Frankenstein Premiered this day in 1931

November 21, 1931 Universal Studios released their big screen adaptation of the Mary Shelley novel, FRANKENSTEIN. Although not the most faithful adaptation it is still the greatest, in my opinion. Happy 80th, Franky!

Do You Know Your DRACULA Facts?

The following poster is one distributed in 1979 for the Universal Frank Langella Dracula film. It is a list of facts you need to know before experiencing Dracula - interesting although a little dubious on some of the historic claims. Fun promotional material I wish studios would bring back.

Dracula/Frankenstein Fox Pomona Theater Program Booklet

When it comes to modern history 1931 is a pivotal year in my mind. This is mostly because it was the launch of the monster era. You see, that was the year both Frankenstein and Dracula were released by Universal, both hugely successful and influential films spawning sequels and imitations alike. So being such the horror-nerd that I am, I sort of group historical events in my mind to Pre-1931 and Post-1931.

Well this year, 2011, marks the 80th anniversary of these classics, and a fitting tribute recently took place in a venue that was also launched that fateful year, THE POMONA FOX THEATER. Opened to the public in 1931, The Pomona Fox was the perfect place for a screening of these giants of the silver screen. it took place on Feb. 20th, 2011. I have a copy of the program book, designed and written by my buddy Scott Essman, and thought I'd share it with you folks. Enjoy, and happy 80th birthday Frank, Drac, and Pomona Fox!

(click to enlarge images)

"What Do Cute Versions of Monsters Tell Us About Horror?"

That is a good question, and one that the LOTTD (League of Tana Tea Drinkers - see link in sidebar) folks decided to toss out as a round-robin style post. I initially wasn’t going to write on the topic, as I didn’t think I had much to contribute. But on deeper reflection I rather liked the subject, and decided to go ahead and add my two cents worth. To me, the topici begs one question…

Why cutesy monsters? They’re everywhere, especially around Halloween. You can’t turn around without seeing a cartoon Frankenstein monster or Dracula or any number of other monsters. But why?

In 1931 both of the examples above were legitimately scary films. Audiences were thrilled and horrified, to quote Van Sloan. Over time, however, the monsters in those movies became familiar, and what was once scary lost its edge. The monster rallies of the 40’s needed multiple monsters to provide the thrills of earlier films. Times change, people change, and the things they fear change. Clunky black and white slow-paced movies gave way to Technicolor terrors and splattering horrors. Lumbering monsters and horrors from the deep gave way to fears of nuclear disaster. The ante was constantly raised to keep up with peoples evolving sensibilities. With the passing of each generation the frights of the past became less relevant.

Nostalgia is a funny thing. Folks look back through the haze of time and want to revisit the fond memories of their youth, and also to share these memories with their children. Thus happier, family friendly versions of monsters are born, fit for public consumption and sanitized for your protection. Once scary creatures, no longer scary by modern standards, are embraced as cultural icons. Cute versions of monsters and murderers pop up not so much to celebrate heinous acts of murder but rather to celebrate the joys of the past. Movies are an escape, and people like to revisit their favorite escape from the past. What cute monsters tell us about ourselves is that we as a species are constantly changing, and our idea of what is scary changes along with us.

Other LOTT-D posts in this Round-Robin Discussion:
http://monstermagazineworld.blogspot.com/
http://www.theofantastique.com/2011/02/22/lottd-reflections-cute-monsters-and-horror/
http://www.cinema-suicide.com/2011/02/23/tea-drinkers-roundtable-by-the-pricking-of-my-thumbs-something-adorable-this-way-comes/
http://classic-horror.com/newsreel/the_haunted_mansion_keeping_the_faith
http://thevaultofhorror.blogspot.com/2011/02/monster-cereals-eating-what-scares-us.html
http://groovyageofhorror.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-do-cute-versions-of-monsters-tell.html
http://www.strangekidsclub.com/?p=4180
http://drunkenseveredhead.blogspot.com/2011/02/nightmarish-neoteny.html
http://arche-arc.blogspot.com/2011/03/cutey-funny-part-1.html
http://arche-arc.blogspot.com/2011/03/cutey-funny-part-2.html 
http://www.zomboscloset.com/zombos_closet_of_horror_b/2011/03/cute-monsters-and-identification-with-the-terror.html

Still Psycho after all these Years!

