DRACULA is the "weirdest story in the world" (1931)

"Dracula Is Called Most Weird Story"
Bran Stoker's Famous Mystery Story Comes To Screen At Huron Tomorrow
 The Evening Huronite, April 13, 1931


"The weirdest story in the world" has been dramatized on the talking screen.  The story in question is Bram Stoker's immortal and nerve-tingling novel of a deathless vampire, entitled "Dracula." So if you plan to go to the Huron theatre during the week of Sunday, Monday or Tuesday prepare yourself for a truly different and exciting evening's entertainment.

Of course, if you've read "Dracula" there is no need to tell you more. All the king's horses and all the king's men won't be able to keep you from seeing the picture. And if you've never heard of "Dracula" you owe it to yourself to see this uncanny dramatization of Bram Stoker's justly famous novel. For "Dracula" is a mystery story unlike any other you have ever seen. And meeting "Dracula" for the first time is an experience in theatre-going you will long remember.

Without telling you too much, suffice to say that "Dracula" is a story of a vampire man, dead more than five hundred years, who comes to life between the hours of sunset and sunrise, stalking the earth to search out young and beautiful victims. Sometimes he comes to life in the form of a wolf, other times as a soft, choking, mysterious mist, wreaking his strange vengeance on all those who cross his path". This combat of deathless forces, as you may well imagine, makes for gripping, fantastic, awe inspiring drama that arouses and maintains intense interest from beginning to end.

The role of the vampire. Count Dracula, is played with remarkable skill by Bela Lugosi, noted actor of the legitimate stage, who originally created this role in the highly successful stage version of Stoker's "Dracula." Sinister, evil and terrifying to look upon, Lugosi's Dracula is a high mark in unusual and fantastic characterization. David Manners portrays the role of the young boy who desperately attempts to save his finance from the influence of Dracula; and Dwight Frye is convincing as the lawyer who fails under the spell of the deathless vampire.

Others in the cast include Helen Chandler, in a fine role, Edward Van Sloan, a member of the stage cast, Frances Dade, Joan Standing and Herbert Bunston. "Dracula" was directed by Tow Browning, remembered for many of Lon Chaney's
successes.

Bela Lugosi in THE THIRTEENTH CHAIR (1929)

"Weird effects in mystery talker"
The Chronicle Telegram
Nov. 13, 1929

Microphones that follow actors through doors, and cameras that that whirl over their heads in fantastic arabesques furnish the uncanny effects in the strangest drama of the year. Tod Browning's talking film production of "THE THIRTEENTH CHAIR." which comes tomorrow to the Capitol Theatre.

With Margaret Wycherly in the role she created in the stage play, and Bela Lugosi, creator of the role of "Dracula," as the uncanny detective, the creepy, gripping drama of the stage was filmed with many effects impossible before the footlights.

The uncanny seance is sensational denoucement and the details of the strange murder plot in Mysterious India, are all produced with strange light effects, sinister shadows and other remarkable detail.

KING KONG goes "beyond the realms of practical adventure," 1933 interview with Merian C. Cooper

"News And Gossip From Hollywood;
Where Apes Grow 40 Feet Tall"
The Loredo Times, Feb. 5, 1933


By DAN THOMAS
NEA Service Writer

HOLLYWOOD, Feb. Dreams seldom become realities — but they often become motion pictures.

There are, for instance, the absurdities of a Marx brothers' film; the almost inescapable happy endings of romances.

Then there are such films as "Just Imagine," made a couple of years ago, based on nothing but a rampant
imagination. In this category, we are about to be handed "King Kong," purely a dream picture if there ever was one. "King Kong" is the result of the dream of an adventurer now so shackled to his desk that his haz­ardous expeditions can take place only in his mind.

For years Merian C. Cooper wan­dered over the globe in search of adventure Many of his roamings have brought him financial rewards with such pictures as "Grass" and "Chang," which he made in con­junction with Ernest B. Schoedsack. Now Cooper is a film executive and an official in four of the nation's big air lines as well. Hence, his wan­derings are confined pretty much within the four walls of his office.

But, that doesn't stop him from dreaming—although now he must dream of tilings which will return a profit. Naturally his mind turns to, travel and adventure. But, there isn't much left in those fields for new screen entertainment. So he had to go further.

"I decided to go beyond the realms of practical adventure," Cooper told me. "I conceived a story basis which at one time or another challenges the imaginations of all adventurers. We who have seen the last remnants of a prehistoric age often have won­dered what would happen if some  thunderous reversal of nature made possible the rebirth of ancient ani­mals.

"Of course, this couldn't, happen. But isn't it an intriguing idea? At least, it's out of the ordinary run of things. And after all, moton pic­tures must possess novelty if they are to be interesting."

And so a year ago the idea for "King Kong," the most novel and imaginative of all films, was born. It has been under production six months. The picture is based on the supposition that somewhere there is an island inhabited by prehistoric animals.

