Universal Appeal
How many of the Universal Horror films on Criterion Channel's series should you watch? (All of them.)
I’m a sucker for horror films made from the 1930s to 1950s, almost to the point where my fondness overrides my capacity to critique. While there are different players in that period who made important contributions, few can match the influence and enduring appeal of Universal Pictures’ output from this period.
This month, Criterion Channel seems to have plucked one of their main horror programs straight from my heart and put it up for us all to stream: At the start of the month, they released their slate of Universal-produced horror classics. From the critically beloved Spanish language version of Dracula through Creature from the Black Lagoon, you can enjoy a sample of films that embody the style and quality of the studio’s releases. I could quibble with what was ultimately shared: I think Frankenstein is unfairly overlooked thanks to the higher regard people have for its sequel, and it would have been nice to see at least one of the films from the era where multiple fiends were crammed into a single plot.
Still, I may be willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to bog this newsletter down with detailed descriptions of its molars. In other words, the roster of films is good, and it’s more important for you to watch what’s there than hear me grouse about what could have been included.
This week’s newsletter is going to do a Cronenbergian fusion of our ritual Halloween screening recommendations and “official” post. I’ll give a quick summation of the films included in the Criterion Channel lineup, and offer a brief appeal for you to fire it up at some point between now and Halloween.
(Note: Most of these films are also available to stream on Peacock, which has access to the Universal library but is maddeningly stingy with it; all of its classic horror films were available when the platform launched, but they were removed shortly after. They’re back now, though, and I’m certainly not worried that they’ll all go away again on November 1!)
Dracula (Spanish language version)
Long regarded as superior to its English language counterpart, George Melford’s Spanish language Dracula is a more complete film, and often the more stylish. Its provenance could use some explaining if you’re unfamiliar with its existence: In the silent film era, films could easily be shown in different parts of the world, as translation was a non-issue. The introduction of audible dialogue obviously changed this, demanding a solution that could pull in international dollars. Before dubbing and subtitling were the norm, studios would sometimes bring in a different set of actors and crew members to make another version of a film in a different language. Producer Paul Kohner lobbied to have a version of Dracula made that would be salable to different markets where Spanish was spoken, and the team assembled pushed themselves to one-up the American release.
The Dracula you’ll find on the Criterion Channel adds approximately thirty minutes to the English version’s runtime, which it uses to fix issues with clipped scenes and an overall rushed quality. It also takes more care to coax out characters’ personalities and even finds a visual flair that Tod Browning’s effort lacked. It’s the version of the film you would expect to kick off the early horror renaissance. As it stands, it’s an appealing early alternative to the deathless story of Count Dracula, one we’re lucky enough to have seen preserved.
The Mummy
Director Karl Freund was also the cinematographer on Dracula, and he’s adept at taking what worked stylistically in that film and adding even more style. While his work as Imhotep may be less known today than his turn as Frankenstein’s monster, Boris Karloff has the opportunity to revel in this monster’s cunning, sinister qualities, and he makes the most of it.
Both this film and Dracula share similarly short runtimes, and turn their stories about the arrival of an ancient evil in pursuit of an innocent woman, this one tied to its monster by a long-ago past life. However, this one boasts a tighter construction, an imperiled damsel with more personality and agency, and elaborately staged flashbacks to ancient Egypt. It is also, as you can safely assume, less than gracious in how it depicts the people and culture. Marvel at the technical and visual prowess, but take in the sobering reminder of the crude insensitivity of the past.
The Invisible Man
James Whale introduced Frankenstein’s monster as well as H.G. Wells’ iconic see-through fiend. Claude Rains lends his voice to the role of Dr. Jack Griffin, a brilliant but arrogant scientist whose breakthrough obscures his body but turns him toward megalomania.
Whale had a gift for black and white horror that might be untouchable. It’s safe to assume any horror film he helmed will be replete with stylish shots you’ll wish people would steal to this day. Of course, the film also benefits from Rains’ distinct voice, one that can purr with intelligence and growl with an ugly, icy rage. Griffin’s descent into villainy moves at quick speed, but the man’s cunning helps him keep his footing as he terrorizes England.
The Black Cat
Historically significant for being the first pairing of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. History-minded as a story that calls upon the real-life horrors of the first World War (the only World War at the time, though we know now that the pieces were in motion by this point to make that untrue).