STILL PSYCHO AFTER ALL THESE YEARS

By Scott Essman

WARNING: THIS ARTICLE CONTAINS NUMEROUS DESCRIPTIONS OF THE PLOT

Peripherally based on the real life character of Ed Gein, who killed two people in the 1950s and kept their body parts, the Alfred Hitchcock film Psycho still resonates as one of the greatest horror films of all time, even 50 years after its 1960 release.

Published shortly after the discovery of Gein’s misdeeds, Robert Bloch’s novel partly inspired Joseph Stefano’s screenplay which would become the basis for Alfred Hitchcock’s most controversial and ultimately notorious movie to that point in his career. To execute his particular vision, Hitchcock meticulously planned and storyboarded his films, Psycho being no exception, with Saul Bass’ input as a graphic designer and storyboard artist, giving the film its precision and edge. Not only is Psycho superbly photographed by John Russell and edited by George Tomasini, but also every level of Hitchcock’s production is first rate, from casting to costumes, makeup, and art direction. Of course, the finishing touch on Psycho is Bernard Herrmann’s iconic music, which is always effective but, in certain sections, reaches levels only achieved by few films in movie history. The total effect of Psycho is a film that is barely dated a half-century after its release.

Produced originally by Paramount but filmed on stages and the backlot at Universal Studios (in addition to locations around Los Angeles, in central California and in Phoenix), Hitchcock aimed to film the movie on a relatively low budget (reported at just over $800,000) and made what is, in the end, a very simple film, augmented by his choice to shoot in stark black-and-white. Later, Psycho was acquired by Universal itself, and the appearance of the Bates house on its famous backlot tour is still a staple of international tourism at Universal City. As such, though Psycho had modest ambitions, it went on to become one of Hitchcock’s most renowned projects.

Providing a subtle but memorable opening to the film are Saul Bass’ beginning titles. We are curious as to the “break” in the names as the lines cross the screen, foreshadowing the psychotic break of the main character. If Psycho has a flaw in light of the increased pacing of movies in the five decades since, it would be the opening half hour. Though we get to know the Marion Crane character, aptly played by Janet Leigh, these scenes are purely setup and do not hint as to the content of the remainder of the film. In 1960, the idea of Crane’s affair and subsequent appearance without a top in a bra alone must have shocked audiences, but this would be a minor shock compared to upcoming scenes. Leigh, 32 at the time of filming, is a fully natural beauty but plays the role of Crane in frustration with her life position, giving us empathy for her plight. When she absconds with $40,000, we root for her escape and are fooled into believing that the proceedings will be a manner of mystery, heist or noir film, and not a horror movie. In fact, in the opening scenes, there is scant evidence – especially for 1960s audiences who were admonished not to reveal the surprises in the film – that Psycho is in fact a horror film at all.

Of course, all of that changes when a fleeing Marion arrives at the Bates motel, whose combined cabins, office, and house are among the most famous exteriors in cinema of all stretches. With the extended row of 12 rooms, ending in an L-shape, with main office in the front, the motel is innocent enough save for the ominous lighted sign announcing its vacancies off of a main road. But it is the house atop a hill behind the motel that gave Psycho its truly unforgettable façade. In fact, the house might be the most recognizable private home of its time, and certainly, with very few others, one of the most immediately identifiable house in all of horror.

When Marion signs in with a pseudonym, she meets Norman Bates, portrayed by a 27-year-old Anthony Perkins. Perfectly tall, thin, spindly, with an angular face that warms when he smiles, Bates is not immediately threatening to Marion until she affronts him in their motel office conversation over Marion’s sandwich that Norman prepares. Hitchcock has played his film notably straight until these scenes where he underlights Norman and his collection of taxidermied birds, giving him a brooding quality. Norman is clearly disturbed by Marion’s suggestion that he put his mother, who has been talked about and heard complaining up the hill in the motel, into an institution. Whether or not this sets off Norman is unclear at the time, though he clearly reveals a dark side in his reaction to Marion’s invasion into his personal life.

