Horror on Film, part 3: A New Horror Icon

There are few famous people I revere as much as the late, great Vincent Price. Mr. Price was more than just an actor. He was an art collector, a great cook, iconic personality and philanthropist. His voice is as famous as his distinctive face (nice portrait on deviantart.com.). Of the famous people, living and dead, I would choose to meet, Vincent Price would be in the top five. A cursory glance at Vincent Price's resume on IMDB.com indicates that Mr. Price participated in 185 films and television series, voice or otherwise, over a period of more than fifty years. He became famous for portraying villainous characters, particular in horror films. Price could be sinister, deft and swank, often at the same moment.

Mr. Price began his career as an actor in 1938. It was in Laura (1944) that he began attracting the attention of filmmakers. By this point, however, Price had already forayed into horror with Tower of London (1939), The Invisible Man Returns (1940) and House of the Seven Gables (1940).  Mr. Price would spend the rest of the forties playing mostly in film noirs (another genre your host passionately loves).

In the 1950's, Vincent Price became the horror icon he is known as today. His first signature role in a horror film came in 1953, when the played the lead in House of Wax. The film, according to wikipedia, was the first 3-D film to crack the year's top ten in the North American box office. That aside, House of Wax is an exceptional film, one of my favorites, and stands up well today. Price plays a gentle wax museum curator, who, after his partner double crosses him, delivering horrific burns, turns to the evil--and decides to create wax exhibits of a different kind.

Later in the decade, Price played in The Fly (1958) and House on Haunted Hill (1959), both excellent horror films which would be remade decades after the originals. His role in Haunted Hill is particularly notable, as he plays an amiable and eccentric millionaire with a cavalier attitude toward others.

In the 1960's, Price did a lot of work with producer/director Roger Corman, starring in a number of films based on the work of Edgar Allen Poe:  House of Usher (1960), The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), Tales of Terror (1962), The Comedy of Terrors (1963) The Raven (1963), The Masque of the Red Death (1964) andThe Tomb of Ligeia (1965). All are excellent films, well worth seeing. I particularly like Usher, Raven and Comedy of Terror, the latter the black comedy pairing of Price and Peter Lorre.

In 1964, Price played the lead in The Last Man on Earth, which is based on Richard Matheson's influential novel, "I Am Legend." This film is notable for a number of reasons. For one thing, Price stepped out of his comfort zone and played the hero. Secondly, Legend was a huge influence for George Romero's Night of the Living Dead (1968)--as was Last Man on Earth.

In 1968, Price played one of my favorite roles of his, as the lead in Witchfinder General. Though Price was always charismatic on screen, even in villainous roles--I thank you, Mr. Price, for my deep admiration for villains--the character he portrays in Witchfinder is one of the nastiest I've ever seen on film. There is just nothing redeeming about him, which I still think is great (we can't sympathize with all villains). It also shows a lot of range to portray a person so deeply cold and nasty (no doubt the concordant opposite to Vincent Price's true nature). Witchfinder, for its time, ruffled a lot of feathers.

The seventies saw two more of his great, villainous roles in The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) and The Theater of Blood (1973). Both are fun, creative horror films, the former about a man, scarred by an accident, who takes revenge on the doctors he blames for his wife's death. In Theater, Price plays a shunned stage actor who takes revenge on his critics. Horror having dried up in the seventies, Price shifted his focus to television, radio and the stage.

In 1982, Price did a voice part in Michael Jackson's Thriller. A year later, he starred with Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing and John Carradine in House of the Long Shadows. It was the first time all four horror legends had appeared together in the same film (Price had worked with each of the men separately in the past). By 1992, Price's failing health, the result of smoking and Parkinson's disease, restricted his role in Edward Scissorhands to a minor part (definitely not director Tim Burton's original intention). In 1993, Vincent Price died of lung cancer.

Price was a graduate of Yale, a major in art history. He was an art collector over the years, and contributed a number of works to a college in California. He was also a gourmet chef, authoring several cookbooks.

