IT Girls, Flappers, Jazz Babies, and Vamps

Clara Bow in It (1927)

Tomorrow begins Film Forum's two-week series "IT Girls, Flappers, Jazz Babies, and Vamps" or as I call it, my big birthday present. Yes, there will be 31 films shown featuring  some of the loveliest and greatest of the silver screen starting with Kay Francis and Miriam Hopkins in Ernst Lubitsch's witty Trouble in Paradise (1932) and ending with Clara Bow in Dorothy Arzner's delightful Get Your Man (1927). In between there's Louise Brooks, Marlene Dietrich, Barbara Stanwyck, Joan Blondell, Greta Garbo, Jean Harlow, Joan Crawford, Anna May Wong, Colleen Moore, and more. I am trying to limit myself to only seeing films that I haven't seen on the big screen before but that rule might just get broken (I'll report back on which screenings I attend). So thank you Bruce Goldstein and Film Forum for scheduling this series during my birthday month. And if anyone is looking for me during the next few weeks, you'll know where to find me.

For more information about the series, visit Film Forum.

Harlow

Today is Jean Harlow's birthday. Born in Kansas City, Missouri on March 3, 1911, she was the original blonde bombshell. Gorgeous, smart, and funny, she starred in a series of wonderful films in the 1930s before dying all too soon at the age of 26. I've written before about my love for Harlow who is one of my favourite stars from the Golden Age of Hollywood. The scene of her sitting in bed eating chocolates and reading magazines in Dinner at Eight is a situation I am always aspiring to be in, and I only wish I could deliver a putdown like she could ("Ya big ape"). So Happy Birthday, Harlow!

The Sweetheart of Lisbon

Beatriz Costa (1930)

Beatriz Costa (1907-1996) was a huge Portuguese theatre and film star who, unfortunately, is not very well known here in the States. I became intrigued from the moment I first saw her image. Portuguese, dark bob, only five feet tall, that could be a description of me! (Sadly though, I can neither sing nor dance.) Of course, I wanted to find out more about her. Most of the information I did find was in Portuguese so apologies in advance for anything that I've translated poorly.

She was born Beatriz da Conceição in Mafra, Portugal on December 14, 1907. As a young girl she helped her mother who took in sewing and taught herself how to read at the age of 13. Enamoured with the stage, she used a connection of her stepfather’s to get a letter of introduction to a theatre manager in Lisbon and at age 15 she made her professional stage debut as a chorus girl in Tea and Toast (1923). She was shortly after renamed Beatriz Costa by Luis Gallardo.

Beatriz Costa from a studio session in Rio (1929)

The following year the theatre company travelled to Brazil where Costa earned raves from the public and the press, especially for her performance of the song “Mademoiselle Boy.” She returned to Portugal two years later where she continued to star in a variety of musical shows.

In 1927, she made her screen debut in The Devil in Lisbon followed the same year by Fátima Milagrosa in which she danced a tango with the future director Manoel de Oliveira. She also began sporting bangs, which would become her trademark. Although she was successful in film, she continued to perform on stage in a series of productions before going on another tour of Brazil. When she returned, she met with Paramount’s European representative and won the lead in Her Wedding Night, a remake of a Clara Bow picture and one of the first Portuguese talkies. Filmed in Paris, it brought Costa even more accolades.

Beatriz Costa (center) on stage in Full Moon (1934)

Beatriz Costa (without bangs) and Procópio Ferreira in The Four Leaf Clover (1936)

By the 1930s, Costa’s bubbly personality and comedic talents had made her incredibly popular and she was given the nickname, “the Sweetheart of Lisbon.” In 1933, she starred in her biggest film yet, A Song of Lisbon. Billed as the “first Portuguese film made by Portuguese people,” A Song for Lisbon ushered in Portugal’s Golden Age of Cinema. In 1937, Portuguese moviegoers voted her the “Princess of Portuguese Cinema.” 

She ended the decade by making her last film, The Village of White Clothes, and returning to Brazil where she stayed for ten years, performing at the Casino da Urca; she would later refer to this time as “the best years of my life.” It was there in 1947 that she wed the Brazilian writer and sculptor Edmundo Gregorian. But the marriage didn't last, and they divorced two years later.

In 1949, she made a triumphant return to Portugal where she starred in a series of successful plays including Play the Music and Carry On. After her performance in Está Bonita a Brincadeira in 1960, she retired from the stage and travelled the world, attending theatre festivals and visiting with various celebrities. When she returned to Portugal, she moved into the Hotel Tivoli in Lisbon where she would live for the rest of her life. There she began a second career as an author, writing successful books about her career and experiences. I’m happy to report, she sported a bob with her trademark bangs even in old age. Although she received many requests to return to the stage she refused, citing the decline in the quality of theatrical shows. Costa passed away on April 15, 1996. 

