Category Archives: 1940s

Pursuit to Algiers (1945)

*. In the excellent DVD collection of Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes films, Pursuit to Algiers doesn’t have a commentary track, but Holmes scholar David Stuart Davies does say a bit about it during his commentary on the previous film in the series, The Woman in Green. Specifically, he says that it is “certainly . . . the weakest of the whole twelve films.”
*. I can’t disagree. Pursuit to Algiers is a half-hearted effort with none of the interest of any of the previous instalments. The story is just a sketch combining a pair of plots on board a cruise ship. One has Holmes escorting the heir to some Ruritanian throne to his homeland and the other features an unwilling jewel smuggler.
*. Neither storyline is very interesting. The main one basically consists of a trio of hapless assassins who are consecutively foiled by Holmes. We are always a couple of steps ahead of them, and we know Holmes is too. By now the devices that Holmes uses are pretty stale, including the familiar one where he pretends to be dead, fooling everyone, including poor Watson.
*. Only just over 70 minutes and there are three musical numbers, including one by Nigel Bruce.
*. You have to be a huge fan of the series to want to bother with this one. Even so, I think it really is a disappointment. But if you keep your expectations low it may provide enough entertainment to fill a lazy hour.

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The Woman in Green (1945)

*. I really like this series, but let’s be honest: The Woman in Green marks a significant downward turn.
*. A lot of it just seems slightly off. Let me give some examples.
*. First: As David Stuart Davies says on his DVD commentary, it’s a “rather dull title, bland and innocuous.” It’s also unexplained, since the only reference made to the colour of Hillary Brooke’s clothes is in her first scene where she’s said to be wearing purple. Also, why give her character the title? She’s very good, but she’s not the chief villain. She’s just one of Moriarty’s henchmen. The original title, Invitation to Murder, was better.
*. Second: We begin on an odd note. There have been a series of Jack the Ripper-style killings that seem a little grisly for a Holmes film. In fact, they had to tone the plot down because as originally written they were to be child murders. Then we note that Dennis Hoey’s Inspector Lestrade is missing, replaced by Inspector Gregson. And where is Watson? He puts in a very late appearance.
*. Davies says that they dropped Lestrade because they need a more sensible and sober policeman to introduce these violent crimes, and that Nigel Bruce’s Watson was kept back from these scenes for the same reason. I wonder if Hoey just wasn’t available. But then, I guess such a reading does make sense with regard to Watson. But I have trouble seeing anyone at the studio being this sensitive to such things in what was an assembly-line production.
*. Third: Moriarty’s plot is, as Davies notes, “unnecessarily fussy and complicated.” Such a criminal mastermind should have been able to come up with a far easier blackmail scheme than this hypnosis-and-mutilation business, which involves too much blood and too many extras. Even his plot to kill Holmes at the end, whatever pleasure he takes in it, is so contrived as to be silly. Almost as silly, I have to add, as how it is undone.
*. Fourth: the story, like Moriarty’s plot, is full of odds and ends that don’t fit together or that seem otherwise out of character. Holmes, for example, must have seen through the subterfuge of Moriarty’s prank call to get Watson out of the building, so why wasn’t he better prepared? He tells Moriarty later that he assumed that Watson was being put in danger, so what was his plan?
*. Another example is the scene where Watson is hypnotized. This is just “comic padding” (Davies) and again seems out of character for Holmes, who later has to disavow it. And as originally scripted it was supposed to be even worse, with Watson taking off his pants.
*. I like Henry Daniell well enough, but he doesn’t really have the panache I associate with Moriarty. He always looks so dour and glum.
*. Bruce liked playing Watson, and apparently wanted to keep the series going after Rathbone got sick of it, but I get the feeling he’s tired here, which is almost as bad as being bored. And the jokes are labored too.
*. I’m always impressed by actors who can hold their eyes open for long stretches without blinking. This may be because I’m a blinker myself. In any event, hats off to Coulter Irwin (credited as Tom Bryson) who plays the hypnotized Williams. I couldn’t stare open-eyed for half as long as he does in his big scene.
*. In the end I can’t agree with the opinion that this had the potential to be one of the best of the Holmes films. The original script, which only has a couple of borrowings from canonical stories, is a mess and I just got the feeling that the string had been played out. But the series still had three films to go.

