Halloweens, Past and Present

Adults measure time in dates… the date your mortgage payment is due each month, the date of your next physical, the date of your next business trip.  Children measure time in events … the time you broke your arm climbing a tree, the Christmas you got a BB gun, the grade you were in when you had your first kiss.  Childhood memories tend to flow together, mingling like streams feeding a large river, until it’s impossible to distinguish one from the other.  Only the major happenings of life stand upright, like islands in the river.

To be sure, there were the usual milestones in the life of a young Unimonster, as well.  My first kiss was in Sixth Grade; my little brother and I got matching BB guns for Christmas 1978, over the objections of my mother (thanks, big brother!); and I’ve never had a broken bone … despite totaling a Cadillac that hit me as I dashed across a busy highway when I was 15.  But along with these, rather mundane, highlights of my life are those of a more … unusual nature.  And some of the most prominent “islands” in the river of my memory center around my love of Monsters, Horror, and Halloween.

Halloween when I was a child was quite different from the two-month-long shopping extravaganza that it is now.  Now, Halloween is celebrated by nearly everyone, of nearly every age, and is second only to Christmas in terms of sales generated.  Halloween decorating is big business, with dozens of companies supplying everything the home-bound haunter could desire for their porch-side graveyard, from 99¢ hokey rubber bats to animatronic reanimated corpses costing hundreds, even thousands of dollars.  The same people who go overboard when decorating for Christmas have taken to Halloween with gusto, pushing the bar ever higher with scary, gory, creative displays.  And costumes have progressed far from the screen-printed vinyl pajamas of my youth.  Today’s parents routinely spend $40, $50, even $100 on costumes for their children … and even more on their own outfits, something of which my parents never would have dreamed.

In the early 70’s, my peak Trick-or-Treating years, any house with a Jack o’Lantern on the porch was considered decorated and fair game for a visit.  We thought ourselves fortunate if stores had Halloween supplies two weeks before the big day, and even then, the selection left much to be desired.  That never mattered to me, as once I was old enough to know better

the thought of wearing a store-bought costume was simply unacceptable.  Store-bought costumes, at least in my childhood, were anything but scary.  Rather than making a costume that would allow your average MonsterKid to in some way resemble Frankenstein's Monster, the companies that produced them gave you a cheap plastic one-piece with a picture of the Monster (and not a very good one, at that …) printed on the front, with the word FRANKENSTEIN in large block letters underneath.  Add to that a thin polystyrene mask, with a rubber band that was guaranteed to break before you got home with the loot and a far too narrow mouth opening that cut your tongue every time you tried to talk, and it’s easy to see I wasn’t missing much by passing on the mass-produced monster togs.  Not to mention the fact that, if you had to have the name of the monster you were Trick-or-Treating as stamped on your chest in order for others to identify you, then it wasn’t much of a costume.

No, for my cousin, my brother, and me, only homemade costumes would do.  As I’ve mentioned previously in this column, my usual alter-ego was a vampire; smooth, scary, but most of all cheap ‘n’ easy.  But that wasn’t the only creature I was capable of pulling together on a $2.00 budget.  I could be a very convincing zombie, with some fake blood, some mud and dirt for that crusty, just-dug-my-way-out-of-a-hole look, and some tattered clothes for the basic raw materials.  Once I was “Dr. Death,” complete with saw, stethoscope, and blood-soaked lab coat.

Once costuming was out of the way, then the hunt began for pillowcases.  This was before the days of fancy manufactured bags, buckets, and pails for the collection of our Trick-or-Treating loot.  We had two options—paper grocery sacks, which were tough to carry and prone to tearing; and pillowcases.  Pillowcases were strong, they were large, and they were convenient.  There was only one problem with them.  They were my mother’s.

There was no chance of us using her good linen, of course … we knew enough not to even try that.  But like everyone, we had some old, faded, stained, ragged sheets and pillowcases in the back of the closet.  We had precisely three cases with enough structural integrity to carry a load of candy:  one was white, one avocado green, (hey, it was the ‘70’s, after all …) and one a flowered print.  You did not want to Trick-or-Treat carrying a sack with flowers printed all over it … at least, not where I grew up.

Our preparations complete, we would set out on our route with the resolve of Caesar's legions off to vanquish the Gauls.  The ritual was the same from year to year, never varying.  We would wait until it was dark, and then head out.  We would then immediately turn around and ring our own doorbell, shouting “TRICK-OR-TREAT!” when my mother opened the door.  She would grumble, but nonetheless dropped a few pieces of candy in each of our sacks.  Then the adventure would begin in earnest.

For those readers who are parents of young children; no, our mothers and fathers weren’t exceedingly neglectful or careless of their offspring.  That was a different time, and only babies went Trick-or-Treating before sundown, or accompanied by their parents.  We knew our neighborhood, and felt completely safe and comfortable in it … even at night.  That confidence was doubled on Halloween, when we always traveled in a pack, constantly crossing paths with other, similar packs doing the same.  As we passed we would hail each other, like old-fashioned sailing ships meeting far out at sea.  We would exchange information on the houses we had visited; who was giving out the good stuff, who was tossing out the cheap crap, who wasn’t handing out anything at all.  It was a cooperative hunt, and like wolves word would’ve traveled swiftly of any threat to the pack.

Quite frankly, it never occurred to us that there could be any threat … at least, not the immediate kind.  We had all heard the stories about razor blades and broken glass in treats, of course, and our parents always told us not to eat anything before they checked it out.  We never were overly concerned about that, however.  Personally, I thought that was just an excuse to give the adults first crack at their favorite treats.