Above all, Price was a legend in horror. He transcended horror, and in the sixties and seventies, became a true celebrity. Has there ever been, or will there ever be a more poignant presence in the horror genre? Probably not. A lot of greats have come and gone, but Price accomplished more in his career than anyone else in the history of horror film. Really, you should see every film mentioned. If you haven't already.

Horror on Film, part 2: Monsters Resurrected, new legends are born

Before we continue to the next display, allow me to tie up some loose ends. How are those chicken wings, young one? Mum, may I refill her cranberry punch? No, well, understood. We wouldn't want those lovely fangs to decay.

Universal wasn't the only studio enjoying the early horror craze. Tod Browning, who directed Dracula, also directed two notable non-Universal films in this period: Freaks (1932) and The Devil-Doll (1936). Let me tell, you dearie, if you haven't seen Mr. Browning's Freaks, do yourself a favor and get to that one as quickly as possible. Freaks was especially shocking for its time, featuring real carnival freaks in the cast, and the ending packs one hell of an impact--especially the first time you've seen it. The Devil-Doll is a hell of a lot of fun, and probably an influential film for the sci-fi craze in the 1950's.

The excellent Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933), which would be remade in the 1950's with horror icon Vincent Price in the lead role (more on that later).

I'll also mention a few others from the 1930's. Paramount's exceptional Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with an astounding performance by Fredric March in a dual role. Jekyll and Hyde, to this day--and not just the films but the novel as well--is an astounding commentary on the duality of the human creature.

In the 1940's, Val Lewton produced a series of low-budget horror films for RKO pictures, the most notable of which were Cat People (1942), I Walked With a Zombie (1943) and The Seventh Victim (1943). Oh, Seventh Victim, how many ways I do love thee. But, I digress. The named film, like the excellent Black Cat (1932), had a noirish atmosphere to it, and felt almost a precursor to Rosemary's Baby.

The Ghoul (1933), a vehicle for Englishman Boris Karloff, is regarded as England's first speaking horror film--and the first to receive the dreaded H-rating from Britain's film rating system. "H" meant horrific; horror, in the mind of Brits, oughtn't to be too horrific, and The Ghoul apparently was. In 1945, England produced the excellent horror anthology, Dead of Night. Each of the stories is quite good, as is the clever central narration, but the last segment, about a wooden dummy with a life of its own, is worth the price of admission. Dead of Night is another of my personal favorites. I shall have to get around to listing them on the blog one of these days. What do you mean, young one, haven't been taking notes?

By the 1950's, Britain's Hammer Studios had become a huge staple in the horror genre. The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) established the traditions of Hammer studios: lush color, deliciously gothic atmosphere and blood like no other studio had shown before. Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, in the roles as doctor and his monster, respectively, would become horror legends. A year later, Hammer would release Dracula (also known in U.S. as The Horror of Dracula, and almost universally now as Hammer's Dracula). Lee played the count not as a charming human with a dark side, but as a monster--and you get the feeling from watching Lee's performance that the human side of the count, what little there is, is just a pretense. Lee's Dracula was all about primordial savagery.

Step this way, folks. Let's move to our next exhibit: another horror film legend.

Horror on Film, part 1: the classics

Welcome. Come inside. Stand beside the fire and warm yourself. Go into the adjacent room if you'd like a refreshment. This, my friends, is the virtual museum of horror films. There are no pictures to be found, no theatrical posters. Only you and me and your imagination. If you have one. If I've written well enough to encourage you to be imaginative. Well, before I destroy the grand illusion, step inside. Don't be afraid. Have a drink if you'd like. And when you're down, we'll take a walk. Our first exhibit, this curtain and cobweb infested corner with a blazing hearth, is dedicated to classic horror films.

Long before Hitchcock's Psycho happened along--let alone The Exorcist, Carpenter's Halloween, or the Saw series, heaven help us--there were classic films that established roots in the genre. The earliest of these were the German Expressionist films such as The Golem and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.

Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) deserves special notice, IMO, because it was a groundbreaking film. A silent classic, Caligari established a tone of surreal horror and perhaps the first twist ending recorded on film. Caligari predates sound on film. I know, I know. You hate silent films. They're boring. Well, I'm proud to inform you that Caligari isn't boring. It clocks in at just over an hour, and is an exercise in surreal horror. Caligari himself is a doctor who arrives at a local fair and applies for a permit to put on his own exhibit: a somnambulist he controls. That somnambulist, I tell you, is one of the creepiest critters, human or otherwise, I've ever seen on film. In addition to his terminal sleep, the somnambulist can wake by command of Caligari and predict the future. If you think his predictions are ominous, then you've hit the nail on the head.

The sets for Caligari, designed by artists and looking nothing like reality, help to paint an atmosphere of dread. Caligari is the closest thing to a nightmare I've ever seen on film. Reality ends long before the opening credits roll.

A history of horror wouldn't be complete, though, if we didn't also mention Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, released the same year, 1920, as the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. This was the film film version of the Robert Louis Stevenson Classic, and a Tour de Force for actor John Barrymore, who didn't have the benefit of sound to augment his performance. Both the Barrymore and Frederic March version (1931) are excellent, and you should see both. Unquestionably.

As the Germans were spinning their surreal, expressionist tales, the horror film had established itself in the United States in 1923, with The Hunchback of Notre Dame, starring pioneering makeup/performance artist Lon Chaney in the title role. Hunchback was so popular that in 1925, Chaney was given another title role, that of The Phantom of the Opera. Phantom, like Caligari, is one of my favorite horror films. Just a stunning work of genius. Another gem from this period is The Man Who Laughs (1928), especially notable for the lead performance by Conrad Veidt.

Universal, the studio behind these three American films, wouldn't really get its wheels fully turning until the 1930's. Universal featured classic monsters, and actors who quickly became staples in the horror genre: Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff. Lon Chaney, unfortunately, died in 1930. Universal made some notable films in this period, including Dracula and Frankenstein, both released in 1931. My favorite Universal films from this period:

• The Old, Dark House (1932)
• The Black Cat (1934)
• The Raven (1935)
• Bride of Frankenstein (1935)
• Dracula's Daughter (1936)

The Black Cat was directed by Edgar Ulmer, who did the expressionist set designs for The Golem, Fritz Lang's outstanding Metropolis (more sci-fi than horror, though) and M (1931), an early vehicle for Peter Lorre, playing a madman of the worst kind. Black Cat has a decidedly different atmosphere from most other Universal films of the period. Its noirish in its texture, and the story itself is an unusual and sublime vehicle for both Karloff and Lugosi.

By the 1940's, Universal were turning out sequels and remakes. 1941 also saw the highly regarded Wolf Man, featuring Lon Chaney, Jr. in the title role. My favorite Universal films from this period are The Wolf Man (1941) and--believe it or not--the excellent comedy, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948), which featured Lugosi as Dracula and Chaney, Jr. as the Wolf Man. Glenn Strange as Frankenstein's Monster (Okay, I have to say this. If you've been calling this creature "Frankenstein"--and you know who you are--then you've been doing it all wrong. Frankenstein, you see, was the doctor. His creation was Frankenstein's Monster. So, writer's, if you use the Frankenstein anology, do it correctly, please. Don't write they've created a Frankenstein. No. They've created a Frankenstein's Monster. End rant. So, if you tell me you're coming to my house dressed like "Frankenstein", I'll expect you to look like a mad scientist. You should not have bolts in your neck. Have I made my point yet?).

The 1950's, called a revival for Universal, featured Abbott and Costello in three different monster films, and it also produced the excellent Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954) and it's not-so-excellent sequels. By this time, however, two things had happened. England's Hammer Studios began releasing its own versions of the monster films--Dracula, the mummy and Frankenstein's monster (yes, those films are about the creature. The doctor is cool as well, but everyone just wanted to see the creature). And in the U.S., everyone was drunk on the notion of oversized bugs and alien invaders. The 1950's become the sci-fi, drive-in era.

So, that concludes the first part of our tour. Have some more refreshments. Cranberry juice and chicken wings. Has anyone tried the wings? Oh, go ahead, they're only meant to appear as severed human fingers. They're really chicken wings. I promise.