Song of Lisbon is one of her few films to survive. Watch this clip where Costa awkwardly dances around and cannot hit a high note. She's funny and adorable in this scene and throughout the rest of the film; no wonder she was called the Sweetheart of Lisbon.

Ball of Fire

On Christmas day, I could be found at Film Forum laughing along with the rest of the audience at Howard Hawks’ Ball of Fire (1941). 

A screwball comedy based on Snow White and Seven Dwarfs, the film is set not in a forest but in New York City where eight professors live and work together in an old brownstone, writing an encyclopedia of human knowledge. They are on the letter “S” when the youngest professor, Bertram Potts (Gary Cooper), realizes that his research on slang is out of date. He roams the city looking for people to make up a research panel and winds up at a nightclub where Sugarpuss O’Shea (Barbara Stanwyck) is performing with the Gene Krupa Band. Potts is entranced and invites Sugarpuss to join his panel. At first she declines but changes her mind when she needs a place to hide from the DA who's looking for her in connection to her mobster boyfriend, Joe Lilac (Dana Andrews). She moves into the house with the professors and quickly changes their lives. She and Potts fall in love, and he proposes marriage. The only problem is that Joe wants her to marry him so she can’t testify against him in court. Everyone winds up in New Jersey where Potts fights Joe for the woman he loves.

The film’s leads are perfect in their roles: Barbara Stanwyck was a street-smart New Yorker in real life and looks gorgeous while Gary Cooper is especially attractive when he's in full fumbling nerd mode (which he plays so well). They are supported by some of Hollywood’s favourite character actors including S.Z. Sakall, Henry Travers, Richard Haydn, Leonid Kinskey, and Dan Duryea. There’s also a great musical performance by Gene Krupa of "Drum Boogie" including a scene where he uses a book of matches to play the drums. The comedy is balanced with some tender moments and the costumes are glorious (one of Stanwyck’s gowns literally shines). And then there is the language.

Screwball comedies are noted for their witty dialogue and this film delivers in spades thanks to a brilliant script by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett. In the film, Cooper quotes Carl Sandburg who said, "slang is language that takes off it coat, spits on its hands, and gets to work." In this film, the language is working overtime. The erudite words of the professors are juxtaposed with the slang-filled observations of working class people creating numerous comedic moments. 

Early in the film Potts realizes that his slang research is obsolete when a garbage collector comes into the house to ask the professors for some help with a “quizzola” he’s filling out for the chance to win $25. He asks them a question about how Cleopatra died. When they give him the answer, he expresses his thanks and tells them why it’s important:

Garbage Man: I could use a bundle of scratch right now on account of I met me a mouse last week.

Potts: Mouse?

Garbage Man: What a pair of gams. A little in, a little out, and a little more out...

Potts: I am still completely mystified.

Garbage Man: Well, with this dish on me hands and them giving away 25 smackaroos on that quizzola.

Potts: Smackaroos? What are smackaroos?

Garbage Man: A smackaroo is a...

Potts: No such word exists.

Garbage Man: Oh, it don't? A smackaroo is a dollar, pal.

Potts: Well, the accepted vulgarism for a dollar is a buck.

Garbage Man: The accepted vulgarism for a smackaroo is a dollar. That goes for a banger, a fish, a buck or a rug.

Potts: Well, what about the mouse?

Garbage Man: The mouse is the dish. That's what I need the moolah for.

Potts: Moolah?

Garbage Man: Yeah, the dough. We'll be stepping. Me and this smooch…I mean, the dish, I mean, the mouse. You know, hit the jiggles for a little rum boogie.

Potts: Please, please, not so fast.

Garbage Man: Brother, we're going to have some hoytoytoy.

Potts: Hoytoytoy?

Garbage Man: Yeah, and if you want that one explained, you go ask your papas.

Sugarpuss O’Shea’s language is just as colourful as the Garbage Man’s, and she’s better looking. Between her delivery and the gold dress that shows off her midriff and shapely legs, Potts doesn’t have a chance.

When he first meets Sugarpuss in her dressing room she tells him, “Okay, scrow, scram, scraw,” and he responds with delight, “The complete conjugation!”

Sugarpuss also gets some of the best lines. When she first enters the professors’ library she says, “Hey, who decorated this place, the mug who shot Lincoln?” And when trying to convince Potts that she’s getting sick and needs to stay over at the house, she asks him to check her throat.

Potts: There is possibly a slight rosiness in the laryngeal region.

Sugarpuss: Slight rosiness? It’s as red as the Daily Worker and just as sore.