In shots of the Bates house to this point, we never see Mrs. Bates other than a possible silhouette in the upstairs window. But we clearly know that Hitchcock is keeping some aspect of her situation from the audience as she remains a cloistered figure who neither Marion, nor other characters, ever sees in person. And, to this point in the story, we are never given Norman’s point-of-view in the house. But, after Marion goes to her room – in cabin one adjacent to the motel office – we take Norman’s perspective and learn more about him. For one, he is a voyeur who views Marion undressing through a hole in the wall hidden by a mounted painting. A great side shot of Norman’s eye peering into the hole is recalled by the closeup of Marion’s eye in the next sequence. Of course, all of this material builds to the next sequence, which certainly vaulted the movie into the status of an all-time classic.

Set-up as an innocent shower but ending in the most viscerally brutal murder that had been onscreen to the date of its release, Psycho’s “shower scene” is, in its purest sense, presented as a short film within the context of the overall larger film. The scene contains 52 individual shots and was masterfully storyboarded by Bass, directed by Hitchcock, photographed by Russell, assembled by Tomasini, and certainly scored by Herrmann. The first eight shots are innocent enough, providing Marion in several positions enjoying her shower. Only the second shot, of her point-of-view looking up at the shower head, provides any hint that anything unpredictable is to come, but the cutting together of these seven shots, combined in such a way as to construct a buildup to some unknown future event, is self-evident.

Then, the eighth shot in the scene is the one that kept women out of the shower – and ostensibly into the bathtub – in the early 1960s across the globe. Marion is screen right inside of the shower, while screen left, behind her and in back of the translucent shower curtain, a figure emerges through the door. The first part of this shot is startling enough, but as the figure approaches the shower in the same shot and opens the curtain, to the staccato hits of Herrmann’s often-imitated but never equaled murderous theme, we see a shadowy figure in the appearance of a woman with a long knife. And suddenly, what was a relatively slow and mannered film shocks, outrages, upsets, scares, and engrosses the audience into the story.

The next shots in the sequence exploit the moment by providing numerous angles on the murder, though we never see a knife actually penetrate Marion’s skin. In fact, though there are several cuts to Leigh’s face, a number of cuts do not feature her face, but various body parts, instead, of Leigh’s body double, Marli Renfro. Born in 1938, native Los Angeleno Renfro had modeled and performed as a showgirl from shortly after her 1955 high school graduation, and one of her photographers had recommended her to the production as a suitable double for Leigh. After interviewing with both Leigh and Hitchcock, Renfro joined the production and filmed for seven days in December of 1959 to complete the shots necessary as Leigh’s double for the shower scene and its brief aftermath. A nudist at the time, Renfro appeared fully nude save her underpants, and played as such through the filming in the shower. However, thanks to Hitchcock’s immaculate production techniques, every angle in which Renfro was used was very carefully staged from Bass’ storyboards. At various times, we see Renfro’s arm, legs, navel, and most of her body from an overhead shot, though her breasts are mostly blocked by one or both of her arms. Intercut with shots of Leigh’s face, and the silhouetted figure and hand which is committing the stabbing, Renfro’s shots must be viewed slowly and deliberately to detect them.

Among the most interesting of these shots is the 30^th in the scene, where the knife appears to plunge from above into Marion’s stomach area. However, a close review of this shot reveals only eight frames of action, and no actual penetration of the skin. In fact, this shot was filmed in reverse, with the knife pressed against Renfro’s navel and drawn upward so as to provide accuracy but no danger to the model. Though the shower water is moving up instead of down in the final film, at only eight frames, being exactly one-third of a second, it is barely detectable. In concert with the scene’s cringing sound effects of a stabbing knife, the illusion is complete.

