Becoming Nosferatu anthology offers prose, poetry on German silent horror

 

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Review by Doug Gibson

It's been almost six months since the 2024 Robert Eggers' film version of "Nosferatu" (reviews here and here) enjoyed strong success at the box office. The film was mostly faithful to F.W. Murnau's interpretation of the vampire, and enhanced the monster's connection to its prey Ellen Hutter.

Academics Matthew Sorrento and Gary D. Rhodes have edited -- and contributed stories to -- a new anthology, "Becoming Nosferatu: Stories Inspired By Silent German Horror," Bearmanor Media, 2025. Mostly stories, along with poetry, the book includes takes on several era icons, including Caligari, Dr. Mabuse, "M," "The Golem," "Vampyr," Metropolis" and "Nosferatu." Some of the tales are set in the past; others in more current times. Some of the tales are serious; some are comedic, others satirical. Some stories find contemporary parallels.

When I review art, I resist the urge to search for passages that support my biases. I'm just looking for a great read. Despite its not-too-subtle political message, I quite enjoyed Robert Guffey's novella "The Land of Thieves and Phantoms." Set in modern times in California's Inland Empire (an area that can be considered remote albeit in California), a charismatic preacher-type pol named Henry Orlok runs for mayor of Lake Wisborg, a small community.

Although not particularly aesthetically attractive, he soon commands widespread support. Two acolytes include a schoolteacher named Ellen and a realtor named Knock. Orlok rallies the town against a longstanding cleric and a peaceful baker whose name and business create unfortunate anagrams. Orlok and supporters eventually force out the town's power structure. 

Guffey effectively weaves a town of individuals manipulated by fear, nativism, prejudice, a longing for security, and a desire to find scapegoats. He provides vampire tendencies from Orlok and convert-like zeal from his conquests. However, more subtle is that dark habits already within his converts are allowed to flourish. A mean-spirited, perverted teacher-turned librarian is given new life to persecute. A conformist businessman easily turns allegiances to Orlok despite the harm to others. Unrepentent, he frankly admits to the persecuted baker that he personally has nothing against him. 

I won't give away the story's finale but it explores the totalitarian tendency to safely rehabilitate -- after their death and/or destruction -- the reputations of those destroyed.

Another story, a witty satirical tale, "Totenkopf," by Rhodes, involves a private detective, Jack Six, from Hollywood but now moving through Europe on assignment searching for the skull of the late director F.W. Murnau. As narrator Six admits, he's a conflicted soul. "... there were two of me, one investigating the Murnau case, the other investigating the me that was investigating the Murnau case." 

Jack Six's well-funded case moves him through conversations with ghosts, including Forry Ackerman, pining for Pola Negi, passages of Louise Brooks, and help from contemporaries, including Bela Lugosi biographer Robert Cremer. He moves through, bars, seances, hotel rooms, Ubers, cemetaries and cities in his quest. It's a fun read for genre fans. It kind of reminded me of Charles Bukowski's final novel "Pulp," where a jaded private eye searches for death.

One more Nosferatu-influenced story I'll mention is Argyle Goolsby's "Serpent on the Lace," a short tale that effective captures the mood and drama of Ellen Hutter's doomed but successful entrapment and destruction of the vampire.

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"The Good Doctor: An Editorial," by John Talbird, is a brief story that conveys the experience of those unfortunate patients submerged in a Caligari brain fog. 

I enjoyed Charles Rammelkamp's three stories. Two,"Der Golem," and Return of der Golem," provide the point of view of the monster, particularly his unrequited love for Jessica, and later another women.

Sorrento has a story, from the "Metropolis" section, "The Watcher," that traces the evolution and manipulation of an adolescent. Initially fascinated by street games, Julian becomes the protege of a Tall Man who leads him into a world of illegal boxing clubs, and punishment for gamblers. The youngster's name eventually changes.

I enjoyed a story "Yours Alraune," (from the 1928 film "Alraune"), by Martyn Pedler and Alexandra Heller-Nicholas. A beautiful young woman named Alraune exchanges letters with film star Brigitte Helm, now an old woman. The two reveal a contrast of the younger woman, defining Helm by her films, and Helm's responses, which provide clarity and a realism and wisdom the younger woman will presumably attain.

"Mabuse's Last Scheme." by Jeffrey Ford, ("Dr. Mabuse the Gambler," 1922) is a good read with a fantastic ending. 

A poem, "Soul of Frankenstein," by Donald F. Glut, stuck with me. It's an eloquent, beautifully composed summary of the iconic novel.

Sorrento and Rhodes have done a fine job culling and editing stories that underscore the expressionist films this anthology pays homage to. I honestly enjoyed every story and poem. The anthology can be enjoyed by those in the know of the silent horror genre. And the stories can serve as inspiration -- for those unfamiliar with the film genre -- to appreciate the films.

Editor's note: To read an excellent analysis of the 2024 "Nosferatu' from Rhodes, go here.

Vampires in Silent Cinema provides a timeline to Dracula

 

Reviewed by Doug Gibson

In Gary Rhodes' new book, "Vampires in Silent Cinema," (Edinburgh University Press, 2023), the author cites a "non-fiction" article in the June 15, 1732 issue of The American Weekly Mercury periodical. In Hungary, it was claimed, "certain Dead Bodies (called here Vampyres) killed several persons by sucking out all their blood." 

As Rhodes notes, more than sensationalistic press caused the public to be intrigued by vampires. There were novels such as "The Vampyre: A Tale," and plays like "The Phantom." Both involved bloodsuckers menacing the innocent. They were among the preludes to Bram Stoker's classic novel, "Dracula," which arrived just before the twentieth century.

It took a while for silent cinema to embrace what we consider the traditional vampire today, Max Schreck, Bela Lugosi, Christopher Lee. Rhodes writes, "... vampire-hunting historians have at times perceived the undead in films where they do not reside ..." 

The average film viewer may regard "Dracula" as the first vampire film. A more sophisticated viewer may tab "Nosferatu" as the first. It was actually a very obscure, lost 1915 Russian film called "The Afterlife Wanderer." Olga Baclanova, who kind of played a "vamp" in "Freaks," starred in the film. The film was banned in one city.  What percentage of the population knows this; a tenth of a tenth of a percent? 

Silent cinema remains a very fertile ground for unearthing original scholarship. Recently, Rhodes and co-author Bill Kaffenberger, with the "Becoming Dracula" books, unearthed original information on Bela Lugosi. There's much of the same original research in "Vampires in Silent Cinema."

The earliest "vampire" silent films weren't really vampire films. Characters in films might dance in a gothic, mysterious way, arousing interest and suggestions of the undead. But only the obscure "Loie Fuller," 1905, has what is described as a "vampire dance," says Rhodes. In the early years of the 20th century, "vampire dances" were popular attractions. As Rhodes notes, a 1912 film, "The Vampire Dancer," (English title), shows the title character mimicking biting an unfortunate suitor's neck.

The next wave of silent "vampire" films involved "vamps," a term still in existence. An extension of the vampire dancer, a vamp is an evil woman who, through her passion and charms, manages to destroy the soul and physical health of an unwise, unwary man. Theda Bara personified a vamp during the silent era with films such as, "A Fool There Was." The vamp's genesis derived in part from Rudyard Kipling's poem, "The Vampire," and artist Philip Burne-Jones oft-revised painting, The Vampire," which shows a beautiful, dark-haired woman, pale white, ravishing a defenseless man. Films and stages boasted healthy, voluptious woman feasting on men's souls. As Rhodes writes, the woman vamp, or vampire had been a staple of 19th century literature, including in a Sherlock Holmes novel. And some vamps loved blood. Rhodes includes a snippet from the 1833 poem, "The Vampire Bride," by Henry Liddell:

He lay like a corse (sic) 'neath the Demon's force,

And she wrapp'd him in a shroud;

And she fixed her teeth his heart beneath,

And she drank of the warm life-blood.