The House of Fear (1945)

*. By this point the Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce Sherlock Holmes series was humming along nicely. They were, however, losing altitude. After a string of successes — Sherlock Holmes Faces Death, The Spider Woman, The Scarlet Claw, and The Pearl of DeathThe House of Fear is a bit of a let down.
*. It’s “based on” the Arthur Conan Doyle story “The Five Orange Pips.” At least that’s what it says in the credits. But it has absolutely nothing to do with that story aside from the business of orange seeds being sent to the victims just before they die. They don’t even keep the number of seeds the same since we start off with seven pips. And I couldn’t figure out why they were bothering sending such a warning in the first place.
*. I suppose few people today even know that a pip is a seed. It may have been a more widely used word in 1945, but The House of Fear was still a catchier title.
*. The actual plot is hard to follow. Something about an insurance scam. It seemed like a lot of trouble to go through without a major payoff. But for sheer gruesomeness it’s pretty startling. The ghoulish way the killers cover their tracks must have raised a few eyebrows in 1945. Or maybe audiences back then weren’t shocked by the thought of people being blown to pieces, to the point where the only way of identifying them was by way of upper class dog tags like cufflinks and rings. There’s no direct mention of the war in this film, but it’s there all the same.
*. Speaking of gruesomeness, there’s a cut in this film that caught my attention. Right after discussion of the mutilated body found on the beach — one that has had its head, arms, and legs removed — and the observation that these limbs had been removed cleanly, as though by a surgeon, we cut immediately to a close-up shot of the suspicious Dr. Merrivale slicing the leg off a turkey.
*. That’s a cut (no pun intended, I’m talking about the edit) that has become a cliché, especially in horror films. You’ll see a gleaming knife held aloft, a woman screaming . . . and then there’s an immediate cut to another knife slicing into a birthday cake or a hunk of roast beef. It’s a clever little joke and seeing it done here made me wonder who did it first.
*. The House of Fear is a light bit of fun, but it doesn’t have a strong villain and the plot is confusing. There is a lot of familiar banter between the leads. The problem-solving involves following footprints in the sand and the discovery of a secret passageway. You can’t go wrong with the classics. Bruce’s Watson is played a little thicker than usual for comic effect. Lestrade shows up and (as usual) doesn’t help much, but he’s really part of the furniture now. You might as well just sit back and get comfortable here.

Dead of Night (1945)

*. Now this is really something strange. Dead of Night is usually seen as being the first “anthology horror” film, consisting of a bunch of short stories embedded in a frame narrative. Hammer and Amicus would go on to make a lot of these, and in the U.S. there were the Corman-Poe movies in the ’60s and then Creepshow and Tales from the Crypt, with more recently the V/H/S franchise. But I believe Dead of Night was the first, unless you want to go all the way back to Waxworks (1924).
*. What makes Dead of Night strange, however, is the fact that in addition to being the first horror anthology, it is also widely considered to be the best (Kwaidan being perhaps the only other contender). It’s not very often that that happens. You’d think that after inventing the genre somebody else would come along and eventually do it better. But that hasn’t happened.
*. I wonder why. I think in part it’s because nobody wanted to. What I mean by that is that this was a real outlier for Ealing, and even they didn’t do anything by way of a follow up. And when its other imitators arrived on the scene they were more interested in doing something cheaper and more sensational, basically adapting old comic books and pulp fiction rather than more literary sources. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I’m just saying that I think Ealing were actually trying to make something really good (albeit on a very low budget), while later anthology-horror movies were content to aim lower.
*. As for what makes Dead of Night a better movie than Tales from the Crypt or Creepshow, I think you have to begin with the quality of the frame story. Let’s face it, usually these are only throwaways — perhaps nothing more than an introduction by the Creep or the Crypt-Keeper. The film Asylum actually had a good idea for a frame, but it’s an exception to the general rule.
*. The frame here is wonderful. It’s not just a frame but a story with its own building narrative, so that you actually like getting back to it and seeing how the psychiatrist is gradually becoming unsettled and how the architect’s uncanny “dream” is playing out. The climax, with the architect stumbling through all of the film’s collapsing threads only for the film to implode and reset, is brilliantly handled, leaving us with a sense of mundane dread as things start up again.
*. I can’t think of any other movie that has adopted the same perfect circularity. Of course Groundhog Day is about a man reliving the same day over and over, but that’s different. For one thing, his day can change, and he has total recall. Here we really feel like we’re in an Escher-like nightmare from which there’s no escape.

