![]() |
In last month's issue, we cast an appreciative eye on the artfully creepy "B" films produced by Val Lewton for RKO Pictures, films that have become classics of moody menace. As good as those films were, the best was yet to come, as Lewton signed Boris Karloff for three terror tales and, in so doing, cemented his own place in fright film history. Thus, we present the second and final chapter in the saga of...
By BOB STATZER (Note: This is the second of a two-part series on the classic chillers produced by Val Lewton for RKO Studios. Part One can be found here.) In the years that followed the death of Irena Dubrovna (Simone Simon), the panther woman who was to be pitied as much as feared, shipbuilder Oliver Reed (Kent Smith) and former coworker Alice (Jane Randolph) have married and started a family. But when their daughter, Amy (Ann Carter), is visited by Irenas ghost, the Reeds begin to feel they have not yet escaped The Curse Of The Cat People (1944). In spite of the title, The Curse Of The Cat People was not so much a horror film as it was an old-fashioned ghost story with a contemporary setting. (There is still some debate as to whether Irenas ghost is real, or merely a product of little Amys imagination; even early drafts of the screenplay shifted back and forth on the matter. While either theory is credible, the fact that Amy had never seen Irena prior to the ghosts visit does seem to indicate the apparition is real. And it is not until after that first visit that Amy sees a picture of Irena, a point underlined by her mothers comment that Amy could not possibly know the woman when the little girl identifies her in the photo.)
Along with Cat People alumni Kent Smith, Jane Randolph, Elizabeth Russell and Simone Simon, screenwriter DeWitt Bodeen also returned for the follow-up film (with additional material by an uncredited Josef Mischel). The sequel revealed the Reeds had left New York City for the quieter surroundings of Tarrytown, a move prompted by Lewton and Bodeens desire to one day do a feature based on the works of Washington Irving. (Unfortunately, such a project never came to pass.) The setting adds an eerie sense of isolation to the story, allowing for some atmospheric moments. With Jacques Tourneur no longer involved with the "B" unit and Mark Robson still working on The Ghost Ship, Lewton hired documentary filmmaker Gunther Von Fritsch as director, and Robert Wise as the units new editor. (Wise had worked as a film cutter on the Orsen Welles classic, Citizen Kane, and hadalong with actor Joseph Cottondirected, without credit, additional footage for Welles The Magnificent Ambersons.) The new editor would turn out to be a wise investment; The Curse Of The Cat People had an 18-day shooting schedule, but at the end of that time director Von Fritsch had only completed half the picture.
While Lewton had tried to be supportive of the directors debut feature, it became increasingly evident that he would have to be replaced. Sid Rogell, at that time head of RKOs "B" unit, contacted editor Robert Wise on a Saturday to inform him that he would be taking over as director on the film come Monday morning. (Wise had worked for Rogell before, as a second unit director.) The new director had his work cut out for him; in addition to the film being behind schedule, some of Von Fritschs footage had to be scrapped. Wise more than rose to the challenge, delivering a sturdy supernatural fantasy. The critics loved the film but hated the title, and said so. Perhaps the studio actually listened, as future titles showed more restraint. Lewton was even given enough leeway to try his hand at more mainstream movies. Youth Runs Wild (aka The Dangerous Age, 1944) was based upon the Look magazine article "Are These Our Children?" (the original title intended for the film, as well), which examined the growing problem of juvenile delinquency in America. (In a bit of tongue-in-cheek self-promotion, the local theater in the film has posters of Lewtons previous pictures displayed as "Coming Attractions.") Rounding out the output that year from Lewtons crew was Mademoiselle Fifi, a period piece based on the Guy de Maupassant short story of that same name, as well as the authors Boule de Suif. (Jack Gross, who had once been at Universal where he worked on many of their classic creature features, was now at RKO and served as production supervisor on the film.)
During production of Mademoiselle Fifi, studio politics came into play, much to Lewtons loss in terms of variety and personal creativity. RKO chief Charles Koerner had died, leaving Sid Rogell in control of the studio. Even though Mademoiselle Fifi was the lowest-budgeted costume drama ever made in Hollywood at the time, Rogell and Lewton fought over the films finances. And while Jack Gross was working at RKO with Lewton, he still regarded the producer as a rival because of the response Lewtons horror films had received from the critics while Gross had been with Universal. These factors, coupled with the disappointing performance at the box office by the last two films, made Lewton decide to return to terror for his final films at RKO. Making the bitter pill even harder to swallow was the fact that Jack Gross had signed former Universal horror star Boris Karloff to a three-picture deal, all of which were to be Val Lewton productions. Initially Lewton hated having to work with someone who so strongly represented the type of horror films he considered clichéd; but after meeting Karloff, the producer realized he had found a kindred spirit.