Eventually, Rhodes writes, there were films of "He-vamps," or men destroying the souls and virtue of women. The vamp persona remains today, but by the 1920s it was more often used in comedy or satire. Bara herself made some films where she spoofed her vamp image.

The word vampire was also used to depict a criminal. Rhodes devotes a chapter to films that advertised the vampire as mesmerizer who leads others to crime. Examples include an early Universal film, "Vasco the Vampire," 1914, with a Svengali-like villain leading children to crime. The 1915 serial "The Exploits of Elaine," has a chapter called "The Vampire," in which the villain tries to drain the blood of the heroine to save a confederate," notes Rhodes.

Rhodes describes a 1916 serial, "The Mysteries of Myra," as a precursor to bringing the supernatural to film screens. It is a virtual monster rally, with chapters devoted to battling supernatural adversaries every week. Chapter titles include The Mystic Mirrors, The Hypnotic Clue, Invisible Destroyer, Witchcraft, and Suspended Animation. In "The Mysteries of Myra," notes Rhodes, there is a character called "The Vampire Woman." (But) "she drinks no blood. She is not undead, but is very much alive," writes Rhodes. He adds that she is a vamp-type character, but surrounded by supernatutural events. However, in 1919's "Lilith and Ly," a woman materializes from a statue. She later seeks blood, Rhodes adds.

With relationship to Bram Stoker's "Dracula," Rhodes devotes chapters to the lost Hungarian film, "Drakula Halala," 1921, and the classic "Nosferatu," 1922. The former is likely the first film adaptation of "Dracula," but with a lot of artistic license. The character is not a vampire, but a patient in a mental asylum. It appears a surreal blend of a vampire film with '"Cabinet of Caligari," and I desperately hope a print is located some day. The film played in the early '20s, and as late as 1927, then disappeared, Rhodes notes. A real treat of "Vampires of Silent Cinema" is that Rhodes includes the complete published novella of "Drakula Halala," published in conjunction with the film.

So much has been written about "Nosferatu" that Rhodes provides a  fun, original take on the chapter. As narrator, he has readers experience the film's premiere in Germany at a weekend festival as if the reader was there. Besides an experience of the festival's happenings, Rhodes includes newspaper columns of the event and reviews of the film. "Vampires in Silent Cinema" is an academic publication, but this more lighthearted chapter is still full of information and does not detract from the seriousness of the subject.

In the chapter on "London After Midnight," Rhodes explores star Lon Chaney's iconic portrayal of the fake vampire, and how it has been used in popular culture, including cartoons. He talks about efforts to find the long sought-after lost film and the various hoaxes anouncing its "rediscovery." I have seen the attempt to recreate "London After Midnight" via stills, that Rhodes writes about. It has shown on Turner Classic Movies. As Rhodes notes, without the facial expressions and physical movements, it cannot really capture the film's impact. He includes in the chapter observations from individuals who saw the film.

There's another chapter on the arrival, from stage to film, of "Dracula," 1931, the most iconic one, with Bela Lugosi. Before that is an interesting chapter that discusses two 1920s untitled silent amateur-produced vampire films, preserved as "F-0343" and "F-0332." Stills in the books show efforts to create a vampire-type movie. These are quirky facts that I enjoyed learning about. Apparently they are included in a Something Weird 2001 DVD of "Monsters Crash the Pajama Party Spook Show Spectacular." The film was a low-budget theater offering in the 1960s, and I have seen it. I'm looking forward to watching that DVD again.

Rhodes' book is only slightly more than 200 pages, but it's full of original information, presented affably. It entertains as well as informs. It moves through the 18th through 21st centuries, providing a history of vampire culture, and how it was presented through press, books, the stage and screen. The hardcover book is very pricy, but Rhodes has noted that a paperback version will be priced more reasonably.  

Rhodes has been a prolific writer and researcher. "Vampires in Silent Cinema" meets his high standards, and I'm sure more genre books will follow.

The Afterlife Wanderer, 1915, is cinema's first vampire film

(Both photos from The Afterlife Wanderer are courtesy of Daydreams Database: Cinema of the Russian Empire and Beyond, edited by Anna Kovalova and developed by Alexander Grebenkov.)

It seems the very first vampire film has been discovered. It's from 1915, titled The Afterlife Wanderer. (See stills from the film above). More below:

Film scholar Gary D. Rhodes is found in many of the pages of Plan9Crunch blog. He's written extensively about Bela Lugosi, and recently -- along with co-author Bill Kaffenberger, unearthed new information about Bela Lugosi's pre-Dracula years in the two-part Becoming Dracula series. 

A few years ago he also unearthed information on the lost Hungarian silent film, Drakula Halala, regarded as the first film to use Bram Stoker's tale as provenance, albeit loosely. However, as Rhodes notes, there's really no vampire in Drakula Halala. Just like there's no real vampire in Tod Browning's lost 1927 silent film, London After Midnight (see star Lon Chaney in a still from the film below).

Often the 1922 classic Nosferatu is regarded as the first vampire -- of the blood-sucking variety -- film (see star Max Schreck, who really resembles a rat, in a still below). But Rhodes has unearthed a 1915 Russian film, unfortunately lost, as likely the first film to feature a blood-seeking vampire.

As mentioned, it's called The Afterlife Wanderer, and it stars a young Olga Baclanova, who would later see her career surge in Hollywood. She's in a lot of films, but is perhaps best known for playing the evil, ill-fated circus vamp in Browning's "Freaks." 

On the Medium website, Rhodes writes in detail about the film, its history and how it earns the distinction of being cinema's first vampire film. Here is one paragraph from Rhodes' article:

"One review described The Afterlife Wanderer's title character as 'vampire who sucks the blood of the living people at night.' Another called her a 'vampire woman sucking blood from loved ones.' No doubt about it: she was a real vampire and a reel vampire."

According to Rhodes, reviews were mixed -- to be kind -- for The Afterlife Wanderer. It was banned by the mayor in one city. Baclanova's performance was subtly mocked by one reviewer. The Afterlife Wanderer will be discussed in detail in a book by Rhodes slated for publication next year, Vampires in Silent Cinema.

But there's lots of information on The Afterlife Wanderer, and other similar silent films, in the Medium piece. It can be read in its entirety at the Medium website. Rhodes forthcoming book, available next year, Vampires in Silent Cinema, can be pre-ordered here.

'Becoming Dracula: Volume 2' charts Bela Lugosi's rise in the USA

 

Review by Doug Gibson

There's an interesting photo of an advertisement in "Becoming Dracula: Volume 2," BearManor Media, 2021 (Amazon link). It's a 1928 ad for Listerine mouthwash, published in Photoplay magazine. On the right, inconspicuous, is definitely Bela Lugosi, already known as a Broadway, and feature film actor. Lugosi must have been paid for the subtle modeling act. Authors Gary D. Rhodes and Bill Kaffenberger wonder if there are other, still-yet-to-be-discovered ads with Lugosi of that era. I'd wager yes.

The photo underscores two essential truths about Bela Lugosi's three-plus decades in America. He was both -- by all rational assessments -- a successful actor, and a man nearly always in need of money. Even when he had achieved successful working-actor status in America, he made regular forays into the U.S. Hungarian stage scene, often taking the role of director or headlining for a night. These gigs were partially motivated by money, the authors surmise. 