By the 41^st shot in the scene, the murderer leaves the room, but Hitchcock and his team prolong the agony of the scene and provide its complete impact in the succeeding shots where a severely wounded Marion, with no other recourse, reaches for the shower curtain, and, with a quick cut to Renfro on the bottom of the shower base where Marion has slipped, pulls it off of its rings. But, as Marion drops with her upper body outside of the shower, Hitchcock closes out the proceedings with several more cuts, including a shot which follows Renfro’s legs with a trail of blood – albeit Hershey’s chocolate syrup mixed with water – down the drain, dissolving to Leigh’s eye in a perfect match from the drain hole. The raised eyebrows and hollow, still shocked look on Leigh’s face as Hitchcock’s camera pulls back is a surrogate for the now stunned audience at having one of the biggest movie stars of the time killed off so early into a film in such a violent onscreen manner.

A long Hitchcock pan from the bathroom to the newspaper containing the $40,000 serves as a refractory period from the unnerving of the shower scene, though by this point, we do not surmise that Marion has been killed for money, and believe the killer to be a jealous mother of a woman who intrigued her lonely son.

Hitchcock pulls back from the heavy murder scene with a somewhat overlong scene of Norman cleaning up the shower and bathroom, wrapping Marion’s body inside the shower curtain, dragging it all outside, disposing the body and Marion’s belongings into her car, and driving it all into a nearby swamp. Perhaps Hitchcock brings this scene in at a certain length both to provide distance from the shower scene and to instill in the audience that Norman is actually covering up the crime for his mother, who Norman calls to in the house above. But the true identity of the killer still remains a mystery to the audience.

Scenes following Marion’s disappearance with her friends and family interested in her whereabouts are augmented by the appearance of Martin Balsam, whose kindly but gruff detective Arbogast grounds the film in a new hero who we hope will unravel the mystery of Marion’s location. Clever detective work leads him to the Bates motel, and a tense though non-threatening encounter with Norman ensues, ending with Norman declining to answer more questions when Arbogast deduces that Marion has been at the motel, though his belief of Norman’s motive of money we now know to be something of a red herring. And, at the time, Arbogast is fully unaware of Norman’s – or his mother’s – true intentions.

In fact, though Arbogast is on Norman’s trail and believes Marion to possibly still be on the Bates premises, his naivety about Bates’ true character lead to a sense of his endangerment, though we still have faith in his heroic capabilities. However, when he finally enters the Bates home and heads up the stairs, Hitchcock’s overhead shot of Balsam reaching the second floor still provides a terrific moment of fright despite the chance of a letdown from the previous murder. When the female figure emerges from an upstairs room to attack Arbogast, it remains nearly as effective as the eight shot from the shower scene. Then, Hitchcock’s unusual choice to have his camera follow Balsam’s bloodied figure as he fluidly falls down the stairs is yet another iconic movie moment though we are spared the full murder when a fallen Arbogast is again attacked at the bottom of the steps.

With two vividly photographed murders having already appeared onscreen, how could Hitchcock top that in the ending of Psycho? As Marion’s two followers arrive at the motel – Vera Miles as Marion’s sister Lila, and John Gavin as Marion’s somewhat secretive lover, Sam Loomis – we fear for them encountering a similar fate to Marion and Arbogast. By this point, Lila and Sam are fully onto Norman’s keeping information hidden, and they intend to unveil the truth about him and his mother, eventually leading Lila into the Bates home. Hiding below the stairs, she finally enters the basement, leading to Psycho’s final surprise, the reveal of Mrs. Bates as a ten-year-old corpse who Norman has kept in their home. This scene, with Miles flipping over the seated corpse and screaming while hitting a hanging basement light bulb, has also been long mimicked through the years by other moviemakers. We finally see Norman in a woman’s dress and wig, coming to attack Lila but being subdued by Sam, ending the mystery of Norman having a split personality, among other defects.

One of Psycho’s few truly dated scenes, the epilogue of the film, could only be classified as anticlimactic exposition. Delivered primarily by a psychiatrist, played by Simon Oakland, Norman’s various life dilemmas and psychoses are disseminated before we finally see a distraught befuddled Norman sitting in a holding cell. We lastly see a final shot of Marion’s car being towed out of the swamp to close the film.

