(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 …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In a turn-of-the-century Renaissance Italian mansion, its tyrannical owner, a wheelchair-bound one-handed pianist with a strong belief in the occult is murdered.”
The history of bad decisions in all of filmdom has made for a great many entertaining and informative articles. Some of these notable curiosities involve actors and actresses turning down roles that went to other talent, and then those films went on to become huge, huge box office and critical successes. In other cases, directors have decided to give projects a certain look, resulting in aesthetics that perhaps left audiences more confused than receptive. Still, how many of us have watched a veritable disaster that perhaps could’ve been made modestly better with another go-round at the script or even spending a wee bit more on special effects to make the outcome just a bit more special?
Now, in fairness, not all of these miscalculations rise to the level of being, say, a JarJar Binks grade disaster. Yet I’ve no doubt eyebrows were raised way back in 1946 when audiences were treated to a stunningly grand Horror/Thriller from director John Florey – namely The Beast With Five Fingers – that implodes under the weight of an incredibly stupid breaking-the-fourth-wall moment in – literally – the closing moments. You’ve heard of that trend in films wherein a bad guy’s detached hand comes back to life and commits a series of tawdry and violent acts? Well, Beast was – I believe – to explore the concept, and it did so with Hollywood legend Peter Lorre, arguably near the height of his prowess. What more could you ask? Well, a closing scene that absolutely destroys all of the goodwill audiences likely blessed it with is a bridge too far; and I’ll bet a good many have forgotten what a gem this production otherwise is because of that fateful mistake.
On the commentary track for the new Warner Archive release, film experts Steve Haberman and Constantine Nasr point out that Beast is an uncharacteristic production for studio head Jack Warner. Apparently, Warner had been on record about somewhat detesting Horror films in general; so the fact that something so obviously horrific managed to get greenlit at the studio under his leadership is a bit of mystery. Perhaps the fact that the script – Curt Siodmak and Harold Goldman are credited with adapting the original W.F. Harvey story – deals more with the psychological descent into madness on the part of Lorre’s Hilary Cummins the Hollywood heavyweight looked the other way. Were that the case and then Warner saw the completed project, could he have been the reason why Florey tacked on this insufferably bad ending? Chalk this one up to a case of “who knows?”
Famed pianist Francis Ingram (played with considerable menace by Victor Francen) has devolved into a bitter and shallow caricature of the musical genius he once was. Having suffered a stroke that left him bound to a wheelchair and with only one useful arm, he whiles away in silence playing single-handed adaptations of great pieces rewritten to suit his disability by Bruce Conrad (Robert Alda). Otherwise, Ingram’s companions are limited to his caretaker – Julie Holden (Andrea King) – and Hilary Cummins (Lorre), a bit of a parasite who’s spent several years sponging off the pianist’s wealth and general favor. As of hate, however, Ingram has turned somewhat disgruntled with Cummins’ presence, mostly because the man gets in the way of time better spent with the lovely Holden. After dinner one evening, Ingram is awakened from his sleep by the storm outside. As he wanders in his chair about the house seeking the attentions of his caregiver, he accidentally tumbles down a massive staircase. Collapsing at the bottom, he breaks his neck and dies.
Whenever a wealthy socialite passes, relatives come out of the woodwork; and Ingram’s expiration is no different. Brother-in-law Raymond Arlington (Charles Dingle) and his son Donald (John Alvin) arrive on the scene, immediately expecting to claim everything of the Ingram estate; but – lo and behold – the pianist had recently dictated an all-new last testament leaving all he owned to the apple of his eye, Holden. Privately, Arlington and the attorney Duprex (David Hoffman) conspire to have the will nullified, an act that would have Ingram’s previous expressed wishes for his brother-in-law to inherit the spoils reinstated.
There’s a bit more to Beast’s set-up that helps to set the stage: because he’s fallen out of the pianist’s good graces, Cummins admits to the elder musician that Julie is, in fact, planning on leaving him, running off potentially in the arms of her beau Conrad for greener pastures. Refusing to believe it, the confession still enrages Ingram so much that he attempts to strangle his former constant companion; and it’s this jilted relationship that fuels a good portion of the resulting mystery that takes residence in the mansion.
