Lugosi is magnificent in the oft overlooked Murders in the Rue Morgue

 

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As the reader can note above, Plan9Crunch recently received a PDF copy of Angels and Ministers of Grace Defend Us! More Dark Alleys of Classic Horror Cinema, McFarland, 2024, by genre author Gregory William Mank. It's an excellent read. Mank's style of blending history, film news, drama, gossip -- and impromptu profiles of film principals -- is on display.  However, there's too much information to write a simple book review. Over the next couple of years, I'll review a chapter on a film, with links to purchase the book. Here's the McFarland link.

Mank can surprise us with gathered facts. Take Murders in the Rue Morgue, 1932, the first chapter of the book. I always thought it failed at the box office. But I'm wrong. It nabbed a modest profit, $63,000, for Universal after the big hits of Dracula and Frankenstein. But nevertheless, it caused professional decay to Bela's career. His inability to get a major role in Frankenstein, followed by the major success of Frankenstein and subsequently Boris Karloff replacing Bela as Universal's top horror star, was the embryo of his troubled screen career.

Mank notes that in post-Dracula Hollywood a serial assaulter/killer of women called "The Ape Man" terrified Los Angeles. The killer was never caught. The author compares this historical anecdote with the emergence of Charles Gemora's creepy gorilla in Murders in the Rue Morgue. Lugosi, after James Whale froze him out of Frankenstein, was assigned the title role of Doctor Mirakle. Robert Florey, edged out of Frankenstein, directed. He replaced the Spanish Dracula's director George Melford, also edged out of a plum directing assignment.

In the essay, Mank relates that Murders in the Rue Morgue caught the attention of the Hollywood code police and state censors. I had always thought that it seemed a tamer film but Mank notes that in its release form it is very pre-code. At the Grand Guignol opening scene, Lady Fatima and her Arab Angels perform a revealing "strip dance" that focuses on the middle front portion of the dancers' bodies. Men leer openly. Various censors scissored this scene.

Also, more provocative is Arlene Francis' short performance. After Mirakle snatches her streetwalker character from the dark streets, we quickly cut to Francis, terrified, screaming, in agony and dying, on an X-shaped cross. A crazed Mirakle is hoping that her blood will match with the blood of Erik, his gorilla. Although it's never specifically mentioned, it's clear today -- and I'm sure in 1932 -- to audiences that Mirakle plans to mate the gorilla with the woman. It doesn't happen, as a furious Mirakle accuses the streetwalker's blood of being "rotten." The death then occurs and Lugosi tells his black servant Janos (Noble Johnson) to drop her into the Seine, which flows below. This scene was scissored by some censors too in 1932.

One more pre-code scene later is when Erik attacks the mother of the film's heroine in her home. The gorilla kills her brutally in a manner that suggests a rape, as Mank notes. The gorilla then stuffs her corpse face first up the chimney and escapes with her daughter, Camille (Sidney Fox), back to Mirakle's lair to possibly "match" her blood with Erik's.

According to Mank's research, Lugosi was withdrawn and mostly silent during film production. Mank surmises that Lugosi may have sensed that Florey didn't like directing him. The director, we learn, would have preferred less Doctor Mirakle in the finished product. Another reason may be that Bela resented Sydney Fox being the nominal star of the film. Fox was alleged to be the current mistress of Universal honcho Carl Laemmle Jr. She's pleasant to look at, but her acting is poor in the film, in my opinion.

Readers may note that I have not mentioned most other principal actors. The reason is nearly all are mediocre and offer virtually no quality to the film. Leon Waycoff (later Leon Ames) is the romantic lead and he is just terrible. He makes David Manners look like an Oscar-quality actor. He giggles and preens with his love, Camille, which is appropriate since Fox's acting trends the same. Later in the film he whines when Camille is in mortal danger.

Ames did enjoy a long career in film. He was an established character actor. I once noticed him in a 1967 The Andy Griffith Show episode, playing a prudish high school principal.