109 minutes of pure horror glee, Psycho ushered in an uncountable number of films about serial killers and mysteriously disturbed leading characters, not to mention several unnecessary sequels and a boggling 1998 remake. And even 50 years later, the film stands as a classically conceived and created project in the genre. One of Hitchcock’s best and certainly among his most famous, Psycho began one of cinema’s great creative periods with a fully realized vision by one of its best filmmakers.

Creature From the Black Lagoon French Pressbook

This is something VERY cool I ran across a couple months back - it's a French pressbook for the Universal film, The Creature From the Black Lagoon. LOVE the artwork on the cover - Universal was definitely justifiably proud of this movie. They just don't make em like this anymore. A true classic.

Beware the full moon...

Another of the studio shots of Lon and Evelyn Ankers. I wonder how many of these they did in total?

Lon and Evelyn

Another posed shot of Evelyn and wolfie. Universal was obviously proud of this makeup and the upcoming movie, and I imagine the buildup for it was pretty cool. I've been seeing lots of previews of the new Wolfman movie on TV lately, too, as Universal gets the promotional machine rolling for a wolfman movie.

Beware the Wolf Man

This is one of a series of photos of Lon Chaney in the wolf man makeup with costar Evelyn Ankers. Great pic...

Even a Man Who is Pure of Heart...

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.

Thus goes the poem repeated several times throughout the original Wolf Man movie. But where did this come from? Here is writer Curt Siodmak speaking about this very subject in an interview:

“I made that ditty up. Now people believe it is part of European Folklore…”

Curt Siodmak was born August 10, 1902 in Germany. He moved to America with his brother Robert and moved to Hollywood in 1937. They both worked in Hollywood, writing for movies and tevevision. Curt wrote screenplays for an incredible list of Science-Fiction and Horror films, including: The Invisible Man Returns, The Invisible Woman, The Ape, Black Friday, The Wolf Man, The Invisible Agent, Son of Dracula, I Walked with a Zombie, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man , House of Frankenstein, The Beast with Five Fingers, and many more.

Growing up in Europe gave Curt a unique perspective when it came to writing, and tapping into folklore and traditions of Europe no doubt had an influence on the fairy-tale like quality I’ve always felt The Wolf Man movie had about it. Here is Curt speaking about that very subject:

“But these stories also have a deep atavistic meaning. They appeal to our hidden basic instincts which we remember subconsciously since the time our forefathers lives in caves. Man wanted to identify himself with the strongest animal he feared. The wolf was the most dangerous animal in Europe at that time. So, there was the Tigerman in India, the Snakeman in the Pacific. The fairytales are in my opinion the fear of winter. Little Red Riding Hood is swallowed by the bad wolf-the winter-the young hunter, spring, frees her and kills the winter with its cold and hunger. Sleeping Beauty has the same theme: the bad witch-winter-poisons her. Spring, the young prince kills the witch, Sleeping Beauty coughs up the poisoned apple, comes back to life and the thorns start blooming with a million roses. Very poetic!”

Curt was an interesting man who later moved to directing. He even had a small part as an extra in Metropolis. The story goes that while working as a reporter in Germany he attempted to interview director Fritz Lang. This led to his role as an extra as a workman in that 1927 Fritz Lang classic.

Wolf Man director George Waggoner

I’d like to pay tribute today to a man who had a huge influence on the success of the 1941 Universal classic The Wolf Man, but whose name is little known to most fans of the film. This man had a hand in one capacity or another in several of my all time favorite horror films: The Wolf Man, Man Made Monster, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, even the Adam West Batman series. I’m talking about director George Waggner.

George Waggner (spelled with two g’s) was born in New York City on September 7th, 1894. He studied Pharmacy at the Philadelphia college of Pharmacy, where I have found conflicting reports about whether he graduated. His plans to become a Pharmacist were put on hold, however, when World War I broke out, and he served a stint in the military. I am not sure which branch he served in, but if I had to hazard a guess I’d say the Navy. Several of the scripts he would later write were sea stories, including his very first, Gorilla Ship a.k.a. Vengence Rides the Sea.

