For those of you who don’t know it, Horror – as a genre within the United States – had some significant challenges in being brought to life domestically.
Sound was really only being introduced into filmdom – bringing with it a whole new spectrum of challenges – so on top of trying to craft compelling stories that could meet audience demands while balancing the limitations placed on storytellers via censorship (both here and abroad) producers had to keep their eyes on a great many aspects within the growing category. Special effects were only just being heard of, meaning that the technical merits were most likely going to be questionable at best for those showing up to be scared silly. I’ve also read some criticism about how studios back in this golden era almost always required that screenwriters and directors stick with what’s been termed ‘stock stories’ – i.e. ideas that had already been tried before – and such a reliance almost guaranteed that new flicks weren’t really bringing anything fresh, vibrant, and new to the cineplexes. As such, just about everything that found flickering life did so with an uphill battle; and this required that viewers exercise a great deal of patience as studios walked slowly into the battle to win hearts and minds with monsters of any sort.
As a result, there remains a good number of titles that just didn’t quite ‘measure up’ significantly in their original time and place. For whatever reason, these efforts didn’t create any franchise of their own; yet sometimes – in negligible ways – they either piggybacked their way to attention, or they staked out a small piece of territory that was uniquely their own. This doesn’t mean that they were bad films – certainly not in the manner some exercises are so bad that they’re good – but it does imply that viewing them today in full knowledge that they survive as second- or even third-tier entries is probably the best way to start. Some impressive talent produced some special work in a few of them; and that’s why studios and distributors today try to keep them alive realizing that it’s never too late to make friends with an older motion picture.
In fact, Warner Archive has made some incredible strides in keeping a number of these projects alive on home video; and they’ve recently released what they’ve billed as the Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection. It’s a Blu-ray set that collects six titles – Doctor X (1932), The Mask Of Fu Manchu (1932), Mad Love (1935), Mark Of The Vampire (1935), The Devil Doll (1936), and The Return Of Doctor X (1939) – that gives second chances to flicks featuring such names as Fay Wray, Humphrey Bogart, Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, Peter Lorre, Lionel Barrymore, and others. As can happen with any compilation, the quality varies but what remains are some dark tales meant to deliver thrills, chills, and spills only when things go bump in the night.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
Sound was really only being introduced into filmdom – bringing with it a whole new spectrum of challenges – so on top of trying to craft compelling stories that could meet audience demands while balancing the limitations placed on storytellers via censorship (both here and abroad) producers had to keep their eyes on a great many aspects within the growing category. Special effects were only just being heard of, meaning that the technical merits were most likely going to be questionable at best for those showing up to be scared silly. I’ve also read some criticism about how studios back in this golden era almost always required that screenwriters and directors stick with what’s been termed ‘stock stories’ – i.e. ideas that had already been tried before – and such a reliance almost guaranteed that new flicks weren’t really bringing anything fresh, vibrant, and new to the cineplexes. As such, just about everything that found flickering life did so with an uphill battle; and this required that viewers exercise a great deal of patience as studios walked slowly into the battle to win hearts and minds with monsters of any sort.
As a result, there remains a good number of titles that just didn’t quite ‘measure up’ significantly in their original time and place. For whatever reason, these efforts didn’t create any franchise of their own; yet sometimes – in negligible ways – they either piggybacked their way to attention, or they staked out a small piece of territory that was uniquely their own. This doesn’t mean that they were bad films – certainly not in the manner some exercises are so bad that they’re good – but it does imply that viewing them today in full knowledge that they survive as second- or even third-tier entries is probably the best way to start. Some impressive talent produced some special work in a few of them; and that’s why studios and distributors today try to keep them alive realizing that it’s never too late to make friends with an older motion picture.