Once we had thoroughly covered the neighborhood we would stop somewhere, typically the 7-11 just down the street, and take stock of the night’s haul.  Seldom were we satisfied with the results of our officially sanctioned panhandling, but there’s a fine line between persistence and obnoxiousness, and we usually tried not to cross it.  Contrary to our parent’s instructions, we would eat a few pieces of candy while deciding on our next move.  Occasionally, we would have some change in our sacks, from people too busy or too disinterested to shop for candy, and sorting that out was a high priority.  As always at that age, if I had 25¢ to my name, it was going to be spent on a comic book … ordinarily, it would be Batman, Action Comics, or The Flash, but not on Halloween.  On Halloween it had to be Ghosts, or House of Mystery, or The Unexpected.  Not that I didn’t buy those titles throughout the year, but they were must-haves to cap off the perfect Halloween night.

When we finally did straggle on home, we would camp in front of the TV, watching a holiday-appropriate Creature Feature on one of the local stations, as we munched happily on our Halloween bounty.  My dachshund would throw herself protectively on the sack beside me, snarling menacingly at anyone who dared approach it—especially my little sister.  This never failed to earn her a treat; butterscotches a particular favorite, though she also had a fondness for Mary Jane’s.  The sight of her working her way through a piece of peanut butter taffy was guaranteed to bring laughs.

 

All too soon, the night would end.  We would be sent upstairs to bathe and prepare for bed, and as we scrubbed the residue of fake blood and Hershey’s miniatures off ourselves, another Halloween would officially draw to a close.  Those days are more than forty years in the past now, and I’ve known great joys in my life since then, as well as the heartaches that all of us are familiar with.

But I’ve never known pure happiness like Halloween nights when I was a child.

Creighton’s Creature: THE WOLF-MAN and Lon Jr.

  

Following the departure of the Laemmles from Universal Studios in the mid-1930’s, Standard Capital, which was headed by J. Cheever Cowdin and was the studio’s new owners, made a conscious decision to avoid Horror films, hoping to become known for a more “upscale” product.  They failed, as would a so-far unbroken line of their successors, to give the studio’s iconic Monsters the respect they were due, and fans of the Monsters credit for knowing what they wanted.

By 1939 however, the studio was dealing with both a lack of mainstream success and a hurting bottom line.  The continued popularity of both DRACULA and FRANKENSTEIN in Los Angeles-area theaters convinced the studio that maybe Horror Films weren’t such bad ideas after all, and before the year was out, SON OF FRANKENSTEIN, starring Karloff, Lugosi, Rathbone, and Atwill marked the return of Horror to Universal.  That, and the debut in 1940 of the studio’s other great cash cow, the comedy duo of Abbott & Costello, insured that the Monsters would find gainful employment for some time to come.

But they needed fresh material to work with, not just sequels to existing properties.  They needed a new Monster.  And a script by Curt Siodmak gave them a great one:  Larry Talbot, aka—the Wolf-Man.

The first article to carry the Unimonster’s byline said this about Siodmak’s creation, “One of Universal’s most popular movies, THE WOLF-MAN came on the scene just as the second half of Horror’s Golden Age was beginning to take off.  The war in Europe, increasing economic prosperity, and changing tastes were going to put the monsters out of business, according to the critics.  Instead, they were entering the period of their greatest popularity, due primarily to Universal’s first truly sympathetic monster [Larry Talbot].  [C]ursed by the bite of a werewolf to an eternal, nightmarish existence, more beast than man … it provided a fresh perspective on the monsters; one from the monster’s point of view” [The Universal Monsters:  How Universal Studios Created the Horror Film, 6 February, 2010].  The werewolf make-up would be designed and executed by Jack P. Pierce, Universal Studios master craftsman of Monster-Making, based upon designs he created for 1935’s THE WEREWOLF OF LONDON.  And to play Talbot, the studio cast the son of the first icon of the Horror Film—Lon Chaney, Jr.

Born Creighton Chaney in 1906, the younger man was estranged from his father and raised by his mother, whom Lon had abandoned.  Creighton had no intention of following in his father’s Horror footsteps; indeed, his breakthrough came in the role of Lenny in Lewis Milestone’s 1939 version of John Steinbeck’s OF MICE AND MEN, for which he won critical acclaim.  However, pressure from studio executives meant an end to his dreams of a straight dramatic career, and to his public identity as separate from his father.  He had occasionally been billed as “Lon Chaney, Jr.” since 1935, and in 1940, Creighton appeared in ONE MILLION, B.C. under that name.  Creighton Chaney, at least as far as the movie-going public was concerned, ceased to exist.

Though in retrospect this outright manipulation of an actor’s career may seem callous and overbearing, in the context of the times it was accepted practice for studios to make decisions such as this.  The Hollywood “Studio System” completely dominated the film industry—it was the closest thing this country’s ever had to a tyrannical despotism—and if you desired to work in Hollywood, then you paid obeisance to the system.  The studio had a legitimate need, and no one felt any qualms about using Creighton to fill that need.

For along with Universal’s requirement for fresh material with which to work, they also needed a new star, a Horror icon to replace both Karloff and Lugosi, who had faded to supporting roles.  Who better to fill the void than the son of the “Man of a Thousand Faces?”