After the war George found himself in Hollywood where he initially worked as an actor. This makes me wonder if perhaps he met someone in the service who got him interested in this profession, or if he just somehow stumbled upon this new career. His first acting role was in a 1921 silent film called The Sheik. He appeared in 7 films between 1921-1926, several of them westerns, and even portrayed Buffalo Bill Cody in the film The Iron Horse in 1924 (directed by John Ford).

With the advent of sound in movies (the first feature film “talkie” being The Jazz Singer in 1927) George shifted his interest and began working as a song composer and lyricist for movies. He wrote lyrics and music for songs featured in 17 films between 1929 and 1949, his first being the lyrics for the songs “If I had my Way” and "I'm That Way About Baby (And She's That Way About Me)" in the film The Flying Fool from 1929.

In 1932 George again expanded his creative interests and started what would become a long and successful career as a writer. His first credit is the screenplay for Gorilla Ship in 1932. He’s credited for screenplay, dialogue or writer for 24 films between the years 1932 and 1938. With the film Western Trails (which he wrote under the pseudonym Joseph West) he began writing and directing films. In all George would write for 71 movies and TV series, including the screenplay for one of my all time favorite Universal movies, Man Made Monster (starring Lon Chaney Jr.).

In 1938 George began directing movies. He made 6 that year: Ghost Town Riders, Prairie Justice, Guilty Trails, Black Bandit, Outlaw Express, and Western Trails, all of which he also wrote. I’m not sure which of these came out first, but did read somewhere it was Black Bandit, a western starring Bob Baker the singing cowboy. George would go on to direct 58 films and TV series, including several that are quite significant to the horror genre. In 1941 he directed Horror Island, Man Made Monster, and his best known picture The Wolf Man (what a year!). He directed multiple episodes of The Veil for television in 1958. Between 1966-1967 he directed one episode of The Green Hornet, seven episodes of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and ten episodes of Batman.

Beginning in 1941 George even worked as a producer in Hollywood, racking up 17 producer credits in all including such notable films as: The Wolf Man, Ghost of Frankenstein, Invisible Agent, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, and The Phantom of the Opera (1943 version starring Claude Rains). His last producer credit is listed as The Wolfman, an eight minute abridgment of the 1941 feature The Wolf Man, released in 16mm film format (which he also directed).

George was a multi-talented man who had a long Hollywood career. His wife’s name was Danny Shannon, and they had a daughter named Shy Waggner who even had a small role at age 25 in The Fighting Kentuckian, a John Wayne film written and directed by George. He passed away on December 11th, 1984 in Hollywood of natural causes at age 90. Here’s a salute to this multi-talented and little recognized talent of the silver screen.

Trailer for The Wolfman 2010

WOLF MEN : The Men Who Created 1941’s THE WOLF MAN

Over the next few weeks I'll be looking at the Wolf Man film, Lon Chaney Jr., and Jack Pierce. To kick off the month long celebration, below is an article by Universal employee and major Monster-kid Scott Essman. Scott has worked hard to keep classic monsters alive and well, and this is just one of many such articles he's written on all the creatures we know and love. Enjoy!

WOLF MEN : The Men Who Created 1941’s THE WOLF MAN

by Scott Essman

The long-awaited release of Universal Studios’ 2010 version of The Wolfman conjures the history of the men who made the original horror films at the studio in the 1920s through the 1940s. Not only was the original 1941 film The Wolf Man key among them, but the rich history of the other films is directly tied into both why and how that film was created.

In 1928, after his father had appointed 21-year-old Carl Laemmle, Jr. as head of production at Universal Studios, the machinery was in place for a new wave of films based on classic horror stories. By 1931, the studio had both Dracula and Frankenstein as two of its greatest successes, and they followed those up with a few more early 1930s originals, including The Mummy and The Invisible Man.