Before he can seize control of his client’s estate, Duprex is murdered; and it would seem to be that the guilty culprit is none other than … the deceased! Somehow, Ingram’s left hand has been sawed off his body; and the sniveling Cummins has seen it crawling about the house in pursuit of untold retributions on those who may’ve wronged the man while he still retained his mortal coil. While modern audiences might scoff at the use of such primitive special effects, Beast actually makes great usage of such visual trickery, giving the film just enough of what Horror fans expect – albeit fairly late in the picture – to make it a memorable chiller.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“In a turn-of-the-century Renaissance Italian mansion, its tyrannical owner, a wheelchair-bound one-handed pianist with a strong belief in the occult is murdered.”
The history of bad decisions in all of filmdom has made for a great many entertaining and informative articles. Some of these notable curiosities involve actors and actresses turning down roles that went to other talent, and then those films went on to become huge, huge box office and critical successes. In other cases, directors have decided to give projects a certain look, resulting in aesthetics that perhaps left audiences more confused than receptive. Still, how many of us have watched a veritable disaster that perhaps could’ve been made modestly better with another go-round at the script or even spending a wee bit more on special effects to make the outcome just a bit more special?
Now, in fairness, not all of these miscalculations rise to the level of being, say, a JarJar Binks grade disaster. Yet I’ve no doubt eyebrows were raised way back in 1946 when audiences were treated to a stunningly grand Horror/Thriller from director John Florey – namely The Beast With Five Fingers – that implodes under the weight of an incredibly stupid breaking-the-fourth-wall moment in – literally – the closing moments. You’ve heard of that trend in films wherein a bad guy’s detached hand comes back to life and commits a series of tawdry and violent acts? Well, Beast was – I believe – to explore the concept, and it did so with Hollywood legend Peter Lorre, arguably near the height of his prowess. What more could you ask? Well, a closing scene that absolutely destroys all of the goodwill audiences likely blessed it with is a bridge too far; and I’ll bet a good many have forgotten what a gem this production otherwise is because of that fateful mistake.
On the commentary track for the new Warner Archive release, film experts Steve Haberman and Constantine Nasr point out that Beast is an uncharacteristic production for studio head Jack Warner. Apparently, Warner had been on record about somewhat detesting Horror films in general; so the fact that something so obviously horrific managed to get greenlit at the studio under his leadership is a bit of mystery. Perhaps the fact that the script – Curt Siodmak and Harold Goldman are credited with adapting the original W.F. Harvey story – deals more with the psychological descent into madness on the part of Lorre’s Hilary Cummins the Hollywood heavyweight looked the other way. Were that the case and then Warner saw the completed project, could he have been the reason why Florey tacked on this insufferably bad ending? Chalk this one up to a case of “who knows?”
Famed pianist Francis Ingram (played with considerable menace by Victor Francen) has devolved into a bitter and shallow caricature of the musical genius he once was. Having suffered a stroke that left him bound to a wheelchair and with only one useful arm, he whiles away in silence playing single-handed adaptations of great pieces rewritten to suit his disability by Bruce Conrad (Robert Alda). Otherwise, Ingram’s companions are limited to his caretaker – Julie Holden (Andrea King) – and Hilary Cummins (Lorre), a bit of a parasite who’s spent several years sponging off the pianist’s wealth and general favor. As of hate, however, Ingram has turned somewhat disgruntled with Cummins’ presence, mostly because the man gets in the way of time better spent with the lovely Holden. After dinner one evening, Ingram is awakened from his sleep by the storm outside. As he wanders in his chair about the house seeking the attentions of his caregiver, he accidentally tumbles down a massive staircase. Collapsing at the bottom, he breaks his neck and dies.
Whenever a wealthy socialite passes, relatives come out of the woodwork; and Ingram’s expiration is no different. Brother-in-law Raymond Arlington (Charles Dingle) and his son Donald (John Alvin) arrive on the scene, immediately expecting to claim everything of the Ingram estate; but – lo and behold – the pianist had recently dictated an all-new last testament leaving all he owned to the apple of his eye, Holden. Privately, Arlington and the attorney Duprex (David Hoffman) conspire to have the will nullified, an act that would have Ingram’s previous expressed wishes for his brother-in-law to inherit the spoils reinstated.