Lon Jr.’s Horror debut came on 28 March 1941, in MAN-MADE MONSTER, a B-grade programmer, directed by George Waggner.  Co-starring Lionel Atwill, Anne Nagel, and Samuel B. Hinds, the plot concerned a sideshow performer (Chaney, Jr.) with an unusual immunity to electrical shocks.  He agrees to be studied by a pair of scientists:  One benevolent, played by Hinds, and one evil, played to perfection by Atwill.  Unbeknownst to everyone, Atwill begins treating “Dynamo” Dan with increasingly powerful electrical impulses, transforming him into a mindless automaton with a deadly touch.  The movie was well-received, if a little ahead of it’s time.  A mere decade-and-a-half later, it would have fit perfectly on a Drive-In Double-bill with THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING MAN or MONSTER ON THE CAMPUS.  In fact, it probably did, as it was reissued in 1953 under the title THE ATOMIC MONSTER.

Later that same year would come the film that would strengthen Lon Jr.’s status as a Horror star, and it, like MAN-MADE MONSTER, was to be directed by Waggner.  THE WOLF-MAN, released five days after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, would become one of Universal’s most beloved Monster movies, and one of it’s most successful.

Scripted by Siodmak, and starring Claude Rains, Ralph Bellamy, Bela Lugosi, Evelyn Ankers, and Maria Ouspenskaya, THE WOLF-MAN gave Universal its first truly original monster, and the star that would carry Universal’s Monster franchise through to it’s end.  From 1941 to 1945, Lon Jr. appeared in all of Universal’s first-class Horror Films, and a large number of their second-class Horrors, such as the series of Inner Sanctum pictures that began in 1943.  He would play every one of Universal’s “Fab Four” of Monsterdom—Frankenstein’s Monster, in GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN; Dracula, in SON OF DRACULA; the Mummy Kharis, beginning with THE MUMMY’S TOMB; and of course Larry Talbot, the Wolf-Man.

After the success of THE WOLF-MAN, Universal wanted a sequel, and a chance remark by Siodmak, intended as a joke, became 1943’s FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLF-MAN.  The studio had found the formula for Horror success in the ‘40’s—Multiple Monsters, formulaic plots, a beautiful girl or two to menace, some knock-down, drag-out Monster fighting, and a happy ending.  A simple prescription, true—but it kept theaters packed.

Lon Jr. would play Talbot three more times:  1944’s HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN, 1945’s HOUSE OF DRACULA, and the 1948 pairing of the Monsters with Universal’s other moneymaking property of the ‘40’s, Abbott & Costello, in ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN.  That film would mark the beginning of the end of the Classic Monsters of Universal, relegated to the status of comedic props.  It would also mark the end of Lon Jr.’s association with the studio that had made him an icon, and which he, in turn, carried on his furry shoulders throughout the war years.

The end of the war meant the return of millions of GI’s to the Home Front, as well as revelation of the true suffering visited upon the tens of millions of victims of totalitarianism and fascism throughout Europe, Asia, and the Pacific Rim.  True horrors, revealed and remembered, left little room in the minds of moviegoers for the Monsters of fantasy and fiction.  Universal Studios, ten years removed from the days when Carl Laemmle, Sr. ran the show as a ‘family’ business, where the head of the make-up department could be hired on a handshake, fired Lon Jr. in 1948.  Nor did they stop there.  Jack Pierce, the same make-up artist who had created the image of every one of the studio’s iconic Monsters, from Dracula, to Frankenstein’s Monster, to the Mummy, to the Wolf-Man, the head of the make-up department who had been hired on the basis of a handshake, without a contract, was just as unceremoniously canned.

Recently however, the titular descendants of the men who so callously sacked Lon Jr., Jack, and others found a renewed attraction in the Monsters of Universal; an interest that had never waned among their devoted fans.  Beginning with 1999’s THE MUMMY, directed by Stephen Sommers, Universal has resurrected most of the studio’s great Monsters of the ‘30’s and ‘40’s.  So far, there’s been little interest in revisiting the Invisible Man, first realized by James Whale and Claude Rains in the 1933 classic.  And plans for a remake of the studio’s greatest Horror Film of the 1950’s, CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON, have been up in the air for years now.

But this month will see the return of Larry Talbot to theaters nationwide, as Universal unveils THE WOLFMAN, directed by Joe Johnston and starring Benicio Del Toro as Talbot, Anthony Hopkins as his father, Sir John Talbot, and Emily Blunt as Gwen Conliffe.  A big budget reimagining of the original story, the trailers promise a movie that looks beautifully filmed and exquisitely designed, with the requisite amount of dazzlingly spectacular special effects.  It remains to be seen whether or not it has managed to capture the spirit, the essence of what made the original film one of Universal’s most loved Monster movies.  One thing it has most certainly done is render invalid one of Lon Jr.’s proudest claims.  As he once told an interviewer, he had played all the Monsters—from Dracula to the Mummy.  But he—Creighton Tull Chaney—was the only actor to ever play the Wolf-Man.  No longer is that true.

Lon Jr. would continue to play monsters, maniacs, and murderers for another 25 years, until his death in 1973.  He would play many memorable characters in his later years, most notably Bruno the caretaker, from Jack Hill’s SPIDER BABY or, THE MADDEST STORY EVER TOLD.  But he was destined to be forever defined by his greatest role—that of a Welshman cursed to become a snarling, murderous beast, driven to bloodlust by the brightness of an autumn moon.

The Year Horror Began

Eighty years ago this month, the Horror Film, as we recognize it, was born.  On Valentine’s Day 1931, Universal Pictures premiered Tod Browning’s DRACULA, the first Horror Film produced in the United States that can be described as a “modern” horror—one where the antagonist truly was what it was purported to be.  Dracula wasn’t a lunatic mistaken for a monster, or a master criminal in disguise; he was exactly what he claimed to be—a vampire, an undead creature of the night.

