, especially as it's regarded as one of the finest early screen chillers. My gripes have nothing to do with the film's atmosphere, which really is spot-on. With darkness inhabiting virtually every frame, it's as if the characters have gone back in time, from modern society into an older world that constantly gazes upon them with judging eyes. Style is not one of the film's shortcomings, especially since director James Whale (Frankenstein) has fun playing with shadows and, consequently, the audience.

But looks are only part of the equation, and here, they can't conceal what proves to be a thematically hollow interior. Plain and simple, The Old Dark House has no story. There's a sizable collection of characters, but their actions qualify as little more than busywork. When asked to cough up something substantial for them to do, the script offers up a nervous shrug before bolting for the door. The story's been hailed for its gallows humor, but if it was there, I sure as hell never chuckled. I ended up watching most of the film through eyes half-closed out of sheer boredom; when it did finally grow a plot, it did so with 15 minutes left to go, hardly enough time to stir viewers from their slumbers. True suspense is already doled out in microscopic increments, but being spread as thinly as they are only dilutes what could've been a creepy masterpiece.

The Old Dark House is must-see viewing for classic horror buffs, if only for the sway it would come to hold over proceeding thrillers with the same idea in mind. But quite like its genre contemporary White Zombie, it's a film best seen muted; visually, it's a stirring piece of work, but try to put together a semblance of a story, you'll find yourself giving up the ghost pretty fast.

October Horror-thon #9: "Horror Island" (1941)

Likable cad Bill Martin (Dick Foran) never met a get-rich-quick scheme he didn't like. The latest such plot comes to fruition after a chance encounter with a peg-legged sailor (Leo Carillo). With the seaman's half of a supposedly bogus treasure map, Bill cooks up an expedition on which to haul tourists in search of the booty. But little goes Bill's inaugural group know that real terrors await them at the castle said to be home to the legendary fortune. However, it's not spooks or spirits that await them but a flesh-and-blood menace known as the Phantom. This caped criminal is on the hunt for the treasure himself, and with an entire castle at his command, he's set on scaring the wits out of the competition -- that is, if some of their own don't beat him to the punch.

If false advertising were a crime, then Horror Island would be serving a life sentence. For a film with that title being part of Universal Studios' own horror-themed Classic Movie Archive collection, you'd think scares would be more abundant than they are. Horror Island is about as frightening as a "Scooby-Doo" episode, and it's structured pretty much the same way. For the first half of this hour-long feature, you don't even know you're watching what's supposed to be a thriller; everything's played for laughs, in that old-timey way that straddles the line separating "endearing" and "excrutiatingly campy." It's not until the characters actually reach the castle that any eerie goings-on take place, mostly thanks to our friend the Phantom. The flick's cornball disposition still reigns supreme, though it's a silliness that's easy to sit through and even a little enjoyable. But my biggest issue involves the film playing hot potato with the story for the last 15 minutes. It's nice that the filmmakers wanted to change things up, but it whips through too many subplots at too late a point in the game to amount to anything but confusing.

To its credit, Horror Island is far from a terrible watch, amusing in spurts and looking much better than similarly cheap fright farces of the time. It's also pretty kid-friendly, so before tossing little Junior into Dracula 101, this can serve as a simple intro to Universal's unique horror hovel. Horror Island is hard to hate, but it's easy to be let down by it.

October Horror-thon #5: "The Black Cat" (1941)

Rich old crone Henrietta Winslow (Cecilia Loftus) is on her deathbed, which means her nearest (and not so dearest) relatives have come out of the woodwork in search of a handout. But while Henrietta already has one foot in the grave, someone wants to ensure she completes the journey. After stipulating that no one will see a cent until she and her many cats have passed on, Henrietta dies in what her money-grubbing kin are glad to accept as an accident. But family friend Gil Smith (Broderick Crawford) deduces foul play, that greed got the best of someone who just couldn't wait. The trouble is that he's the only one who thinks a murderer is among them, forcing him to confront various spooky goings-on to prove his suspicions.

Long before Roger Corman made a mint with The Pit and the Pendulum, Universal Studios padded its own horror library with the works of Edgar Allan Poe. The Black Cat came as the trend was winding down, with more focus set on developing monster properties, and it has even less to do with the Poe story than Universal's other film of the same name from seven years prior. In fact, The Black Cat has a great deal in common with The Cat and the Canary, which the studio itself adapted in the '20s. It's a comedic mystery more than a straight-out chiller, a clever idea until you consider Universal's track record with blending humor and horror. More often than not, you got something like The Invisible Woman, a painfully campy blemish on an almost sterling genre catalogue. The Black Cat never gets that silly, but its jokes aren't always on the ball. Most of the film feels like an aborted Abbott and Costello routine, especially where Hugh Herbert's bumbling antique dealer is concerned. The story also gets lost in the shuffle; by the time the mystery is finally revealed, you're still trying to figure out how the movie made it there.

Still, The Black Cat had its share of endearing charms. Crawford did great work as the scaredy cat hero, there were some choice moments of dark humor, and, as with the best Universal thrillers, the production design was really top-notch. You're more liable to have a freaky good time with the studio's other Black Cat, but this one's worth a glance should it work its way onto Turner Classic Movies.

October Horror-thon #1: "Man Made Monster" (1941)

(This review is the first in a series that will run throughout October. In addition to links to critiques and articles written for other venues, I will post one quick horror review every day for the entire month. Every day will see a new flick put under the microscope, so keep checking back!)



A nasty bus accident claims the lives of all its passengers, save for one: the jovial Dan McCormick (Lon Chaney Jr.). He survived the ordeal thanks to an immunity to electricity he puts to use in various carnival sideshows. The kindly Dr. Lawrence (Samuel S. Hinds) wishes to harness McCormick's gift to cure illnesses, but his associate Dr. Rigas (Lionel Atwill) has more deranged aspirations in mind. Through increased exposure to electricity, Rigas turns McCormick into a regular jolt junkie, a mindless monster dependent on power to live. The mad scientist's evil scheme reaches its apex when McCormick is sent to jail for murder, after which a trip to the chair unleashes the full force of his abilities.

For some, Universal's greatest run of horror began and ended in the 1930s. True, it's hard to top Dracula and Frankenstein, especially with the often ineffective sequels they were followed with. But the following decades weren't without a gem or two, of which Man Made Monster is among the most underrated. The story is basic fodder for the time, your standard cautionary tale about how technology will bite us all in the ass if abused enough. But what makes it all work is the unexpectedly touching performance from Chaney. Keep in mind, this was made before The Wolf Man, and he still had his famous father's reputation to live up to. But Chaney pulls off the sympathetic monster act wonderfully, faring well as both the energetic McCormick and the juiced-up abomination he becomes (even in a suit that has him resembling a rubberized Tin Man).

Once an obscurity only the most die-hard classic horror buffs possessed, Man Made Monster is now widely available in the rather groovy Universal Horror Classic Movie Archive set. While not as foreboding as others of the era, it's thematically sound and, at just an hour's length, a well-paced ride, one that'll do just the trick if you can't get enough Frankensteinian shenanigans.