There’s a bit more to Beast’s set-up that helps to set the stage: because he’s fallen out of the pianist’s good graces, Cummins admits to the elder musician that Julie is, in fact, planning on leaving him, running off potentially in the arms of her beau Conrad for greener pastures. Refusing to believe it, the confession still enrages Ingram so much that he attempts to strangle his former constant companion; and it’s this jilted relationship that fuels a good portion of the resulting mystery that takes residence in the mansion.
Before he can seize control of his client’s estate, Duprex is murdered; and it would seem to be that the guilty culprit is none other than … the deceased! Somehow, Ingram’s left hand has been sawed off his body; and the sniveling Cummins has seen it crawling about the house in pursuit of untold retributions on those who may’ve wronged the man while he still retained his mortal coil. While modern audiences might scoff at the use of such primitive special effects, Beast actually makes great usage of such visual trickery, giving the film just enough of what Horror fans expect – albeit fairly late in the picture – to make it a memorable chiller.
Google.com reports that – at best – Beast was a modest success, perhaps owed more appropriately to the fact that it wasn’t all that expensive for Warner Bros. to produce. Siodmak’s script focuses very strongly on Cummins’ weakening mental state, and – in all seriously – Hollywood couldn’t have had a better pair of hands (snicker snicker) to rest that in than Lorre’s. He roared to international acclaim back in like-minded territory board Fritz Lang’s M (1931), so what little that’s required here is little more than a walk around the proverbial park. As incredulous as the premise of a homicidal appendage might be to some, all of it works as well as it does because the actor rather eloquently picks it up and shoulders the effort from start to finish. While Cummins isn’t revealed as being particularly duplicitous, it’s very clear that the man has unresolved issues – perhaps even sexual, some might say – that inspires him to consider some dark deeds on his path to spiritual and financial wellness.
Without being overly critical, I’ll still take issue with the remainder of the cast as being one of the principle reasons why Beast stumbles here and there.
Though Francen is very good as the anguished pianist, he only appears chiefly in the film’s set-up; after thirty minutes or so, he’s dispatched to the shadows, leaving the remaining members of this ensemble to step up their game and no one does. J. Carroll Naish isn’t bad as Commissioner Ovidio Castanio, but he occasionally plays his part a bit foppish, almost a parody of what an authentic detective might be. King and Alda – as the lead romantic pairing – don’t muster much screen chemistry – Alda is downright bland in a few spots – so it isn’t as if I ever felt like I needed to root for their survival. Even some of the camerawork is a bit too plain in sequences wherein Florey truly could’ve tried something special; it’s clear that he occasionally heightens the resulting tension – most of which gets tied to Lorre’s work – and it would’ve been nice to see as much workmanship applied to even the smallest of exchanges.
But if I’m being perfectly honest, then I’ll have to admit that, yes, I liked Beast … liked it quite a bit … right up until about the last minute of the production.
Though I’m aghast at ever spoiling anything, I honestly have to in this predicament because I think I can offer a solution to those who are interested in giving the film a whirl. You see, I’m never a fan of players breaking that wall that separates us from the experience: while it can be done to great effect in screen Comedies (Marvel’s Deadpool’s appeal is that he’s often sharing his innermost impressions at the least appropriate time), it just fails in other genres. In my humble opinion, Dramas should never do it; but I’m willing to consider the technique as having some usability in certain flights of fancy. Use it sparingly – if ever – and don’t look back.
With Beast, I’d encourage viewers to stop the tape right after the Castanio pieces together this mild whodunit and right as he reaches the mansion’s door to exit. What happens afterward – albeit incredibly brief – functionally destroys the tale, reducing it to little more than a whimsical yet bizarre dream, the kind one might have were they to go to bed with a belly too full. It cheapens every damn element that comes before it, and it should be surgically excised from theatrical existence. It’s a painfully unfunny coda that both the talent and the audience never deserved; and the studio should’ve known better.