Released in 1934, near the end of the period when the stricter strictures of the Hays Code could be side-stepped with ease, The Black Cat grafts a story of satanic worship onto a tale of a morbid grudge between two survivors of a long and bloody conflict. Lugosi depicts a prisoner of war finally free and ready for revenge, while Karloff (billed only as “Karloff”) is a wealthy architect who has built an elaborate manor atop the battlefield where most of their former allies perished.
Beyond being the first showdown between two of the biggest stars of horror’s still-nascent sound era, The Black Cat is impressive for how it manages to juggle some of the sillier elements of classic horror (an evil laboratory complete with a self-destruct mechanism) with truly dark subject matter. Before the formal introduction of the occult, horror is revealed through atmosphere and glimpses into the tortured minds of our main characters.
Bride of Frankenstein
While George Melford’s Dracula feels like a correction to a promising but flawed version of the English language alternative, James Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein manages to surpass an original that is also great. It would be a big loss to let Frankenstein fall by the wayside, but it’s hard to dispute the leap forward in quality Bride of Frankenstein represents. It’s ambitious with its monster, acidly funny, and, again, a delight for its style.
The sequel adds more than just a would-be bride for the poor, reanimated wretch at the center of the story. We also meet Dr. Pretorious, who helped form Dr. Henry Frankenstein’s morbid ambitions. Pretorious is a delightfully amoral figure with none of Frankenstein’s civility or sense of shame at what they both attempt in their laboratories. He’s also wickedly funny, a man who happily shrugs at his offenses and relentlessly insinuates himself into the happy life of his old friend. If nothing else, this character and film should inspire you to repeat the phrase, “It’s my only vice” any time you enjoy a little indulgence. I do it, and I can say with confidence it never gets old to other people. It’s probably just a coincidence that I’m invited out to progressively fewer nights out for drinks with friends.
The Raven
If I’m being honest, my initial viewing of this film left me somewhat cold, almost enough to keep it off the list. So what’s it doing here? For starters, I’m a completist; it’s my only vice. I also included it because a rewatch brought me around to its conceit, and to the pleasures of watching another showdown between Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff, this one giving Lugosi more power and certainly a wickeder disposition.
Having rewatched it, the film...largely fit my recollection. But in that consistency, I did come around to enjoy it as a fun, indulgent Poe pastiche with a comically evil turn from Bela Lugosi as a narcissistic doctor preoccupied with Edgar Allen Poe and taking revenge for being denied his access to the young woman he fancies. There’s a lightness to the proceedings, but that doesn’t gloss over some of its grislier elements, such as the disfigurement of Boris Karloff’s character to force him into subservience to Lugosi. We also get an early example of the “walls closing in” torture device, which remains (I assume) a staple in the genre of torture rooms.
The Wolf Man
Poor, horny Larry Talbot. The younger son of Sir John Talbot (played by Claude Rains), Larry returns to his former home after the loss of his older brother, the one who was meant to inherit the power and title of his father a thoroughly Americanized regular joe, the kind of guy who’s good with his hands and chummy to a fault, but not predisposed to the kind of airs his family name would insist upon.
Lead actor Lon Chaney, Jr. had his own paternal thumb to wrestle under; like his character, Chaney, Jr. was widely known for being his father’s son. The actor’s father just happened to be Lon Chaney, one of the first horror icons and still heralded for his creative makeup designs in his many films. The unease he depicts in the film doesn’t drive the story explicitly, but it helps mark him as an outsider, one uncomfortable with his place.
Few characters are as easy to feel sorry for as Larry Talbot, a man in over his head in every regard and incapable of seeing any path past the one he dumbly walks down. Drawn to the engaged daughter of a local shopkeeper, Talbot’s first night out in his old home ends with a werewolf encounter, one that marks him with a terrible curse. The man is, frankly, an oaf, one whose dick leads him into a fateful encounter that starts his trouble, and whose demeanor is, if not bestial to begin with, certainly unrefined. His baffled, vacant eyes and general air of helplessness between turns as the vicious wolf creature makes it painfully clear he’s both incapable of escaping or fully understanding his plight. You just can’t help but root for the guy to turn things around even as there is every reason to believe he won’t.
Creature from the Black Lagoon
I’m seeing this film for the first time in theaters and in 3D after this newsletter goes out! Which is an exciting development! However, it feels like a wasted opportunity to talk about the film before I see it in this more appropriate format, so look out for a short bonus newsletter Monday for my reaction/pitch for you to watch it in its more convenient streaming platform.