Director James Whale used
expressive cinematography, Karloff’s gift for pantomime, and an original
approach to fight sequences to inspire a lasting, haunting sense of fear.
Jon Hogan
Boris Karloff and Gloria
Stuart in The Old Dark House (all images courtesy Cohen Film Collection)
With its “Universal
Monsters” series dedicated to the likes of Dracula, the Wolf Man, the Mummy,
and others, Universal Studios relied on the mechanics of the studio system —
combining popular actors, directors, writers, and other creative personnel
under contract — to carve out its own horror niche from the 1920s through the
’50s. Director James Whale and actor Boris Karloff comprised one of the most
noteworthy teams, with three films that are now deemed fright classics. Although
their first and most famous collaboration, 1931’s Frankenstein, established
hallmarks of the nascent horror genre, their second feature, The Old Dark House
(1932), which screened at Quad Cinema and will soon be released on DVD, adds
polish to many of the same visual and thematic tropes, codifying them in the
horror canon.
Melvyn Douglas, Lillian
Bond, Gloria Stuart, Raymond Massey, Boris Karloff, Charles Laughton, and Eva
Moore, in a still from The Old Dark House
The London-born Karloff is
a key element of these films’ appeal. In his work with Universal the actor
became typecast as a silent, hulking brute, despite his rather average height
of 5’11”. As the nameless monster in Frankenstein, he is a childlike force of
destruction, unaware of his own strength in a way that immediately endangers
everyone around him. When the monster is first revealed, close-ups on his face
— brow prominent and expression vacant —indicate his fundamental distance from
anything recognizably human, presaging the inhuman havoc he will wreck on a
small European village.
Boris Karloff in
Frankenstein
Similarly, Morgan,
Karloff’s House persona, is a mute, scarred butler who is revealed to the
audience in the concealing sliver of an open door. Soon after meeting the
character, his employers (Ernest Thesiger and Eva Moore) lament his penchant
for drunken wildness. The Karloff characters in both films establish a link
between deformity and evil, a trope that extends to modern horror icons from
Freddy Krueger to the Babadook. Both films are under 80 minutes in runtime, so
this shorthand — along with Karloff’s gift for pantomime — works effectively in
establishing antagonists as soon as possible.
Each film’s tone is
likewise established wordlessly through the broad expanse of Whale’s frame. The
set design is elaborate and both films favor long shots, showing this scenery
in full detail. By pulling the camera as far back as possible, the viewer is
treated to intricate images of protagonists’ homes, full of opulent chandeliers
dangling from high ceilings and encased in gilded moulding. In wide exterior
shots dark, foreboding houses sit atop mountains as rain pours down. Inside
these houses, painted backgrounds portray depth through vanishing points and
offer a distorted backdrop that calls to mind the previous decade’s German
Expressionism. Whale lulls viewers into a false sense of security by immersing
them in upper-crust luxury, then horrifies by dragging them into the depravity
of monsters and madmen. Jarring shifts in ambience elicit an unease that can
still terrify at a time when the genre defaults to gore for its shocks.
The shadows woven into the
scenery of Frankenstein and House provide a master class in how to employ light
and darkness in a horror film. The film’s ample sets provide a vast canvas for
casting shadows, and Whale takes full advantage, using the light of the moon
and bright, amorphous fire to create mirror images of figures. In a scene where
Dr. Frankenstein’s hunchbacked assistant Fritz (Dwight Frye) goes to answer
their castle’s front door, a perfect silhouette of his body and the lantern he
holds is cast on the wall. The line of the image is sharp, making this phantom
even more threateningly close to a living being. The complex, expressive
shadows blanketing the heroes and their environments augment the constant sense
that something can go horribly wrong for our protagonists at any moment.
While both films provide
prototypes for future horror films, Whale’s growth as a filmmaker makes House
the more powerful of the two. In particular, his visual storytelling becomes
more exciting when shooting physical combat involving Karloff. In Frankenstein,
a multi-person brawl with the monster is portrayed in a single wide shot,
depriving the audience of the detail and nuance that would make them gasp and
swoon with each blow. Fight scenes in House become a living, breathing,
essential part of the film’s ability to terrify, which remains undiluted today.
https://hyperallergic.com/406319/the-spooky-masterful-film-boris-karloff-starred-in-after-frankenstein/?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=In%20Chris%20Ofilis%20Latest%20Self-Denial%20and%20the%20Fantasy%20of%20Paradise&utm_content=In%20Chris%20Ofilis%20Latest%20Self-Denial%20and%20the%20Fantasy%20of%20Paradise+CID_bdcbe87609c38586df756c368ac485a3&utm_source=HyperallergicNewsletter
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