By 1935, they had produced Werewolf of London, their first film based on the Loup-Garou stories from France of men who turned into wolves at the turning of a full moon. When the Laemmles left the studio in 1937, Universal seemed doomed to a slate of poorly produced sequels to the great films of the Laemmle era as quickly churned out sequels to Dracula, Frankenstein, and The Mummy arrived in droves. However, there was one exception to the rule which arrived in 1941 which would set a new standard and ultimately be ranked with the greatest of the Universal horror classics.

As the 1940s began, horror movies were beginning to take a back seat to sweeping romantic dramas and comedies. But one intended B picture was the landmark The Wolf Man, reestablishing the horror genre at Universal. The film was originally meant for Boris Karloff some ten years earlier, but by 1941, when Karloff had moved onto mad scientists and other older characters, a new actor was positioned as the new Karloff at the studio. His name was Lon Chaney, Jr. Until the late 1930s, the younger Chaney had been less heralded than his silent movie superstar father, but his appearance in 1939’s adaptation of Of Mice and Men put him on the cinematic map. Chaney, Jr. was a star in the making and Universal snapped him up for a run of horror films that lasted throughout the 1940s. With Jack Pierce’s innovative makeup - a more thorough lycanthrope overhaul of Chaney Jr.’s face than had been utilized on Henry Hull in Werewolf of London - The Wolf Man was a remarkable horror movie character and equally as memorable as Karloff’s Frankenstein Monster and Mummy and Bela Lugosi’s Dracula.

In addition to the team of Jack Pierce, director George Waggner, and visual effects wizard John P. Fulton, the craftsmanship of The Wolf Man was also entrusted to editor Ted J. Kent, A.C.E . Of all the monster movie editors, none was more prolific than Kent, an in-house editor at Universal for over a quarter century. Kent's monster tenure spanned no fewer than five ownership changes at the studio. Though research dictates no clear reason for the change, Universal assigned Kent to James Whale's follow-up to The Old Dark House, which had been competently edited by Clarence Kolster and was released only a year after Frankenstein. This film, released in 1933, The Invisible Man, would prove among Whale’s most challenging films, with equal contributions by Kent and Fulton. No doubt, both Universal and Whale were enamored with Kent's work, and he cut three of Whale's last several films with Universal, including Show Boat in 1936 and The Road Back in 1937. But the one film that elevated Whale's reputation beyond that which his earlier films offered him was a picture he didn't even want to make.

By 1935, the idea of The Bride of Frankenstein didn't appeal to the man who was wary of being labeled a horror director. Nonetheless, many consider Whale's long-overdue sequel to be superior to the original Frankenstein with its mixture of unforgettable sequences, demonic characters, and wistful comedy. In a likely homage to Clarence Kolster's work on that first film, Kent cut Bride in similar fashion, most notably in the reveal of Elsa Lanchester's hideous title character in the final scenes; we see her in the same three matching closeups that Kolster implemented so effectively to show us Karloff's monster in the original film. Even after Whale and the Laemmles departed Universal, Kent was recruited by studio brass to cut 1939's final sequel with Karloff as the monster, Son of Frankenstein, featuring a towering performance by Bela Lugosi as Ygor that Kent surely played up in the editing room. He even cut Vincent Price's 1938 debut film, Service de Luxe! But though he likely didn't realize it then, Kent's Universal career was just starting to peak.

For the Waggner Wolf Man film, slated as a B-picture by the Universal brass, Pierce and Fulton knew that they had an opportunity to create a unique project that would harken back to the old Laemmle years at the studio. In Chaney, they had the hulking physical actor who could be used to realize their ideas. With The Wolf Man, Kent, along with major contributions by studio mainstays Pierce and Fulton, created the film's showpiece "transformation" sequences which became standard fare in the many spin-offs that followed. Witness the lap dissolves that Kent and Fulton implemented for transformations from man to wolf, and especially, in the film’s tragic climax, from wolf back to man. Kent also cleverly orchestrated the noted end of the film where Claude Rains unknowingly beats his own son with a silver-tipped cane, later realizing that it was his own flesh that he killed. In their tussle, an especially marked cut to a close shot of Chaney, Jr. as the Wolf Man struggling with Rains makes for one of the film’s most fascinating moments.