Consider yourself warned.
The Beast With Five Fingers (1946) was produced by Warner Bros. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds exceptional across the entire run time. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The aforementioned commentary track earns high marks from this listener as Haberman and Nasr do an admirable job covering what little is known about the production process along with a good amount of associated material. There are also a few cartoons from the era along with the original theatrical trailer.
Recommended.
The single greatest selling point I can offer to The Beast With Five Fingers (1946) is that – despite not receiving top billing for the effort – this really is Peter Lorre’s picture. It’s a solid bit of acting with some appreciable highs and lows, the kind that pretty much defined the actor’s career. How this guy wasn’t a bigger star? I’ll never be able to explain. Furthermore, it’s a solid thriller for those who like things just a bit outside of normal, although I would like to have seen a bit more from the rest of the ensemble, including Florey’s direction. As older flicks go? I liked this one quite a bit … but the closing scene is painfully out-of-narrative-sync with the rest of the film. I hope someone lost his job over it!
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Beast With Five Fingers (1946) 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
Without being overly critical, I’ll still take issue with the remainder of the cast as being one of the principle reasons why Beast stumbles here and there.
Though Francen is very good as the anguished pianist, he only appears chiefly in the film’s set-up; after thirty minutes or so, he’s dispatched to the shadows, leaving the remaining members of this ensemble to step up their game and no one does. J. Carroll Naish isn’t bad as Commissioner Ovidio Castanio, but he occasionally plays his part a bit foppish, almost a parody of what an authentic detective might be. King and Alda – as the lead romantic pairing – don’t muster much screen chemistry – Alda is downright bland in a few spots – so it isn’t as if I ever felt like I needed to root for their survival. Even some of the camerawork is a bit too plain in sequences wherein Florey truly could’ve tried something special; it’s clear that he occasionally heightens the resulting tension – most of which gets tied to Lorre’s work – and it would’ve been nice to see as much workmanship applied to even the smallest of exchanges.
But if I’m being perfectly honest, then I’ll have to admit that, yes, I liked Beast … liked it quite a bit … right up until about the last minute of the production.
Though I’m aghast at ever spoiling anything, I honestly have to in this predicament because I think I can offer a solution to those who are interested in giving the film a whirl. You see, I’m never a fan of players breaking that wall that separates us from the experience: while it can be done to great effect in screen Comedies (Marvel’s Deadpool’s appeal is that he’s often sharing his innermost impressions at the least appropriate time), it just fails in other genres. In my humble opinion, Dramas should never do it; but I’m willing to consider the technique as having some usability in certain flights of fancy. Use it sparingly – if ever – and don’t look back.
With Beast, I’d encourage viewers to stop the tape right after the Castanio pieces together this mild whodunit and right as he reaches the mansion’s door to exit. What happens afterward – albeit incredibly brief – functionally destroys the tale, reducing it to little more than a whimsical yet bizarre dream, the kind one might have were they to go to bed with a belly too full. It cheapens every damn element that comes before it, and it should be surgically excised from theatrical existence. It’s a painfully unfunny coda that both the talent and the audience never deserved; and the studio should’ve known better.
Consider yourself warned.
The Beast With Five Fingers (1946) was produced by Warner Bros. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds exceptional across the entire run time. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The aforementioned commentary track earns high marks from this listener as Haberman and Nasr do an admirable job covering what little is known about the production process along with a good amount of associated material. There are also a few cartoons from the era along with the original theatrical trailer.
Recommended.
The single greatest selling point I can offer to The Beast With Five Fingers (1946) is that – despite not receiving top billing for the effort – this really is Peter Lorre’s picture. It’s a solid bit of acting with some appreciable highs and lows, the kind that pretty much defined the actor’s career. How this guy wasn’t a bigger star? I’ll never be able to explain. Furthermore, it’s a solid thriller for those who like things just a bit outside of normal, although I would like to have seen a bit more from the rest of the ensemble, including Florey’s direction. As older flicks go? I liked this one quite a bit … but the closing scene is painfully out-of-narrative-sync with the rest of the film. I hope someone lost his job over it!
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Beast With Five Fingers (1946) 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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