In Bride of Frankenstein, Dr. Pretorius, played by the inimitable Ernest Thesiger, raises his glass and proposes a toast to Colin Clive’s Henry Frankenstein—“to a new world of Gods and Monsters.” I invite you to join me in exploring this world, focusing on horror films from the dawn of the Universal Monster movies in 1931 to the collapse of the studio system and the rise of the new Hollywood rebels in the late 1960’s. With this period as our focus, and occasional ventures beyond, we will explore this magnificent world of classic horror. So, I raise my glass to you and invite you to join me in the toast.
In the wake of the Orson Welles debacle that left RKO Pictures on the brink of financial ruin, incoming studio head Charles Koerner guided the studio in a new direction. Looking to Universal Pictures’ success with the revival of their monster movies beginning in the late 30’s, Koerner hired Val Lewton, an unimposing former story editor for the dictatorial movie mogul David O. Selznick, to run a new horror unit for the studio. Lewton was given miniscule budgets and lurid titles but challenged himself to spin this straw into cinematic gold. The new dictum at RKO may have been “showmanship, not genius,” but with his first film for the studio, Lewton delivered a supremely artistic and, yes, ingenious film. Cat People (1942) made money, though, and for Koerner and the RKO bottom line, that was what mattered most. The majority of horror films of the 1940’s were aimed primarily at kids, but the Lewton films appealed to adults as well. They were sophisticated, psychological, and suggestive fare, leaving much more to the imagination than the concurrent run of Universal horrors. As a result, the Lewton films remain among the most influential and enduring in horror history.
By the early 1940’s, Boris Karloff had grown weary of the kinds of roles he was being assigned at Universal. He had made his name playing the monster in Frankenstein (1931), a role he clearly cared deeply about, but many of the roles he was given afterward did little to stretch his artistic muscle. He left Hollywood in 1942 to originate the role of Jonathan Brewster, a man who undergoes plastic surgery that leaves him looking like Boris Karloff, in Arsenic and Old Lace on Broadway. He was lured back to Universal in 1944 for roles in The Climax and House of Frankenstein, but neither role interested him much. When RKO came calling, he was eager to be involved in the kinds of movies that Val Lewton was producing. Karloff admired Lewton’s films very much, describing them as “fabulous.”
Lewton, however, was not so eager, fearing that Karloff was not up to the task of playing the subtle and nuanced characters that populated his films. Fortunately, Karloff won the producer and two of his closest collaborators, Robert Wise and Mark Robson, over with one meeting and was signed on for Isle of the Dead in 1944. Only a few days into filming, Karloff was in excruciating pain and required surgery on his back (likely due to the taxing conditions on Frankenstein that ravaged his body and plagued him for the rest of his life), which suspended production. Meanwhile development continued on the second project Lewton had in mind for the star. Because the cast of Isle of the Dead had dispersed and could not be reassembled for some time, this film was shot between Karloff’s recovery and resumption of filming on Isle. That film turned out to be Karloff’s best collaboration with Lewton, and indeed one of his best films period, 1945’s The Body Snatcher.
The film is expanded from a short story by Robert Louis Stevenson of the same name and deals with the rather lurid but time-honored horror staple of grave-robbing. With the boom in medical research during the Enlightenment of the eighteenth century, the demand for cadavers for anatomical study increased exponentially. As a result, lecturers and students resorted to extreme measures to acquire them. The law and public at large turned a blind eye to bodysnatching and the so-called “resurrection men” for the greater good of improved public health. That is until things got out of hand. As with any new technology or scientific breakthrough, there were unforeseen and unintended consequences. The most infamous case resulting in major changes in laws and practices was that of Burke and Hare who were able to supply very fresh bodies by their nefarious means.
The Body Snatcher takes place some years after the Burke and Hare trial, which looms like a funeral pall over the entire film. The main cast is introduced within the first minutes of the film, but it takes its time revealing their character and true motivations, though their personalities are immediately on full display. Dr. McFarlane (Henry Daniell) is a stern but certainly not heartless man who runs the local medical school. He takes on Donald Fettes (Russell Wade), a medical student, as his assistant after seeing his remarkable interactions with Georgina (Sharyn Moffett), a young girl who had been paralyzed in a carriage accident. To discover how to perform the operation that will restore her ability to walk, McFarlane tells Fettes that they will need cadavers for study and asks him if he knows how to get them. Fettes responds that the bodies of paupers who have died are provided by the state. “That’s what the law stipulates,” McFarlane responds, “but there aren’t enough of them, Fettes. There aren’t enough of them.”
Which is where Karloff comes in. The role of Cabman John Gray is named by many classic horror fans as Karloff’s best performance. It is without a doubt in the top three along with the Frankenstein monster and Byron Orlok in Targets (1968). It is appropriate that the character is named Gray. He is far from a typical mustache-twirling villain, but filled with complexity, nuance, and a thousand shades of gray—most of them dark. Karloff relished the role, which is brimming with sardonic humor, shrewd intelligence, and at times sincere kindness and gentleness, particularly in his interactions with little Georgina. It is the role of a lifetime and Karloff more than rises to its challenges.