One of them, a huge 40-foot ape, is brought, to New York for exhibition purposes. Crazed by the sight of a fragile, white-skinned woman, he breaks loose and runs amuck on crowded Broadway in search of her. He finds her and carries her to the top of the. Empire State Building. There he makes his last stand against a squadron of army pursuit planes which finally kill him.

PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE

Yeah, PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE. I know, I know … it’s a wretched piece of film by anyone’s standards, and this is supposed to be a website dedicated to “classic” horror and science fiction movies. I’m not here to sway you into believing it’s a better movie than it is, and I’ve got no authoritative insight into the movie’s troubled history, either.

This is a confession.

Despite my better instincts, I love PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE. There are few films I’ve seen more than Edward D. Wood’s magnum opus, even though logic demands the hours I’ve wasted with this movie were probably better spent doing anything else. My love for PLAN 9 is my least malignant character flaw, so there’s been no sense of urgency to be rid of it. If we were talking about a methamphetamine addiction, there would be physical and social pressures on me to change my ways. A meth habit might even be preferable, because junkies are sometimes forced into social interaction with people of similar interests. For better or worse, a drug habit is a very real, very physical experience, while my love for PLAN 9 usually leaves me naval gazing in a darkened room.

But that’s not to discount the transcendental nature of watching a terrible movie. And by "terrible movie," I don’t mean the slick, expensive commercial products made by guys like Michael Bay. Those kinds of films get put through so many corporate filters that it’s impossible for them to hit theaters without some semblance of competent storytelling, and it's hard to think of them as "film" as much as feature-length commercials for tie-in products. They might suck, but the competence and craftsmanship on display are undeniably impressive.

The same can’t be said for an Ed Wood film. As much as I love the Tim Burton’s film about "the world’s worst filmmaker,” it’s almost entirely a work of fiction. Wood might have wanted to make movies, but he wasn’t some wide-eyed ANDY HARDY character innocently pursuing his dream. Wood was a hustler that naturally gravitated to a level of filmmaking that tolerated his misguided sense of aesthetics. His distributors didn’t care about the quality of his films as long as they came in on budget and were edited to a manageable running time. They were B-movie filler and existed only to fool ticket buyers into thinking they were getting more for their money.

Because he was left more-or-less unattended, Wood’s movies feel like Id run wild (at least, as wild as budgets and prudish standards of the times would allow.) Wood’s movies are the product of a juvenile imagination, but this imagination charges his stories with the kind of energy that makes up for the nonsense he tried to pass off as “scripts.” Say what you want about Wood’s movies, but they’re not boring.

More to the point, his movies are terrible in a way that’s impossible to replicate. Any filmmaker is capable of making a great movie. The people who directed POINT BREAK, NATURAL BORN KILLERS and EVERY WHICH WAY BUT LOOSE have all made legitimately great movies at some point in their careers, and have even won Academy awards for their work. Making movies is hard, but talent will occasionally prevail.

But nobody can fake the kind of anti-genius of Ed Wood, though.  It’s a natural gift that is probably inversely aggravated by how much talent and money you throw at it. Give Ed Wood $100 million budget and you’ll STILL get something that feels like PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE. The on-set chemistry that produces gloriously bad movies simply can’t be faked. When filmmakers have tried (DEATH PROOF, THE LOST SKELETON OF CADABRA, etc.) they have a phony, saccharine flavor to them.

All of this would be harmless fun if not for PLAN 9's disgraceful pedigree. I think most of us would laugh comfortably at the film if not for the presence of BELA LUGOSI.  Wood's decision to exploit Lugosi's corpse one final time is a cautionary tale of Hollywood's unforgiving nature. Lugosi began his film career with DRACULA, a movie so popular that it's still being discussed today. That career ended, though, with a 79-minute bit of celluloid filler with all the artistic merit of bubble wrap.

Even though Wood's films were made for no other reason than to pad out a double bill, there’s still something innocent about them. Bubbling under the surface of Wood’s movies is a very distinct imagination that tries to pair horror and science fiction in a way reminiscent of James Whale, but the ideas are half baked (to be generous.) The actors seem like they give a shit, and the whole product feels more like an actual movie to me than something like TRANSFORMERS 2 or Burton's DARK SHADOWS.

That’s why I frequently return to PLAN 9. For better or worse, it’s a genuine movie experience.

Building a CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON dive suit

Michael Burke is building a working dive suit based on the CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON monster. Don't take out a loan to buy the thing just yet, though. He explains, in an interview with Gores Truly, that there are a number of legal obstacles to be cleared before such a suit could be made available to the public. Honestly, unless he was marketing this thing strictly as a drowning aid, it's unlikely he'll ever be allowed to sell such a contraption.

"I doubt anyone would sell me a product liability insurance policy for this." Burke says. "The reality is, this suit will increase the risk of injury to anyone using it while scuba diving. All the waivers and training in the world couldn’t protect me from being sued for damages if someone is injured or killed. Right now I am primarily building this for me (Personal use) and display at the shop."

