TCM and parent company Warner Brothers created these
Greatest Classic Films Collections as budget priced mini-sets centered on a unifying
theme. Sometimes it is as broad as “Comedy” or “Best Picture Winners,” other
times around a specific author (Tennessee Williams), director (Alfred
Hitchcock), star (Bette Davis), duo (Bogie and Bacall), or subgenre
(Prohibition Era gangster films). To celebrate Halloween on Christmas, let us look
at their choices for “Horror.”
The four films included are*:
Freaks
Tod Browing (1931’s Dracula) directs this landmark movie
– long banned, now highly lauded – in which the true freaks are not the story’s
real-life sideshow performers, but “normals” who mock and abuse them. This unique
ensemble play big-top troupers who inflict a terrible revenge on a trapeze
artist who treats them as subhuman.
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
One man is a paragon of virtue. The other is a murderous
creature of the London night. They are the same person. Spencer Tracy headlines
this version of Robert Louis Stevenson’s tale whose visual flourishes include a
dreamscape in which carriage horses whipped by Hyde transform into women in his
life (including Ingrid Bergman and Lana Turner).
House of Wax
In the wicked performance that crowned him the movies’
master of the macabre, Vincent Price plays a wax sculptor plunged into madness
when an arsonist destroys his life’s work. Unable to use his flame-scarred
hands, he devises a murderous way of restocking his museum.
The Haunting
Robert Wise directed this first screen version of Shirley
Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House. Julie Harris, Clarie Bloom, Richard
Johnson and Russ Tamblyn come to the house to study its supernatural phenomena.
Or has the house drawn at least one of them to it?
*all descriptions have been transcribed from the back of the DVD case.
This is a unique batch of films spanning from the early
sound years straight through to the waning days of the studio system. However,
are these four films really some of the best examples of the horror genre from
the studio era?
The long and short of it is yes and no. I think it's best to spend a little bit of time with each of the films to truly understand what I mean by this. So let's look at the film's in chronological order.
Tod Browning's Freaks is the undisputed essential masterpiece of this collection, and the one film that I wouldn't entirely classify as horror. I'm not sure what I would classify the film as, but horror isn't entirely it. So much of the film is occupied by "slice of life" scenes of the various denizens of the circus, both sideshow performers and regular attractions, that it's nearly impossible to place Freaks into any particular box.
The story, as little of one as there is, follows the tragic romance between Hans, a little person in the circus, and his twisted romance with the trapeze artist Cleopatra. Cleopatra carries on an affair with Hercules the strongman, and indulges Hans' affections when she learns that he's secretly wealthy. She goes so far as to marry Hans and plans on poisoning him to take everything he's got. The sideshow performers learn of her cruelty and decide to restore order to their little community by punishing her intolerance and duplicity.
It is in these brief ending scenes that Freaks transforms into a horror film, yet so much of the film is a compassionate plea to view these performers as complete people. It's a miracle this film got made at all, by MGM no less, and that it's managed to emerge from the rubble of its disastrous test screenings and horrified earliest reactions is no less miraculous. What emerges is a deep compassion buried underneath a label of "horror" and complicated history that functions as an anchor around its neck. Yet time has decided that Freaks is a horror film, and I suppose this is the closest genre label that works with the film. I'm not about to argue it's inclusion here.
Next up, MGM again but this time with an inferior remake of a superior Pre-Code film from a rival studio, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Why bring up that prior film at all? MGM bought the rights to the film, buried it, and recycled its script. Perhaps trying to remake a carnal, stylish Pre-Code thriller in the glossy, entombed MGM house style wasn't a smart move, but smart casting or atmospheric direction could have saved it.
Don't look here for either of those choices. By Spencer Tracy's own admission he was micast, and he was afraid this film would torpedo his film career. I think he was too much of a burgeoning film institution to worry about that particular point, but Tracy is a sturdy square forcibly shoved into a round hole. The script's too afraid to really dive into Jekyll's latent misogyny to make later moments involving Ingrid Bergman as a barmaid (her character is clearly written as a prostitute but changed to appeal to the censors) and Lana Turner as the virginal bride-to-be thorny, so Tracy's left with nothing interesting to play and the whole central performance is a non-starter.
How do you make a movie out of the Jekyll/Hyde story with a limp central performance? Not well if the rest of the film is any indication. There's Bergman trying valiantly to make sense of a nearly unplayable character, a few choice dream sequences that feel like cheats, and a final act that makes you long for Jekyll's death to just hurry up and happen already. This version does not belong anywhere near the words "greatest" or "classic" when talking about horror films.
Things improve with 1953's loopy House of Wax, a delightful piece of trash given life and artistic import due to Vincent Price's star turn. This is the film that transformed him from notable supporting player to horror icon and leading man, so it's shocking to learn that historically the 3D, stereophonic sound, and vibrant colors were the selling points in lieu of Price. Come for the sight of can-can dancers sticking their legs and rumps directly into the camera, stay for Price's burn victim makeup and stalking the night for corpses.
The plot is pure pulp trash, yet it still somehow feels like there's too much going on for its brief running time. After all, we've got Price, a pair of lovers, comedic relief cops, and some henchmen all vying for screen time in 88 minutes. It's a lot and some of it proves a distraction from the true star of the show, Vincent Price masticating upon purple dialog like it's a great tragedy.
I'm not sure if House of Wax is a great film or a classic, but it's definitely worthy of inclusion for Price's elongated syllables and nasal purr. His elegance and artistry manages to make the vehicle around him appear nearly worthy of his presence. It's trash but it knows that it's a fun piece of trash.