When Potts attempts to kick her out of the house, he tells her, "Make no mistake, I shall regret the absence of your keen mind. Unfortunately, it is inseparable from an extremely disturbing body." She responds by playing on his sense of duty as a grammarian.

Sugarpuss: There's a lot of words we haven't caught up with. For instance, do you know what this means, "I'll get you on the Ameche"?

Potts: No.

Sugarpuss: Of course, you don't. An Ameche is the telephone. On account of he invented it.

Potts: Oh, no, he didn't.

Sugarpuss: You know, in the movies.

Potts: I see what you mean. Very interesting.

She finally convinces him to let her stay when she stands on three of Professor Gurkakoff’s reference books (Potts is very tall) and shows him what “yum yum” is. The kisses send Potts running out of the room to apply a cold compress to the back of his neck.

Like when Snow White went to live with the dwarfs, the other professors are enchanted by Sugarpuss and welcome her into their lives. They begin dressing smarter to impress her and instead of conducting research, they dance a conga. They also hang on her every word, trying to understand her world. When the professors turn the tables on the mobsters and pull guns on them, Professor Oddly (Richard Haydn) tells them, “I believe…I think it is known as an “up-stick.” Bless him.

Yet the influence isn’t one-sided. Sugarpuss comes to realize that not only does she deserve something better in her life but that she’s in love with Potts (or Pottsy as she calls him). He's the opposite of Joe, and she can't seem to believe that she's fallen for him. 

“I love those hick shirts he wears with the boiled cuffs. And the way he always has his vest buttoned wrong. Looks like a giraffe, and I love him. I love him because he’s the kind of a guy that gets drunk on a glass of buttermilk. And I love the way he blushes right up over his ears. I love him because he doesn’t know how to kiss, the jerk.”

The film was a hit with audiences and garnered six Academy Award nominations including one for Stanwyck for Best Actress. I think it's one of the best roles she ever played. So if you've never seen Ball of Fire, shove in your clutch and watch it now. Dig me?

Get Your Man

Clara Bow was the original “It Girl,” radiating sex appeal and epitomizing the flapper of the 1920s. What many people forget though is that she was also a fine actress. A recent screening at MoMA of a restored print of her film, Get Your Man (1927), reminded the audience of this fact.

Get Your Man opens with the betrothal between the children of two aristocratic French families (emphasis on “children”). Jump ahead 17 years and the two, now grown, are set to wed. Before they do the groom, Duke Robert Albin (Charles “Buddy” Rogers), must take a trip to Paris to pick up some family pearls to give to his bride. There he keeps bumping into the same girl—at a taxi, outside a building, in a parfumerie, and finally at a wax museum. The girl in question is Nancy Worthington (Clara Bow), a rich American on holiday. “It must be fate,” she tells him. The two tour around the museum and are accidentally locked in, resulting in their spending the night together and falling in love.

The next morning the two part after Robert confesses that he’s engaged to be married. Yet Nancy isn’t ready to give him up. She drives down to his chateau where she stages an “accident.” Taken into the house, she quickly charms everyone including Robert’s fiancée Simone de Valens (Josephine Dunn), who confides in her that she’s really in love with another man. Meanwhile Simone’s smitten father, the Marquis de Valens (Harvey Clark), proposes to Nancy who accepts on condition that he break off his daughter’s engagement to Robert, which he agrees to. Nancy’s plans almost backfire when she gets a letter from Robert stating that he’s leaving for Africa to shoot lions. Luckily some quick thinking on Nancy’s part, which involves the discovery of Robert in her room in a compromising position, soon sets everything right, and Nancy is able to get her man.

Clara Bow and Charles "Buddy" Rogers in Get Your Man (1927)

As Nancy, Clara Bow is not only attractive but smart and funny (Bow was very good at comedy). In most of her films she played working class girls but here she is wealthy and glamorous. While the film may have been just one more of Bow’s films that year for the studio (internally it was referred to as “Winter Bow”), under the direction of Dorothy Arzner, one of the first women directors in Hollywood, Bow shines. Giving her a chance to play someone different, Arzner brings out all of Bow’s best qualities in the film. Arzner was to say of Bow, “Whichever way she did it [the scene] was so right, so alive. It was like a dancing flame on the screen.”

A strong performance by Charles "Buddy" Rogers shouldn't go unacknowledged. Always charming, he may be even more beautiful than Bow in the film. There’s also some good comic timing by Harvey Clark as the besotted Marquis. And hats off to the costume designer. Bow's gowns are to die for.

The screening of the film at MoMA last month was part of their To Save and Project: The 13th MoMA International Festival of Film Preservation. Bow’s biographer David Stenn was on hand to introduce the film. It was Running Wild, his book about the actress, that helped to reintroduce Bow to film fans by debunking some persistent myths (thanks a lot Hollywood Babylon) and re-examining her as an actress.  