*. The individual stories probably seem a little tame by modern standards. To some degree they’re not even horror stories but more weird tales of the kind later popularized on The Twilight Zone (which is where some of them naturally wound up). I think they’re all well done though, and they build nicely from the initial hearse-driver story (which is really just a quickie with a punchline) to what is generally regarded as the best of the lot, with Michael Redgrave as a ventriloquist possessed by his own dummy.
*. If the final story gets the most love, the penultimate tale about the golfing buddies easily gets the most hate. Basically Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne reprise their Charters and Caldicott roles (introduced in The Lady Vanishes), for which they’d become famous. I actually didn’t mind it at all. It’s silly, but I think the film needed a change of pace after the intense haunted-mirror story, before taking us into the home stretch.
*. Martin Scorsese (placing it on his list of the scariest films of all time): “Like The Uninvited, it’s very playful . . . and then it gets under your skin.” It certainly does. Rather more than The Uninvited does.
*. It gets under your skin and it stays there. I don’t think anyone who has seen this film (and today it isn’t that easy to find) has forgotten it. It has that sort of effect, burrowing down into the mind like a screw, getting deeper with every revolution.

The Pearl of Death (1944)

*. The Pearl of Death is one of a group of films in the Universal Sherlock Holmes series that are usually regarded as the best, including such highlights as Sherlock Holmes Faces Death, The Spider Woman, and The Scarlet Claw.
*. The series starred Basil Rathbone as Holmes and Nigel Bruce as Watson, backed up by a stable cast that rotated in and out of the supporting parts. Of this particular sub-group of films all were directed by Roy William Neill and were shot one after the other on a tight schedule. Indeed, Neill was very busy at the time, also shooting Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon, Sherlock Holmes in Washington, and Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man in quick succession in the same two-year period. That was the assembly line for B pictures at Universal.
*. Despite being made on an assembly line, the Holmes films were turned out with not just professionalism but art, and they each have their unique and endearing features to go along with their recurring elements.
*. I suppose the best known thing about this film today is the debut of Rondo Hatton’s “Creeper” character. Hatton, who died just a couple of years after The Pearl of Death came out and whose other Creeper films were released posthumously, has gone on to become a bit of a tragic cult figure for fans of the Hollywood fringe. He even appeared in the Medved brothers’ Golden Turkey Awards book as a nominee for The P. T. Barnum Award for the Worst Cinematic Exploitation of a Physical Deformity (he didn’t win).
*. What I find remarkable is how unremarkable Hatton’s acromegaly seems today. The movie keeps him hidden in shadow or shot from behind until the final reveal, at which point one assumes contemporary audiences recoiled in horror. But in our own time his features don’t even shock. In part this is because we’re used to much more grotesque fare produced by latex masks and the like, but also because we’re familiar with this kind of facial structure from lovable actors like Andre the Giant. All the build-up (Holmes describes the Creeper as “a monster with the chest of a buffalo and the arms of a gorilla”) falls flat.
*. Nevertheless Hatton does play an important role, not so much in the plot as in balancing out the evil triumvirate. At the center is the weedy mastermind Giles Conover (Miles Mander), and on either side of him are his glamorous hench-lady (Evelyn Ankers, looking like she’s really enjoying herself in several parts that are played in disguise) and his muscle (Hatton). Both Mander and Ankers were series players.
*. Another nice addition here is that we get to see a lot more of Dennis Hoey’s comic Inspector Lestrade. He’s as much fun as Bruce’s Watson, though of a different flavour.
*. The plot stays relatively close to a source story, “The Adventure of the Six Napoleons.” There are no very memorable set pieces, but the game of cat-and-mouse between Holmes and Conover is a lot of fun and the whole thing is put on with the usual polish and charm. That the series didn’t have anywhere much to go after this is a judgment we could make in hindsight, but at the time it must have seemed like the franchise was in good hands and on a creative roll.