The catalog of the American Horror Film wasn’t extensive by the beginning of the Sound era, and it largely owed it’s existence to the efforts of two men:  director Tod Browning and actor Lon Chaney.  Browning was the quintessential master of the macabre throughout the 1920’s and into the beginning of the 1930’s, and Chaney was his star, the “man of a thousand faces” who was the personification of Horror on the silent screen.

In a string of 10 movies produced between 1919 and 1929, the two defined Horror as a psychological experience, not a supernatural one.  In roles as diverse as Alonzo the Armless in 1927’s THE UNKNOWN, to ‘Dead Legs,’ the evil wheelchair-bound magician who sells his own daughter into white slavery in WEST OF ZANZIBAR, Chaney’s characters were no less monsters for the fact that they were human.  The hatred and darkness in them owed nothing to the paranormal, and everything to the pathological.

Browning wasn’t the only director working in Horror in Hollywood, of course.  Under contract to M-G-M, in 1923 Chaney was borrowed by Universal, for director Wallace Worsley’s THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME.  In 1925, Chaney appeared in two Horror Films—one mostly forgotten, and one that is unforgettable.  The lesser of the two efforts was Roland West’s THE MONSTER.  Chaney portrayed a mad scientist who poses as a monster in order to force vehicles to crash, thereby providing him with subjects for experimentation.  Half horror, half comedy, it was an average programmer for the period, with little other than Chaney’s performance to recommend it.  However, that same year, Universal released what is arguably the greatest Silent Horror film to originate in the United States—Rupert Julian’s THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA.  Based on the novel by Gaston Leroux, the role of Erik (the Phantom) would be acknowledged as Chaney’s defining performance.

Just as Browning wasn’t the only Horror director, Chaney was not the only star who made Horror Films.  In 1920, John Barrymore starred in John S. Robertson’s version of DR. JEKYLL & MR. HYDE.  This adaptation of the Robert Louis Stevenson classic, though eclipsed a decade later by Reuben Mamoulian’s Oscar-winning version, was nonetheless groundbreaking for it’s time.  In 1927, Paul Leni, a German émigré working for Carl Laemmle at Universal, adapted a popular Broadway play into THE CAT AND THE CANARY, the originator of the “Old Dark House” style of Horror Films, starring Laura La Plante, an attractive young contract player, as Annabelle West, heir to the vast fortune left by her ancestor, Cyrus West.  This movie saw an early version of the “scream queen” in American Horror, though her screams could not be heard.  A year later, Conrad Veidt, who was an established star in his native Germany, appeared in Leni’s THE MAN WHO LAUGHS for Universal.

All of these silent American Horrors had one thing in common—the complete lack of the supernatural.  Though supernatural creatures had inhabited silent Horrors from the rest of the world, most notably Germany; in American films they were, for all intents, nonexistent.  In German film, phantoms, vampires, and monsters existed; they were depicted as what they were.  Max Schreck played Count Orlok as a vampire, not a criminal masquerading as a vampire.  American conventions were the opposite.  However unreal or grotesque the antagonist might seem, there was always a logical explanation at the bottom of it.  Like the Scooby-Doo cartoons fifty years later, at the end there would always be an unmasking, as the “monster” was revealed to be anything but.

But as the era of the silents was drawing to a close, that was due for a change.  Universal was planning to go into production on DRACULA, with Tod Browning at the helm[1].  Carl Laemmle had recently ceded control over the studio to his son Carl Jr. (a twenty-first birthday gift), and Junior (who was christened Julius but later changed his name) was fond of the gothic tales of horror such as Stoker’s Dracula and Shelley’s Frankenstein.  “Uncle” Carl Laemmle preferred Westerns and other, “less gruesome” fare, but Junior wanted Horror pictures.

Legend has it that the senior Laemmle demanded that Chaney portray Dracula, or the picture couldn’t be made.  In truth, there’s no record such a demand was made (though Junior was hoping to lure him back to Universal for the picture, one reason he hired Browning to direct), or that Chaney was ever attached to the project (it must be remembered he was still under contract at M-G-M, though Universal often sought reasons to request the loan of one of the Silent Screen’s biggest draws).  In any case, Chaney passed away of throat cancer on 26 August 1930, and conjecture about how “the man of a thousand faces” would portray the Lord of the Undead will forever remain just that:  Conjecture.

With the question of who wouldn’t be playing the role of Dracula at least partially answered, in Chaney’s part by his unfortunate death, there remained a veritable who’s who of actors who were being considered for the job.  Names such as Paul Muni, John Wray, and Conrad Veidt were discussed for the part.  Even Chester Morris, an actor who specialized in ‘tough-guy’ roles (and had been nominated for the second Best Actor Oscar for 1929’s ALIBI), was mentioned—more by virtue of already being contracted to Universal than due to any intrinsic qualities he possessed.

The one to whom Laemmle was adamantly opposed was a 48-year-old Hungarian actor who had successfully played the role on Broadway.  In fact, he sent the production team a telegram stating, “… no interest in [this actor] for Dracula.[2]”  “This actor” was Bela Lugosi, and though the studio professed no interest in him, he definitely had an interest in the part of the Transylvanian Count, campaigning actively for it.  Despite whatever misgivings the Laemmles had about Lugosi as Dracula, he finally won the role, clinching the deal with his willingness to take the job at roughly a quarter of the salary he could’ve gotten.  Even Lugosi, not known for his sense of humor, couldn’t resist a jab at “Uncle” Carl’s legendary nepotism, telling reporters that he was cast simply because the senior Laemmle didn’t have a relative who could play the part.