"Becoming Dracula 2" is, like its predecessor, "Becoming Dracula: Volume One, the Early Years of Bela Lugosi," a marvelous mixture of dedicated research and enjoyable style. Through old media sources, many very obscure (long-gone U.S. Hungarian newspapers) and I'm sure not easy to track down, the authors chart Lugosi's slow but steady emergence as a respected stage and screen actor through the 1920s and early 1930s (up to "Dracula" film).

Bela may have arrived in America penniless, but he already had a reputation as an actor in Europe, and quickly found work in various Hungarian stage groups. The Hungarian presence in the United States was large enough to support acting troupes, and Hungarian U.S. newspapers were around to cover it all. Hungarian works, such as "The Tragedy of Man," were featured.

It wasn't long before Bela's skill made him an attractive option for English-speaking theaters. One of his more significant early plays was "The Red Poppy," which featured a popular star of the era, Estelle Winwood. Lugosi's scenes with Winwood were noted by critics.

Bela appeared on the stage with co-stars who would also achieve huge success, including Leslie Howard and Fredric March. One of his Broadway plays, "Arabesque," in which his character shared passionate scenes with actress Hortense Alden, shocked audiences. (See Lugosi and Alden below). 

Besides staying busy on the stage, the authors detail Lugosi's resumption of a movie career in the 1920s. His earlier films, from mid-size producers, include "Silent Command," "The Midnight Girl," "The Rejected Woman,'" and "Daughters Who Pay." Watching these films reveal an actor with strong screen presence, one who attracts the camera's attention, whether playing a hero or villain. 

Playing "Dracula" on Broadway led to Bela getting that defining film role. The journey to filming "Dracula" is interesting. Rhodes and Kaffenberger provide a detailed log of events, including Bela accompanying the play to the West Coast and its continued success there. A host of actors were considered. Lugosi gradually became a Los Angeles-based actor, a move that would last the rest of his life. The authors detail Bela's persistent efforts to retain his coveted role for the film, including shrewd marketing efforts. He made sure he was playing Count Dracula for a brief stint in Oakland as final casting was being set. 

Lugosi also parleyed his stage success with more films, including a contract with Fox for a few pre-Dracula films. He also had a major role, although inexplicably billed seventh, in "The Thirteenth Chair." It was for MGM, and directed by Tod Browning, who would helm "Dracula."

Despite being busy as an actor between the play, "Dracula," and the film version, Bela was still feeling financial pinches. The authors include correspondence from the actor where he expresses displeasure with his finances and career. Lugosi would find ways to make money providing Hungarian dialogue for U.S. films. He also appeared in short films, some of which are likely lost. He may have had some roles where his scenes were deleted.

The authors capably detail much of Lugosi's personal life, including two failed marriages and his well-known affair with screen star Clara Bow. One marriage, with an heiress named Beatrice Weeks, provides insight into the actor's mind. He was likely prone to impulsive decisions. He also had a traditional, for the time, Hungarian male perspective of marriage, with the man working and the woman serving. This led to a quick divorce with the independent Weeks, who was apparently also prone to impulsive acts.

"Becoming Dracula: Volume 2" is a joy for genre purists; as Volume 1 was. Volume 2 respects the first volume by starting with, Chapter 21. We revel in the minutia that Rhodes and Kaffenberger have painstakingly logged; the footnotes are dessert. There's 10,000 facts to learn that I have not included in this review. 

But the ease of reading and good-natured occasional observations from the authors also make this a wise choice for the casual reader. It provides a primer for how actors moved through the stage and film worlds 90-plus years ago. I think both "Becoming Dracula" volumes would be valuable texts for film classes. I'd love to see this writing style used for other famous actors, say Boris Karloff. The poring over of obscure, mostly forgotten publications -- a healthy percentage only saved with crumbling print -- guarantees that new scholarship is logged.

Becoming Dracula: Volume 1 excellent scholarship from authors Rhodes and Kaffenberger

 

Review by Doug Gibson

"Becoming Dracula: The Early Years of Bela Lugosi: Volume 1," (BearManor Media, 2021) is an absolutely superb targeted biography of Lugosi's first 38 years, from the son of a baker-turned-banker in Lugos, Hungary (now part of Romania) to late 1920, when the already acclaimed Budapest/Berlin thespian arrived penniless in New Orleans, La. 

Authors Gary Rhodes and Bill Kaffenberger have collaborated before on Lugosi books. They pored over well-over-century-old documents to unearth many new facts on Lugosi's early life and career, and they clarified and corrected information -- not completely accurate -- due to fanciful press interviews. Also corrected is some long-used incorrect information, including where Lugosi performed as Jesus Christ. He did not debut in The Passion in Debrecen, Hungary, but in Budapest in 1912.

Readers accustomed to thinking of the former Bela Blasko as only a creature of the night will enjoy the authors' account of Bela's steady rise through the Hungarian acting community. He started very small, gained stature in the provinces, playing a wide variety of roles. He did not get the call the first time he auditioned to perform in Budapest. But he gained great provincial acclaim as a talented, very handsome actor in cities such as Debrecen, and Szeged. After 1912, he became a frequent Budapest actor, with a very large fan base.

He performed in so many play adaptations. Here's just a few: Trilby, Romeo and Juliet, Anna Karenina, The Tragedy of Man, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Taming of the Shrew, Richard III, and, of course The Passion. He even eventually played -- in a film -- a "vampire," but it was not the undead type. It was the mortal, devious seducer type.

As the authors note, he did not always play the lead, or even a supporting role. Hungary's thespian community was one where actors played multiple types of roles, even extras. The authors hypothesize that some of Bela's roles may have been as obscure as a face in a crowd. But he did play many major roles, and the scores of newspaper articles gathered by the authors underscore his popularity and notoriety. He was at times criticized for overacting, or over-emoting.

The authors describe a pre-World War I Budapest that must have been thrilling for those within and interested in the arts and politics. The cafes of the city were places for passionate discussions of the arts and politics. Reading Rhodes and Kaffenberger makes me yearn to go back in time just to traverse the Budapest of that era, enter a cafe, and listen to a verbose and very opinionated Lugosi hold court on the arts and politics.

World War I stymied the arts for a while, and also tempered the fervor of many Hungarians who fought for Germany, including the officer Lugosi, who was wounded. According to the authors, he convinced doctors he was mentally unstable, and needed a discharge. Lugosi may have suffered from what we now know as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He did have lasting physical wounds. As the authors note, he had a lifelong empathy with veterans of war.

Lugosi resumed acting on the stage, and also moved to film acting, initially under the name Arisztid Olt. The authors merit respect for tracking down reviews and plots of many Lugosi Hungarian films. Only a fragment of one film exists today. 

Lugosi, long a matinee idol, also married for the first time, to Ilona Szmik, the daughter of a bank attorney. 

Lugosi became politically radicalized after the war. He supported communist government leaders. He was a communist. When one leader was pushed out by a more extreme communist government led by Bela Kun -- who was a puppet of Russia's Lenin -- Lugosi unwisely embraced Kun. He became a labor leader for the new government, in an era of increasing political violence. 

While Lugosi appears to have eschewed violence, the inevitable overthrow of Kun by a rightest alternative, and inevitable reprisals, placed Lugosi in real danger. He and his wife fled to Vienna. Soon afterwards, Ilona's parents, opposed to Lugosi's politics, persuaded their daughter to leave Vienna, return to Budapest and divorce him. In what seems unfair, the divorce was granted on claims that Bela had deserted Ilona

Bela could not chance a return to Budapest. Based on a mistaken-identity warrant, he was charged with serious crimes. The actual perpetrator had a similar name and was also an actor. The warrant was not withdrawn until the mid 1920s, with Lugosi already in the United States. 