A still from one of the missing scenes from Get Your Man.

Unfortunately, some of the footage shows signs of nitrate burns and two of the six reels are missing so the version screened contained title cards and stills to cover the missing scenes. Restored by the Library of Congress, MoMA, and the Academy of Arts & Sciences, they did a fine job but it’s unfortunate that the missing scenes include the night at the wax museum (the footage ends before they're locked in). A still of the two stars asleep together gives a hint at what was probably a lovely scene.

Bow notoriously dreaded the coming of sound, believing the microphone to be her enemy. Watching her in a silent film, you realize that she was right in so far as she didn’t need to speak—her face could express volumes. All you have to do is watch her eyes to know exactly what's happening and in this film, you know from the beginning that she will get her man.

Bulldog Drummond

Last week I saw Bulldog Drummond (1929) at Film Forum, part of their tribute to the great production designer William Cameron Menzies. Directed by F. Richard Jones, Bulldog Drummond was the third film and first talkie based on Sapper’s (aka H.C. McNeile) stage adaption of his 1920 novel. Bull Drummond is a perfect detective story for the screen—fast paced and action packed with witty dialogue, a likable hero with a comical sidekick, a beautiful girl, and sufficiently evil villains.

The film opens in London at the Senior Conservative Club where an elderly club member is outraged by the racket created by a waiter dropping a spoon. Seated nearby is the recently demobilized Captain Hugh “Bulldog” Drummond (Ronald Colman) and his best friend, Algy Longworth (Claude Allister). Adding to the noise by whistling, Drummond leaves with Algy for a bar where he confesses, “I've been bored too long. I can't stand it any more. I'm too rich to work, too intelligent to play, much; I tell you, if something doesn't happen within the next few days, I'll explode.” When Algy jokingly suggests advertising his availability, Drummond takes him seriously and quickly writes up an ad that’s placed in the Times.

"DEMOBILIZED OFFICER, finding peace unbearably tedious would welcome any excitement. Legitimate, if possible, but crime of humorous description, no objection."

Drummond’s soon inundated with requests but one in particular piques his interest: a Phyllis Benton has written asking that if he’s serious, then Drummond should meet her at midnight at the Green Bay Inn where she’s reserved rooms for him. Drummond, who conjures up an image of a woman who’s “dark, voluptuous, and dramatic,” asks his valet, Danny (Wilson Benge), to pack him a toothbrush and a gun and departs.

At the Inn he's waiting for Phyllis when Algy and Danny show up. Calling Algy a “meddlesome jackass,” he brushes off Algy’s concerns. “If I had wanted a body guard, I should have sent for my maiden aunt,” Drummond tells him, adding, “Why not, she’s more of a man than you are.”

Bulldog Drummond (Ronald Colman) and Phyllis Benton (Joan Bennett)

Phyllis (Joan Bennett) arrives, and Drummond is delighted to find that she meets his expectations. The beautiful young woman is in a state, telling him that her wealthy uncle, Charles Travers, is supposedly being treated for a nervous breakdown at a local hospital but that the two men “treating” him, Dr. Lakington (Lawrence Grant) and Carl Petersen (Montague Love), are really keeping him there against his will in an attempt to get at his fortune. Drummond tells her that her tale is “rather like a penny thriller” yet promises to do whatever she wants him to do. The sudden appearance of silhouettes at the door (it’s just Algy and Danny being nosey) spooks Phyllis who runs away only to be caught by Lakington, Petersen, and Petersen’s "sister," Irma (Lilyan Tashman). Drummond naturally heads off to rescue his damsel in distress.

Once there Drummond acts nonchalant, pretending to have just been passing. The sound of a man’s cries for help (“Somebody step on the cat’s tail?” Drummond asks) prompts him to ask point blank if they’re abusing Travers. When Petersen denies it, Drummond leaves only to circle back. Announcing to Phyllis that “it’s a fine time for you to visit my maiden aunt in London," Irma lets out a wolf whistle. Expecting her gang, she gets Algy instead (Algy’s cluelessness seems to make him immune not only to the obvious but to danger as well). When Irma’s gang does rush in, there’s a brief shootout during which Drummond and his pals escape. Telling Algy to take Phyllis back to the Inn, Drummond returns to the hospital where he hides outside a window and watches as Travers (Charles Sellon) is brought into Lakington’s laboratory. Travers is given a special injection and forced to sign a paper turning over “certain securities and jewels” to Petersen. Drummond then takes them by surprise and escapes with Travers and the paper.