Supporting Lugosi would be a cast of Universal regulars.  Helen Chandler would be the female lead, in the role of Mina, the main focus of the Count’s lustful attentions.  David Manners would portray John Harker, her love interest.  Dwight Frye would play the lunatic Renfield, slave to Dracula’s control.  And Edward Van Sloan would portray Dracula’s nemesis, Van Helsing.

Principal photography began on 29 September 1930, and would continue until mid-November.  Production went smoothly, though Browning was at best disinterested in the project.  According to film historian Michael Mallory, “The fact that Browning seemed to lose interest in Dracula during the filming, at times turning the direction over to cinematographer Karl Freund, has been interpreted as possible depression over Chaney's untimely death.[3]”  Whatever the reason, there’s little doubt that Browning’s work on this films suffers in comparison to his earlier films, and indeed, in comparison to that of George Melford, who directed the Spanish-language version of DRACULA, filmed at night using the same sets, props, and in some cases, costumes.  Melford’s version is far more complete, a full 30 minutes longer than Browning’s, and is a far more cinematic work.  Browning’s version has been criticized, and rightfully so, as being far too literal a translation of the play upon which it was based.  Everything about the movie gives the impression that one is watching a stage play, from the dialogue, to the occasionally awkward transitions, to the static cinematography.

Melford’s version, on the other hand, just flows so much more smoothly.  George Robinson’s photography has a fluidity and grace that is completely lacking from Freund’s camera work.  In every way but one, Melford’s DRACULA is superior in execution to Browning’s.  That one factor, the factor that makes one a legendary film and the other an interesting side-note, is Bela Lugosi.  Lugosi transforms this film into something that hadn’t existed prior to it’s release—a modern American Horror Film.  This one performance so perfectly captured Dracula in the minds of moviegoers that his version of the bloodthirsty Count has become the archetype for the character.  For the past eighty years, every actor who has played Dracula has had to measure his performance against Lugosi’s yardstick—and has generally been found wanting.

In February of 1931, a new genre appeared on the screen—not a mystery, not a melodrama, not a thriller—but a Horror Film.  Nine months later, in November of 1931, another film in this new genre would debut, the greatest Horror Film of all.  These two films, DRACULA and, of course, James Whale’s FRANKENSTEIN, would launch Horror’s Golden Age, transform their stars into Icons who would spend the majority of their lives competing with one another for the crown that had belonged to Chaney, and make Universal Studios the original “House that Horror Built.”

This February, eighty years after these films first frightened and captivated audiences, moviegoers, fans, and classic film buffs will have the opportunity to view these movies on the big screen once again.  Thanks to the efforts of long-time friend of the Crypt Scott Essman, head of Visionary media and the man who has led the efforts to secure a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame to honor Jack P. Pierce, on the afternoon of 20 February 2011, these movies will once more flicker to life.  On that day, at the Pomona Fox Theater, (301 S. Garey Ave.) in Pomona, California[4], the audience will be magically transported back to 1931—back to the year Horror began.

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[1] The primary reference for this article is the superb book Universal Studios Monsters: A Legacy of Horror, by Michael Mallory.  It is a spectacular volume, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.

[2] The Documentary Universal Horrors, released in 1998.

[3] Mallory 49

[4] www.pomonafox.org

The Worst Horror Films ever Made?

I’ve often heard, as have many of you, that there is a movie out there so incredibly bad, so incompetently filmed, so horribly acted, that it deserves the appellation “Worst Movie Ever!” A film by a director whose ineptitude has become legendary. A film by the name of PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE.

But conventional wisdom, as it so often is, just may be wrong in this case. Is PLAN 9 a bad movie? Yes, no doubt about it. Is it the worst movie ever made? Not hardly.

First, let me say that I do have some experience with bad movies. As a Horror Film-Fan with a moderately large collection of genre films, (@ 2,200 or so…) it’s not surprising that perhaps as many as 60% don’t really qualify as “good” movies. For every FRANKENSTEIN, EXORCIST, or SIXTH SENSE I own, there’s two or more movies the likes of MURDER IN THE ZOO, HOUSE ON SKULL MOUNTAIN, or THE ITEM. That’s natural; good movies are few and far between, and in a random sampling you’d be doing very well to come up with four out of ten winners.
But films such as PLAN 9 fall into a special category. These movies aren’t just bad; they approach the status of legend. They’re often described as “…so bad they’re good”, and PLAN 9 is the movie that is most often damned with such faint praise.

However, while Ed Wood’s putative masterpiece is without a doubt a truly ripe wedge of stinky cheese, compared to some of the films in my possession it comes out smelling like a rose. I would go so far as to state that PLAN 9 isn’t even Wood’s worst film, instead granting that title to the extraordinarily bad GLEN OR GLENDA.

Please allow me to suggest these three over-ripe pieces of Limburger for your consideration for the title of Worst Movie Ever. You may agree, you may disagree. But if you’ve had the misfortune to sit through any of these stinkfests, then you truly have my sympathy. And if, like me, you sat through all three?

Then you have my deepest respect and admiration.