The Scarlet Claw (1943)

*. Sherlock Holmes in Canada! And that was actually what they were going to call it — Sherlock Holmes in Canada — up until the day they started filming, when cooler heads prevailed. Imagine trying to fill theatres with a title like that, even if Canada is “the linchpin of the English-speaking world.”
*. I’m not sure why they wanted to set it in Canada, and specifically Quebec. As David Stuart Davies notes on his DVD commentary, the location is really just another example of Universal’s Neverland, a generic European village surrounded by foggy moors. And there aren’t even any French-Canadians except, presumably, for the Journets. So why bother?
*. Well, whatever the thinking was, here we are. Davies calls this “perhaps the most popular of the Universal series of Holmes movies” and picks it as his own “desert island” disc. I’d certainly consider it one of the most successful, up with The Hound of the Baskervilles (you get credit for being first), Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (the film immediately preceding this one) and The Pearl of Death (which was up next).
*. Davies also says that the reviews were not that positive. Mainly, he supposes, because franchise fatigue had set in. There may be a lesson there in our own age of franchise overstretch. It’s always possible that the next in a long run of diminishing sequels might be something good, but our expectations tend to lower as time goes by.
*. There was no direct link to any one Holmes story, but the proceedings are very similar to The Hound of the Baskervilles, most obviously with the “monster” haunting the moors being a figure covered in phosphorescent paint.
*. Despite such blatant borrowing, however, the elaborate story itself constitutes what is probably the best pure mystery of the series. There are clues, misdirections and red herrings, and I’ll confess I had the killer wrong several times before the final reveal. I shouldn’t feel bad though, as Ramson is the equal to Holmes in the art of concealment and dramatic flair.
*. The villain is in fact so clever here, and so consistently a step ahead of Holmes, that some critics found Holmes to be off his game. I don’t think that’s fair. He’s not a superhero, after all, and he’s at least on the right track most of the time.

*. The murder weapon is in fact a garden weeder. Really! That seemed rather weak to me, but it did remind me of the claw in Blood and Black Lace. I don’t think Bava was thinking of this film (if he had even seen it), but anything is possible.
*. I’ve remarked before on how hilariously bad the subtitling is for the restored version of these films issued as part of the DVD Complete Collection. In this one, however, they really take the cake. “Superstitious peasants,” for example, become “superstitious pheasants” and “monsieur” becomes “masseur.” This is crazy, especially as we’re talking about subtitles that somebody actually wrote, not just closed-captioning.
*. The murder of poor Marie (already a victim of domestic abuse) really does seem gratuitous and out of place. I wonder why they felt the need for that.
*. If I don’t rank this as my favourite Holmes film from this series I think it’s because there’s too much that’s too familiar. It’s almost like they’re checking boxes on a list of formula elements that, however individually well done, don’t always cohere.
*. But, if it’s novelty you’re after this wouldn’t be the first place I’d look. What The Scarlet Claw does it does very well though, and if it’s not quite as memorable as some of the other entries in the series it still stands as one of the best.