In fact, Warner Archive has made some incredible strides in keeping a number of these projects alive on home video; and they’ve recently released what they’ve billed as the Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection. It’s a Blu-ray set that collects six titles – Doctor X (1932), The Mask Of Fu Manchu (1932), Mad Love (1935), Mark Of The Vampire (1935), The Devil Doll (1936), and The Return Of Doctor X (1939) – that gives second chances to flicks featuring such names as Fay Wray, Humphrey Bogart, Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, Peter Lorre, Lionel Barrymore, and others. As can happen with any compilation, the quality varies but what remains are some dark tales meant to deliver thrills, chills, and spills only when things go bump in the night.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
Doctor X (1932)
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A wisecracking New York reporter intrudes on a research scientist's quest to unmask The Moon Killer.”
In truth, Doctor X is a feature production I’ve been aware of for quite some time, mostly owing to the fact that it was directed by Michael Curtiz … the same Michael Curtiz who would eventually directed 1942’s Casablanca, debatably one of the greatest films ever made. So I’d seen this one chiefly for my study of his work with camera and creating noirish atmospheres, which he does quite well even in this early effort. A great deal of the second half takes places in a huge mansion; and Curtiz definitely makes great use of the location in every sequence delivered.
But another reason why I was aware of X is because it is one of the earliest Horror films (to my knowledge) that actually dabbles very deliberately with Science Fiction. In this story, both the good guys and the bad make use of Science in ways to advance their respective positions in the events, requiring that the heroes use their collective smarts (as well as a bit of brawn) to get to the bottom of the central mystery. (It’s a whodunnit, and a respectably good one, at that.) Also, X might very well be the earliest time when a lie detector gets used in the police procedural, but this is most definitely not some tabletop model with a few gizmos secured on by a few straps: this contraption requires a small room not unlike Doctor Frankenstein’s laboratory, so it, too, is a sight to behold.
The only notable downside to the flick is the fact that – like so many features of the era – screenwriters incorporated a fair share of (sigh) romantic melodrama if for no other reason that studio bosses insisted that’s what women wanted when it came to picking motion pictures to view. As such, there’s a relatively forced romance between a few of the principles that gets in the way from time-to-time. Still, when the female of the species is the lovely Fay Wray, I guess I can put up with a bit of smarm in order to get to the big finish.
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A wisecracking New York reporter intrudes on a research scientist's quest to unmask The Moon Killer.”
In truth, Doctor X is a feature production I’ve been aware of for quite some time, mostly owing to the fact that it was directed by Michael Curtiz … the same Michael Curtiz who would eventually directed 1942’s Casablanca, debatably one of the greatest films ever made. So I’d seen this one chiefly for my study of his work with camera and creating noirish atmospheres, which he does quite well even in this early effort. A great deal of the second half takes places in a huge mansion; and Curtiz definitely makes great use of the location in every sequence delivered.
But another reason why I was aware of X is because it is one of the earliest Horror films (to my knowledge) that actually dabbles very deliberately with Science Fiction. In this story, both the good guys and the bad make use of Science in ways to advance their respective positions in the events, requiring that the heroes use their collective smarts (as well as a bit of brawn) to get to the bottom of the central mystery. (It’s a whodunnit, and a respectably good one, at that.) Also, X might very well be the earliest time when a lie detector gets used in the police procedural, but this is most definitely not some tabletop model with a few gizmos secured on by a few straps: this contraption requires a small room not unlike Doctor Frankenstein’s laboratory, so it, too, is a sight to behold.
The only notable downside to the flick is the fact that – like so many features of the era – screenwriters incorporated a fair share of (sigh) romantic melodrama if for no other reason that studio bosses insisted that’s what women wanted when it came to picking motion pictures to view. As such, there’s a relatively forced romance between a few of the principles that gets in the way from time-to-time. Still, when the female of the species is the lovely Fay Wray, I guess I can put up with a bit of smarm in order to get to the big finish.
The Mask Of Fu Manchu (1932)
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Englishmen race to find the tomb of Genghis Khan before the sinister Fu Manchu does.”
Another entry into the Hollywood Collection that I was previously aware of, The Mask Of Fu Manchu was a release that endured a bit of controversy in its time and place. I’ve read that it was an effort that went into active production without a completed script; and this meant that pages would literally be showing up on the day and time that they were needing to be shot. As one can imagine, both the cast and crew weren’t afford a great degree of preparation required to perhaps give the completed projects the veneer it needed; and – long after its original release – this Mask had been largely forgotten by even those drawn to the literary works of Sax Rohmer upon which the story is based.
