Lost in Hollywood History: The First Cinematic Universe

 

It was on 5 March 1943 when Hollywood introduced the first cinematic universe to the world.

The was the date when Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man had its New York premier—a week later, it would have its nationwide opening. The film was a sequel of sorts to both The Ghost of Frankenstein and The Wolf Man . . . interestingly, Lon Chaney Jr. played the titular monsters in those films. This time around, he reprises his role as the tragic, cursed Larry Talbot and Bela Lugosi appeared as the Creature; in fact, it was originally planned that Chaney would play both roles but it proved to be way too physically demanding for him.

The script was written Curt Siodmak, German-American novelist and screenwriter, who wrote primarily science fiction and horror. Roy William Neill directed the film.

Four years have passed since the Wolf Man’s ravages and the specter of Frankenstein’s progeny. On a wind-whipped night in Cardiff, two tomb-raiders—one of whom played by famed character actor Jeff Corey—pry open the Talbot family crypt under the full moon’s glow. They snatched the wolfsbane that sealed Larry Talbot’s fate. Moonlight strikes his motionless body, ignites the dormant curse—and Larry rises from death.

That’s another facet of Talbot’s curse: Immortality.

Talbot, through some misadventures, meets Dr. Frank Mannering (Patric Knowles); begs Mannering to alert the authorities before he kills again. Mannering and the police find the Talbot family tomb, discovering the truth; an escaped Talbot, haunted by his immortality and lycanthrope nature, flees Wales to seek out the Romni seer Maleva. She whispers of Dr. Frankenstein’s lost research as the only possible cure. Together they traverse Europe toward the scorched ruins of Frankenstein’s Vasaria estate, each step a gamble with fate.

Once there, Talbot discovers an ice-encased Creature and breaks him—hoping the Creature will lead him to the knowledge that will free him of the curse. Events happen and all leads to the inevitable clash between the Wolf Man and the Creature. Both Talbot and the Creature are swept up in a flood and lost.

Despite lukewarm reviews, the film did well and Universal Studios planned a sequel. Studio press releases called the film, Chamber of Horrors, hyping it as a monsterfest spectacular starring Lugosi, Chaney, Boris Karloff, Claude Rains and other Universal horror film stars. Dracula. The Frankenstein Creature. The Wolf Man. The Invisible Man. Kharis, the Eternal Mummy. It was billed as a horror film fan’s dream—or nightmare—come true. Siodmak wrote the screen story, this one called The Devil’s Brood. It promised to be an ambitious project.

Alas, I guess, it was too ambitious.

Edward T. Lowe wrote the screenplay, keeping some of Siodmak’s elements and Erle C. Kenton would helm the film; Karloff would star as Dr. Gustav Niemann, the mad scientist, John Carradine as Dracula, Glenn Strange as the Frankenstein Creature and J. Carrol Naish as Daniel, a hunchback convicted of murder. Ladies and gentlemen . . . your monsters.

Not the hyped monsterfest some were promised but, nonetheless, it would bring in the fans.

At the beginning of the film, Niemann’s obsession with reanimation lands him in a dank prison cell, condemned for trying to duplicate Frankenstein’s forbidden work. There he meets Daniel, a hulking hunchback whose twisted body Niemann promises to rebuild once free—if Daniel will serve as his assistant. When an earthquake shatters the prison walls, the pair slips into the night.

As they flee, the pair meets a traveling showman, Professor Lampini. In a savage moment of ambition, Niemann and Daniel murder Lampini and seize his prized showcase: Dracula’s embalmed remains. Niemann, hell-bent on revenge against Burgomaster Hussman—the man responsible for his incarceration—rests his plans on Dracula’s revival. Under flickering lantern light, he awakens the vampire and sends him stalking the Burgomaster’s granddaughter-in-law, Rita. Hypnotized, she leads Dracula to Hussman’s manor, where the old ruler falls under fang and bite. The Burgomaster’s grandson sees the horror and raises the alarm. As screaming citizens give chase, Dracula scrambles back to the carriage where Niemann waits—only to find himself jettisoned into the road. Dawn breaks, and the rising sun turns him to dust.

Undeterred, Niemann and Daniel press on to the flooded ruins of Castle Frankenstein in Visaria/Vasaria. On the way, Daniel rescues Ilonka, a spirited Romani woman, from a jealous lover’s whip. Grateful and intrigued by Daniel’s gentleness, she joins their expedition. Upon reaching ruins of Castle Frankenstein, they find Talbot and the Creature. A love triangle forms between Talbot, Ilonka and Daniel

Chaos and monster-on-monster violence ensues.