The final film is an absolute masterpiece of the horror genre, 1963's The Haunting. Shirley Jackson's seminal novel gets the deluxe adaptation treatment here, and bits of her prose make their way to the screen. The Haunting also makes the smart choice to keep Jackson's deliberate ambiguity on the presence of the spiritual/spectral realm.
The Haunting follows a sturdy horror formula: the complete psychological and emotional collapse of its primary female character, Eleanor in this case. Julie Harris' neurosis is unnerving, and she makes the near-rational self-possession of the final moments completely terrifying. Harris' performance must be mentioned in the same breath as Deborah Kerr in The Innocents or Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby for brittle women collapsing under psychological duress.
The rest of the film is an example of stellar craftsmanship and smart directorial choices to make a film as sophisticated as the best literary adaptations. Robert Wise captures the emotional unease of his main character so well without displaying a ghostly vision. No matter, the atmosphere of sustained uncertainty and terror makes you somehow convinced that there were spectral presences hidden in the corners of every frame.
Let's tally it all up, shall we? That's two cinematic masterpieces, one highly entertaining genre exercise, and one nearly hypnotic misfire. I don't know about you, but I'd hardly consider the spread of films chosen here as the cream of the crop of the horror genre. But this is a good place to grab the hard to find gems Freaks and The Haunting, so maybe it all breaks even cosmically.
Tod Browning's Freaks is the undisputed essential masterpiece of this collection, and the one film that I wouldn't entirely classify as horror. I'm not sure what I would classify the film as, but horror isn't entirely it. So much of the film is occupied by "slice of life" scenes of the various denizens of the circus, both sideshow performers and regular attractions, that it's nearly impossible to place Freaks into any particular box.The story, as little of one as there is, follows the tragic romance between Hans, a little person in the circus, and his twisted romance with the trapeze artist Cleopatra. Cleopatra carries on an affair with Hercules the strongman, and indulges Hans' affections when she learns that he's secretly wealthy. She goes so far as to marry Hans and plans on poisoning him to take everything he's got. The sideshow performers learn of her cruelty and decide to restore order to their little community by punishing her intolerance and duplicity.
It is in these brief ending scenes that Freaks transforms into a horror film, yet so much of the film is a compassionate plea to view these performers as complete people. It's a miracle this film got made at all, by MGM no less, and that it's managed to emerge from the rubble of its disastrous test screenings and horrified earliest reactions is no less miraculous. What emerges is a deep compassion buried underneath a label of "horror" and complicated history that functions as an anchor around its neck. Yet time has decided that Freaks is a horror film, and I suppose this is the closest genre label that works with the film. I'm not about to argue it's inclusion here.
Don't look here for either of those choices. By Spencer Tracy's own admission he was micast, and he was afraid this film would torpedo his film career. I think he was too much of a burgeoning film institution to worry about that particular point, but Tracy is a sturdy square forcibly shoved into a round hole. The script's too afraid to really dive into Jekyll's latent misogyny to make later moments involving Ingrid Bergman as a barmaid (her character is clearly written as a prostitute but changed to appeal to the censors) and Lana Turner as the virginal bride-to-be thorny, so Tracy's left with nothing interesting to play and the whole central performance is a non-starter.
How do you make a movie out of the Jekyll/Hyde story with a limp central performance? Not well if the rest of the film is any indication. There's Bergman trying valiantly to make sense of a nearly unplayable character, a few choice dream sequences that feel like cheats, and a final act that makes you long for Jekyll's death to just hurry up and happen already. This version does not belong anywhere near the words "greatest" or "classic" when talking about horror films.
The plot is pure pulp trash, yet it still somehow feels like there's too much going on for its brief running time. After all, we've got Price, a pair of lovers, comedic relief cops, and some henchmen all vying for screen time in 88 minutes. It's a lot and some of it proves a distraction from the true star of the show, Vincent Price masticating upon purple dialog like it's a great tragedy.
I'm not sure if House of Wax is a great film or a classic, but it's definitely worthy of inclusion for Price's elongated syllables and nasal purr. His elegance and artistry manages to make the vehicle around him appear nearly worthy of his presence. It's trash but it knows that it's a fun piece of trash.
The final film is an absolute masterpiece of the horror genre, 1963's The Haunting. Shirley Jackson's seminal novel gets the deluxe adaptation treatment here, and bits of her prose make their way to the screen. The Haunting also makes the smart choice to keep Jackson's deliberate ambiguity on the presence of the spiritual/spectral realm.
The Haunting follows a sturdy horror formula: the complete psychological and emotional collapse of its primary female character, Eleanor in this case. Julie Harris' neurosis is unnerving, and she makes the near-rational self-possession of the final moments completely terrifying. Harris' performance must be mentioned in the same breath as Deborah Kerr in The Innocents or Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby for brittle women collapsing under psychological duress. The rest of the film is an example of stellar craftsmanship and smart directorial choices to make a film as sophisticated as the best literary adaptations. Robert Wise captures the emotional unease of his main character so well without displaying a ghostly vision. No matter, the atmosphere of sustained uncertainty and terror makes you somehow convinced that there were spectral presences hidden in the corners of every frame.
Let's tally it all up, shall we? That's two cinematic masterpieces, one highly entertaining genre exercise, and one nearly hypnotic misfire. I don't know about you, but I'd hardly consider the spread of films chosen here as the cream of the crop of the horror genre. But this is a good place to grab the hard to find gems Freaks and The Haunting, so maybe it all breaks even cosmically.
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