He brings Travers to the Inn, which probably isn’t the smartest move. The bad guys show up, and Irma is given two of her best scenes—ordering a drink ("whiskey, straight,") and flirting with Algy who is enamoured with the blonde (he keeps saying that he must get her telephone number). The bad guys demand Travers be handed over so Drummond disguises Algy as himself while he dresses up like Travers. A fight ensues and Drummond is taken while Algy, who has lost his costume, is left behind.

Irma (Lilyan Tashman) helps out a tied-up Bulldog Drummond (Ronald Colman).

Discovering Drummond's charade, the bad guys tie him up and inform him that they have Phyllis. Threatening to torture her—she’s taken into a room where she starts screaming—Drummond tells them that he left Travers at the Inn (in reality he's on the way to London with Danny and Algy). Everyone leaves save for Lakington who brings an unconscious Phyllis into the room. He shows Drummond his secret “electric” door that no one can open while the “current is switched on” (it’s a flimsily looking metal door that garnered a chuckle from the audience) before proceeding to paw at Phyllis. Announcing that he’s going to put Drummond to sleep, he leaves the room to mix a potion. Phyllis wakes and frees Drummond who then struggles with Lakington, killing him in the process.

Algy rings and Drummond tells him to bring the police from Scotland Yard. The bad guys return, and Drummond locks Petersen in the room with him and Phyllis. Admitting he’s licked, Petersen asks Drummond to let Irma go and requests one last call to her. Drummond agrees, and Petersen tells Irma on the phone to “work the old circus gag,” code for the gang to dress up like the police. Drummond falls for the trick and watches as the “police” take Petersen away. When Algy arrives and gives Drummond a note from Petersen explaining what he's done, Drummond tries telephoning Scotland Yard but Phyllis convinces him to let them go and tells him that she loves him. Drummond has won the girl and saved the day.

Ronald Colman is superb as Drummond. Handsome, charming, athletic (enough), and so very, very English. The most astonishing thing about the film may be the fact that it was Colman’s first talkie. The actor had already been acting in films for a few years before he played this role. I can only imagine what it must have been like to be a moviegoer hearing Colman speak for the first time in that beautiful, cultured voice.

The cast for the most part is strong including Claude Allister whose Algy is great as the film’s comic relief, Montague Love (what a brilliant name) who brings just enough likability and toughness to the role of Petersen, and Lilyan Tashman as the cool, slinky Irma. It was also a nice surprise to see Gertrude Short playing a barmaid. Thin Man fans will recognize her as Nunheim’s girlfriend, the one who doesn’t like stool pigeons. Lawrence Grant as Lakington however is a bit too over the top in his acting while Joan Bennett is utterly underwhelming as Phyllis. Bennett wouldn’t hit her stride until the 1940s when as a brunette she turned in solid performances in films like The Woman in the Window and Scarlett Street. Here the blonde Bennett just seems inexperienced and unsure of herself.

The Tivoli theatre in The Strand, London, advertising Bulldog Drummond, July 26, 1929. Photo: J. Geiger.

For a film made during the transition period from silent to talkie, it’s incredibly smooth with none of the stilted dialogues that some other films from this time suffered. There's plenty of action and Colman’s delivery helps to keep the scenes between him and Bennett from becoming overly dramatic.

As for Menzies’ sets, their size (giant doors that dwarf the characters in some scenes are juxtaposed with small, low-ceiling rooms in others) bring to mind certain German silent films. The use of shadows also serves to enhance the story. It should be noted that this was one of the first features that the great cinematographer Gregg Toland worked on (he shared the credit with George S. Barnes).

The film was well received and earned Colman and Menzies Oscar nominations. While Colman would return to the role in 1934 in Bulldog Drummond Strikes Back, many other adaptations would be made with other actors playing the role. Yet none were perhaps as convincing as Colman whose performance, a New York Times reviewer noted at the film's opening at the Apollo Theater, "is matchless so far as talking pictures are concerned."

Bride of Frankenstein

Elsa Lanchester as the Bride of Frankenstein

It’s not often that a sequel is better than the original but many believe that Universal’s Bride of Frankenstein (1935) is one of those cases. Picking up where Frankenstein (1931) left off, the movie reunited director James Whale with Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) and the Monster (Boris Karloff) and catapulted a little known actress named Elsa Lanchester into film history. 

In the opening credits, Lanchester is only listed as playing the part of Mary Shelley while the audience is teased with “The Monster’s Mate…?” Karloff, by the way, was so well known that he didn’t even need to use his first name; the credits just say "Karloff...The Monster."

Elsa Lanchester as Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein.