Lugosi relocated to Berlin, and re-invigorated his career. As the authors note, post-World War I Berlin was a "Babylon" of sorts, with a culture of promiscuity (Lugosi enjoyed his share of that) and a more permissive attitude among the arts. Although not always the star, Lugosi was very active, appearing in more than a dozen German films. One, heavily edited for U.S. release from 1920, survives under the title "Daughter of the Night." It can be viewed on YouTube and other streaming services.

Why Lugosi abruptly left for the United States, without much funds, is open to debate. Perhaps he was still worried about being arrested? The authors suggest maybe a love affair went bad. More likely, they opine, is Lugosi was depressed after Ilona filed for divorce in June of 2020. 

I look forward to Part 2 of the book, slated for summer release. It's another must-have book from Rhodes and Kaffenberger. Due to the very large amount of new information unearthed through old-fashioned, shoe-leather reporting and research, I list it, along with "Vampire Over London: Bela Lugosi in Britain: Second Edition," by Frank Dello Stritto and Andi Brooks, as the two best targeted biographical works on Lugosi.

Bela Lugosi and the Monogram 9 -- a book review

Review by Doug Gibson

Since we heard about this a year or so ago, we Bela Lugosi super-fans have been -- at times impatiently -- waiting for the release of "Bela Lugosi and the Monogram 9," (BearManorMedia, 2019), a collection of essays from academics Gary D. Rhodes (who's written more than several books on Lugosi) and Robert Guffey, on the series of features Lugosi made for the poverty-row studio during the first half of the 1940s.

That's a handful of a paragraph/sentence, so what to make of this collection, ranging from "Invisible Ghost" to "Return of the Ape Man"? Short answer: I liked it a lot. However, and this is important for the casual Lugosi fan -- these are not production histories/movie reviews of the films. The 10 essays, two are reserved for "Invisible Ghost," are artistic criticism and analysis. Some of it's deep; you may want to Google individuals such as the surrealist Andre Breton and the eccentric but talented artist Stanislav Szukalski. Their philosophies relate with some of these two-week productions, or so say the authors.

And I kind of agree with them, with reservations. I love all but one of the Monogram films, and let's roll them out: "Invisible Ghost," "Spooks Run Wild," "Black Dragons," "The Corpse Vanishes," "Bowery at Midnight," "The Ape Man," "Ghosts on the Loose," "Voodoo Man," and "Return of The Ape Man." The only four-flusher in the list is "Ghosts on the Loose," and even that clinker I've seen more the once.

Until I read "... The Monogram 9,"' my love for the films was solely predicated on Bela Lugosi's dominance within eight of the films. His charisma and thespian talents make the films special. The reason "Ghosts on the Loose" is a clunker is because it's the only film of the series in which Lugosi is not the important or interesting character; he's almost background material.

I know I'm rambling so let's get to the essays, and provide some snippets, to hopefully whet your interest. The authors' scholarly musings are well-researched. Both provide insight on "Invisible Ghost," regarded as the best-directed film. The director was Joseph H. Lewis, who went on to bigger acclaim. Rhodes' essay conveys his directorial skills, noting the unique camera angles, from the fireplace, actors almost nose to nose across from a window. He also explains in detail how Lewis shot perhaps the scariest scene in the film, where Lugosi's character strangles a family maid in her bed.

Guffey's essay focuses on the film's surreal qualities, citing the aforementioned Breton. Lugosi's character is both respected man and cold killer. Guffey correctly notes the lack of concern over a long tally of death and how characters, such as the police, almost serve as props while the murders in the house occur. Bad dreams appear to be reality. Is the murder of the maid a subconscious act of violence by the killer toward his hidden, mentally ill wife? What of the reappearance of the "doppelganger" brother of a doomed, early character? Is all of this just happening in Lugosi's character, Charles Kessler's mind? Artistic criticism offers many questions that can spark even more answers, is perhaps the theme of this essay.

In the essay on "Spooks Run Wild," Rhodes, after noting Lugosi's  various "sinister" roles in films, tabs "Spooks ..." as perhaps Lugosi's most developed "red herring" role, in which he appears to be the villain until the end. As the author notes, Lugosi, playing a magician suspected of being a murderer, appears and acts a lot like Dracula. It was his first film with the comedy "East Side Kids" cast. Somnambulism, magic, suits of armor, and human monsters all factor into the film, adds Rhodes.

In the essay on "Black Dragons," in which Lugosi plays a betrayed Nazi doctor who gets even with the Japanese agents, in America, who turned on him earlier, Guffey compares this bizarre, war propaganda film with the term "the Cinema of Hysteria." Now in my opinion this is a surreal film. It has a tough plot to follow, a lot of sexual banter and attraction between spies and lovely young ladies (as Guffey notes) and Lugosi, for the last time in the film, is looked at with interest by a starlet. Oddly, as Guffey notes, though the film contains a strong nationalist, even racist message to be on constant watch against the enemy, it contradicts itself by how showing how easily Japanese agents can plastic surgery their way into the highest levels of U.S. government. Racial profiling won't work, the film seems to subtly say.

Rhodes' essay on "The Corpse Vanishes" has some interesting insights. The film's hero is a persistent female reporter, a stock character in many '30s and '40s films. Also, although Lugosi's Dr. Lorenz is no vampire, Rhodes notes similarities to "Dracula." Lorenz is from Eastern Europe, it seems. His wife is a countess. The villagers near his remote home fear him. The reporter wanting to see him can't get a ride there. Also, the captured brides in the home could represent Dracula's brides. Lorenz and his countess wife sleep in coffins. All these are noted by Rhodes, who also alludes to the significance of families in horror films, noting that Lugosi refers to his assistants and henchmen as part of my "little family." (My co-blogger Steve D. Stones and I regard "The Corpse Vanishes" as the most entertaining Monogram films and Rhodes' insights I found valuable.)

Guffey's essay on the multi-plotted "Bowery at Midnight" compares the film as "slipstream" cinema. In a nutshell, that means one really can't nail down the action and plot with a single definition. That makes sense, as this chaotic but fun film can be tagged a crime drama, a missing persons drama, a multiple personality drama, a deceiving husband film, or a horror film. Multiple realities occupy individual and settings in the film. And how do dead people turn into zombies and then reappear as normal individuals, asks Guffey. That does happen in the film, I guess. I thought the doctor just healed them. But to be fair to Guffey, how did they all exist for so long in that cramped basement?

"Artifices, lies and false fronts" define "The Ape Man," Guffey says in that film's essay. At heart, the film is a deliberate con job, like a magician offering the audience all the secrets of how he's pulling their legs on the theater screen, he notes. "The Ape Man" is a lot of nonsensical fun and that's due in part to a goofy, extraneous character, Zippo, who serves as narrator to move the action along. He serves as a kind of God, deciding who lives and dies. Guffey writes that the film is an example of the thinker  Bertolt Brecht's Theory of Alienation. To sum up, it's an effort to dislodge an audience from the traditional suspension of belief by disrupting the flow of the film and forcing said audiences to slip out of the film's trance and become active participants of the art. I know it sounds a bit goofy but one can argue that having a narrator interact with an audience accomplishes that.

Rhodes does his best with the boring film "Ghosts on the Loose," which has the East Side Kids outwitting Nazi publishers (headed by Lugosi) living in a fake haunted house. In the essay, he recounts historical instances of criminals attempting to cover up crimes with tales of haunted houses. On a side note, a very funny episode of The Andy Griffith Show has moonshiners scaring Deputy Barney Fife and others by using a "haunted house" that they rigged with spooky tricks. So there's an example of an effective short comedy. Fife's Don Knotts made another fake haunted house film, "The Ghost and Mr. Chicken."