The Spider Woman (1943)

*. The Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce Sherlock Holmes pairing made just before this one, Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (released only three months earlier), had put the franchise back on an even keel. That is to say, it brought back a more canonical Holmes, with less of the contemporary business of fighting Nazi spies. We’re still in 1940s England here, but the war is, as it was in Sherlock Holmes Faces Death, only background.
*. So fans could go to The Spider Woman expecting a good time. I think very few would be disappointed. There’s so much to enjoy. Here are some highlights.
*. Item one: The pyjama suicides! There’s a headline you don’t see every day.
*. Item two: A great big spider! And not only that, but one whose venom makes men in pyjamas jump out of high windows or shoot themselves.
*. Item three: A creepy kid. What’s with little Larry? Is he really mute? I know he’s just being used as a red herring by Adrea, but his taking his shoes and socks off while sitting on Watson’s lap still seems weird. And why is he fixated on flies? I wonder if he’s Adrea’s secret love child.

*. Item four: a candy wrapper that gives off a deadly gas when tossed in the fireplace!
*. Item five: “that creature in the suitcase.” Meaning a pygmy (not a real pygmy but a dwarf in blackface). We don’t actually see him do anything, but I guess he had a role to play in Adrea’s traveling freak show.
*. Item six: the indirect showdown between Holmes (in disguise as Rajni Singh, a character refreshingly not played as a racial stereotype) and Adrea Spedding (the “female Moriarty”). I’ll confess to having a real affection for scenes like this, where two intelligent characters who are both playing a game, face off against each other, with both being fully aware of the game the other is playing. Encounters like this are so rich in drama, and this one is played wonderfully.
*. Item seven: a dastardly plot to get rid of Holmes that shows “a certain amount of imagination,” and is (pace Holmes) inspired as well as ingenious. Holmes will be presented behind a target of Hitler in a shooting gallery, with a hole cut out over his heart so that an unknowing Watson will be his executioner!
*. All of this in just over an hour! And if you’re a real Holmes fan you can even try to spot where different parts of the story come from, as the script incorporates a number of elements borrowed from various sources.
*. If I don’t rate it as high as Sherlock Holmes Faces Death or some of the other films in the series it’s because it really does feel like a trifle. Gale Sondergaard makes a wonderful foil for Holmes, but even she seems to treat the whole thing as a lark. We know she’s going to have no trouble at all getting away from Lestrade, what with that mischievous smile she gives him. The game will soon be afoot again. And what a great game it is!

The Killers (1946)

*. It’s been called the Citizen Kane of noir, and for good reason. We are introduced to the central character at the moment of his death. The only clues to the meaning of that death are his enigmatic final words and a silk handkerchief he had with him. That will be his Rosebud. Enter an insurance investigator who will attempt to backtrack and piece together his story by way of interviews with the people who knew him.
*. The inspiration wasn’t Kane though but Hemingway’s story, and it’s one of the more interesting cases of adaptation I’ve seen. The story is presented, quite faithfully and in its entirety, in the film’s opening act, so that it can then be used as a launching pad for a wholly original tale involving gangsters and a femme fatale. I can’t think of another literary source being used in this way. From Beyond comes to mind (which is really comparing great things to small), but the pre-credit material in From Beyond, which is all that connects the film to the story, is only very tenuously connected to what Lovecraft wrote.
*. The opening does raise some questions too. How well is it incorporated into the rest of the film? As a prologue, doesn’t it go on too long? I think most people would reject this, but I think it’s an issue. All that tough-guy talk about the bright boys doesn’t have much of a point. I think it’s all very nicely realized, but it’s a bit too much like a separate movie, a short that plays before the feature.
*. As for the new material bolted on to the Hemingway story, well, perhaps “wholly original” has to be qualified. It’s bog standard noir. David Thomson: “the plot of The Killers feels mundane and pedestrian.” That’s because, at least by the standards of noir, and maybe any standards, it is mundane and pedestrian. The hero who finds himself on the wrong side of the law falling hard for the wrong gal. The heist. The double-cross. The fallout. Run credits.
*. The arrangement of these familiar elements is a big part of what makes the film work. I don’t think anyone in the audience is in any doubt about what happened, but the way it’s revealed makes it interesting.
*. What makes it really interesting, though, is its look. Noir yes, but I want to look a little deeper into what that means. Here’s Paul Schrader, from his seminal essay on the subject, addressing the noir style: “Compositional tension is preferred to physical action. A typical film noir would rather move the scene cinematographically around the actor than have the actor control the scene by physical tension.”
*. I think there are a number of examples of what I think Schrader is talking about in The Killers. The whole opening in the diner does an incredible job of working up that set from different angles and exaggerating mundane matters, like the door that keeps slamming (why hasn’t somebody fixed that?). Nothing happens, but there’s a sense of threat established through “compositional tension.”