Essentially, Mask is best approached by visualizing it as a 60-minute adventure serial because a great deal of the action works almost exclusively on that level. Like Buck Rogers or Flash Gordon, Fu Manchu was the product of the age of pulp; and this adaptation definitely feeds off those influences by putting our heroes in some dire predicaments which only their muscles and smarts might free them of. Added to the fray is an element of sexuality and/or sensuality that wasn’t uncommon for pre-Code productions, and both talents Boris Karloff and Myrna Loy arguably squeeze in a bit of restrained passion (not necessarily for one another) that lifts this one in just the right way. Don’t be a prude as it’s really nothing all that objectionable, anyway.
Also, I’d be remiss if I failed to mention just how wonderful the picture looks regarding the production design. Cedric Gibbons – who would go on to do 1939’s The Wizard Of Oz and 1956’s Forbidden Planet – really makes a mark here in even small ways, adorning each and every corner of the screen with something worth looking at. From Fu Manchu’s estate to the tome of Genghis Khan where they’re seeking a prized sword, these designs resonate on a whole other level – especially compared with other fare from the era – and I’d suggest that sincere film nerds check this out for that work alone. It’s that damn good.
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Englishmen race to find the tomb of Genghis Khan before the sinister Fu Manchu does.”
Another entry into the Hollywood Collection that I was previously aware of, The Mask Of Fu Manchu was a release that endured a bit of controversy in its time and place. I’ve read that it was an effort that went into active production without a completed script; and this meant that pages would literally be showing up on the day and time that they were needing to be shot. As one can imagine, both the cast and crew weren’t afford a great degree of preparation required to perhaps give the completed projects the veneer it needed; and – long after its original release – this Mask had been largely forgotten by even those drawn to the literary works of Sax Rohmer upon which the story is based.
Essentially, Mask is best approached by visualizing it as a 60-minute adventure serial because a great deal of the action works almost exclusively on that level. Like Buck Rogers or Flash Gordon, Fu Manchu was the product of the age of pulp; and this adaptation definitely feeds off those influences by putting our heroes in some dire predicaments which only their muscles and smarts might free them of. Added to the fray is an element of sexuality and/or sensuality that wasn’t uncommon for pre-Code productions, and both talents Boris Karloff and Myrna Loy arguably squeeze in a bit of restrained passion (not necessarily for one another) that lifts this one in just the right way. Don’t be a prude as it’s really nothing all that objectionable, anyway.
Also, I’d be remiss if I failed to mention just how wonderful the picture looks regarding the production design. Cedric Gibbons – who would go on to do 1939’s The Wizard Of Oz and 1956’s Forbidden Planet – really makes a mark here in even small ways, adorning each and every corner of the screen with something worth looking at. From Fu Manchu’s estate to the tome of Genghis Khan where they’re seeking a prized sword, these designs resonate on a whole other level – especially compared with other fare from the era – and I’d suggest that sincere film nerds check this out for that work alone. It’s that damn good.
Mad Love (1935)
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In Paris, a demented surgeon's obsession with a British actress leads him to secretly replace her concert-pianist husband's mangled hands with those of a guillotined murderer with a gift for knife-throwing.”
Dubiously, Mad Love – aka The Hands Of Orlac – might be stylistically the most notable entry in this collection; but – as I often say – this assessment ties greatly to beauty being something held in the eyes of the observer. Director Karl Freund indisputably had a look for his picture that he was going for as he sought ought Gregg Toland to serve as cinematographer. Again for those of you who don’t know it, I’m a huge fan of Citizen Kane (1971), and Toland is pretty much revered for his work on that picture. It wouldn’t be unusual for even a casual viewer of both flicks to notice some basic similarities; and yet the stories really couldn’t be further apart.