For "Voodoo Man," one of my favorite-half Monogram entries, in his essay Rhodes says that syncretic best describes the film, meaning that several "discrete sources" are used to fuse a film together. One particular fusion of a film: a character Lugosi, with the help of voodoo religion confederates, kidnaps and stores young women kept in a zombiefied state to try to reanimate his zombie-like wife. But the voodoo has no traditional Caribbean source. It appears to be a white man's voodoo in a rural area close to Southern California. There also appear to be elements of Svengali (Trilby) in the film as Lugosi's character can hypnotize and summon women from far away.

Finally, Guffey concludes the book with an essay on "Return of the Ape Man," This is probably Lugosi's strongest mad scientist performance short of "The Raven." He is beyond obsessed with bringing a neanderthal man back to life and trying to experiment with sharing his brain with modern man. This has the usual disastrous results. Guffey draws a fascinating connection with the famed artist Stanislav Szukalski, who had this bizarre theory that mankind, after Noah's flood, intermingled with a Yeti-like race, producing a polluted version of homo sapiens. He even wrote a book about it, called "Behold!!! The Protong," notes Guffey. Szukalski was a great talent; unfortunately much of his work was destroyed during and after World War II. He's such an interesting character that his outlandish theories spark renewed interest in the man, a true survivor of an adversity-filled life. Ironically, a month ago I watched a great Netflix documentary on Stanislav Szukalski, "Struggle: The Life and Lost Art of Stanislav Szukalski." I highly recommend it. Honestly, I doubt the artist ever saw "Return of the Ape Man." It's possible, of course. But I just think it's really cool to read an analysis of the Lugosi film that includes "Protong," etc.

Let me add a note here, to be fair to Guffey in particular. The authors are not claiming that there are deliberate connections to the arts, theories and genres mentioned as artistic connections to the Monogram 9 films. It's acknowledged often that the relationships are likely unintentional, more products of the directors' training or past experiences as they were learning the film craft. Like the creation of a cult film, the insertion of a philosophy is nearly always unintentional. To try to force it into a film never succeeds. It turns the film into something derivative, labored and clumsy.

The Monogram 9 were for the most part remarkable achievements given budgets and time constraints. Their legacies were fueled by an iconic, charismatic star and directors forced to rely on their first instincts to create a finished film within a two-week period. Monogram profit margins were tiny; no allowances were given for wasted time and money. It's a credit to Rhodes and Guffey that these films have been rewarded with a bit of scholarship that took far longer to create than the films being discussed.

Remembering Bela Lugosi on his deathday

It's been 62 years since Bela Lugosi passed into another sphere of existence on August 16, 1956. His biographical is well know to many, including most readers of this blog. Suffice to say that he was a working actor until he died. Just prior to his death, he was promoting "The Black Sleep," a film he had a role in and shooting random footage with Ed Wood, some of which turned up in "Plan 9 From Outer Space. (To read the many obituaries published at his death, go to the Vampire Over London blog.) (I also published my review of Vampire Over London: Bela Lugosi in Britain in the Standard-Examiner newspaper today.)

At Plan9Crunch, we offer three links today to posts regarding Bela Lugosi, who has become the most famous, and iconic, figure from the Universal glory days of horror that began with "Dracula" in 1931. Lugosi did not require loads of makeup to play the vampire, his acting skills and personality defined the role.

So, let's celebrate Lugosi's Deathday. Read the posts below, and even better, spend time today watching one of our favorite actor's films. It's been a while since I have seen Bela as the Count in "Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein." My son and I will enjoy it again.

Here are four links, with a short snippet from each blog:

1) http://planninecrunch.blogspot.com/2015/06/bela-lugosi-in-person-captures-stage.html --

'Bela Lugosi In Person' captures the stage, personal appearance career of screen 'Dracula'

"He was a star, and a gracious star, attentive to fans and charmingly tongue-in-cheek sinister with the media, particularly local media, which pursued him often during his long stage assignments. Lost in dusty old-media files and updated media websites are reviews of the many plays Lugosi entered, as star, or supporting role."

2) http://planninecrunch.blogspot.com/2008/06/tribute-to-bela-dracula-lugosi.html -- 

A Tribute to Bela "Dracula" Lugosi

"I have seen "Dracula" scores of times, and Lugosi is the key to the film. He is a tall, courtly, menacing figure who promises a fate worse than death. And that is the appeal of these early horror films compared to the sadistic gore-fests of today — a fate worse than death awaits the vampire's victims. That fate is conveyed to perfection in the scene where Lugosi's vampire murders actor Dwight Frye's cringing, pathetic, mad disciple Renfield. Dracula's exterior is charming. But his filthy interior attracts darkness, fog, storm, chill winds, rodents, flies, spiders, blood and undeath."

3) http://planninecrunch.blogspot.com/2014/02/voodoo-man-monograms-last-bela-lugosi.html - 

Voodoo Man, Monogram's last Bela Lugosi production

"... it may be the best-paced, least convoluted Monogram film Lugosi made. It's ably directed by William Beaudine and looks like a lean, mean film-in-a-week film. (It was helmed in October of 1943). The plot involves Dr. Richard Marlowe, who kidnaps young lovelies in an attempt to transform their conscious life into his "dead" comatose wife, Evelyn (Ellen Hall)."

4) http://planninecrunch.blogspot.com/2017/10/bela-lugosi-vampire-mad-scientist-or.html

Bela Lugosi, vampire, mad scientist or god, he enhanced a film

From Christopher R. Gauthier, one of our essayists in this blog post homage to Bela: "Disregard the scoffs that often follow the very mention of the film, "Bride Of The Monster" is a beautifully flawed poetic masterpiece, which because of Bela is so incredibly wonderful to watch. ... Lugosi being the true professional he was, uplifts the film into the echelons of cinematic greatness. Bela was the grandest mad scientist of them all during that era, and even in this lopsided production his indelible and incandescent ingenuity upon the nobility of his theatrical craft shines through the chinked flaws that overall make-up the entire sets and scripted inconsistencies of this slapdash and often incomprehensible film." 

Dracula's Daughter the latest Scripts From the Crypt offering

Review by Doug Gibson

The latest BearManorMedia Scripts From the Crypt offering, "Dracula's Daughter" (buy it here) continues the high quality of the cult films books' series. Penned mostly by Gary D Rhodes, it satisfies a constant of our genre fans: it breaks new ground. New nuggets, big and small, of scholarship are unearthed. And, as with all the books, you have Tom Weaver's observations and opinions. Love them or hate them, they are unique and the product of an original mind. There's also an introduction and essay on the music of the film from contributors David Colton and Michael Lee.

The best reading comes from Rhodes' exhaustive treatment of the film's creation. Early on, he discusses the role of women in vampire lore, using Theda Bara and other vamps to explain that vampire once meant a woman who sucked the heart and soul out of their doomed male lovers. This is relevant because later we learn that early treatments for the film included a female vampire who was sexually aggressive and delighted in the torture, degradation and dissipation of her male captives. (I am assuming blog readers have seen "Dracula's Daughter." If not, do so now.) Gloria Holden's sympathetic yet resolute Countess emerged as a result of the watering down of the plot's actions.

As Rhodes' notes, "Dracula's Daughter," a 1936 release, emerged as the moralistic production code was gaining strength. Scripts and treatments for the film endured rough seas with the censors. John Balderston, Kurt Neumann, and RC Sherriff all had their hands on the typewriter. Eventually Garrett Fort's subdued, more sanitized script became the film. Milton Carruth, who edited "Dracula," also impacted "Dracula's Daughter" with his editing, Rhodes notes.

Some of the early treatments would have been interestingly daring. The Countess as a man hunter, entering the film after already killing a lover/slave. She nearly physically, spiritually and mentally destroys the hero before succumbing. Screenwriters assured the Laemmle overlords, soon to lose the studio, that a woman conducting such sexual sadism on men would pass code approval. Witness what Balderston wrote in his treatment: "The use of a female vampire instead of a male gives us the chance to play up SEX and CRUELTY legitimately."