*. Another good example is the scene in the prison cell between Ole (Burt Lancaster) and Charleston (Vince Barnett). There is no action here. The two characters maintain static positions throughout. But by presenting the scene in a sequence of beautifully composed shots Siodmak creates a powerful sense of fate and tragic destiny. The stars and the bars are enough for that.
*. But what does this scene tell us? Nothing. How does it advance the plot? Not at all. It’s just atmosphere, but what atmosphere!
*. Burt Lancaster’s debut, and what an odd star-making role. He’d become famous later for his physical presence, but here, despite playing a boxer and sporting a wifebeater, he’s downright ethereal. Manny Farber: “He has a dreamy, peaceful, introspective air that dissociates him from everything earthly.” Lying in bed he looks a bit like the Dying Gaul.

*. Ava Gardner’s gets her start here too (not her first film, but her first major role). She is, of course, stunning. I mean Virginia Christine (playing Lilly) looks great too, even in her Puritan dress, but she clearly doesn’t have a chance as soon as Ole locks eyes on Kitty.
*. That first scene together probably tries too hard in underlining how hard Ole is falling though. The way Lilly looks at him when he first sees Kitty is enough. But this is a movie full of scenes of people looking at other people in knowing ways. It’s a movie of glances.

*. Kitty isn’t a great part. She’s left too vague. Does she really care for Colfax? He seems so far beneath her. Does she have any genuine feeling for Ole? Or is she just a narcissist? Her final lines, wailed to the dead Colfax, begging him to save her (while referring to herself in the third person, if “Kitty” really is her name) suggest the latter. I don’t think she’s a real femme fatale who’s pulling the strings here. I think she’s a good-looking but naive kid.
*. Among the supporting cast the heavies steal the show. Jack Lambert as the deep-voiced Dum-Dum is great. Albert Dekker is good as Colfax. You wouldn’t want to mess with either. The two investigators — Edmond O’Brien’s Reardon and Sam Levene’s Lubinsky — are suitably dull in comparison. When Reardon tries to get the drop on Dum-Dum we know he’s way out of his league. He may be a great insurance investigator, but he doesn’t know how to handle a gun.

*. I found it amusing how Reardon has to apologize for asking the police to help him . . . with a murder investigation! That whole scene where he’s introduced to Sam struck me as odd. At first Sam seems unconcerned at the news of Ole’s death, as though he was just some guy. Then he reveals that they were actually childhood friends!
*. “Don’t ask a dying man to lie his soul into Hell.” That’s a memorable line, even if I’m not entirely sure what it means. Surely Colfax is going to hell anyway. Covering for Kitty might be seen as him trying to do a good turn (depending on Kitty’s culpability, which remains vague).
*. When Ole gets the drop on the other gangsters after the robbery he calls out for them to “Heist ’em!” Meaning put their hands in the air. I’d never heard the word “heist” used this way before, but I guess it makes sense as heist is a bit of American slang that only dates back to the 1920s and is derived from “hoist.”
*. That score by Miklos Rozsa really sounds like it’s coming to get you. Later he’d do the theme music for Dragnet, and you can hear something of that here. It’s another element that fell into place.
*. I really like The Killers, though I feel like it’s missing something. Lancaster has that ghostly quality, and Gardner’s Kitty isn’t sharply drawn. The investigators, whose pursuit of Ole is presumably meant to recall the pair of “killers” we see in the opening, are too bland. The story, despite it’s interesting arrangement, is too conventional. It looks wonderful, and is one of the most interesting noirs ever made, but I can’t rank it as one of my all-time favourites. Making my top ten for this stacked genre though is pretty good.

Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (1943)

*. This is the sixth of the Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce Sherlock Holmes movies (the first two were produced by 20th Century Fox, so this was the fourth by Universal, in case you’re confused by the commentary). If you’d been following along you’d be forgiven for thinking that the series was going downhill. And if you had such lowered expectations, you’d be in for a pleasant surprise, as Sherlock Holmes Faces Death is one of the best.
*. The source, again adapted very freely, is the story “The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual” (earlier adapted by a French company as Le Trésor des Musgraves). This is a good sign, as it heralds a return to the canon. Holmes is no longer fighting Nazi spies, as he’d been in the immediately previous films. As David Stuart Davies on the commentary track notes, Sherlock Holmes in Washington was “the least successful and the least liked of all the Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies” so the right decision was made to get back to basics.
*. What the basics meant was an old-fashioned murder mystery set in a country manor full of eccentric suspects. It also meant that Holmes would be shown analysing the evidence and coming to conclusions using his famed powers of deduction. This is a real detective movie, and all the stronger for it.
*. The country manor is a rest home for allied officers, but aside from that the war isn’t mentioned. Instead, in Davies’ nice turn of phrase, the film “slips into a cozy time warp.” “Cozy” being the name given to a whole genre of domestic mystery novels that this film fits in with pretty well.

*. That time warp effect is also the effect of this being a Universal production. The Universal horrors all seemed to be set in a vague fantasy land, and here we’re in the same generic back lot that looks less like Northumberland than it does Romania. Not that it matters, since the same set was Wales in The Wolf Man. And even the Musgrave crypt is the same crypt set from Dracula. Reuse and recycle.
*. I’ve had occasion before to remark on the really poor job of subtitling done for the DVD release of these films (see my notes on The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon). I don’t know why they’re so bad, since UCLA did a fine job of restoration and the DVD Complete Collection set is very nice. But in this entry they’re the worst yet. In the first place they’re very poorly synchronized, and in the second they are widly, sometimes amusingly, inaccurate. Brunton, for example, describes Geoffrey and his sister going at it “hammer and tongues.” “Mrs. Miniver” becomes “Mrs. Minivar.” In Sally’s recitation of the ritual the line “What foeman advanced? The bishop’s page, brashly” is rendered as “[inaudible] in advanced the bishop’s page brashly.” “Anno domini” becomes “domino” (with no “anno”). Finally, I believe when Sexton calls the Musgraves “lamb poor” (what it reads in the subtitles) what he really says is “land poor.” At least that makes more sense, as I’ve never heard the expression “lamb poor.”
*. Yes, I watch movies with the subtitles on. I’m getting old and can’t catch everything that’s being said. Though I think I could have made better guesses than those that were made by someone here.

*. The supporting cast, mainly made up of a stable of actors who appeared (in different roles) in a lot of these movies, is excellent. I have to single out Halliwell Hobbes as the butler Brunton however. Hobbes often played butlers and, like Rathbone and Bruce, he had the role down pat. Everybody here just seems so much more comfortable than they did in the earlier movies. That’s part of the coziness too.
*. The presentation is terrific. There’s an art in moving from page to screen, and this movie is a great example of how it’s done. The outline of Conan Doyle’s story is made into movie material by making it more visual and even auditory. There are so many examples of this: the chessboard floor and game of chess (not in the story), the thirteen chimes, the use of the false flashback, the way the raven discovers the body in the boot of the car, and the foregrounding of physical clues like the glove, the shoe, the rake, and the knitting needle. Sure most of these are red herrings, but the movie forces you to watch.
*. Unfortunately, I have to agree with Davies that the movie runs out of steam at the end. I think most people have figured things out by the final reel and it does seem like they’re just trying to stretch it out. I’d also agree with Davies that the murderer turns out to be “one of the most colourless villains ever to pit himself against Sherlock Holmes”. He is a bit disappointing.
*. Then there’s the closing homily, with Holmes telling us that “the old days of grab and greed are on their way out.” You know, in 1943 I think a lot of people honestly thought that way. And they probably did for a while after. Today it all seems so hokey. That’s our loss.
*. So a bit of a weak ending, but overall it’s one of the better films of this series. It’s not often a franchise manages to turn itself around like this. There were still a lot more movies ahead, but at least now they were on the right track.