In 1912, the Greek islands are ravaged by war and martial law has been declared. Adding to the threat of invasion is that of infection, for a deadly disease has begun to take its toll, leaving its victims to wither and waste away. Rumors of plague give way to rumors of another pestilence, an ancient evil known as vampirism. When the military governor-general (Boris Karloff) quarantines the area for fear the infestation will spread, the soldiers and civilians under his command find themselves trapped on the Isle Of The Dead (1945). Going before the cameras in July of 1944, Isle Of The Dead inspired by the Boecklin painting of the same namehad Mark Robson directing from a screenplay by Ardel Wray and Josef Mischel. Joining Karloff in the cast were former Lewton players Alan Napier ("Alfred the Butler" from the Adam West Batman series), Katherine Emery, Jason Robards, Sr. and Skelton Knaggs, as well as Ellen Drew, who had appeared in the 1941 fright films The Mad Doctor and The Monster And The Girl for Paramount.
After only one week of filming, Boris Karloffs health failed him. The actor, who suffered continual back problems after injuries incurred on the set of Bride Of Frankenstein, was forced to take time off. It would be December before the picture could be completed. In the meantime, Lewtons staff began pre-production on their next picture. Once again the front office handed them a title, but this time it came attached to a classic: Robert Louis Stevensons The Body Snatcher. By the time Lewton and director Robert Wise were ready to start filming, Karloff was well enough to star in Stevensons story. Once principal photography was finished on The Body Snatcher, Karloff returned to work on Isle Of The Dead (which was still in production when The Body Snatcher premiered). Dr. "Toddy" MacFarlane (Henry Daniell) is a professor of anatomy at Edinburgh University, in Nineteenth Century Scotland. But when he takes a promising student named Fettes (Russell Wade) under his wing, the young man discovers a dark side to the carefully cultivated image of the droll doctor. MacFarlane has another assistant beside Fettes, a sinister, shadowy figure known as John Gray (Boris Karloff), The Body Snatcher (1945). Sorry are the citizens of Edinburgh if the cemetery is in short supply, for the enterprising Gray is more than willing to put forth extra effort in finding "fresh" specimens.
The Body Snatcher is probably the closest Val Lewton came to doing classical horror (even casting Bela Lugosi opposite Karloff in a cameo role), and the results make one wonder how much more the producer could have brought to the Gothic genre. (Using his old pen name of Carlos Keithas he hated to take an onscreen writing creditLewton had even co-written the screenplay.) Although the production never left the lot, the sets and atmospheric photography invoked the moody, brooding Edinburgh of a bygone era. The film not only remains a classic, but has come to be regarded as one of the best films to come from Lewtons RKO days. Unfortunately for horror fans, those days were coming to an end. Bedlam, which was also co-written under the Carlos Keith pseudonym, would be Val Lewtons final film for RKO. Like Isle Of The Dead, the initial inspiration for the tale would come from a work of art, in this case an illustration from Hogarths "The Rakes Progress." And like The Body Snatcher, the horror would have an historical basis. Mark Robson did double duty on the film, collaborating on the screenplay in addition to directing. Unlike the usual two month pre-production period, Lewtons team had eight months to prepare the picture. Tentatively titled Chamber Of Horrors, Bedlam was the nickname for the St. Mary of Bethlehem Hospital, a notorious Eighteenth Century asylum in London, where there was little difference between being a patient or a prisoner.
In mid-Eighteenth Century London, popular stage actress Nell Bowen (Anna Lee) enjoys the patronage of Lord Mortimer (Billy House). However, his Lordships interest in Nell is more amorous than artistic. When Nell turns her attentions to a young man named Hannay (Richard Fraser), jealousy causes Mortimer to turn to an old friend the sadistic Sims (Boris Karloff), Apothecary General of the citys sinister asylum. The price for spurning her patron? Imprisonment Bedlam (1946)! In addition to having more time and money spent on it than previous Lewton productions, Bedlam benefited from sets and costumes left over from The Bells Of St. Marys and Gone With The Wind, giving it a lavish look lacking in other "B" movies. The film even landed Lewton a four-page spread in Life magazine. (Watch the cast closely during your next viewing and see if you recognize a young Ellen Corby, "Grandma" of televisions The Waltons, as the "Queen of Artichokes" in an uncredited appearance.) Alas, Lewtons attention to detail and realism backfired at least in Britain. The real Bedlams homeland refused to issue the film a certificate of release.