His commitment to the role was unprecedented. In the movie’s most famous moment, Karloff is not even seen. It is a sequence that could have, and in most cases, would have been performed by a double. Karloff would have none of that. According to RKO records, the actor worked late into the cold, wet night to film the scene. Also keep in mind that he had just undergone back surgery. In it, a young blind woman who sings for coins to scrape together a meager living is seen walking down the dark Edinburgh street followed by Gray’s horse-drawn cab. The sound is what makes the scene so effective. We hear the beautiful, pure voice singing. The clip clop of Gray’s white horse. The rain softly falling on the paving stones. After both singer and cab exit the frame, the horse hooves stop, and the song is cut mid-note with a stifling gulp. It is one of the most effective moments in all of Lewton, and by extension, all of classic horror.
The best scenes in the movie are what director Robert Wise referred to as the “sparring scenes” between McFarlane and Gray. They are absolute tour de forces of acting. The characters are two sides of the same coin with McFarlane’s shades of grey only slightly lighter than those of his former mentor. The best may be after McFarlane has performed the operation on Georgina, but she is still unable, or unwilling, to walk. McFarlane sees his medical abilities as almost Christlike in their healing powers. “Child, I say to you, get up out of that chair and walk,” he commands, but Georgina is unable to comply. After this, he retires to the local pub where he confides in, of all people, John Gray.
McFarlane explains that he performed the operation perfectly, setting the building blocks of her spine just right. “You can’t build life the way you put blocks together,” Gray retorts before describing the rather Frankensteinian way they used to raid the cellars and graveyards when McFarlane was a student. “Look at yourself. Could you be a doctor, a healing man with the things those eyes have seen?” McFarlane responds by saying he will have nothing more to do with Gray. But Gray knows he has the upper hand. In a later scene, Gray lays down the facts of their relationship. “I am a small man, a humble man. And being poor, I have had to do much that I did not want to do. But so long as the great Dr. McFarlane jumps at my whistle, that long am I a man. And if I have not that, I have nothing. Then I am only a cabman and a grave robber.” He concludes with the greatest truth about their Faustian arrangement that becomes a refrain throughout the remainder of the film: “you’ll never get rid of me, Toddy,” calling McFarlane by the condescending nickname he used in his youth.
The Body Snatcher would also mark the eighth and final time that Karloff would appear on screen with another classic horror icon—Bela Lugosi. The two share one, highly symbolic, scene. While Karloff’s star had only continued to rise, by 1945 Lugosi’s had dimmed drastically since their first collaboration in The Black Cat eleven years earlier. In that film, Lugosi takes the upper hand, flaying Karloff alive. Here, Lugosi as Joseph attempts to blackmail Gray, who regales Joseph with songs and stories of Burke and Hare. The scene climaxes with Gray showing Joseph “how they did it” and casually stroking a cat after the deed is done.
Lugosi was understandably nervous about this scene. He had been hired as a featured player for some extra publicity while the whole film had been built around his old rival. According to Robert Wise, however, Karloff did everything he could to help Lugosi feel more comfortable, offering kindness and encouragement. The scene is absolutely electric, with both actors giving performances that stand among their best. Much has been speculated about the rivalry between Lugosi and Karloff, but according to their respective children, neither ever spoke a bad word against the other, at least not to them. Karloff himself was often asked about Lugosi, who tragically died in relative obscurity a decade later. He usually answered with pity in his eyes and the words, “poor Bela.”
The film climaxes with touches of Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart.” By this time, the similarities between McFarlane and Gray, and the possibility of Fettes following down the same dark path, have become painfully apparent. As McFarlane and Fettes venture out and steal a body from a fresh grave, McFarlane begins to hear Gray’s voice in his fevered and guilt-ridden mind chanting “never get rid of me, never get rid of me” to the rhythm of the horse’s galloping hooves. The power of The Body Snatcher is in its exploration of intention and morality and the gray space between them. Pure motives do not always equate to pure actions and vice versa. The complexities of its questions of morality are not fully answered in the film, forcing the viewer to examine and struggle with them long after the screen fades to black.
In recent years, the Lewton films have experienced a revival, including beautiful new restorations and transfers from Warner Archive, Scream Factory, and even Criterion. A selection of the films is also currently available to stream on Shudder, ripe for discovery to a new generation of horror fans. “I would recommend The Body Snatcher to any movie viewer without any reservation,” said film historian Gregory William Mank, “I think it is the greatest horror film of the 1940’s.” After multiple viewings of the film, I find it difficult to argue with this assessment. Its themes, memorable performances, fantastic writing and directing, and trademark Lewton atmosphere make it a stunning and enduring film. One that I know we will never, and should never, be rid of.
source https://bloody-disgusting.com/editorials/3661812/youll-never-get-rid-val-lewton-boris-karloff-body-snatcher-gods-monsters/
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