So far as Love goes, it’s clear to see that the film is an early attempt to craft what could be considered Body Horror for the screen. Grafting the hands of a killer to that of a pianist opens the door to just how uniquely the transfer of skills – along with the lecherous desires – works on some level; and Love makes great use of this conceit in taking audiences through what amounts to rather conventional if not predictable melodrama. This being an early attempt, however, should still bring newcomers to the flick if for no better reason to see the concept at work alongside a solid performance by actor Peter Lorre as the surgeon who’ll stop at nothing to possess the woman of his dreams. Was there ever anyone better than Lorre at handling supreme mental anguish? You be the judge.
Still, Love didn’t get a great deal of hands clapping at the theater. It was largely dubbed a failure on most relatable levels, and there is some reportage that censors had studio executives removing large chunks of the action in order to get it into acceptable form. I’ve read that these excised sequences were likely destroyed by MGM, meaning that what survives today on home video is about the best audiences will ever see. (To me, it resonates as ‘incomplete’ more than it does ‘uneven,’ but that’s just my limited perception on the take.) Its poor reception in the U.S. and several overseas bans meant this one was lucky to see as much of the light of day – much less a projector lamp – that it did; and what remains has often been said to be uneven at best.
NOTE: For SciFiHistory.Net's full review of Mad Love (1935), click here.
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In Paris, a demented surgeon's obsession with a British actress leads him to secretly replace her concert-pianist husband's mangled hands with those of a guillotined murderer with a gift for knife-throwing.”
Dubiously, Mad Love – aka The Hands Of Orlac – might be stylistically the most notable entry in this collection; but – as I often say – this assessment ties greatly to beauty being something held in the eyes of the observer. Director Karl Freund indisputably had a look for his picture that he was going for as he sought ought Gregg Toland to serve as cinematographer. Again for those of you who don’t know it, I’m a huge fan of Citizen Kane (1971), and Toland is pretty much revered for his work on that picture. It wouldn’t be unusual for even a casual viewer of both flicks to notice some basic similarities; and yet the stories really couldn’t be further apart.
So far as Love goes, it’s clear to see that the film is an early attempt to craft what could be considered Body Horror for the screen. Grafting the hands of a killer to that of a pianist opens the door to just how uniquely the transfer of skills – along with the lecherous desires – works on some level; and Love makes great use of this conceit in taking audiences through what amounts to rather conventional if not predictable melodrama. This being an early attempt, however, should still bring newcomers to the flick if for no better reason to see the concept at work alongside a solid performance by actor Peter Lorre as the surgeon who’ll stop at nothing to possess the woman of his dreams. Was there ever anyone better than Lorre at handling supreme mental anguish? You be the judge.
Still, Love didn’t get a great deal of hands clapping at the theater. It was largely dubbed a failure on most relatable levels, and there is some reportage that censors had studio executives removing large chunks of the action in order to get it into acceptable form. I’ve read that these excised sequences were likely destroyed by MGM, meaning that what survives today on home video is about the best audiences will ever see. (To me, it resonates as ‘incomplete’ more than it does ‘uneven,’ but that’s just my limited perception on the take.) Its poor reception in the U.S. and several overseas bans meant this one was lucky to see as much of the light of day – much less a projector lamp – that it did; and what remains has often been said to be uneven at best.
NOTE: For SciFiHistory.Net's full review of Mad Love (1935), click here.
Mark Of The Vampire (1935)
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a nobleman is murdered, a professor of the occult blames vampires, but not all is what it seems.”
Regular readers to SciFiHistory.Net know all too well that I’m not opposed to courting a bit of controversy from time-to-time; and that’s the case with my take on Mark Of The Vampire. While I’ll concede that it’s an interesting production – as many online have done for years – I see it as a heavily flawed outing, largely because of the way director Tod Browning and his crew essentially have to piece a plot together in curious ways all to avoid revealing the ‘twist ending’ too soon in the procedure. While that’s all well and good, my issue is that the twist itself doesn’t make much sense, especially given the vast amount of footage that doesn’t quite support the ending in way meaningful way.
