Off all the classic horror stars, Peter Lorre fills an unusual niche, and it's not surprising that his fans are a bit unusual.  So unusual that at least one of them goes by the motto...

When I grow up, I want to be Peter Lorre.
I want to snivel and sneer in a nasal whine.
I want to cringe and curse, and maybe threaten worse --
(in Lorre voice)
-- And if that doesn’t work, I’ve got a laugh that’ll petrify your spine!
(Words and Music © 1988, Tom Smith. Used with permission. For complete lyrics, visit his Website)

The ringing phone startled me. It was my agent, of all people. "Wake up, you sleepy-head," he shouted in my ear. "The studio wants you to read for a part, tomorrow, bright and early."

"And what part might that be?", I replied.

"Not sure." he answered. "Some new horror flick they’re working on. Anyway, can you be there?"

"Well, just hold on a minute," I replied. "They must have given you more info than that."

I could hear papers ruffling on the other end. "Just a second," he said. "OK, it says here that there are several different roles available. How would you like to play a heavy?"

"That might be much to my liking," I replied, as my mind began to wander off exploring the possibilities.

Maybe they’re looking for a serial killer. I could pattern myself after Hans Beckert, filmdom’s first serial killer and pedophile, as portrayed by Peter Lorre in the movie M (1935).

I can still picture the famous scenes where we follow Lorre walking the street. He suddenly sees the reflection of a little girl in a store window. We can see him trying to suppress the urge to stalk the child. He struggles to control himself, but starts whistling his song (The song is "Hall of the Mountain King" from the Peer Gynt Suite composed by the Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg. That may not mean much to you, but once you hear the song, it’s instantly recognizable) and eventually is transformed into the killer. The young girl’s mother foils this attempt, and we see the process repeated again as Lorre is unsuccessful in repressing his feelings with alcohol at a sidewalk café.

Or maybe the film calls for a foreign agent, someone like Lorre’s Baron Ikito, as seen in Invisible Agent (1942). Yes, putting someone’s fingers in a heavy-duty paper cutter may be a good way to extract information. Trap the invisible man in a net laced with fish hooks, a stroke of genius.

More papers ruffling. "It also says the starring role may require an actor who can do horror with some comedic relief. What in the world kind of movie is this, anyway?" he asked.

"Ah, perfect," I mused. "You know I can be a pretty funny guy if I put my mind to it."

Wow, this is the bonanza, I thought. I could play it like Lorre’s co-conspirator, Dr. Lorencz, in The Boogie Man Will Get You (1942). Rather than sell my bogus hair restorer, I’ll team up with Karloff’s character, knocking off a few traveling salesmen to create a race of super humans for the war effort, bungling things up along the way.

Better yet, I’ll do my best Peter Lorre drunken sot impersonation, as he played it in "The Black Cat" episode of Tales Of Terror (1962). Yes, I’ll be Montresor Herringbone, cat hater, drunkard, and wife abuser. I’ll stumble into a wine tasting demonstration, challenge the world’s foremost wine taster, Fortunato Lucrese, and then have him take me home to meet my beautiful wife. I’ll learn of their adulterous affair, and plan my revenge. And, oh, what a sweet revenge it will be!

I’ll drug him and tie him to a wall along side my wife, then brick them both in. Nobody will ever find them. I’ll celebrate with some new found money, get drunk again, and allow a slip of the tongue to reveal my secret. I’ll crash on the bed, only to have nightmares of that damn black cat, and of Fortunato and my wife breaking out of the wall and playing catch with my head!

And when the police finally show up; that cat, that damn black cat! The police hear a yowling from behind the wall, they break it down, and discover the dead bodies along with the yowling black cat, holder of the sweetest revenge after all.

Continuing with my penchant for a fine wine, I could also play it like Lorre’s amateur sorcerer, Dr. Bedlo, in The Raven (1963). Based loosely on Poe’s famous poem, I’m turned into a raven by the evil Grand Master of sorcerers, Scarabus. I’ll seek out the magician, Erasmus Craven, informing him that I have seen his wife Lenore with Scarabus. She is not dead, as Craven thinks. And in the mean time, he can change me back into a human. Eventually I’ll end up as a raven again, even after Craven has defeated Scarabus, and become the new Grand Master.

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallus just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

But then again, maybe I ought to just do away with the wine bit, and become the ghoulish little grave digging assistant, Mr. Felix Gillie, as portrayed by Lorre in The Comedy Of Terrors (1963). I can be the bungling, inept, but unwilling accomplice to my funeral home owner boss. The rent must be paid, and what better way to acquire the money than by murdering our customers to create some business! Why, let’s kill two birds with one stone and murder the landlord! And best yet, I get to leave with the beautiful girl at the end of the story.

"You know, you haven’t said a whole lot," said my agent over the phone. "There’s also a role for a deranged character. Can you play that?"

"Of course I can play that, you idiot," I screamed. "That’s probably where I’m at my best."

Oh I can see it now, playing the Peter Lorre role of Hilary Cummins, secretary to paralyzed concert pianist Francis Ingram in The Beast With Five Fingers (1946). Ingram continues to play the piano in a spectacular way with his one good hand. He also manages to choke me with that one good hand when I inform him that his nurse will be running away with her lover. After his violent and untimely death, Ingram’s will is read, and he leaves everything to his nurse. Everything, including my cherished astrology books.

Then the family wants to challenge the will, and the lawyer agrees to have it overturned, with a portion of the estate for his payment. Bastards! And to top things off, I have to contend with this dismembered hand! Is it real or just my imagination? It plays the piano in the middle of the night, it kills the lawyer, it attacks the relative, and then it comes after me! I nail it to a book, I try to destroy it in the fireplace, but it still comes after me, choking, those fingers, those fingers!

I was startled by the shaking and the hands near my neck. It was my wife, of all people.

"Wake up, you sleepy-head," she shouted in my ear. "Get out of that chair and go to bed. And make sure you put away all those videos. And don’t forget to turn off the VCR and the TV again." "You know, you missed your calling," she added. "You could have been a movie reviewer, except who wants to learn about half movies? Do you ever watch those things from start to finish?"

"Eventually," I replied. "Do you realize to whom you are addressing your childish remarks?!", I said in my best Lorre voice (from The Boogie Man Will Get You). Oh yes, I want to be Peter Lorre!

(You can reach John by clicking here.) 

Thanks, John!  Although all this is fictional, of course, one can imagine Mr. Lorre in such a role.  After all, it's the role of a lifetime...a dream role...

Article copyright © John Coleman.  Visit his Website.

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