Still, bully for him for taking up such an endeavor. This is truly next-level cosplay.

THE MORGUE: DRACULA opens in Cumberland, Md. (1931)

From the June 10, 1931, issue of The Cumberland Evening Times

The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (1933)

Fritz Lang's THE TESTAMENT OF DOCTOR MABUSE is a confounding film. It's thoroughly satisfying, even though its resolution resolves nothing. It provides the thrills and chills found in pulp fiction of the era, though it lacks the formulaic story structure (and quaint moralizing) of those tales. It's a mystery, of sorts, that is never adequately explained, and it's an adventure without traditional protagonists. Though the movie has its share of heroic figures, none of them accomplish anything more profound than saving their own necks.

I have to wonder what Lang hoped to accomplish with this story. It's a fascinating bit of film that can be as subtle as it is heavy handed. Despite the care and planning that went into constructing every scene in the film, one of its best moments happens to be one of its shortest: Professor Baum, played by Hungarian actor Oscar Beregi Sr., walks past a wall that's been covered in posters soliciting information for unsolved murders. Are they the work of the crime cult organized by Doctor Mabuse? Is Baum really the man pulling the strings of the cult? And, if so, is he even aware of it? Baum doesn't even spare a glance at the pageantry of death as he walks by the posters, which makes the scene all the more chilling.

As the movie begins, it's been a decade since Doctor Mabuse was arrested following string of violent, bizarre crimes. A resident of an insane asylum, Mabuse has kept himself busy despite his catatonia. Even though his mind is gone, his hand continues to write. When a pen is placed in his hand, it scrawls plans for murder, robbery, arson and blackmail. Those plans gradually find their way to the outside world where a new "Reign of Crime" begins.

The trail to Mabuse leads to an endless series of curtains, cutouts and brick walls. Mabuse, who becomes the prime suspect in the crime, promptly dies, all while a handful of seemingly unrelated crimes continue to point in his direction. Mabuse (whose name is rarely spoken aloud by his many followers) is treated with the sort of reverence usually reserved for gods. Even his henchmen engage in almost-theological discussions about their employer and his mysterious methods. And those who try to prove his existence are met with frustrsation, if not death.

It's hard not to see the similarities between the crime cult's thug-like behavior and those of the Nazis, who were still consolidating their power in Germany when the film was produced. Both the criminals and the Nazis answered to shadowy figureheads who prized obedience more than innovation, and it's no coincidence that the film's heroes are the ones who think and speak for themselves. Even though Lang makes no direct reference to the political climate in late 1930's Germany, its subtext was enough to keep the film from being screened in his homeland until several decades after World War II. Even then, it was shown with an abbreviated running time.

This commentary is tarted up as the kind of pulpy potboiler you'd find in a BATMAN comicbook, only minus the caped crusader. The closest thing the movie has to romantic leads find themselves trapped in a room with a ticking timebomb (a room that is also filling with water.) There are phantom voices, madmen, explosions and so many interlocking conspiracies that you'd swear the script was the work of Mabuse, himself, as he scribbled away in his asylum cell.

On this level, THE TESTAMENT OF DOCTOR MABUSE functions like a well-oiled, well-edited movie serial. If that were all the movie had to offer it would probably be enough, but it was made by a man who understood his craft like few directors ever would. Lang was the kind of filmmaker the world wouldn't see again until Steven Spielberg, a director who could make crowdpleasers with both heart and substance. There are a few scattered moments of outright horror in the movie, such as the huge, alien eyes that make up most of Mabuse's ghostly face. Generally, though, Lang created a fantasy grounded in a warped version of reality. Comparisons to 2008's THE DARK KNIGHT are appropriate.



Even though THE TESTAMENT OF DOCTOR MABUSE doesn't share the Old Testament morality of the pulps, the movie has an alarmingly accusatory tone. At times it's a little like having a conversation with someone who doesn't understand personal boundaries.  Lang's insistence on having the actors look into the camera for many of the film's more dramatic sequences forces a very quiet form of audience participation. There were times I wondered if Lang was intentionally screwing with his audience. Even the opening sequence is largely silent as the sound of a printing press drowns out all dialogue as it cranks out reams of counterfeit money. Almost ten minutes pass before a single word of dialogue is spoken. More to the point, Mabuse, himself, doesn't speak at any point in the film. The film is a sequel to Lang's silent DOCTOR MABUSE THE GAMBLER, released ten years earlier, and it appears Lang intended to cast his villain as a relic of the past. But that doesn't mean the villain doesn't have a thing or two to still teach the future.

(NOTE: Director ANSEL FARAJ  is currently in post production on a new film about DOCTOR MABUSE. Listen to my interview with Faraj in THE COLLINSPORT HISTORICAL SOCIETY podcast.)