Lanchester appears in the opening prologue of the film as Mary Shelley, who is in Switzerland on a dark and stormy night with her husband, Percy Shelley, and their friend, Lord Byron, who expresses his amazement that this astonishing creature that’s afraid of the dark could write a tale that “sent my blood into icy creeps.”  “My purpose was to write a moral lesson,” Mary tells him. “The punishment that befell a mortal man that dared to emulate God.” She asks Byron not to remind her of the story she’s written but Byron ignores her and starts to recap Frankenstein. The accompanying clips from the first film serve to not only remind the viewers of the story but to bring them back to the final scene. When Shelley comments that it was a shame that she ended her story so suddenly Mary says, “That wasn’t the end at all. Would you like to hear what happened after that?” Entranced, Byron and Shelley sit next to her while she asks them, “Imagine yourself standing by the wreckage of the mill…”

Cut to the villagers cheering the burning of the mill and death of the Monster. Dr. Henry Frankenstein's housekeeper Minnie (played by the always delightful Una O’Connor) stands at the top of the hill and declares, “I’m glad to see the Monster roasted to death before my very eyes.” But she’s mistaken. The Monster is very much alive and soon is taking out his anger on the locals.

Henry Frankenstein, who was thought to be dead as well but is still alive, recovers and marries his fiancée Elizabeth (Valerie Hobson). He is trying to put his past behind him when his mentor arrives, the demented Dr. Septimus Pretorius (played by Ernest Thesiger who injects an element of camp into his scenes). Henry goes with Pretorius to his lab where he is shown a collection of homunculi, miniature people whom Pretorius has created from seeds and keeps in a collection of jars (how they manage to stay alive is never addressed). They include a king, queen, archbishop, devil, ballerina, and mermaid (the whole scene is surreal and very well done). Stumped in his attempts to create full-size people, Pretorius proposes that he and Henry work together and create a mate for Henry’s Monster. “To a new world of gods and monsters,” he toasts his reluctant former pupil.

The Monster finds a friend in a blind hermit.

Meanwhile the Monster has been wrecking havoc and after escaping being chained up in jail, stumbles upon a cabin in the woods where a blind hermit (O.P. Heggie) lives. The old man, who has prayed for a friend, takes the Monster in and soon teaches him to talk including learning the word “friend.” (The only problem watching this scene now is doing so and trying not to think of Young Frankenstein.) The Monster calms down and seems to be content, even happy, until two hunters arrive and attempt to kill him (the Monster just can’t catch a break). In the ensuing fight, the cabin catches on fire and the Monster flees.

Entering a crypt, the Monster encounters Pretorius who offers him food and drink and even a cigar, telling the Monster that he plans on creating a mate for him. The Monster, who has taken to saying things like “Alone: bad. Friend: good” and “I want friend like me” is eager to follow Pretorius’s command.

When Henry refuses to help his former mentor, Pretorius has the Monster kidnap Elizabeth, forcing Henry’s hand. Having harvested the brain, Pretorius gets Henry working on the other parts. When a convenient storm hits the village, they prepare for the “birth” of their creation, an event very reminiscent of the Monster’s birth.

Lying on the table wrapped in bandages, the creature resembles a mummy, and a very female one at that (she even appears to have long fingernails). With kites flying and lightening striking, the table is raised up through the open rooftop of the lab. When it returns, a movement of the hands, open dark eyes, and a slight moan prompt Henry to utter a now familiar line, “She’s alive. Alive!” (This line never gets old).

The doctors and their bride.

The creature is unwrapped and presented in her full glory, draped in a white sheet that acts as a gown and her electrified hair (complete with a white stripe shaped like a lightening bolt) standing straight up in the air. She darts her face around, reminiscent of a baby bird’s movements. As if announcing her arrival at a ball, Pretorius introduces her, “the Bride of Frankenstein.”

Still shaky on her feet, the two doctors help the Bride stand as she looks around. The Monster, who’s been waiting in the wings (well, he was on the roof for a bit and threw one of Pretorius’ henchmen to his death) steps into the scene and asks, “friend?” His Bride responds with a shriek and stumbles toward Henry. Sitting side by side, the Monster takes her hand and pats it (the blind man taught him well) as Henry looks on with concern. When the Monster reaches for her, she shrieks again and he says, “She hate me. Like others.” The three retreat while the Monster comes toward them. When he stops in front of a lever, Pretorius tells him to “Get away from that lever. You’ll blow us all to atoms.”

The Monster with his Bride.

At this moment Elizabeth, who has managed to escape, arrives and begs Henry to come away. When he tells her he can’t leave the others, the Monster tells him, “Yes, go. You live. Go.” Turning to Pretorius he says, “You stay. We belong dead.” The Bride hisses at the Monster who has a tear falling down his cheek. He pulls the lever and the laboratory explodes. Henry and Elizabeth, who have escaped, stand wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the destruction.

The movie was a huge hit with critics and audiences alike, with praise being given not just to the director and cast but also to cinematographer John J. Mescall, make-up artist Jack Pierce, and composer Franz Waxman for his score. 