1.) A*P*E—(1976): Perhaps inspired by Paramount’s remake of KING KONG, or at least by the size of it’s Box-Office take, a joint South Korean-American copy was rushed into production as rapidly as they could round up the largest collection of no-talent hacks ever to grace a film set; at least, one that didn’t have the words “DEBBIE DOES…” featured prominently in the title. Paul Leder took the Director’s credit; he should really give it back. If there was ever a movie worthy of having Alan Smithee’s name attached, this is it. (If that name sounds familiar, check it out on IMDb.com sometime…) Picture a film so horrifically atrocious that the cast (the only recognizable member of which is future “Growing Pains” mom Joanna Kerns…) actually looks embarrassed to be seen in it, and you have A*P*E. From the scene of the giant ape wrestling what appears to be the carcass of a dead shark, to one of the Ape throwing a terribly out-of-scale Huey helicopter into a cliff, then flipping it the ‘bird’, this film is one incredibly long, incredibly boring blooper reel. Though the Ape is repeatedly cited as being 36 feet tall, he routinely towers over four and five story buildings; effortlessly bats helicopters that should be larger than he out of the air; and chucks rocks with such force that they destroy 40-ton Main Battle Tanks. There simply is no redeeming quality to this celluloid crapfest.

2.) DEMON HUNTER ~aka~ LEGEND OF BLOOD MOUNTAIN—(1965): Chances are good that, if you weren’t born or raised in the deep South, then you’ve probably not been exposed to this rancid piece of regional filmmaking, and if that’s the case, then count yourself lucky. Starring George Ellis, using his horror-host identity of Bestoink (no, that’s not a typo…) Dooley, and featuring what is perhaps the lamest creature design this side of a Scooby-Doo cartoon, this film has long been the single worst movie in my collection. Ellis, who’s oddly-named character hosted The Big Movie Shocker on WAGA in Atlanta from the late ‘50’s to the late ‘60’s-early ‘70’s, was apparently the ONLY actor (and I use the term loosely…) to show up for the audition. We are treated to long scenes of Bestoink walking, Bestoink driving, Bestoink eating, Bestoink sitting up in bed… well, let’s just say we see a LOT of Bestoink. What we don’t see much of is: Plot; good acting; decent Special Effects; believable dialogue; sharp photography; and any reason whatsoever to care. It does appear that there is a complete reel of the film (approximately 11 minutes worth…) missing from the VHS prints that were available several years ago. That must have been the ‘good’ reel, because the others are garbage. I would usually recommend you see a bad film at least once, just to experience it. Not with this one—instead, just bang your head against the nearest wall for 65 minutes… the effect is the same, only more entertaining.


3.) FURANKENSHUTAIN TAI CHITEI KAIJÛ BARAGON ~aka~ FRANKENSTEIN CONQUERS THE WORLD—(1965): I know people that love this movie; that swear that it’s a great film. I also know people who believe Elvis is currently touring the galaxy with little gray alien roadies. Neither group is correct. No, this is NOT a great film, and yes people, Elvis is really dead. I wish I could say that the premise of this movie is the most absurd thing about it, but that would be wishful thinking. In the waning days of World War II, the Nazis attempt to smuggle their greatest secret out of the country to their last remaining ally, Japan. What was this great secret? Germany’s Atomic research? Their latest jet engine? No. The disembodied, but still beating, heart of Frankenstein’s Monster. Seems the scientists in charge of it are planning to resurrect the Monster to do battle with Der Fuhrer’s enemies. And just where does this Teutonic superweapon wind up? You guessed it—Hiroshima, just before the big bang. I’ll spare you the various plot twists and turns; (there are many…) suffice it to say that this film couldn’t be more of an incomprehensible mess if it were directed by Uwe Boll. (Oh God, now I’ve given him the idea for a remake…) The truly sad part is that the sequel to this movie, WAR OF THE GARGANTUAS, is actually a very good film, far superior to this garbage. If only they could’ve made the sequel first!

Well, there you have them… your contenders for Worst Horror film ever made. Could I list more? You can bet the house AND the dog on that. But why bother? If those three cinematic floaters haven’t convinced you that PLAN 9 might not be that bad after all, then just keep watching the skies.

Oh, you might want to bring a lawn chair… I hear there might be a concert.

DVD Review: FRANKENSTEIN—75th Anniversary Edition

Title: FRANKENSTEIN—75th Anniversary Edition

Year of Release—Film: 1931

Year of Release—DVD: 2006

DVD Label: Universal Studios Home Entertainment


It is by no means hyperbole to describe James Whale’s 1931 classic FRANKENSTEIN as the most important Horror Film in the genre’s history. While the release of Tod Browning’s DRACULA nine months previously had created the American Horror Film, as well as established Universal Studios as the Horror studio, it was FRANKENSTEIN’s release in November 1931 that gave the genre what it needed for lasting permanence… a cinematic masterpiece.

Though I love the Browning DRACULA, and recognize its importance, it doesn’t compare to FRANKENSTEIN in terms of script and direction. Whale’s direction has a style, a fluidity, and a power that is missing from Browning’s wooden, stagey direction on DRACULA.
A comparison of the scenes that serve to introduce us to the respective monster in each film illustrates the difference in directorial style. In DRACULA, we first see Lugosi as the Count as he greets Renfield at the top of the stairway. The scene is static and uninvolving; it is left to the power of Lugosi’s performance and presence, and one line—“Listen to them… children of the night. What music they make!” to impress upon the viewer a sense of the impending evil about to descend upon poor Renfield.

Whale, conversely, was able to project the power and significance of the moment well before his creature even entered the scene. As Henry Frankenstein and Dr. Waldeman converse quietly about Frankenstein’s “failure” with the monster, you hear, softly at first, in the background, but growing louder, the shuffling footsteps of the monster. Where Browning treated sound almost as an afterthought on DRACULA, Whale wove sound into the fabric of the film, making it part of the experience. Then the door opens, and a huge, misshapen figure lumbers into the chamber, and his face is revealed in a series of increasingly close jump cuts. When originally shown, this was considered so frightening that theaters warned those with weak constitutions to avoid the film. While that was largely marketing hype, 1930’s style, there’s no denying the power and impact of the scene, even 75 years later. Nor can you deny the effectiveness and quality of the film as a whole.