At one time James Whale was slated to direct. He might have been able to convey such a film in a subtle manner to fool the censors. Lambert Hillyer, a talented, workmanlike, solid director who eventually got the role, lacked the Whale magic to do that had he even tried.

We learn that Bela Lugosi was once considered to be in the film. He was even paid $4,000. However, a reading of the fascinating screenplay excerpt, from Sherriff, of a prologue that would have featured Lugosi creating his daughter, is so bizarre and sexually depraved that I think it would have trouble getting made even in the pre-code era. Lugosi, and a bunch of sadistic companions terrorize the peasantry, kidnapping women, and with exaggerated faux grotesque courtesy, torturing and murdering them. "Dracula's Daughter" is made a vampire by the Count.

But that is not the "Dracula's Daughter" that we watch today. It's a fine film with a haunting performance by Gloria Holden. Otto Kruger and Marguerite Churchill are a better hero couple than David Manners and Helen Chandler. Kruger and Churchill actually have romantic chemistry. Irving Pichel is very creepy as Holden's mortal companion, and presumably her lover. His quiet rage at watching Holden prefer Kruger to him as an immortal companion is suitably sinister. Nan Gray (Grey) is great as a poor girl, perhaps streetwalker, who eventually dies, we assume due to the Countess' unquenchable thirst. And Edward Van Sloan is back as Van Helsing, inexplicably called Von Helsing in the sequel.

Yes, Dracula's Daughter is an above-average film. The book informs us that it received generally good reviews and appears to have done well at the box office. But as Weaver rather shrewdly notes, one can watch "Dracula's Daughter" and not be convinced that the title character is really a vampire. We know she is only because that is the script's design. But this is a bloodless film. As Weaver points out, she is killed by an arrow shot through her heart; anyone would die of that.

"Dracula's Daughter," as much as I enjoy it, is neutered by the production code. It's respected within the genre, but never will it be placed anywhere near the pedestal that say, "Bride of Frankenstein" has. "Dracula's Daughter" is not a film that takes risks or tries to pierce our deepest obsessions or fears as James Whale does. It's a worthy entry at a time when Universal was still making at least A-minus budgeted horror flicks. Perhaps its finest moment is that it takes the action back to Transylvania in the final reel, something that "Dracula," still a better film, did not do.

Lest anyone think I am ungrateful, let me reiterate my deep appreciation for writers such as Rhodes and Weaver, and others, as well as thanks to BearManor Media for publishing these types of books. They are manna for me and I'm sure so many others. So much minutiae to eagerly wade through -- we love it! We learn, for example, the salaries of the stars. Holden, incredibly, only received $1,450 for a performance that is almost iconic. Kruger did a great job, but really, $9,583.30 is out of whack compared to Holden. Churchill received $1,250, Van Sloan $2,400, Pichel, who really earns it, $2,950, and unbelievably, Nan Gray (Grey), who probably is second-most remembered due to the much-debated lesbian overtones to her scene with Holden, received a paltry $200!

The entire script as shot is in the book, and as I have mentioned, the many treatments are included. There's a section on contemporary reviews the movie received; there's a fascinating press book. As mentioned, the whole back story of the film is captured, including even a "Junior" Laemmle-inspired treatment for the end. There's dozens of photos, and a tender heart-wrenching letter from Holden late in life to film fan David Del Valle, in which she stoically talks about the tragic death of her son, We even get a treatment for an adaptation of "Carmilla," another female vampire tale. This one wasn't filmed

I could spend many more paragraphs detailing what's in these pages. But just go buy the book. It's a gem. I can't wait for the next one, which is slated to be about two unrealized films from "Dracula" director Tod Browning.

Drakula Halala -- the first filmed Dracula

Recap by Doug Gibson

"Drakula Halala," a 1921 Hungarian/Austrian film, is considered the first "adaptation" of the Bram Stoker novel. The film is lost; all that remains are stills and news reports, including a small novelization of the film. Above are the stars of the film, Paul Askonas as Drakula, and Margit Lux as Mary Land, the young lovely he menaces.

Scholar Gary D. Rhodes has the past several years become the man who fills in the pieces of a 50,000-word puzzle of the history of Dracula, Bela Lugosi and Ed Wood. Rhodes recently wrote an essay on the history of "Drakula Halala," which more or less means "Dracula's Death." He also translated the novella from the Hungarian.

I've always been fascinated with this film, and I am appreciative of Rhodes' essay, which will be the template for this post. The essay is part of a new book that Rhodes has co-edited with Olaf Brill, Expressionism in the Cinema, published by Edinburgh University Press.

Rhodes is the postgraduate director for Film Studies at the Queens University in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Brill is a German writer on film with an impressive resume. Rhodes notes that from his research, it seems that "Drakula Halala" was an expressionistic film. In what makes one ache to see this lost film, he sees similarities with "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari." Certainly, the novella compares to Caligari in plot.

I urge readers to buy Expressionism in the Cinema and learn more about "Drakula Halala." I will present a short recap of Rhodes' translation of the novella and afterwards mention a few facts unearthed by Rhodes in the chapter.

The melodrama, suffering, despair and pessimism that is ingrained in the Hungarian culture is represented in Rhodes' translation. Mary Land lives alone, a seamstress working long hours to support her father, confined to a mental institution after the death of his wife. The family was once happy and wealthy, but all that is gone. Mary's boyfriend, a woodcutter named George, implores her to rest but Mary will not.

Eventually, Mr Land's death appears near and Mary and George travel to the asylum. Left there by George, Mary talks with Dr. Tillner. Left alone she is accosted by several of the inmates, including a sadistic man, Drakula, who believes he is immortal. Another, who laughs, is called the "Funny Man." Mary visits her father, who dies. Overcome by sorrow and the fear of Drakula and other inmates who visit her and pretend to be doctors, Mary is advised to spend the night in the asylum.

That night, alone, Mary is kidnapped by Drakula and taken to his castle, where he says, they will be married. Mary's revulsion, her cross and the light push Drakula away from her. He promises to return for their wedding when night comes. That evening there is an elaborate wedding ceremony prepared with other brides of Drakula. It's a strange ceremony, with elaborate lights, shrill music and flowers flowing from the ceiling. Just before Drakula kisses her, Mary pushes the cross toward him. Everyone flees, including Mary.

Outside the castle, Mary is rescued by a family. An attempt by Drakula to recapture her fails. A real doctor cares for her until he is led away on a fool's errand by Drakula. He returns to Mary before any harm can come to her. Nevertheless, thoughts of Drakula torture her in her bed, and seeking relief, she runs out of the house and into the cold snow.

We then cut back to the asylum, where Dr. Tillner is conducting his rounds. Mary is sleeping. The nurse informs the doctor she's had a terrible night of bad dreams.

Mary's kidnapping, attempted marriage and flight was all a dream.

Outside, in the courtroom, the mental patients are gathered. The "Funny Man" has a gun. Seizing an opportunity to prove his immortality, Drakula goads the "Funny Man" into shooting him. He does and Drakula dies.

George returns to gather Mary. They return home to a lifetime of happiness.  Mary requests that no one ever speak of Drakula, and asks that a manuscript of his be burnt. (Below is a still of the wedding scene in "Dracula Halala.")

The film, if the novella is correct, is hardly Stoker's "Dracula." Maybe they wanted to exploit the Dracula cultural sensation without paying any royalties to Stoker's widow, Florence. In later years, she would shut down "Nosferatu" and nearly destroy every print due to copyright violation.