At its heart, Mark is a murder mystery, one wherein the guilty culprit – for reasons I won’t spoil – is kinda/sorta unaware of what he did. To complicate matters, it would seem everyone else involved in the story is aware but – in order to protect that aforementioned twist – they’re only acting as if they’re oblivious to what was done. This requires a monumental suspension of disbelief on the part of the audience, but the script from Guy Endore and Bernard Schubert (based on other works) is so markedly convoluted in its staging that some will undoubtedly find themselves scratching their heads once the reveal is sprung. Hell, some viewers might even find themselves rewinding the flick a bit (I know I did) because some sequences are so nonsensical once you know that you think you missed something along the way. Trust me: you didn’t. It just is a story that either works for you, or it doesn’t.
I am aware (through reading and the supplied commentary track) that Mark had a bit of trouble getting through production and subsequent test screenings. My understanding is that there were about 10-20 minutes removed from the original cut in order to get the project to a workable level; and I’m inclined to think that some of my confusion might be tied up with what transpires in those missing scenes. Either way, the only significant enjoyment I took from this was watching the great Bela Lugosi give another take on his legendary Count interpretation.
NOTE: For SciFiHistory.Net's full review of Mark Of The Vampire (1935), click here.
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a nobleman is murdered, a professor of the occult blames vampires, but not all is what it seems.”
Regular readers to SciFiHistory.Net know all too well that I’m not opposed to courting a bit of controversy from time-to-time; and that’s the case with my take on Mark Of The Vampire. While I’ll concede that it’s an interesting production – as many online have done for years – I see it as a heavily flawed outing, largely because of the way director Tod Browning and his crew essentially have to piece a plot together in curious ways all to avoid revealing the ‘twist ending’ too soon in the procedure. While that’s all well and good, my issue is that the twist itself doesn’t make much sense, especially given the vast amount of footage that doesn’t quite support the ending in way meaningful way.
At its heart, Mark is a murder mystery, one wherein the guilty culprit – for reasons I won’t spoil – is kinda/sorta unaware of what he did. To complicate matters, it would seem everyone else involved in the story is aware but – in order to protect that aforementioned twist – they’re only acting as if they’re oblivious to what was done. This requires a monumental suspension of disbelief on the part of the audience, but the script from Guy Endore and Bernard Schubert (based on other works) is so markedly convoluted in its staging that some will undoubtedly find themselves scratching their heads once the reveal is sprung. Hell, some viewers might even find themselves rewinding the flick a bit (I know I did) because some sequences are so nonsensical once you know that you think you missed something along the way. Trust me: you didn’t. It just is a story that either works for you, or it doesn’t.
I am aware (through reading and the supplied commentary track) that Mark had a bit of trouble getting through production and subsequent test screenings. My understanding is that there were about 10-20 minutes removed from the original cut in order to get the project to a workable level; and I’m inclined to think that some of my confusion might be tied up with what transpires in those missing scenes. Either way, the only significant enjoyment I took from this was watching the great Bela Lugosi give another take on his legendary Count interpretation.
NOTE: For SciFiHistory.Net's full review of Mark Of The Vampire (1935), click here.
The Devil-Doll (1936)
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An escaped convict uses miniaturized humans to wreak vengeance on those who framed him.”
Some films take of a life of their own with the passage of time; and it’s reasonable to note that such is the case with The Devil-Doll as directed by Tod Browning who also collaborated on adapting the source material for the silver screen. Google.com suggests some of this reputation is owed to not only it being one of the last true Horror flicks produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer but also the fact that it showcases a great central performance by Lionel Barrymore. His embodiment of Paul Lavond – a man wrongly convicted who uses the miniaturization process of a late scientist to extract a measure of revenge on those who framed him – was the kind of work outside-the-norm that gifted talent can make the most of. Given the fact that Barrymore appears as both male and female in the picture, he delivers both Horror and Comedy in respectable amounts.
