THE INVISIBLE MAN: Blu-ray (Universal 1933) Universal Home Video
Universal fell
back on a time-honored horror masterpiece, bringing H.G. Wells’ The Invisible Man (1933) to life,
starring the inimitable Claude Rains. But Wells’ nightmarish terror presented
something of a challenge in that its star was never to be seen. Instead,
special effects trickery would create the illusion of an absence, while Rains
played virtually all his scenes wrapped in a swath of bandages and dark goggles.
However, Universal knew what it was doing when it cast Rains; an instantly
recognizable voice infused with a mellifluous sincerity capable of pulling off
the seemingly impossible feat of making an audience care for someone who
‘visually’ – at least – is not present. As directed by James Whale, The
Invisible Man is really part tragedy/part horror; the tale of a man whose
all-consuming passion to tap into the unknown sciences destroys his own chances
at earthly happiness and, ultimately, corrupts his brilliant mind. And Rains
gives us this wounded genius with more than a modicum of empathy even as his
intellect succumbs to madness.
Claude Rains
had not been the first choice for the part, but he proved the only choice in
the final analysis, after Karloff, Chester Morris and Colin Clive all turned it
down first. Rains is Dr. Jack Griffin, a reclusive stranger newly arrived in a
tiny English hamlet. His presence startles innkeeper, Mr. Hall (Forrest Harvey)
and his wife (Una O’Connor); enough for Hall to order him out of his
establishment. But when the police arrive, Griffin disrobes to reveal he is, in
fact, invisible. Tearing off into the night, Griffin is identified only by his
hysterical cackle. This continues to terrorize the town. Soon, however, Griffin
will turn to the dark side of his lesser self – the mad scientist, determined
to destroy the world rather than save it from the oblivion of war. Eventually
the town comes to know Griffin from Flora Cranley (Gloria Stuart) who is
desperately in love with him...or rather, the man he used to be. The good
doctor had been experimenting with ‘monocane’; a dangerous drug that had
rendered another test subject - Griffin’s dog – invisible, but insane.
Naturally, Flora’s father, Dr. Cranley (Henry Travers) is most concerned, even
more so when Griffin forces Cranley’s assistant, Dr. Kemp (William Harrigan) to
become his cohort in a plot to take over the world.
Kemp attempts
to alert the authorities. But, after Griffin overhears a police officer
declaring the whole thing to be a colossal hoax, he decides to murder him
simply to prove otherwise. Later, Kemp telephones Cranley who brings Flora with
him to subdue Griffin from committing more murders. The plan backfires, and
Griffin derails a train, killing many. In retaliation, the police offer a
reward to anyone who can devise a plan to capture Griffin. The chief detective
(Dudley Digges) uses Kemp as bait to lure Griffin out of hiding. He dresses
Kemp in an officer’s uniform and orders him to drive his car away from his
house. But once the vehicle is out of range, Griffin reveals he has been hiding
in the backseat all along and helps steer the car and Kemp over the edge of a
cliff. Seeking shelter inside a nearby barn one snowy night, Griffin is ‘found’
by a farmer who just happens to notice his hay stack is ‘snoring’. The police
arrive and mortally wound Griffin. With Flora at his bedside Griffin admits his
experiments were evil and self-destructive; his body gradually re-materializing
as he slowly expires.
The Invisible Man is a provocative tale, tapping into
man's common desire to be autonomous in society: to be able to act exactly as
he pleases without fear of reprisals. But R.C. Sherriff’s screenplay (with
unaccredited assists from Preston Sturges and Philip Wylie) intelligently
grapples with the psychological ramifications of this fantastic fiction. The
debate is age old. How do we know ourselves if not by the reflection we see of ourselves in a mirror – our very
being and sense of self identification wrapped up in this visual context we can
only know second-hand? Remember, a reflection is the reverse image of what
actually is; ergo, even what we witness in a mirror is not entirely the truth
of ourselves. Nevertheless, it’s what we identify with as our very essence of
being. For Dr. Griffin, the absence of this tangible façade is enough to drive
him crazy. He reacts as he never would have under normal circumstances,
becoming power drunk on his own invisibility. In essence, Griffith’s sense of
freedom is what gradually warps his sanity with a superiority complex.
Claude Rains
delivers a knockout performance herein. An actor who graced many a Warner Bros.
melodrama throughout the 1940’s, Rains is a superior presence on the screen –
holding his own even when he is all but shielded from the camera’s view by the
cosmetic trickery of rotoscoping. Rains, who suffered horribly from a speech
impediment (an inability to pronounce his ‘R’s’) early on in his career,
overcame this failing and later claimed that being gassed in WWI resulted in
his voice acquiring its trademark silky smoothness, forever after trademarked
as the epitome of suave sophistication. A diminutive man, physically speaking,
Rains 'on camera' presence was never anything less than magnetic. Today, he
remains much beloved by movie fans, most readily identified and admired as the
oily prefect of police, Louis Renault in Casablanca
(1942). In The Invisible Man, Rains
is very much on his way in building a career from playing unique characters;
his sophisticate’s air and minor pomp easily concocting a towering figure out
of this transparent sci-fi experiment gone horribly awry.
The movie is
also blessed to have Gloria Stuart and Henry Travers in supporting roles. Every
studio had its own stock company of ‘character actors’ during its heyday. But
Universal’s seems particularly adept at achieving a high-minded believability,
particularly when dealing with the supernatural – a subject easily capable of
degenerating into rank bad taste and even more deadly laughter elicited from an
audience, who are supposed to be utterly paralyzed with fear as they sit in the
dark. The Invisible Man achieves its
modicum of looming disaster primarily because of Rains. He builds on the gradual
mental deterioration of his character, a sort of dramatic unraveling more
startling even than the iconic moment when, to prove his superiority over the
common man, Griffin unfurls his bandages before a startled gathering to expose
the nothingness underneath. The Invisible Man is top drawer
entertainment; a real bone-chiller with exemplary production values and a
peerless performance by its star.
Let the
repackaging begin…again! Universal Home Video re-parcels off its singles from
its very comprehensive Classic Monsters Collection. This disc is virtually identical to the one
included in that box set. The Invisible
Man has never looked better. Universal has done more than ‘clean up’ the
visuals; they have resurrected this visual masterpiece from home video
oblivion. The results are astounding, with film grain very natural and fine
details abounding even during the darkest scenes. There are still age-related
artifacts to consider. Also, the rotoscoping is quite obvious, though never
distracting. Nevertheless, the B&W
image reveals all of the subtleties in Arthur Edeson’s dark and brooding
cinematography. Really good stuff here, so enjoy.
The audio is
DTS mono. While there’s still a modicum of hiss during quiescent scenes,
there’s really nothing to complain about.
Universal’s rather scant on extras. We get a comprehensive audio
commentary and a fantastic featurette that delves deeply into the making of the
movie. But that’s about it. I would have loved a featurette on Claude Rains.
Personally, I think the man is owed his own 2 hr. biography special – but
that’s just me. The only thing Universal could have done to improve their
prospects would have been to feature all of these extras in hi-def. No soap.
They’re still 720i. Oh well, you can’t have everything. Highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
4
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