There’s nothing to say about this two-disc set that I haven’t already said about its fraternal twin, the DRACULA 75th Anniversary Edition. The artwork on the case is gorgeous; the print is beautiful; it’s truly a great set.

While not as loaded as the DRACULA 75th Anniversary Edition, fans have plenty to choose from in this two-disc set. The best of those choices is the documentary KARLOFF: THE GENTLE MONSTER. This biographical look at Boris Karloff is far too short to do justice to its subject, but you do get a good sense of Karloff, the actor. I wish they had spent some time exploring William Pratt, the cultured son of British aristocrats, and how he became Horror’s most recognizable and revered icon.

Also included is the Monster Tracks feature that I discussed in the DRACULA review, as well as UNIVERSAL HORRORS, the Kenneth Branagh-narrated documentary that explores every facet of the Universal Monster Movies of the 1930’s and ‘40’s. Other features from the FRANKENSTEIN Legacy set are included, guaranteeing you get your money’s worth on this set.
This is without question the ultimate DVD treatment of Whale’s FRANKENSTEIN thus far released, and is a superb example of just what can be done with a 75-year old film. This is almost universally recognized as the greatest Horror film ever produced, and you cannot consider yourself even a casual fan of the genre if you don’t have this film in your collection. While the $26.95 list price is expensive, at least by my standards, its well worth the price to own this movie, and you can find it cheaper. Deep Discount has it for less than $20, a significant savings.

Whatever the price where you find it, buy it. No one should miss seeing, or owning, this movie.

DVD Review: VAN HELSING

Title: VAN HELSING

Year of Release—Film: 2004

Year of Release—DVD: 2004

DVD Label: Universal Studios Home Entertainment


Perhaps the most eagerly anticipated film of the 2004 Summer Season, VAN HELSING was certainly the most discussed film released that year. Depending upon what you were expecting from this film, you either thought it was tremendously entertaining, or a complete insult to the history and tradition of Universal Horror. As one of the strongest proponents of the classic Universal Horror Films, I can certainly see why some fans felt that the movie was a general insult to all things Universal. I also believe that they are wrong.

Stephen Sommers, best-known for the recent Universal MUMMY films, does a fair job here, but let’s be honest: Great Horror this isn’t, no more than they were. There’s very little in here that would scare anyone over the age of eight, certainly nothing that would terrify most in the audience. VAN HELSING is an adventure film, more akin to RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK than the great Universal Horror films of the ‘30’s and ‘40’s.

Sommers’ script, while it serves the purpose, is long on action and short on plot. The dialogue is execrable, and the characters, for the most part, are simply unlikable. It has the same tongue-in-cheek humor that made the two MUMMY films so successful, but lacks the characters (and the actors) that can pull it off.

Sommers’ direction, though widely excoriated, is really perfect for the type of movie that this is, just as it was for THE MUMMY and THE MUMMY RETURNS. He can construct an action scene with the best, and he has a terrific sense of humor that keeps the mood light and rollicking, with the feel of a Saturday matinee serial. It is the wrong feel entirely for a horror film; but as I said earlier, this isn’t a Horror film.

The cast, with rare exception, is unremarkable. I felt that every one of the lead actors missed the mark, some quite badly. Hugh Jackman’s status as a star completely baffles me; Kate Beckinsale is much better seen than heard; David Wenham, as Friar Carl, Van Helsing’s assistant, is good but the role is far too minor to help. There are two stand-outs in the cast: one in a minor role, one in a major; one a very positive stand-out, one very negative.

The positive accolades go to Kevin O’Connor, whose role as Igor is very similar to the character of Benny that he played in THE MUMMY. With a gift for quirky, strange characters, his comedic deadpan delivery is perfect for this material, and is responsible for most of the humor that works in this movie. My only complaint regarding him is that he gets so little screen-time. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the film’s other stand-out, Richard Roxburgh as Dracula.

Easily the worst performance in this movie, Roxburgh rapidly supplanted Frank Langella as my least favorite actor in that role. Hammy, overblown, a man who emotes wildly while proclaiming his utter lack of emotion, his is a job of acting that would embarrass one of Ed Wood’s troupe of players. I know Christopher Lee is a little old for the role, but hair dye is cheap, and they’re doing wonderful things with make-up these days.

The cinematography looks good, not great, but acceptable. The Special Effects are the true star of the film; and, as with the rest of the ‘cast’, sometimes they work, and sometimes they don’t. The Wolf-Man design, while not perfect, is the best of the CGI Monsters, and the Vampire Brides are also very effective; while the Dr. Jekyll / Mr. Hyde character is by far the worst. Described by one reviewer as “Shrek with Hair”, the Hyde design is wholly unbelievable, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to any screen Hyde I’ve ever seen. However, the Frankenstein’s Monster, played well by Shuler Hensley, is primarily done with traditional make-up effects, and works extremely well. It’s perhaps the best-looking Frankenstein’s Monster since Karloff last wore the boots.

The feel and atmosphere of the film is there, but not as convincingly as with Sommers’ previous movies. As with most facets of this film, it’s hit-or-miss, with the hits slightly outweighing the misses. The CGI is overused, and is, in many cases, simply unrealistic looking, which destroys what little believability the movie manages to build.

