Film Review
Such was the success of
Dracula (1931) and
Frankenstein
(1931) that their lead actors, Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff, were made
instant stars, and the temptation to pair these two nascent icons of
the horror genre was too great for Universal Pictures to resist.
The Black Cat was the first of
seven on-screen pairings of Karloff and Lugosi and the film's enormous
success (it was Universal's biggest hit of the year) ensured that
further rematches were not long in coming. In this classic
good-versus-evil showdown, it is Lugosi who gets to play the good guy,
locked in mortal combat with a terrifyingly evil Karloff. No need
for monster make-up here - both actors are as chilling as ever, each
possessed with a demonic fury to destroy the other that makes them
resemble ancient gods in some grand Wagnerian opera.
The Black Cat purports to have
been inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's story of the same title, but in
actual fact its only connection with Poe's work is the presence of the
titular car as a malignant presence, one that sends Lugosi's
ailurophobic character into a startling frenzy that is one of the
milder terrors the film has in store for us. The story was
actually conceived by its director, Edgar G. Ulmer, who had made just
one film in America prior to this,
Damaged
Lives (1933), a low budget film about venereal disease that
proved to be phenomenally successful. The critical and commercial
success of
The Black Cat
ought to have launched Ulmer on a glittering career in Hollywood but
the director became persona non grata almost immediately after he had
finished work on it when he stole the wife of Carl Laemmle's
nephew. For most of his career, Ulmer was forced to make cheap
films for the poorer studios, although he did occasionally live up to
his early promise, with such films as
The Strange Woman (1946).
Ulmer began his career in Germany before WWII and made his directing
debut with the Siodmak brothers on
Menschen am Sonntag
(1929).
The Black Cat's
striking expressionistic design probably owes something to the fact
that Ulmer worked in the art department on films by F.W. Murnau and
Fritz Lang, and it lends the film a very distinctive feel, quite
different from Universal's other horror films of this time. A
dreamlike sense of unreality clings to the film, powerfully expressive
of the poisonous derangement that has taken hold of the two
protagonists. There are some stark allusions to the First World
War and the fetid spectre of the war hangs over the film as something
grim and terrible. The enduring impact of the conflict shows
itself not only in the stifling angst-ridden mood of the piece, but also
in Lugosi and Karloff's characters, two respectable professionals who
have become twisted monsters - one consumed with a desire for revenge,
the other a disciple of satanic evil.
Whilst it fits comfortably within Universal's run of expressionistic
horror films,
The Black Cat
is clearly in an altogether different league, and with its allusions to
such sordid themes as satanic worship, sexual perversion/repression,
drugs abuse and live flaying, it is way ahead of its time. The
plot is virtually incomprehensible (thanks in part to the necessity to
insert re-shoots of several scenes to make the film acceptable to the
censors) and much of the dialogue is drowned out by the almost
continuous soundtrack consisting of extracts of classic music.
Yet despite this it is one of the most stylish and compelling of
Universal's horror films, a film that plays upon the psyche of the
spectator like a nightmare induced by demonic forces and leaves a far
deeper impression than you can account for. By delving deep into
our neuroses and stimulating the subconscious,
The Black Cat awakens fears of the
most primal kind and as you succumb to its strange, nocturnal charms,
you can almost feel Death's cold hand brushing against your skin.
© James Travers 2015
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Film Synopsis
The writer Peter Alison and his wife Joan are travelling across Hungary
on their honeymoon when their path crosses that of Dr Vitus Werdegast,
an eminent psychiatrist. The latter is on his way back home after
spending the past fifteen years in a prison camp following the
war. He intends visiting an old friend of his, the distinguished
Austrian architect Hjalmar Poelzig, at his house built on the ruins of
the fort that he commanded during the war. When their bus
crashes, the Alisons are taken by Werdegast to Poelzig's stately
residence, where they are offered a bed for the night. It is by
now clear that Werdegast hates Poelzig, blaming him not only for
betraying his countrymen during the war, but also for the death of his
beloved wife Karen and their unborn child. Unbeknown to his
guests, Poelzig has preserved Karen's body, along with those of several
other dead women, and takes part in satanic rituals that involve human
sacrifice. Realising Poelzig's evil intentions for Joan,
Werdegast challenges Poelzig to a game of chess, insisting that the
Alisons be allowed to go free if he should win. He loses the
game...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.