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.
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