Sidney Fox, as Mank relates, had an unhappy future. She was out of films by 1935 and spent her personal life in an unhappy, on-again-off-again marriage. In 1942 she was discovered dead in her bed with an empty prescription bottle.

Some actors with small parts who are good are D'Arcy Corrigan as the morgue keeper, Noble Johnson as Janos, Lugosi's strong man, and Arlene Francis in her small role as the streetwalker. Gemora is effective as the gorilla, but Florey made the post-filming error of using shots of a real gorilla in facial closeups. It's a big mistake. It looks forced and lessens the screen impact of Erik.

Lugosi, as mentioned, is magnificent in the film. In the opening scene, viewers can't help cheering the crazed doctor as he defends "science" against the religious intolerants in the audience that boo his Darwin theories. As a mad doctor, he is implacable, full of mad righteous fury in his desire to grab the comely virgin Camille to experiment with. He delivers his dialogue, not just vocally but with strong facial expressions and body movement. Lugosi is the reason this film, which suffers when Bela is not on film, earned a profit.

Florey, as Mank notes, showed off his skill at creating scenarios that matched the plot. He writes: "Cinematically, the film is still a dazzler. Florey and Freund (Karl Freund is the cinematographer) make Paris so Caligari-esque that one almost expects Conrad Veidt's Cesare to step out of the myriad of shadows and join Erik during the rooftop chase. While the film is set in Paris, it as the scent -- perhaps more than any other 1932 Hollywood movie -- of depraved and decadent Weimar Berlin."

Even with the colorless Fox and Waycoff, Florey's scene of Sidney being pushed on a swing is an act of cinema elegance and beauty. Even the scene with Francis, dying in a skimpy garment and tattered boots, crucified on an X-shaped cross, has a dark beauty.

To avoid the stretches of needless comedy and poor acting, I've thought that Murders in the Rue Morgue might have been improved -- and perhaps retain a better legacy -- had Florey began the film with the streetwalker scene and profane crucifixion. It's a well-shot, fascinating horror scene. Its early inclusion would not have hurt the pace too much as the Grand Guignol sequence is very impressive.

Murders in the Rue Morgue is easy to find and buy inexpensively. It occasionally pops up on Turner Classic Movies. Mank did a fine job of telling its history in Angels and Ministers of Grace Defend Us ... and we will explore more films in the book in the future.

-- Doug Gibson

The Turn to Gruesomeness in American Horror Films: A review

Review by Doug Gibson

"The Turn to Gruesomeness in American Horror Films: 1931 to 1936," by Jon Towlson, McFarland (mcfarlandpub.com) (800-253-2187), has a provocative thesis. Towlson differs with other scholars that early sound horror films were tamer than the so-called torture porn today. I was skeptical of that claim. I abhor garbage such as the "Saw" and "Hostel" films; conversely, I love the early- to mid-1930s cycle of horrors. However, I must confess that Towlson makes a pretty good case.

While we watch these old movies, with nary a cuss word and the obligatory "good" ending, often with a heterosexual couple embracing, it's easy to forgot what we've seen on the screen is pretty darn gruesome and sadistic. An iconic reminder of such can be glanced above at the book's cover, with Bela Lugosi, as Dr. Mirakle, torturing to death the prostitute played by Arlene Francis in "Murders In the Rue Morgue." She's on a cross, looking a lot like a female Christ.

But work the brain to think of the other classic oldies. The "Frankenstein" monster tossing a child to drown. "Dracula" killing a young flower girl. "Dr. X"'s face melting. The deranged doctor in "Mad Love" played by Peter Lorre seems to achieve orgasm as he watches a faux torture scene in the Grand Guignol. Or a mad wax sculpture artist in "Mystery of the Wax Museum," with tender voice, leading a young lovely to have hot wax poured on her. Or the nymphomaniac daughter and sadistic father in "The Mask of Fu Manchu." Or the "Freaks" turning Cleopatra into a bird. Or implied necrophilia and overt Satanism ("The Black Cat"). Or finally, the scene that sticks with me: the unlucky admirer of a sadist's wife who gets his lips sown together because he kissed the said sadist's wife; such occurs in"Murders In the Zoo." And what about the implicit bestiality in "Island of Lost Souls?"