The studio had wanted to make a sequel right after the original movie but Whale had initially refused. Luckily, he changed his mind and after several attempts by various writers, William J. Hurlbut wrote a script that met with Whale's approval. Karloff agreed to take on the role of the Monster again but was unhappy that this time round he would speak, believing part of the Monster's appeal was the fact that he was inarticulate. Speaking lines also meant that Karloff had to wear his dental plate, which gave the Monster a fuller face than in the previous movie.

The production was not without its challenges. Colin Clive broke his leg horseback riding shortly before production began and so he had to shoot most of his scenes sitting down. And during the scene at the destroyed mill, Karloff slipped into a well and dislocated his hip.

And then there was Lanchester’s Bride whose appearance is electrifying (no pun intended). Her face make-up took three hours alone to complete. Even with scars under her chin that run around her ears and neck, her painted eyebrows, mascara heavy eyelashes, and dark red lips make her into a glamourous monster. For her famed hairstyle, a wire cage was used to make Lanchester’s own hair stand up. The petite actress was placed on stilts while her costume was tightly wrapped around her body, making it impossible for her to move. She was carried wherever she needed to go and fed by her assistant. As for the hissing sounds that the Bride makes, Lanchester based those on the swans in Hyde Park.

The final result was an unforgettable performance as one of the most iconic monsters to ever grace the silver screen. Not bad for a five-minute appearance. 

The Wolf Man

Every October is monster movie month in my household. First up—The Wolf Man (1941).

In the pantheon of classic monster movies, one of the best is The Wolf Man (not to be confused with the 2010 misfire with Benicio Del Toro). Produced and directed by George Waggner for Universal, the original was filmed in glorious black and white with a screenplay by Curt Siodmak and a star-studded cast of Claude Rains, Warren William, Ralph Bellamy, Bela Lugosi, Evelyn Ankers, Patric Knowles, Maria Ouspenskaya, and Lon Chaney Jr. as the Wolf Man.

The film opens with a definition of “Lycanthropy” (Werewolfism): “A disease of the mind in which human beings imagine they are wolf-men. According to an old LEGEND which persists in certain localities, the victims actually assume the physical characteristics of the animal. There is a small village near TALBOT CASTLE which still claims to have had gruesome experiences with this supernatural creature.” 

Cut to the arrival of Larry Talbot who, upon news of his brother's death, has returned home to Wales after living in California for 18 years to help his astronomer father, Sir John Talbot (Claude Rains), run the family estate. There probably isn’t a more unlikely pairing of father and son as Rains and Chaney, the latter of whom is about twice the size of his co-star, but I’ll take Rains’ dulcet tones and solid acting any day.

Larry’s first act of filial duty is to help set up his father’s new telescope, which he promptly uses to spy on a comely young woman, Gwen Conliffe (Evelyn Ankers), in her apartment above the antique shop that she runs with her father. Larry later calls on Gwen and tells her that he's interested in a pair of earrings that she has in her bedroom. At this point Gwen should kick him out but she continues talking with him. When Larry asks her out, she says no but he tells her he'll be back at eight.

Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.) learning about werewolves from Gwen Conliffe (Evelyn Ankers).

Before he leaves, Larry purchases a walking cane with a silver handle shaped like a wolf with a pentagon, unaware of its symbolism. Gwen explains to him what a werewolf is, reciting a line from a poem that will be repeated in the film:

“Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolf's bane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.”

She goes on to tell him about the significance of the pentagram, about how "every werewolf is marked with that [pentagram] and sees it in the palm of his next victim's hand." Larry is skeptical but nevertheless asks his father about it when he gets home who repeats the same line of poetry. One question, if the lore is connected to the village where he grew up, wouldn’t Larry have learnt about werewolves as a boy? 

Later that evening, Gwen meets Larry with plans to visit the Gypsy camp to get their fortunes told. She brings along her friend Jenny Williams (Fay Helm) as a chaperone. As they wander through the fog-covered woods, Jenny points out some wolf's bane and repeats the now familiar line, an omen of what’s to come.

At the camp, Jenny sits with one of the gypsies, Bela (Bela Lugosi), whose theatrics turn to concern when he sees a pentagram on her palm and commands her to go. Turns out Bela is a werewolf. But his attempts to protect her fails. He turns into a wolf and kills Jenny. Hearing her cries, Larry arrives and attacks the wolf, killing it with his cane but not before being bitten.

Larry's version of the night's events are questioned.

The police arrive and find a dead Bela with his head bashed in and Larry’s walking stick on the ground. At Talbot Castle, they question Larry who insists that he killed a wolf. When he tries to show them his bite mark, he finds that it has disappeared. The chief constable, Captain Paul Montford (Ralph Bellamy), is suspicious while Dr. Lloyd (Warren William) believes Larry’s suffering from mental anguish. 