Lewtons last film for RKO was also his last horror film. However, at the time, neither RKO nor Lewton realized it was the end of an era. Plans were underway for a psychological thriller, Die Gently, Stranger, as well as a musical comedy, The Lawyer. Yet another project was Blackbeard, a swashbuckler to be written by Ardel Wray, directed by Mark Robson and feature Boris Karloff in the title role. But these, and a number of other titles touted in the trade papers, were eventually abandoned or passed on to other producers. Poor health, and a heart attack, led Lewton to leave RKO. The home of repeated success had now become home to on-going disappointment. Things began to look brighter when an offer came from Paramount Pictures to produce films for them. After spending six months in pre-production on a film version of Charles Dickens The Cricket On The Hearth, the studio decided Dickens was too outdated. The blow was softened somewhat by the opportunity to produce the 1948 romance, My Own True Love. But the filmmaking freedom Lewton had found at RKO was not to be had at Paramount, and the producer found himself at the mercy of studio politics once again. As if history were repeating itself, every time Lewton would begin preparing projects for Paramount, the studio stopped short of actually filming any of them. It was inevitable that Lewton and Paramount parted company.
In July of 1948, legendary movie mogul Louis B. Mayer, the real lion of MGM, brought Lewton to the studio that boasted, "More stars than there are in heaven." As with Paramount, his first project at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer never made it before the cameras. His second assignment, Please Believe Me (1950), came ten years too late. The romantic comedy felt more like one of the screwball comedies that had been so popular with pre-World War II audiences, but seemed out of touch with the cinematic sensibilities of the day. Val Lewtons tenure, and hopes, at MGM were short-lived. After doing some uncredited script polishing for his old boss, David O. Selznick, Lewton found himself with the last studio he ever expected to be at: Universal (then called Universal-International), home of the horror films he had tried so hard to steer clear of. It would be one of the most enjoyable filmmaking experiences he ever had. As with Paramount and MGM, Lewtons first project for the studio--a film set during the American Revolution died in pre-production. But when Universal gave him Harry Browns novel Stand at Spanish Boot, they readily approve his screenplay (written in collaboration with David Chandler).
1951s Apache Drums (which went into production as War Dance) was Lewtons first western and his first film in color. Unfortunately, it would also be his final film. The studio was pleased with the pictures preview, and plans were underway to put Lewton at the helm of The Fire Ship, a Technicolor pirate adventure, to be followed by a film version of Lord Byrons The Corsair. But on March 14, 1951, Val Lewtons comeback was cut short by a fatal heart attack. He was 46. Fittingly, his old friend, actor Alan Napier, delivered the eulogy at the funeral. Val Lewtons name no longer appeared on films, but his influence was certainly still felt in them. His original RKO director, Jacques Tourneur, may well have been paying homage to the master with his 1958 classic Night Of The Demon (re-edited and released in the United States as Curse Of The Demon), an adaptation of the Montague R. James story, Casting the Runes. And Robert Wise, another Lewton alumni, demonstrated lessons learned in the original 1963 version of The Haunting. In (relatively) more recent times, director Richard Donners The Omen (1976) approached its Apocalyptic subject matter ambiguously, allowing audiences to decide for themselves whether the occult or an overly active imagination was at work.
A more direct tribute to Lewton, which he may or may not have appreciated, was the 1982 update of his classic Cat People (made, of all places, by Universal Studios). In spite of mixed reactions to the remake, it is testimony to the strength of the original that yet another remake is rumored to be in the works. Even the more modern horrors of Final Destination (2000), which left us unsure if we were witnessing the occult or coincidence, gave a nod to the maestro, going so far as to name one character Val (Valerie) Lewton! While Val Lewton longed to do more "prestigious" pictures, to most film fans and critics alike he will always be remembered for a handful of horror movies made from 1942 to 1945 three brief years that left Lewton with cinematic immortality and fans of the fantastique with endless hours of entertainment. Thanks,. Bob. This is a fitting wrap-up to the classic chiller film career of producer Val Lewton who, in a few short years, managed to elevate the American horror film from mere genre to near film art. True fans of classic horror films will always revere his work and we can only hope that the proper restoration of his films on DVD will enable future generations to also admire and enjoy this film artisan's deft touch with subtle film shockers. Article copyright Bob Statzer |