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	- Dracula (1931) Amazon.com essential video When Universal Pictures picked up the movie rights to a Broadway adaptation of Dracula, they felt secure in handing the property over to the sinister team of actor Lon Chaney and director Tod Browning. But Chaney died of cancer, and Universal hired the Hungarian who had scored a success in the stage play: Bela Lugosi. The resulting film launched both Lugosi's baroque career and the horror-movie cycle of the 1930s. It gets off to an atmospheric start, as we meet Count Dracula in his shadowy castle in Transylvania, superbly captured by the great cinematographer Karl Freund. Eventually Dracula and his blood-sucking devotee (Dwight Frye, in one of the cinema's truly mad performances) meet their match in a vampire-hunter called Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan). If the later sections of the film are undeniably stage bound and a tad creaky, Dracula nevertheless casts a spell, thanks to Lugosi's creepily lugubrious manner and the eerie silences of Browning's directing style. (After a mood-enhancing snippet of Swan Lake under the opening titles, there is no music in the film.) Frankenstein, which was released a few months later, confirmed the horror craze, and Universal has been making money (and countless spin-off projects) from its twin titans of terror ever since. Certainly the role left a lasting impression on the increasingly addled and drug-addicted Lugosi, who was never quite able to distance himself from the part that made him a star. He was buried, at his request, in his black vampire cape. --Robert Horton • Black & White, Closed-captioned, Dolby • Commentary by film historian David J. Skal • Production notes • Theatrical trailer(s) • Includes the complete Spanish version, shot simultaneously on the same sets by by Paul Kohner, starring Carlos Villarias and Lupita Tovar • Documentary: The Road To Dracula an original documentary by David J. Skal • A new score by Philip Glass, performed by the Kronos Quartet, available also as an Isolated Music Track • Poster and Photo Montage • Universal Web Link
	- Frankenstein (1931) Amazon.com essential video "It's alive! Alive!" shouts Colin Clive's triumphant Dr. Frankenstein as electricity buzzes over the hulking body of a revived corpse. "In the name of God now I know what it's like to be God!" For years unheard, this line has been restored, along with the legendary scene of the childlike monster tossing a little girl into a lake, in James Whale's Frankenstein, one of the most famous and influential horror movies ever made. Coming off the tremendous success of Dracula, Universal assigned sophomore director Whale to helm an adaptation of Mary Shelley's famous novel with Bela Lugosi as the monster. When Lugosi declined the role, Whale cast the largely unknown character actor Boris Karloff and together with makeup designer Jack Pierce they created the most memorable monster in movie history: a towering, lumbering creature with sunken eyes, a flat head, and a jagged scar running down his forehead. Whale and Karloff made this mute, misunderstood brute, who has the brain of a madman (the most obvious of the many liberties taken with Shelley's story), the most pitiable freak of nature to stumble across the screen. Clive's Dr. Frankenstein is intense and twitchy and Dwight Frye set the standard for mad-scientist sidekicks as the wild-eyed hunchback assistant. Whale's later films, notably the spooky spoof The Old Dark House and the deliriously stylized sequel The Bride of Frankenstein, display a surer cinematic hand than seen here and add a subversive twist of black comedy, but given the restraints of early sound films, Whale breaks the film free from static stillness and adorns it with striking design and expressionist flourishes. --Sean Axmaker • Black & White, Closed-captioned • Commentary by film historian Rudy Behlmer • Production notes • Theatrical trailer(s) • Documentary: The Frankenstein Files: How Hollywood Made A Monster • Bonus Short Film: Boo!• Archival Photos • Film Highlights • Web Links