While the film doesn’t hit the scare level of the original Dracula, Frankenstein and Wolf Man films, House of Frankenstein did thrill its fanbase and, again, Universal brought back Chaney, Carradine, Strange, screenwriter Lowe and director Kenton.

Carradine’s rather suave, dapper Dracula seeks cure for vampirism from Dr. Edelmann (Onslow Stevens), who uses his own blood for transfusions—with unexpected side effects. Meanwhile, Larry Talbot arrives seeking relief from werewolf curse. After transforming into Wolf Man under full moon, he's taken to Edelmann's castle. When Talbot attempts suicide by jumping into ocean, he discovers cave holding the Creature. Despite finding rare fungi that might cure lycanthropy, Edelmann hesitates to revive the Creature—at the same time, the good doctor undergoes a very nasty metamorphosis of his own . . . and it doesn’t go well.

House of Dracula would be the final Universal Studio’s final “serious” film featuring their classic monsters. It was an end of an era. In 1948, Universal released Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein—reuniting Chaney and Strange with Lugosi returning as Dracula—and the film became a classic and spawned more Abbott and Costello films featuring other Universal monsters.

None of them were as good as A&CMF.

The Gillman—the creature from the Black Lagoon—joined the Universal Monsters’ pantheon and people loved it. However, Universal Studios shifted gears: Giant, mutated creatures and alien invaders thrilled audiences throughout the 1950s. Universal released its final vampire film, a hybrid Western/vampiric gunslinger film called Curse of the Undead.

And that, you see, was the first cinematic universe. It was brief, silly, some would say, but damn, it was glorious for us fans. Those three films really ignited our imaginations and some found the inspiration to become storytellers, writers and directors. Makeup FX. What have you.

The Japanese Kaiju films introduced Gojira/Godzilla and Gamera and their respective cinematic universes. In 1987, Monster Squad reunited versions of the Universal Horror movies and 2004’s Van Helsing emulated the formula. A few years ago, Universal Studios  attempted to create a new shared Dark Universe—Tom Cruise’s The Mummy and The Invisible Man would be the first; however, The Mummy proved to be a disastrous flop, a critical and box office bomb.

The Dark Universe died right there.

That said, the original Universal Horror cinematic universe gave way to the MCU, the Arrowverse, the new DCU and the ever-expanding Star Wars Universe.

I’d love to see another Dark Universe reboot. Maybe it will happen but I have some doubts.

Who knows?

Today, I watched those three films and it brought back a lot of memories. Good memories.

Just what I needed for Hallowe’en.

Be seeing you.

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The Best Horror Film Ever Made Is 90 Years Old: The Black Cat.

“Supernatural? Perhaps. Baloney? Perhaps not. There are many things under the sun.”—Dr. Vitus Werdegast, The Black Cat.

By the mid-1930s, Universal Studios hit its stride with the horror film genre. For over the last decade, the studio released a number of fine movies but really made both cultural and financial impacts when in 1931, Tod Browning’s Dracula Béla Lugosi, Edward Van Sloan, Helen Chandler, David Manners and Dwight Frye was released (both Lugosi and Van Sloan appeared in the 1924 Broadway play; the studio also released a Spanish language version starring Carlos Villarías, Lupita Tovar, Barry Norton and Pablo Álvarez Rubio, which was directed by George Melford. Both were successful and over the next three years, Universal released Frankenstein with Boris Karloff, The Mummy (1932) again with Karloff; Lugosi’s Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932); Karloff’s The Old Dark House (1932); and The Invisible Man (1933) starring Claude Rains. Aside from The Old Dark House, the other films each would spawn a series of sequels that drew in audiences.

Universal wasn’t about to let up, so they decided to produce other films—and then someone had the truly brilliant idea of pairing the studio’s most popular actors: Karloff and Lugosi. The Black Cat was the first of eight films starring the two, all but one produced by Universal Studios. The film was notable for Lugosi as one of the “good guys” while Karloff essays one of his best menacing and villainous roles in his career.

Another great idea was hiring director Edgar G. Ulmer.

Ulmer was a highly versatile and talented filmmaker of Jewish-Moravian descent. Despite primarily working on B movies and low-budget productions in Hollywood, he gained a cult following among critics who praised his unique style and eccentric approach to storytelling. Ulmer was known as 'The King of PRC' for his remarkable output at Poverty Row studios. Some of his most renowned works include the eerie, atmospheric science fiction film, 1951’s The Man From Planet X and the moody, captivating film noir Detour (1945).

Ulmer, along with screenwriter/pulp mystery writer Peter Ruric—known by his real name, Gregory Sims—they developed the story, “suggested  by” Edgar Allen Poe’s The Black Cat; Ruric then wrote the screenplay—and by 1934’s standards, even before the Hays Code took effect, it’s one hell of an off-the-hook story.

