The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932)
Directed by Charles Brabin, Charles Vidor

Film Review

The Mask of Fu Manchu has rightly been condemned for its overt racism, all non-whites being characterised as uncivilised barbarians prone to every conceivable vice, but, despite this, it remains the most fascinating and arguably the best screen outing for Sax Rohmer's oriental criminal mastermind. At the time it was made, fear of the Chinese was rampant across much of the western world and Fu Manchu was the epitome of the 'Yellow Peril', symbolic of a race intent on supplanting the white man as the dominant race on Earth through conquest and forced inter-breeding. The film's racial stereotyping and racist language (which, by today's standards, is unpardonably offensive) are emblematic of an era when the West looked on the  mysterious Far East with fear and mistrust, and it is perhaps no accident that the film was produced by William Randolph Hearst's production company Cosmopolitan Productions, Hearst's being one of the loudest voices behind the Yellow Peril scare-mongering.

Cosmopolitan Productions was a subsidiary of MGM, a company that was drawn half-heartedly into the fantasy genre in the hope of cashing in on Universal's recent run of good fortune with Dracula (1931) and Frankenstein (1931). A company more at home with prestige dramas featuring big name actors, MGM clambered aboard the fantasy bandwagon with the enthusiasm of a princely lord boarding a provincial bus, and only a few of its films in this genre have stood the test of time - Freaks (1932) and Mark of the Vampire (1935) being the two that deserve particular attention. The Mask of Fu Manchu is another of the studio's more noteworthy forays into fantasy, although the film's excessive racism and highly sexual content (which is remarkable even for a film made in Hollywood's pre-Code era) have kept it out of circulation for many years. It is no doubt thanks to its notoriety that the film has enjoyed much greater longevity than the three Fu Manchu sound films made prior to this (by Paramount, with Warner Oland as the inscrutable villain) and the silent serial featuring Harry Agar Lyons made in 1923.

Charles Vidor (the future helmer of classics such as Gilda (1946)) was originally hired to direct the film, but he was sacked just a few weeks after filming had commenced and replaced with Charles Brabin. Right from the off, the production was a mess, with hefty script rewrites often preventing the cast from receiving their lines before the day of the shoot. Despite this, MGM lavished a small fortune on the film (over 300 thousand dollars), which is more than apparent in Cedric Gibbons' magnificent sets, which are some of the most fabulous to grace any film of this era. As well as a convincing reproduction of the interior of the British Museum (complete with walking mummies - a humorous nod to Universal's The Mummy), there is a stunning visualisation of Genghis Khan's lost tomb. Fantastic as these are, both pale in comparison with the geometric cathedral-like spaces in Fu Manchu's palace, which tastefully combine expressionistic minimalism with the ornate grandeur of any oriental palace you care to name. Golden statues sit comfortably alongside modern electrical equipment that generate the sparks and death rays without which the home of no self-respecting megalomaniac would be complete. Sumptuously lit in moody black and white, Gibbons' sets are jaw-dropping works of art, so impressive that the third rate script and wooden performances from most of the cast barely register.

On the cast front, only Boris Karloff and Myrna Loy come away from the film with their reputations intact. Once again buried beneath an elaborate make-up job, Karloff is as commanding as ever as the sadistic criminal bent on world domination, Dr Fu Manchu ("My friends, out of courtesy, call me Doctor"). Whilst underplaying his part as far as he is able, Karloff effortlessly dominates every scene, his softly spoken delivery having a gentle, oily quality that makes him appear even more sinister and powerful. Karloff's Fu Manchu has no need to rave and rant. He is a monomaniac psychopath who is fully aware of his powers, and as he subjects his victims to a painful, degrading and terrifying torture (even warning them that toilet breaks will not be allowed), he does so with the comforting bedside manner of an attentive nurse, although his soothing words cannot conceal the sadistic delight that he obviously feels whenever he inflicts suffering and soiled underwear on a fellow human being. Compared with Christopher Lee's slightly less restrained portrayal in his Fu Manchu films of the 1960s (even the creditable The Face of Fu Manchu (1965)), Karloff's interpretation is far more chilling.

Myrna Loy is no less disturbing as Fu's even more warped daughter Fah Lo See. It is Loy's character who is the most controversial, an Oriental beauty who gets to live out the wildest of sexual fantasies and clearly likes nothing better than to turn pretty white men into her obedient sex slaves. In the film's most shocking sequence (one that was cut from later prints of the film, for obvious reasons), Loy is seen relishing the agonies of the young male lead (Charles Starrett) as he is stripped to the waist and savagely whipped before her eyes. "Faster!" she cries in a state of delirium, leaving not a great deal to the imagination as she is carried away on a flight of orgiastic delight. Not long after this, Loy is seen in her bedroom with the prostrate and whip-lashed Starret, resembling a lioness about to gorge itself on her fallen prey. Even by today's standards, such forays into full-on sexual perversion appear shocking and distasteful.

But this is nothing compared with the scene in which pretty boy Starrett finds himself on the receiving end of Fu's own, even more bizarre sexual fantasy, one that takes homoerotic indulgence to a whole new level. Totally naked, apart from a slender loin cloth strategically placed to conceal his most intimate parts, Starret's tense body is stretched out and manacled to an operating table as Fu Manchu goes through the elaborate process of extracting and blending venom from spiders, snakes and lizards, to produce a serum which he will inject into Starret to make him his obedient servant. In the process, Fu Manchu casually kills one of his slaves and taunts his victim with the cloying tenderness of a lover. Grotesque as the sequence it, it has an extraordinary erotic potency. Fu Manchu should have given up his bid for world domination and gone into the porn business.

If Karloff and Loy never fail to grab our attention, luring us into their sordid, opium sodden world of malevolence and perversion with amazing ease, the same cannot be said of the rest of the cast. Admittedly, the script is largely to blame, with dialogue so corny and so doused in racist sentiment that it would make a white supremacist blush, but even so the performances are spectacularly wooden. Lewis Stone's bloodless Nayland Smith and Charles Starrett's terminally dull Terry Granville struggle to make any impact, but both are preferable to Karen Morley's interminable histrionics, which make you want to mute the soundtrack whenever she opens her mouth. If it was the screenwriters' intention that we should side with this bunch of anaemic blunderers and habitual racists, all that can be said is that they fell wide of the mark. If you're like me, you'll end up rooting for Fu Manchu and Fah Lo See every inch of the way. They may be depraved and venomous to a fault, but at least they have class and know how to enjoy themselves.

Film Synopsis

Just before he sets out on his next expedition to find the lost tomb of Genghis Khan the archaeologist Sir Lionel Barton is warned by Sir Denis Nayland Smith of the British Secret Service that the criminal mastermind Dr Fu Manchu is after the same treasure. Fu Manchu's intention is to take possession of the legendary mask and sword of the Mongol emperor and thereby galvanise a mighty uprising among the Asian people that will wipe all white men from the face of the Earth. When Sir Lionel is kidnapped, his daughter Sheila takes his place on the expedition, accompanied by her fiancé Terry Granville. Despite being tortured, Sir Lionel refuses to reveal to Fu Manchu the location of the Khan's tomb. Once the prized relics are in the possession of Barton's archaeological team, a message is received from Fu, offering to exchange Sir Lionel in return for the mask and sword. Urged by Sheila, Terry hands these symbols of the Khan's power over to the Chinese crime lord, not knowing that they have been substituted for copies by Nayland Smith. Turned into a willing slave by Fu Manchu, Terry returns to the archaeological team and arranges for the sword and mask to be delivered to his master. It seems that nothing can thwart the evil Fu's ambitions of world domination...