Aesthetically, some have even gone so far as to cite The Devil-Doll as being influential in paving the way for other genre-bending chillers like Psycho (1960), Dressed To Kill (1960), and The Silence Of The Lambs (1991). Indeed, each of these films involves villains who use gender to disguise their true identity; but the significant difference here is that Lavond isn’t so much a sufferer of any associated mental illness and only uses a female persona to ‘hide in plain sight.’ It’s more for ‘utility’ than it is ‘identity,’ and perhaps academics are merely working overtime when less isn’t necessarily more. While the connotation is an impressive compliment to what Browning and Barrymore achieve in their picture, there’s really no substantial linkage other than a casual incorporation, one that does feel intended more humorous than anything else.
Still, Devil-Doll also contributes to Horror’s slowly evolving legacy by making use of some notable special effects. The late scientist Marcel is said to have perfected the ability to shrink humans to 1/6th scale; and, as such, the film makes use of oversized sets and superimposition to bring some occasionally unique scenes to life. Granted, nothing is quite so impressive as what would be accomplished in 1957’s The Incredible Shrinking Man; but it’s still fascinating to note how Devil-Doll was already tinkering with scale two decades before. On that level, it remains a flick worthy of time and attention.
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An escaped convict uses miniaturized humans to wreak vengeance on those who framed him.”
Some films take of a life of their own with the passage of time; and it’s reasonable to note that such is the case with The Devil-Doll as directed by Tod Browning who also collaborated on adapting the source material for the silver screen. Google.com suggests some of this reputation is owed to not only it being one of the last true Horror flicks produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer but also the fact that it showcases a great central performance by Lionel Barrymore. His embodiment of Paul Lavond – a man wrongly convicted who uses the miniaturization process of a late scientist to extract a measure of revenge on those who framed him – was the kind of work outside-the-norm that gifted talent can make the most of. Given the fact that Barrymore appears as both male and female in the picture, he delivers both Horror and Comedy in respectable amounts.
Aesthetically, some have even gone so far as to cite The Devil-Doll as being influential in paving the way for other genre-bending chillers like Psycho (1960), Dressed To Kill (1960), and The Silence Of The Lambs (1991). Indeed, each of these films involves villains who use gender to disguise their true identity; but the significant difference here is that Lavond isn’t so much a sufferer of any associated mental illness and only uses a female persona to ‘hide in plain sight.’ It’s more for ‘utility’ than it is ‘identity,’ and perhaps academics are merely working overtime when less isn’t necessarily more. While the connotation is an impressive compliment to what Browning and Barrymore achieve in their picture, there’s really no substantial linkage other than a casual incorporation, one that does feel intended more humorous than anything else.
Still, Devil-Doll also contributes to Horror’s slowly evolving legacy by making use of some notable special effects. The late scientist Marcel is said to have perfected the ability to shrink humans to 1/6th scale; and, as such, the film makes use of oversized sets and superimposition to bring some occasionally unique scenes to life. Granted, nothing is quite so impressive as what would be accomplished in 1957’s The Incredible Shrinking Man; but it’s still fascinating to note how Devil-Doll was already tinkering with scale two decades before. On that level, it remains a flick worthy of time and attention.
The Return Of Doctor X (1939)
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A hotshot reporter and a young doctor team up to investigate a series of grisly murders and a mysterious sample of synthetic blood.”
Because folks sometimes wonder about how easy or difficult it can be to follow sequels, let me clarify a significant point right away: one need not have seen 1932’s Doctor X – which is included as part of this collection – in order to appreciate The Return Of Doctor X. Functionally, these are two different stories entirely; and they really only overlap spiritually by following the same formula as the earlier film, meaning one hotshot reporter is out to solve an ongoing series of killings. Also, both flicks rely on science to spin their respective webs – Doctor X employs synthetic skin while Return highlights something called synthetic blood – but otherwise they’re truly only linked formulaically.
The other big ‘claim to fame’ that Return offers is that its central star was Hollywood heavyweight Humphrey Bogart filling out the lab coat of the villainous Marshall Quesne (aka Dr. Xavier). Any bit of research will assure you this was the actor’s only foray into the realms of the Fantastic, and a Google.com search might even tell you he didn’t much care for it, which is why I supposed we never saw him try it again. For what it’s worth, Bogart doesn’t turn in a bad performance here, but it’s easy to suggest that it never appears all that grounded in technique or motivation. Most of what he accomplishes is off the required make-up – and some steely glances – and it works just fine for the picture.