These are grisly images, and just because they are not as explicit as what we see today doesn't lessen their shock value. It may even enhance it, as Towlson explains, with the use of shadows, sound, symbols, and the force of these things, which can play on the viewers' imagination. As the author notes, many of these films were either locked away for decades or played in heavily censored .versions until only a generation ago.

"Five reels of transgression followed by one reel of retribution" is a quote from the Nation magazine. It's the title of the longest chapter, the one that provides overviews of the films discussed. That phrase probably captures the heart of the book. Towlson claims that having a happy ending, or a side plot with goofy guests or wisecrack reporters, allowed the early horror filmmakers to get a lot of the horror, with sadism and shocks into the films. Is there a 1930's horror film from a major company without a "good" ending? Even "Freaks" has a tacked-on scene with a guilty Hans being consoled after the shocking scene of Cleopatra post-torture.

The book details the many battles, and concessions made with censors, to get the films completed and into theaters. There's a lot of tantalizing what ifs. What if "The Bride of Frankenstein," a superb film, had followed its earlier "Return of Frankenstein" plot where the monster kills his creator and his wife, but still, a character with pathos, draws to his knees imploring a kind word from God. At that point, a bolt of lightning kills the monster. That's a pretty cool ending; I'm sure James Whale would have loved it.

Or what of "Dracula's Daughter," still a fine film -- with pretty overt lesbianism that the prudish censors missed -- which was intended to have a prologue with Dracula and friends both ravishing and consuming captive young women. In fact, screenwriter John Balderston, Towlson tells us, was urging that the film push the boundaries of horror to more shocking levels. Alas, "Dracula's Daughter" was filmed in that mid-30s when the censors were putting more muscle on the horror filmmakers. It's one of the last of the pre-code horrors.

If you don't believe that the earlier films pushed more buttons than the later ones through the 40s, take the test. Watch "Dr. X" and then watch "The Return of Dr. X"; watch the Frederic March "Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde," with an erotic scene between the good doctor and a prostitute (Miriam Hopkins) and watch later adaptations. Watch "Dracula" and compare it to "Son of Dracula." Or "Bride of Frankenstein" and then "Son of Frankenstein." Although still-excellent films, much of the sadism, the lust, the sheer enjoyment of wallowing in wickedness was taken away after 1936.

Towlson devotes chapters to how the filmmakers managed to get around the censors -- it was always a chess game -- with the cheesy endings of love and kisses. MGM in particular would have wisecracking reporters suddenly announce marriage at the end. Universal would have cast members in films such as "The Raven" and "The Black Cat" make wisecracks very soon after experiencing, and surviving, intense horror. Towlson surmises that the these were subtle protests of the directors who wanted to make their "happy endings" as unrealistic as possible. Maybe, but I think that during the Great Depression, weary movie-goers wanted scares that came with happy endings. Real life wasn't ending so well.

Another chapter deals with the film censors, the Breen people, finally asserting their will and "cleaning" the movies up." As Towlson notes, this had an effect on new movies such as "The Walking Dead," "Devil Doll" and the aforementioned "Dracula's Daughter." It also helped bring in the horror ban that lasted a few years until the industry realized the public wanted more monsters, even if they were a little sanitized.

Towlson's book is a brainy one and it may take some careful reading. There's a section on how these films' critics of a couple of generations ago clash with more modern scholarship, and so on. But it's a rewarding read because it brings us to the table of the filmmakers, what they wanted to create, how far they wanted to go and were able to go. We're witnesses to the negotiations with the movie industry and state censors. I was surprised to learn that in the early 1930s, the film studios were often helped by industry censors who argued their cases with more restrictive state censors.

And, this is very important, watch the movies that are described in this book. It will make the viewing a more rewarding experience.