	- The Mummy (1932) Amazon.com essential video You have to hand it to the walking dead. What they lack in speed and agility, they more than make up for in sheer single-minded determination. Im-Ho-Tep is a case in point. He's an ancient Egyptian priest, cursed for his terrible crimes against the gods. A team of British archaeologists digs up his sarcophagus, along with a box inscribed with a warning that opening it will unleash death and destruction. You'll never guess what they do. Once freed, Im-Ho-Tep takes on the appropriately evil alias Ardath Bey and gets to the task of resurrecting his ancient lover--which will, of course, require a living human surrogate. While the premise may sound formulaic, The Mummy in fact turns out to be bracingly weird, relying on atmospheric creepiness rather than on jump-out-and-scare-you effects. Boris Karloff gives a terrific performance as Im-Ho-Tep. He has all the malevolence the film requires, but also manages subtler touches; the expression in his eyes as he is wrapped in preparation for being buried alive is absolutely chilling. Instead of forcing him to do all the tedious shambling around that so many mummies resort to, the filmmakers have wisely given Im-Ho-Tep/Ardath Bey a nearly living appearance once he's cleaned up and has a few psychic powers to boot, making him a potent adversary. Stock up on ace bandages and prepare for a good spooky evening. --Ali Davis • Black & White, Closed-captioned • Commentary by film historian "Paul M. Jensen" • Production notes • "Mummy Dearest: A Horror Tradition Unearthed", an original documentary by filmmaker "David J. Skal"
	- The Invisible Man(1933) Amazon.com essential video Claude Rains practically owns his film debut in The Invisible Man, despite the fact that his face (let alone his body) is seen only for seconds in the final moments. As the brilliant scientist who discovers the secret of invisibility, Rains steps into the film wrapped up like a mummy behind a layer of bandages and blanketed in heavy clothes. When he removes his garments, there's nothing underneath, a simple but effective bit of 1930s movie magic that, apart from a few glitches, works as well today as it did in 1933. Like Frankenstein, another cautionary tale of science gone horribly wrong, the consequences of the doctor's experiments are dire: the chemicals drive him insane. Director James Whale infuses the film with plenty of humor, much of it arising from the quaint quirks of the local villagers, but it turns to black comedy as the doctor transforms from an impish prankster upsetting bicycles and taunting tavern patrons to a megalomaniac bent on world domination. It's slow going even at 71 minutes, but full of delightful touches and boasts a terrific performance by the all but unseen Rains, whose rich, cultured voice envelopes the picture in a kind of omnipresent fog. Vincent Price took up the role in the sequel, The Invisible Man Returns. --Sean Axmaker --This text refers to the VHS Tape edition.
	- The Wolf Man (1941) Amazon.com essential video Even a man who is pure in heart, And says his prayers by night, May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms And the autumn moon is bright. If you haven't heard this piece of horror-movie doggerel before, you'll never forget it after seeing The Wolf Man for two reasons: it's a spooky piece of rhyme and nearly everybody in the picture recites it at one time or another. Set in a fog-bound studio-built Wales, The Wolf Man tells the doom-laden tale of Lawrence Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.), who returns to the estate of his wealthy father (Claude Rains). (Yes, Chaney's American, but the movie explains this, awkwardly.) Bitten by a werewolf, Talbot suffers the classic fate of the victims of lycanthropy: at the full moon, he turns into a werewolf, a transformation ingeniously devised by makeup maestro Jack Pierce. Pierce was the man who turned Boris Karloff into the Frankenstein monster, and his werewolf makeup became equally famous, with its canine snout and bushy hairdo--and, of course, seriously sharp dental work. The Wolf Man was a smash hit, giving Universal Pictures a new monster for their already crowded stable, and Chaney found himself following in the footsteps (or paw prints) of his father, who had essayed a monster or two in the silent era. This is a classy horror outing, with strong atmosphere and a thoughtful script by Curt Siodmak--well, except for the stiff romantic bits between Chaney and Evelyn Ankers. It's also got Bela Lugosi (briefly) and Maria Ouspenskaya, the prunelike Russian actress who foretells doom like nobody's business. --Robert Horton • Black & White, Closed-captioned, Dolby • Commentary by Film historian Tom Weaver • Production notes • Theatrical trailer(s) • Monster by Moonlight: The Immortal Saga of the Wolf Man, an original documentary from filmmaker David J. Skal, hosted and narrated by An American Werewolf in London director John Landis • Photo archives