On their honeymoon in Hungary, American crime writer Peter Alison and his new bride Joan are told that, due to an error, they will have to share a train compartment with Dr. Vitus Werdegast, a Hungarian psychiatrist on his way to visit an old acquaintance. As the night progresses, the couple discovers that Werdegast left his home 18 years ago to fight in World War I and has not seen his wife and daughter since then, as he spent the last 15 years in a notorious prison camp in Siberia.

In the midst of darkness and heavy rain, Peter, Joan, Werdegast and Thamal, Werdegast's loyal servant, transfer to a small bus. As they draw near to Werdegast's destination—the secluded mansion built by Austrian architect Hjalmar Poelzig atop the ruins of Fort Marmorus—the driver loses control and crashes the vehicle. The crash claims the driver's life and leaves Joan injured, but Peter, Werdegast and Thamal can carry her to Poelzig's eerie house.

If the story sounds familiar, well, some have said The Rocky Horror Show/The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a remake of The Black Cat. The Black Cat is a better film.

Joan starts acting strangely and it’s quite apparent that Werdegast and Poelzig—who was based on infamous occultist Aleister Crowley while the name Poelzig was taken from Austrian architect, Hans Poelzig—share a sinister secret and scheming against one another. It’s soon revealed that Poelzig, after Werdegast was imprisoned somewhere in Siberia, marries Karen, Werdegast’s wife, and along with her daughter, also named Karen, build a new life. However, the elder Karen mysteriously dies and Poelzig marries the younger Karen.

Poelzig is also a satanic cult’s high priest and a full moon is about to happen—and he plans to use Joan for the black mass’ sacrifice.

Werdegast tells a frightened, bewildered Joan:

“Did you ever hear of Satanism, the worship of the devil, of evil? Herr Poelzig is a great modern priest of that ancient cult. And tonight in the dark of the moon the rites of Lucifer are celebrated. And if I'm not mistaken, he intends you to play a part in that ritual . . . a very important part.”

Despite Poelzig’s evil plans and having the odds in his favor, Werdegast hatches a desperate gambit to save the American couple and get his revenge—no matter what.

The movie had a major impact on me was I was younger; I was 14 years old when I first saw it—one of the local TV stations showed old Universal horror films on late Friday nights, while on it was old mystery film series on Saturday nights, starting with Sherlock Holmes. I hadn’t heard of The Black Cat before so I didn’t know what to expect. From the very beginning, I was transfixed, mesmerized and totally blown away.

Even by Pre-Code Hollywood standards, Ulmer and Ruric pushed the envelope in many ways: The Black Cat unravels like a haunting nightmare, filled with disturbing scenes of serial murders involving women as victims, necrophilia, ailurophobia—the fear of cats—drug abuse, disturbing implications of incest, a deadly duel played out as a game of chess, brutal torture, skinning and a gruesome human sacrifice. This truly bizarre yet mesmerizing masterpiece, barely lasting an hour, complete with still jarring and unsettling images still lingering in my mind long after all these years.

The Black Cat's budget was $95,745 ($2.2 million today) and it made over $236,000 ($5.4 million today). The film was Universal Studios biggest hit of 1934.

The film has tension, a pair of great actors in their prime, moody, sinister atmosphere and briskly paced; again, clocking in at an hour or so, The Black Cat packs a punch and delivers more than any “modern” film made over the years. Like Halloween, there’s no gore but the shocking violence is present, it’s implied: Kristy Marlana Wallace, also known as Poison Ivy or Poison Ivy Rorschach—the Cramps’ cofounder and guitarist, as well as a horror film afficionado—once said: "(When) ******* gets skinned alive at the end but they show the shadow of it and somehow that's more gruesome.”

Reservoir Dogs. Michael Madsen’s Mr. Blonde cuts off the cop’s ear and Quintin Tarantino shot two versions: One where you see Mr. Blonde cuts off the ear; the second version is of the Mr. Blonde and the cop’s shadows are seen on the wall as the cop’s ear is sliced off.

Guess which version worked for the audience and used?

The second one. People found it more than gruesome.

Ulmer knew it’d work—but he had no other options but he made it work.

Both Carpenter and Tarantino knew it worked well.

If you’ve never seen The Black Cat, I think you should check it out. More than nine decades later, it holds well today and if you love certain aspects of filmmaking, from lighting and set design—in fact, Poelzig’s cavernous fortress-turned-home becomes a character itself. The Black Cat is available for rent or buy from most major streaming platforms. It’s even available to watch for free on the Internet Archive . . . it’s grainy but still watchable.

I hope you’ll take my advice and watch The Black Cat. You won’t be disappointed and I think you’ll enjoy it.

Be seeing you.

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