Larry, feeling remorse, goes to the church where Bela's coffin lies. When the old gypsy woman, Maleva (Maria Ouspenskaya ), enters he hears her recite some lines over the coffin: “The way you walked was thorny through no fault of your own, but as the rain enters the soil, the river enters the sea, so tears run to a predestined end. Your suffering is over, Bela, my son. Now you will find peace.”

The outstanding Maria Ouspenskaya as Maleva.

Maria Ouspenskaya knocks it out of the park as Maleva. Not only does she look the part, her delivery and body language are spot on. There is a weariness about her that conveys someone who has seen too much in the world as well as an air of wisdom.

The news of Bela’s death spreads through the village and the locals begin to whisper about Larry. Gwen’s intended, the Talbot gamekeeper Frank Andrews (Patrick Knowles), warms her that "nothing but harm will come to you through him."  

Later at the Gypsy carnival, Larry runs into Maleva who tells him that Bela was a werewolf and that werewolves can only be killed with a silver bullet, silver knife, or silver stick. She then delivers the other classic werewolf line from the film:

“Whoever is bitten by a werewolf and lives becomes a werewolf himself.”

Maleva gives Larry a charm to wear for protection and tells him to keep it over his heart. Larry, not being the brightest or maybe in love, gives Gwen the charm instead after telling her about the conversation with the Maleva including the part about how he's now a werewolf.

The movie spends a lot of time explaining werewolves to Larry because it had to introduce the subject to moviegoers. Prior to this movie, the only werewolf movie was another Universal production, Werewolf of London (1935), which had received little attention. And unlike Dracula or Frankenstein, there wasn't a werewolf novel that audiences would have read. So screenwriter Curt Siodmak used some anecdotes from folklore but made up the other aspects of the werewolf legend, like the poem that’s repeatedly quoted. The result was that a lot of his inventions became part of the werewolf mythology that one finds in subsequent werewolf tales.

That evening, Larry transforms into the Wolf Man. The camera focuses first on his legs that sprout long hair and his feet that turn into paws (it should be noted that he remains fully clothed). You see him walking on tiptoe across his room and then the scene cuts to him in the foggy woods, again focused on his legs. Finally, he creeps around a tree and the camera lights on his fur-covered face.

The appearance of the Wolf Man doesn’t happen until halfway through the movie. This was smart on the filmmakers' part, helping to build the audience’s anticipation. Unlike Bela who appeared as an actual wolf (in real life it was Chaney’s German Shepherd), Larry’s Wolf Man is in human form albeit with a snout-like nose and excessive facial hair.

His first act is to kill a gravedigger. The next morning Larry wakes to find a pentagram-shaped bite on his chest and wolf prints leading to his room. He tells the men who have come to the house that they're looking for a werewolf. Dr. Lloyd, concerned about Larry's mental state, tells Sir John to send him away but is rebuffed; Larry's father thinks the best thing for his son is to stay put.

With the villagers in an uproar and fingers pointed at Larry, it is a dangerous time for him. Yet he can’t stop his transformation. That evening, he turns into the Wolf Man and goes out into the woods only to get his foot caught in one of the traps the men have planted. Maleva appears and recites the same words she said over Bela's coffin, and Larry turns back into a man. Distraught and horrified by what he's done, he goes to see Gwen and tells her that he’s leaving. She offers to go with him but when he sees a pentagram in her palm he rushes home and confesses his crimes to his father. Sir John doesn't believe him but tries to placate his son's fears by tying him to a chair before joining the other villagers in hunting down the wolf. At his insistence, he takes Larry's wolf-head cane with him.

Larry transforms again and heads back to the woods where he attacks Gwen (a sign of a classic monster movie—no one can keep out the woods). Sir John arrives on the scene and kills the creature with the cane only to discover after Maleva recites the words from before and the Wolf Man turns back into Larry that he's killed his son. When the others arrive, Montford surmises that Larry must have been killed trying to save Gwen but some people know the truth.

The Wolf Man proved to be highly popular with audiences and Chaney would go on to play the Wolf Man in five more films including Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943), which reunited many of the actors from the original film, and my personal favourite, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948). In the vein of more is better, the Wolf Man was often paired with Frankenstein or Dracula in these later movies.

While Chaney would go on to play other roles, The Wolf Man typecast him and he often ended up playing other monsters (Frankenstein, Dracula, the Mummy, to name a few). Yet the power of Chaney’s performance here shouldn’t be overlooked. In The Wolf Man he created a complex character, showing Larry’s torment and making the audience sympathetic to his plight, not an easy task for a monster.