The director of "Drakula Halala" was Karoly Lajthay, who acted in films with a young Bela Lugosi. It was shot mostly in Vienna but created by Hungarians. Interiors were shot in Budapest. Askonas had also played the sinister, mesmerizing Svengali in a 1912 version of "Trilby." Lux has appeared in the Mihaly Kertesz co-directed "Alraune."

Kertesz later became the famous director Michael Curtiz. He worked with Lugosi, his future expatriate, in Hungarian cinema. Curtiz was one of three screen writers credited for "Drakula Halala."

Rhodes' recounts publicity and advertising efforts for the film. There were expectations of a long showing of the film in Hungary. But that didn't happen. The film premiered in Vienna in 1921 but only played briefly in Budapest during the spring of 1921.

It's anyone guess as to why the film had a limited showing. Rhodes merits our appreciation for unearthing the information he has discovered. It may be that tucked away, forgotten in an Eastern European film vault, exists a print of "Dracula Halala." Only time well tell. Rhodes, nevertheless, has intrigued us enough to want to know more about the "first Dracula film."

Ed Wood and the Lost Lugosi Screenplays more Scripts From the Crypt reading

Review by Doug Gibson

The more devoted fans of Ed Wood's years with Bela Lugosi have long salivated for more information on scripts Wood wrote for Lugosi that he just couldn't get to the screen. The main reasons were money and clout; Wood had neither with even second-tier producers at Allied Artists or the then-new American International.

I count myself among those who long wished to read the scripts of "The Ghoul Goes West" and "The Vampire's Tomb." "Final Curtain" intrigued us for years, even if James "Duke" Moore played Lugosi's role, but we finally got to see that a few years after the one-man "Twilight Zone" wannabe pilot was re-discovered and restored.

In fact, "Final Curtain" joins "The Ghoul Goes West" and "The Vampire's Tomb" in the latest BearManorMedia's Scripts in the Crypt offering, "Ed Wood and the Lost Lugosi Screenplays," If you're a fan who loves the minutia presented in an easy-to-read style, get this book. It will satisfy your needs; the lion's share of the book is the three scripts, presented in the wonderfully nostalgic manner of copying Wood's own copies. It's kitschy but cool to see Wood's notes, misspellings, typos, scribbling, and even planned cast members' names for "Tomb", including Lyle Talbot, Loretta King, Dolores Fuller, the aforementioned Moore, etc.

Before we get to the scripts there are are several essays, all entertaining, informative, and at times poignant for genre fans. Lugosi biographer Gary D. Rhodes, in the most historically valuable essay, reviews the ultimately unsuccessful efforts to get "Ghoul" and "Tomb" produced. Besides Wood, his then-partner Alex Gordon was pitching the scripts. Originally, talk was for a three-picture deal, including a film called "Dr. Voodoo." Studio reps from Allied Artists and AIP would eventually kill these deals, asking for changes, an executive producer, fewer films, and script rewrites before ultimately saying no.

Rhodes has gathered an impressive history of press release puffs for "Ghoul" and "Tomb" that made it into trade pubs and newspapers. They would announce stars, then filming dates, and after that date passed the PR process would repeat itself. According to Rhodes' research, Boris Karloff was ready to do a single film with Lugosi. But Steve Broidy, Allied Artists' head, passed on everything. 

A real treat for readers is a reproduced review of "Plan 9 From Outer Space" from a San Diego newspaper. It's very interesting reading a viewpoint that didn't consider "Plan 9" one of the "all-time worst films." 

Tom Weaver does his usual great job in providing a synopsis of the films, with various comments on plot inconsistencies, a dose of snark, and pointing out other films that served as inspiration for the scripts' plots. (More on that later).

ED WOOD IN OBSCURITY

Leo Eaton, a former writing colleague of Wood's when both were churning out adult fiction in the early 1970s, and Robert Cremer, author of "The Man Behind the Cape," an official Lugosi biography, provide two short but powerful reminisces of Wood when he was an impoverished alcoholic. Eaton's tells of his condescending relationship with the middle-aged Wood, who would disapprove of the writers at the porn house wasting time with games. Eaton admits he didn't take Wood's claims of working with Lugosi seriously. 

The short introduction shows that Wood, even in the twilight of his career, took his work seriously. Several years ago, a low-circulation press published a collection of Wood's later, adult fiction. It was more gory adult than sex; perhaps a re-publishing is merited? 

Cremer's essay is the more powerful. It recounts 36 hours of paid interviews he conducted with Wood in preparation for "The Man Behind the Cape." (I'd sure like to see the complete transcript.) There are surreal moments of Wood's ups and downs, how a wad of bills lifts his spirits and he becomes the man who can entertain and buy the booze, and the crashes, where the penniless man sitting in an empty apartment with a wife usually in bed, regrets doing the interviews because he is the one who knew Lugosi best, and should be writing the biography.

Wood's late-life personality is captured well, when he giggles about upsetting grave markers for a "Plan 9" shoot and stealing shots without permission. In the most interesting section of he essay, Wood invites Cremer to watch his copy of "Plan 9," which he filched from a university library, with several of the stars, including Vampira, Talbot, Criswell and Paul Marco. 

They view the film with proprietary love, frequently congratulating a beaming Wood on scenes, ignoring any inconsistencies. At one point, to Cremer's amazement, Marco is impressed with the realism of the air jet's cockpit. While watching the film, they talk eagerly of more films; the elephant in the room -- the money to do so -- is not mentioned. By the next morning, the once-high, now dissipated Wood is back in the blues.

I want to note that despite his personal and professional descent, Wood was prolific to the end. He never stopped writing. His last screenplay, "I Awoke Early the Day  Died," was produced only a generation ago. He was working on a Lugosi biography, which is apparently lost. Wood-scripted films keep popping up, the latest is "The Revenge of Dr. X" "Venus Fly Trap).  Frankly, I think a lot of Ed Wood scripts and films are yet to be discovered.

Wood never gave up. He wrote, even if it was porn. And he always harbored comeback dreams. According to Rudolph Grey's Wood oral biography "Nightmare of Ecstasy," the late John Reynolds claims Wood was submitting films, and seeing them rejected, to major studios. 

From what's in this book, it's clear we need a more comprehensive, traditional biography of Wood. We need to track his descent through the 1960s and 1970s, falling further off the Hollywood road despite the frantic writing of scores of books, thousands of short stories and many scripts.

THE SCRIPTS

Someone once said that there are only seven plots and books and films follow them in some variation. "The Ghoul Goes West" and "The Vampire's Tomb" are derivative of other films, but they are smart, even lean mystery programmers (I think "Tomb" might have gone less than an hour.) I enjoyed reading the scripts, particularly "Ghoul," although "Tomb" is the deeper read. 

I won't give the exact plots away, but as Weaver notes, there's a lot of "Bride on the Monster," in concept more than specifics, in "The Ghoul Goes West." But it's primarily a poverty-row "oater" western dressed up as a mystery/horror with Lugosi as mad scientist undertaker, Dr. Smoke, trying to create giants he can control. As Weaver notes, and I agree, that it's a western makes the dialogue a little more relaxed, even snappier. Wood was having fun, you can tell.

Much has been said that Gene Autry was supposed to star in "Ghoul" and backed out, killing the project. I have to say, if Autry had done the film, I don't think he'd have disgraced himself. It's a pleasant time-waster with some genuine twists. 

I wonder if Wood gave a rueful smile when the "Curse of the Undead" western/horror was released by Universal in 1959, or when Circle Films' horror oaters featuring Dracula and a Frankenstein monster were released in the mid 1960s.

"Tomb of the Vampire," as Weaver correctly notes, is a sort of remake of Browning's "London After Midnight" and "Mark of the Vampire." Weaver adds that there's a lot of "The Cat and the Canary" and I'd add "The Old Dark House and "The Monster Walks" as inspiration as well.