To sum it up, this is an enjoyable movie; not great, not Movie-of-the-Year, but enjoyable if you keep your expectations low. I think that most of the negative feelings about this movie were the result of unreasonable expectations; people believing that they’d see computer-generated clones of Karloff, Lugosi, and Chaney, Jr., or experience a truly terrifying film. I kept my expectations low, and, as a result, found myself generally pleased with the movie. My main problem with it is that it is a very good 25-35 million-dollar movie. Unfortunately, it cost 150 million to make. Despite the huge cost of the picture, this comes off as a very cheap movie: The CGI is unconvincing; the acting is barely adequate; the script is, to put it kindly, weak. Things that might be overlooked in a low-budget Indie stand out in a major-studio, big-budget production. Still, I enjoyed this film, while not being blind to it’s flaws. I’d call it a Bargain-bin candidate… not first on the must-see list, but still worth seeing.

GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN—The Monster’s Last Real Hurrah

Between 1931 and 1948, Universal released no less than eight films featuring their most iconic creation, Frankenstein’s Monster. Portrayed by more of Universal’s Horror stars than any other Classic Universal monster, he also underwent the greatest amount of change of any of the Big Four of Universal’s stable of monsters. Not in terms of his trademarked look, but in how he was treated and portrayed on-screen.

Boris Karloff’s 1931 Monster was the very image of pathos, a tortured soul seemingly cursed by an unkind God to a living death. Four years later, in BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN, he shambled closer to capturing his humanity, if only for a few brief moments, before being rejected by his erstwhile bride.

Karloff’s last turn as his signature character was 1939’s SON OF FRANKENSTEIN, and by then any trace of humanity was gone, replaced by a cold seething hatred of all save his friend Ygor, played wonderfully by Bela Lugosi. After this film, Karloff vowed never to play the Monster again; so dissatisfied was he with the direction the character was taking.

Though Karloff was without question Universal’s biggest Horror Star of the 1930’s, by the early ‘40’s that crown was planted firmly on Lon Chaney, Jr’s furrowed (and often furry…) brow. Perhaps it was natural that he should succeed Karloff in portraying Universal’s most significant Monster. In 1942’s GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN, he does just that, on his way to becoming the only actor to play all of Universal’s four top monsters. He also gave us the Monster’s last starring role, and the last time that Frankenstein’s Monster is portrayed as anything more than a prop. After this, Chaney's Wolf-Man / Larry Talbot would become Universal’s biggest headliner, and the Monster was reduced to the role of second banana.

In the four subsequent films, FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLF-MAN; HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN; HOUSE OF DRACULA; and ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN, the Monster was relegated to little more than “background”, in the scene but having little to do with it. GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN was, in my opinion, the Monster’s last hurrah.

That doesn’t mean that those movies were bad; they weren’t. In fact, they were good, old-fashioned, B-grade, popcorn-selling programmers; fun to watch, and fun to remember. They are the movies that inspired my love of the Universal classics, and are still the movies I turn to when feeling nostalgic for the carefree days of my youth. But it’s not the Monster’s contributions that make them so.

However, in GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN, Chaney’s able to imbue the Monster with a final spark of humanity, a last glimpse of the brilliant characterization that Karloff created in 1931. His interaction with the young girl, played by Janet Ann Gallow, easily recalls to mind the Monster’s first such encounter, along with its drastically different outcome. We can see the learning process that the Monster has undergone since little Maria’s tragic demise, and it helps restore some humanity that the Monster lost with his cold-blooded threats to Wolf Frankenstein's son Peter in SON OF FRANKENSTEIN (1939).

Now, it is fair to say that GHOST… has its share of problems. The pace is slow for a Uni-Horror, with far too much screen time devoted to exposition and character development; the casting was misguided, with Cedric Hardwicke in over his head as Victor Frankenstein, Henry’s other son. Lionel Atwill, who was wasted in the role of Dr. Bohmer, would have carried the lead splendidly had it been given to him.

Also, the story was the weakest thus far in the series. With the plot concerning replacement of the Monster’s brain, which necessitated his being immobilized for long stretches of the film, we see that the Monster has begun his transformation from lead character to stage prop. He would spend the balance of his career stretched out on slabs of one form or another, waiting for the next experiment.

But at least in GHOST… we get to see him playing an active role one last time, and with one of the greatest Horror stars ever under Jack Pierce’s make-up. While Lon Chaney Jr. wasn’t the equal of Karloff when it came to acting ability, he performed far better in the role than Bela Lugosi would in the next film, FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLF-MAN. Lugosi, who passed on the opportunity to portray the Monster for the original 1931 production, only proved that his initial decision was correct. And while Glenn Strange did better than Lugosi, it’s not as though he was asked to truly stretch his acting muscles.

I really didn’t intend for this to be a review of GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN. I’ve written that review before, and don’t really care to revisit it now. I just wanted to convey to the Crypt’s readership the bittersweet appeal of this installment in the Universal Horror franchise. While not the equal of the movies that preceded it, GHOST… does offer us a unique portrayal of Frankenstein’s Monster, a terrific performance from Lugosi as Ygor, the always gorgeous Evelyn Ankers as the daughter of Victor Frankenstein, and Lionel Atwill as the Doctor’s twistedly evil assistant, Bohmer. The plot is weak, but no more than the norm for Universal Horrors of the 1940’s, and the fine performances more than make up for any deficiencies in the story.

GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN isn’t a big favorite of mine, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate the film for its place in the Universal canon. Its importance far outweighs the quality of the movie itself, which is admittedly not Universal’s best. And for me, the most important aspect of the movie is Chaney’s performance as the Monster, the one last glimpse we get of the Monster as the Monster, rather than the caricature he would become.