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948)

*. This movie is included, appropriately, in both the Legacy DVD collections of Dracula and the Wolf Man. It does not mark a sudden change of direction from horror into screwball comedy — the previous few monster mash-up films produced by Universal were madcap and silly enough — but it’s very much the culmination of those franchises.
*. But times were changing. This was now Universal International, not Universal. Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein would be the last of their run of ensemble monster films, the last studio film Bela Lugosi made, and (I believe) the last time Lon Chaney Jr. played the Wolf Man. David Thomson calls it “a kind of going-out-of-business sale” and that’s a good analogy.

*. In my notes on the immediately preceding film in the series, House of Dracula (1945), I mentioned how strange it was that the Wolf Man kept getting dropped from the titles of these films despite his playing the leading part. We see the same bias toward Frankenstein’s Monster here, as (once again) he gets lead billing but is nothing but an almost speechless hunk of meat stretched out on a slab waiting for revival. It’s an inconsequential part, and the original title, The Brain of Frankenstein, made this discrepancy even worse. Lawrence Talbot, meanwhile, is, arguably, the real hero of the piece. I mean, Charles Bradstreet as Professor (or Dr.) Stevens is a total blank, and has almost no role at all to play aside from getting paired off with Jane Randolph.
*. If I have my questions about the title, I want to add that I love the animated opening credits (which were themselves uncredited but on the DVD commentary Gregory Mank says they were assumed to be the work of Walter Lantz). You just know you’re going to have a good time when.
*. That cartoon spirit carries over into the rest of the film as well, with the animated transformations of Dracula into a bat, the costume ball, and that island castle, which takes us just over the top of the usual haunted castle renderings and off to the land of Scooby-Doo.

*. If the classic Universal monsters were on their way out, Abbott and Costello were on the ups. Their salaries were a big part of the budget here ($105,000 plus a percentage), while Chaney and Lugosi got a tenth of that (and Lugosi was lucky just to be hired).
*. Chaney would later say that comedy ruined horror films by making buffoons out of the monsters, but it was time for a changing of the guard. Abbott and Costello would go on to star in other horror comedies with the Invisible Man and the Mummy, before they too would pass from the scene.

*. In 1948, however, they were at the top of their game and had their routine down pat. It isn’t complicated. The gags here are of two types. In the first place there are the physical gags, which mostly revolve around something going on behind Lou, or Lou seeing something scary and not being able to make Bud believe it because he’s dissolving into inarticulate spastics of fright. Then there are the verbal gags, which are really nicely worked into the script so that they don’t play like stand-up bits at all. Also, despite some of the dated word play (for example, over “bunk”), most of it remains pretty fresh.

*. I think they really missed a trick not having the two ladies (Lenore Aubert and Jane Randolph), faux rivals for Wilbur’s love, play off against each other more, each aware of the other’s game. Instead they both spend the final third of the movie as zombies.
*. There’s an interesting point that Mank mentions about how Universal never had a female monster/heavy before Sandra, unless you want to count Elsa Lanchester’s Bride (and I wouldn’t). Movies were afraid of female monsters.

*. That look Lou gives the camera after yanking the sheet out from under the candelabra on the credenza is a great moment, just for being so singular. Apparently the boys put an emphasis on having a lot of fun on set, with pie fights and all the rest of it. In a moment like this it shows.
*. The chaotic finale is great, and actually has more action, a lot more action, than the previous monster brawls. The Wolf Man jumping off the balcony to grab the Dracula bat before plunging together to their doom would have been a perfect climax to any of those earlier films.
*. I’m impressed with how well this movie has held up. I remember seeing it on TV when I was a kid and enjoying it quite a bit. Forty years later I still think it’s a lot of fun. I hope I’m still around to enjoy it forty years hence! But I doubt I will be.