The chief disappointment here is that – as an advertised Horror film – there really isn’t much dark, gloomy, or grim to Return with the exception of Bogart’s makeover. The best is saved for the last reel; and even what’s there is far more implied than it is deliberately shown. The monster here is what has been most commonly defined as a ‘medical vampire’ – one who survives on obtaining human blood in order to maintain his reanimated existence – so it isn’t as if the lead actor was required to do any traditional ‘vamping,’ if you know what I mean. It’s an interesting effort – mostly owed to Bogart’s participation – but in any other actor’s hands the film as is would likely be forgettable.
The Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection (2025) was released by Warner Archive and is presently available for purchase on DVD.
Recommended.
I think the sad truth is that Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection – while good – is equally as imperfect as several of its entries remain. As I’ve tried to be clear, the single greatest reason anyone might entertain a purchase and the subsequent viewing is to grow better aware of Horror of the golden era along with how several films missed their respective marks while employing some of the very best minds both before and behind the camera. There’s a lot to unpack so far as style and substance goes – the looks of most of these are similar, but stories and subplots vary widely – but I’ve often said I’d rather watch something that tried and failed than to subject myself something so lazy as to make no effort. Hard work shows, and that’s always worth appreciating, no matter a picture’s age.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray set of Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Here’s the plot summary as provided by the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A hotshot reporter and a young doctor team up to investigate a series of grisly murders and a mysterious sample of synthetic blood.”
Because folks sometimes wonder about how easy or difficult it can be to follow sequels, let me clarify a significant point right away: one need not have seen 1932’s Doctor X – which is included as part of this collection – in order to appreciate The Return Of Doctor X. Functionally, these are two different stories entirely; and they really only overlap spiritually by following the same formula as the earlier film, meaning one hotshot reporter is out to solve an ongoing series of killings. Also, both flicks rely on science to spin their respective webs – Doctor X employs synthetic skin while Return highlights something called synthetic blood – but otherwise they’re truly only linked formulaically.
The other big ‘claim to fame’ that Return offers is that its central star was Hollywood heavyweight Humphrey Bogart filling out the lab coat of the villainous Marshall Quesne (aka Dr. Xavier). Any bit of research will assure you this was the actor’s only foray into the realms of the Fantastic, and a Google.com search might even tell you he didn’t much care for it, which is why I supposed we never saw him try it again. For what it’s worth, Bogart doesn’t turn in a bad performance here, but it’s easy to suggest that it never appears all that grounded in technique or motivation. Most of what he accomplishes is off the required make-up – and some steely glances – and it works just fine for the picture.
The chief disappointment here is that – as an advertised Horror film – there really isn’t much dark, gloomy, or grim to Return with the exception of Bogart’s makeover. The best is saved for the last reel; and even what’s there is far more implied than it is deliberately shown. The monster here is what has been most commonly defined as a ‘medical vampire’ – one who survives on obtaining human blood in order to maintain his reanimated existence – so it isn’t as if the lead actor was required to do any traditional ‘vamping,’ if you know what I mean. It’s an interesting effort – mostly owed to Bogart’s participation – but in any other actor’s hands the film as is would likely be forgettable.
The Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection (2025) was released by Warner Archive and is presently available for purchase on DVD.
Recommended.
I think the sad truth is that Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection – while good – is equally as imperfect as several of its entries remain. As I’ve tried to be clear, the single greatest reason anyone might entertain a purchase and the subsequent viewing is to grow better aware of Horror of the golden era along with how several films missed their respective marks while employing some of the very best minds both before and behind the camera. There’s a lot to unpack so far as style and substance goes – the looks of most of these are similar, but stories and subplots vary widely – but I’ve often said I’d rather watch something that tried and failed than to subject myself something so lazy as to make no effort. Hard work shows, and that’s always worth appreciating, no matter a picture’s age.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray set of Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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