During pre-production of The Wolf Man, Jack Pierce worked diligently to create the makeup for the title character, having been disappointed with his reduced makeup for Henry Hull in Werewolf of London. Pierce pulled out all the stops for The Wolf Man with Lon Chaney, Jr. in the title role. Though the two did not reportedly get along--Chaney did not like wearing the makeup or undergoing the lengthy application and removal period--Pierce excelled again with his werewolf concept, utilizing a design he had created for Boris Karloff a decade earlier when the Laemmles were planning a werewolf film. Thus, even though it was originally intended as a B movie, The Wolf Man was a true horror classic, and Pierce's version of the character has been the model for the numerous werewolves that have since come to the screen.

The idea of Jack Pierce re-creating a wolf character from scratch every day of principal photography may seem daunting, but — as with the Frankenstein Monster and the Mummy before — Pierce prided himself on doing things from the bottom up with each new makeup application. “I don’t use masks or any appliances whatsoever,” proclaimed Jack Pierce about the development of his famous monster characters. The one exception to Pierce’s rule occurred with his striking initial realization of The Wolf Man in 1941. “The only appliances I used was the nose that looks like a wolf[‘s nose]. There you either put on a rubber nose or model the nose every day, which would have taken too long. It took 2 1/2 hours to apply this makeup,” Pierce said, indicating the head, chest piece and hands. “I put all of the hair on a little row at a time. After the hair is on, you curl it, then singe it, burn it, to look like an animal that’s been out in the woods. It had to be done every morning.” Pierce’s other key characters in The Wolf Man included 1940s “scream queen” Evelyn Ankers as Gwen Conliffe, Claude Rains as Sir John Talbot, Béla Lugosi as Béla the gypsy, and Maria Ouspenskaya as Maleva, the gypsy woman. As a result of Pierce’s methods, audiences were treated to the perfectionism in The Wolf Man.

Alas, what might have been was never realized with the stunning originality and critical and commercial success of The Wolf Man. As the U.S. entered WWII, a slew of sequels and remakes of the original horror films were cranked out at Universal with few standouts as momentous as their antecedents. Pierce went on to create the Wolf Man character in succeeding sequels, including Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943), and both House of Frankenstein (1944) and House of Dracula (1945). The latter, originally titled “The Wolf Man’s Cure” featured an end to the cycle of appearances by the Wolf Man in Universal films, but the character would inexplicably re-appear in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein three years later. By that point, Bud Westmore was supervising makeup artists Jack Kevan (the Frankenstein Monster) and Emile LaVigne (the Wolf Man) in their execution of Jack Pierce’s original designs. The classic monster movie era, in effect, was over.

Upon the occasion of Jack Pierce’s death in 1968 and Ted Kent’s death in 1986, the last of the monster makers were gone, but their work continues to live on again and again, as new audiences begin to discover their treasured films. Perhaps with the fresh perspective now available to audiences with Universal's recent re-release of many of the classic horror films on DVD, including a new Legacy Collection of The Wolf Man (1941) due on DVD from Universal Studios Home Entertainment in winter, 2010, the talented craftspeople who realized these films will ultimately be recognized for their singular efforts. Alongside the collection of actors, directors and executives responsible for Universal's great horror collection, editors including Kent deserve due credit for bringing the original monsters and their movies to life.

Universal Legacy Series - The Wolf Man

Universal Studios is releasing an all new version of  the 1941 classic THE WOLF MAN in early February - it is the Universal Legacy Series Special Edition, a 2 disc deluxe treatment packed with extras. Included are:

Commentary by film historian Tom Weaver

Featurettes:

• The Wolf Man: From Ancient Curse to Modern Myth,
• Pure in Heart: The Life and Legacy of Lon Chaney Jr,
• He Who Made Monsters: The Life and Art of Jack Pierce,
• Monsters by Moonlight
• The Wolf Man Archives
• Universal Horror documentary narrated by Kenneth Branagh 

I am really, really looking forward to both this dvd and the new Wolfman movie. Definitely a howling good start to the 2010 movie season!!