	- Dracula's Daughter/Son of Dracula (1936) Amazon.com Dracula's Daughter This cut-rate sequel to Dracula, sans Bela Lugosi, turns out to be an unexpectedly sleek and stylish movie. Gloria Holden, tall, dark, and continental, is the aristocratic title character fighting her nature and seeking a cure for her affliction. A sympathetic psychiatrist, Dr. Garth (Otto Kruger), encourages her to "face her fears," but when she lures a pretty young streetwalker to her room to model for a painting, the temptation of her fleshy offering proves too much to overcome. Edward Van Sloan reprises his role as Van Helsing, held by the police for the murder of Count Dracula (the film opens on the final scene from Dracula) but released in the nick of time to help Garth, now at the mercy of the bitter and vindictive vampire. Director Lambert Hillyer makes the most of his low budget, with austere, angular sets and an almost abstract sense of the foggy city night. Holden's mysterious face and tall, willowy body make her an even more striking vampire than Lugosi, and Irving Pichel's offbeat servant is like an American gangster with the breeding of a European aristocrat: thick and thuggish, but always proper. The script falls into the usual rut of Universal's later horror films, losing the mood in the busy plot, but the smooth style and Holden's dignified performance lift Dracula's Daughter above most Universal sequels. Son of Dracula It was perhaps inevitable that, after playing the Wolf Man, Frankenstein's monster, and the Mummy, Lon Chaney Jr. would round out his horror resume with a turn at the great bloodsucker himself (not, as the title would suggest, his son). Looking dapper and dignified under the cape, if not exactly threatening, Chaney plays Count Alucard (that's Dracula spelled backwards), a mysterious Carpathian summoned to America by a "morbid" heiress (Louise Allbritton). Eric Taylor's script is rather clunky, but the story (by horror specialist Curt The Wolfman Siodmak) is often quite clever, playing like a supernatural twist on a psycho-thriller. Allbritton's frustrated fiancé Robert Page accidentally "kills" her while trying to shoot Alucard (who imperiously stands up to the hail of bullets) and then goes stark raving mad as he watches the dead rise to life and the living disappear in wisps of smoke and morph into creaky stage bats. Future film noir legend (and Curt's brother) Robert Siodmak (The Killers) does wonders with the swampy, misty Deep South setting despite his obviously threadbare budget, transforming the usual clichés into moments of inspired melodrama. Only the clumsy antics of the skeptical cops and the plodding exposition spouted by an old Carpathian doctor (he just happens to be the local MD) get in the way of this moody minor horror gem. --Sean Axmaker • Black & White • Production notes • Theatrical trailer(s)
	- The Creature From The Black Lagoon (1954) Amazon.com Jack Arnold's horror classic The Creature from the Black Lagoon spawned not one but two iconic images: the web-footed humanoid gill-man with a hankering for women and the leggy, luscious Julia Adams, the object of his desire, swimming the lagoon in a luminous white bathing suit. Not since King Kong has the "beauty and the beast" theme been portrayed in such sexually charged (though chaste) terms. Arnold turns an effectively B-movie plot--a small expedition up a remote Amazon river captures a prehistoric amphibian man, who escapes to wreak havoc on the team and kidnap his bathing beauty--into a moody, stylish, low-budget feature. The jungle exteriors turn from exotic to treacherous when the creature blocks their passage and strands them in the wilds. Much of the film is shot underwater, where the murky dark is animated by shimmering shards of sunlight, creating images both lovely and alien (the studio-built sets of the creature's underground lair are far less naturalistic, but serve their purpose). As with most of Arnold's '50s genre films, he's saddled with a less than magnetic leading man (in this case the colorless but stalwart Richard Carlson) and a conventional script, but he overcomes such limitations by creating a vivid and sympathetic monster (helped immeasurably by a marvelous suit of scales and fins) and establishing a mood thick with atmosphere. The film was originally shot in 3-D. --Sean Axmaker --This text refers to the VHS Tape edition.

This page last updated on March 10, 2002.