By WALLACE McBRIDE
Michael Curtiz’s DOCTOR X (1932) is
a rare delicacy for horror movie fans. One of the few fright films of
that era shot in Technicolor (the two-strip variety), it’s an
atmospheric, uneven movie with a vicious final act. The Warner Bros.
film achieves moments of twisted beauty, and it would probably be better
remembered had it let its “monster” take center stage, as Universal did
so memorably with their horror classics.
The plot is simple, and mostly beside the point: A disfigured serial killer is chalking up victims by the light of the full moon. Because this is a Pre-Code film, the script leaves no gory detail unexplored, explaining the victims have been strangled, partially cannibalized and show signs of unnecessary surgery. A plucky reporter (Lee Tracy, who made a specialty of this type of role in the ’30s) follows the clues to a spooky mansion in a section of Long Island that resembles Transylvania, where the movie’s many suspects have gathered to deduce the killer’s identity. There’s a bit of bondage involving Fay Wray, Lionel Atwill chews the available scenery and some genuinely freaky shit happens.
Chock full of bad science and preposterous plot elements, DOCTOR X still manages to be an engaging romp – and one with sharp teeth, as well. The tone of the movie is scattershot for the first two acts, juggling humor with terror in a manner that wouldn’t be out of place in an Abbott and Costello movie. But things take a turn for the gruesome during the climax, where the once friendly film flirts with grand guignol. Arguably the best scene comes near the end, as the killer not only applies his disguise, but literally assembles himself through a slow and fetishistic ritual.
Director Curtiz gets either too much credit for his work or too little, depending on whom you ask. Even though his credits include iron-clad classics like CASABLANCA (1942), THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD (1938) and YANKEE DOODLE DANDY (1942), many of his best-known works were made during the days of a studio system that tended to treat directors like dayshift managers.
Having seen many of his movies, I still can’t say I’ve got a grasp of the man’s directorial style, but DOCTOR X shows he had a keen grasp of exploitation, if not outright horror. It has less in common with the atmospheric ballets of Universal’s golden age than with pulp magazines of the era like The Shadow and Weird Tales. DOCTOR X is missing the wit and vision displayed by contemporary films like Tod Browning’s DRACULA and James Whale’s FRANKENSTEIN, but when DOCTOR X is ready to shock, it does so with perverse ferocity.
The plot is simple, and mostly beside the point: A disfigured serial killer is chalking up victims by the light of the full moon. Because this is a Pre-Code film, the script leaves no gory detail unexplored, explaining the victims have been strangled, partially cannibalized and show signs of unnecessary surgery. A plucky reporter (Lee Tracy, who made a specialty of this type of role in the ’30s) follows the clues to a spooky mansion in a section of Long Island that resembles Transylvania, where the movie’s many suspects have gathered to deduce the killer’s identity. There’s a bit of bondage involving Fay Wray, Lionel Atwill chews the available scenery and some genuinely freaky shit happens.
Chock full of bad science and preposterous plot elements, DOCTOR X still manages to be an engaging romp – and one with sharp teeth, as well. The tone of the movie is scattershot for the first two acts, juggling humor with terror in a manner that wouldn’t be out of place in an Abbott and Costello movie. But things take a turn for the gruesome during the climax, where the once friendly film flirts with grand guignol. Arguably the best scene comes near the end, as the killer not only applies his disguise, but literally assembles himself through a slow and fetishistic ritual.
Director Curtiz gets either too much credit for his work or too little, depending on whom you ask. Even though his credits include iron-clad classics like CASABLANCA (1942), THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD (1938) and YANKEE DOODLE DANDY (1942), many of his best-known works were made during the days of a studio system that tended to treat directors like dayshift managers.
Having seen many of his movies, I still can’t say I’ve got a grasp of the man’s directorial style, but DOCTOR X shows he had a keen grasp of exploitation, if not outright horror. It has less in common with the atmospheric ballets of Universal’s golden age than with pulp magazines of the era like The Shadow and Weird Tales. DOCTOR X is missing the wit and vision displayed by contemporary films like Tod Browning’s DRACULA and James Whale’s FRANKENSTEIN, but when DOCTOR X is ready to shock, it does so with perverse ferocity.
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