There's more of the Wood melodrama in "Tomb," with characters anguishing, scheming, regretting, and killing. Lugosi has a great part as "Dr. Acula," a sinister detective rather than a fake vampire. The fake vampire was to be played by an actress named "Devila." No one knows who Wood had in mind; we only know Vampira wasn't interested. 

Lugosi's Dr. Acula" is a crackerjack part. He has great lines and takes on a Van Helsing type of role. The conclusion allowed rooms for sequels with Dr. Acula and it would have been an intriguing TV series. 

I'll digress here to opine that Lugosi's stint in rehab and subsequent poor health may have also played a role in the inability of these films to get made. To me, it's debatable he had the strength in 1956 to play anything other than the mute Casimir in "The Black Sleep."

TOO LATE FOR POVERTY ROW

Reading these scripts shows that Wood, had he been born 10-plus years earlier, would have been perfectly capable of settling into a screenwriter on poverty row, maybe graduating to B major studio films and perhaps even becoming a director. Both "The Ghoul Goes West" and "The Vampire's Tomb" would have been very acceptable productions for Monogram or PRC before 1946 or so. 

Wood was writing films in the 1950s that were no longer popular. Maybe if Lugosi had been healthier, Wood's youthful enthusiasm and prolific writing talents might have gotten Lugosi roles, perhaps a studio would have budgeted "Ghoul" or "Tomb" without Wood as director. After Lugosi died, alcohol likely tightened its vise on Wood after "Plan 9." "Night of the Ghouls" would not be released in his lifetime. His last mainstream directing job was "The Sinister Urge."

I have meandered on long enough for this review. Buy the book; what's in it is worth the price. I'll mention that Lee Harris, an accomplished veteran of the entertainment industry who narrated "Flying Saucers Over Hollywood," one of the first "Plan 9" docs, has an interesting essay on the discovery of "Final Curtain." He points out that "Final Curtain" was earlier screened in 1981 at a film festival in Southern California.There's also the screenplay of the short, TV pilot included. 

Rhodes and Weaver do their excellent research and observations and Eaton and Cremer, as mentioned, provide more information on Wood's final years. I'd still love to see the transcripts of the 36 hours of interviews with Ed Wood, Mr. Cremer.

A veritable scrapbook of all things Ed Wood and 'Bride of the Monster'

Review by Doug Gibson

I thought I knew all there was to know of “Bride of the Monster,” Ed Wood’s deliriously entertaining thriller that places Bela Lugosi in his last starring role, the last time he carried a film, that the plot and film’s success relied on his performance. I’d read several books with information on “Bride of the Monster” and perhaps three times as many articles. 

I was wrong, though. “Ed Wood’s Bride of the Monster,” part of the Scripts From the Crypt collections edited by Tom Weaver, published by BearManor Media this year, is a literal — in fact intentional — scrapbook devoted to all things related to the iconic “Bride of the Monster,” which is generally the third-most popular Ed Wood film, after “Plan 9 From Outer Space” and “Glen Or Glenda.”

The film’s synopsis, as well as the script (an actual copy) is included in the book. The film involves an exiled mad scientist, Dr. Eric Vornoff, trying to make atomic supermen in his home, by a swamp and a lake, near a city in Florida. A woman reporter, (Loretta King) her boyfriend detective (Tony McCoy), and other police try to put a stop to it. There’s also a government agent, Professor Strowski, (George Becwar) presumably from a communist country, trying to kidnap Vornoff. The mad scientist is helped by a very large mute, Lobo, whom he found wandering in Tibet's wilderness. Lugosi plays Vornoff and Tor Johnson plays Lobo.

Film scholar Gary D. Rhodes presents a very interesting essay on the film’s history. Here are some things that I learned. “Bride of the Monster” was once a part of a package of films that Wood and film producer Richard Gordon hoped to sell to Allied Artists. Besides Lugosi, another star of a film was to be Boris Karloff. Eventually, these hopes were reduced to one film, “Bride of the Atom,” that would have starred Karloff, Lugosi and Lon Chaney Jr. That would have been an excellent teaming of three legends, but in the early 1950s, not many were impressed with the idea.

In the Allied Artists scenario, Karloff would have played Vornoff, Lugosi Strowski, and Chaney Jr. Lobo. Eventually, Allied Artists nixed the whole idea and left Wood scrambling to seek funding as well as he could, eventually getting the lion’s share of the funds from star McCoy’s father. 

Another tidbit of information I learned is that “Bride of the Monster” appears to have been ... drum roll ... a box office success. Of course, Ed Wood never saw a cent of the profits, having signed it away. But the film, with capable distribution and successful people in the industry behind it, including Samuel Arkoff, was handled effectively. It was in distribution for years, and about a year as a first-run feature. In one article, Bride’s share of receipts for a week in Los Angeles are tagged at $8,000-plus. The history of the film’s distribution is covered in detail, and it shows a film that was always in theaters in the mid 1950s, in double features, triple features and as part of live spook shows. The film was even paired with the Raymond Burr version of “Godzilla.” This information, a treat for fans, was gathered by Dr. Robert J. Kiss.

I recall reading, probably in “Nightmare of Ecstasy,” Rudolph Grey’s oral history of Wood, someone mentioning that if any Wood film made money, it was “Bride.” The information in this scrapbook provides strong evidence that is accurate.

The scrapbook also includes dozens of pages with small, paragraph-packaged facts on the film, compiled by Weaver, who, along with Rhodes, has a long list of previous literary accomplishments covering genre films. Weaver does offer an interesting take on who might have written most of “Bride of the Monster.” Some say Wood; others say Alex Gordon. Weaver favors Gordon, arguing that Bride’s “companion films,” “Plan 9 From Outer Space” and “Night of the Ghouls,” have certain Wood trademarks (lectures about violent youth, overwrought narration) that are absent from the tighter, more disciplined “Bride” script. Weaver also reminds that if you pay attention, you can see an unbilled Conrad Brooks behind a window early in the film.

It’s fun to read the script, because frankly, it presents a more exciting film that ended up on the screen. Obviously, budget limitations and a very limp octopus prop hampered what’s on the screen. But it is sad that the film does not have the promised battle royal between a atomic giant Vornoff and the monster octopus as depicted in the script. In the film, Lugosi’s double submits weakly to the octopus. Again, it's likely due to costs and a poor monster prop.

Besides what I have mentioned, this scrapbook contains many photos, an excellent essay on the career of character actor Ben Frommer (the drunk in “Bride of the Monster) , an essay on the music score (Bride had an original score!), as well as very interesting interviews with ”Bride“ star Loretta King, Wood’s last wife, Hope Lininger Lugosi, and a 1970s interview of Wood by Fred Olen Ray. I have seen all of these before in the now-defunct Cult Movies magazine, but it’s fun to have them in the scrapbook.

Also gathered are the script from Lugosi’s Las Vegas act in the 1950s and his testimony before Congress, shortly before his death, on his long struggle with drug abuse. (A page of that testimony is missing from the book, though). Also, ”Bride’s“ very small press booklet is included. There are copied recollections of Wood and Lugosi from the Gordon brothers and an interview with Richard Sheffield (also missing a page), the last person to see Lugosi alive. There's even a playbill from an "Arsenic and Old Lace" touring company with Lugosi as Jonathan Brewster. And even more ... but get the book!

We who love the minutiae of our cult films obsessions salute this book. Like ”Nightmare of Ecstasy,“ it’s a collection we will pore over hundreds of times over the years, reading a little, or most of the volume if we have a long weekend. Re-read, re-read, re-read, we do what we can to feed our love of Ed Wood, Bela Lugosi, ”Bride of the Monster,“ and more. How fortunate we are to have books like this, that respond to our needs.