THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES: Blu-ray (Universal, 1940) Kino Lorber

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel, The House of the Seven Gables held great appeal for Universal Studios. First, the book had fallen into public domain. So, cheaply acquired. Second, its Gothic trappings could be exploited a la Uni’s particular verve and knack for crafting ‘horror’ movies of varying quality. Third, Hawthorne’s prose possessed a literary tradition that, while more suited to the MGM gloss or even Paramount’s Euro-sophistication, nevertheless gave Universal the opportunity to go toe-to-toe with its competitors, if, on an infinitely more modest budget, but with some impressive ‘star’ credits to recommend the offering. That director, Joe May’s The House of the Seven Gables (1940) emerges as a rather lackluster production, despite the casting of George Sanders and Vincent Price, is something of a grave disappointment. The screenplay by Lester Cole takes great liberties with Hawthorne’s book, and, in spots, only thinly resembles its trajectory and character study. Uni, in fact, could not even lay claim to producing the first adaptation; that honor afforded Edison Studios and their 1910 two-reel release – as forgettable as this second bite at the same apple. Given its public domain status, it is a small wonder no other studio jumped at the opportunity to make – and/or re-make – The House of the Seven Gables. In 1935, cash-strapped Republic Pictures announced their plans to do just that. But this never happened.

Four years later, Universal came around, keeping its pre-production strategies under lock and key to stave off interest from rival studios. Owing to their tightly run management, the studio’s ambitions for The House of the Seven Gables ran depressingly cheap – budgeted at $152,625 and aimed as the top-half of a double bill in their ‘prestige’ horror films. Besides, Universal was eager to re-enter the genre, after incurring much ridicule and outcry against the grotesqueness depicted in 1935’s The Raven – today, justly regarded as a classic, but then, effectively to have put a period in their cycle of popular horror movies in order to quell outside concerns they were somehow peddling trash – or worse – to the public, suitable for outside intervention and censorship on all their future product. Still, Universal, without a Frankenstein monster or mummy in their cinematic crypt, was a very dark and lonely place indeed.  And while The House of the Seven Gables did not possess any outwardly obvious aberrations catering to the macabre or supernatural, the book did include a family curse and a wicked betrayal, set up for an even more satisfying revenge scenario to play itself out before the final curtain call. Besides, if the 1938, sold-out triple bill reissue of Uni’s Dracula, Frankenstein, and Son of Kong proved anything, it was that the public’s appetite for Gothic chills was as alive as ever.

In its preliminary stages, B-picture producers, Burt Kelly was assigned to oversee the production, while writer, Harold Greene was called in to do a treatment of the novel. Kelly preferred Cole to Greene. Indeed, the two had worked together before and Cole shared in Kelly’s ‘progressive’ communist political views – later, to tank both their careers.  The powers that be at Universal were not at all pleased, chiefly because Cole’s salary was a whopping $600 a week. Nevertheless, Kelly won this battle and Cole was hired on, delving into the lengthy process of hacking apart, then piecing together, Hawthorne sprawling narrative into a filmable script. Cole would eventually shear the movie’s plot of the novel’s first act, giving only a thumbnail summary of the ‘curse’ befallen the Pyncheon family, and thereafter, maintaining the spirit of the book while pretty much creating situations from his own fertile imagination to supplement the story. Cole could not resist the urge to foist his own political views on the supporting character of Matthew Maule (a.k.a. Holgrave) who became an abolitionist in the film. Cole also depicted Jaffrey Pyncheon (George Sanders) and Deacon Arnold Foster (Miles Manders) as corrupt capitalists, linking their unbridled greed to the illegal slave-trade. Finally, Cole skewed Hawthorne’s critique of materialism, seen as the all-consuming evil, punishable not by God, but by the piety of free-thinking peoples. These alterations may have bordered on socialist propaganda, with Sanders’ Jaffrey becoming a metaphor for state-sanctioned tyranny, but in retrospect, none of Cole’s augmentations made up for the fact that this House of the Seven Gables was a rather dull, if dark movie.

Production designer Jack Otterson emulated the Turner-Ingersoll Mansion in Salem, Massachusetts (the inspiration for Hawthorne’s fictional abode); a facsimile built on Uni’s Colonial Street back lot, with interiors constructed on sound stages, depicting the sparsity of this once grand manor, left in decay and disrepair via years of neglect.  Meanwhile, Jack Pierce evolved an ‘aging’ makeup, to advance the years of his costars. Rather convincingly, his work mutes the vivacity of the youthful, Margaret Lindsay (as Cousin Hepzibah Pyncheon), seen in all her restrained spinsterish glory for the bulk of the picture, while graying Vincent Price (as Clifford Pyncheon, in a role originally slated for Robert Cummings) and George Sanders’ pates, adding a few distinguished wrinkles to their visages. I shudder to think what The House of the Seven Gables would have been without the participation of Vincent Price. While Price will always be admired as the beloved ghoul of late-fifties horror classics, produced mostly by Roger Corman, we must not forget that Price, in the late 1930’s, began his tenure in pictures as a hopeful ‘male beauty’. At least, this is how the studios planned to sell him to audiences. And Price, while physically statuesque and commanding, was never to fulfill these aspirations – either for Universal (who dropped his contract after this movie), nor even at 2oth Century-Fox, where he was afforded some truly impressive supporting roles in Laura (1944) and Leave Her To Heaven (1945), appearing as a headliner in the Gothic masterpiece, Dragonwyck (1946) - he would distinguish his art in a genre (horror) once regarded in the industry (outside of Universal) as mostly conceived in very poor taste.

The House of the Seven Gables began ambitiously enough as a period piece; Universal, culling together props and costumes from other earlier made product, and even recycling music cues, with new ones expressly written for this picture by composer, Frank Skinner. Interestingly, a minor wrench was thrown into the works when it was discovered virtually all of the sets, including doorways, had been built for an average height of 5 feet, 9 inches. As both George Sanders and Vincent Price were well over 6 ft., this simply would not do. Overnight, carpenters went to work, raising ceilings and lintels to accommodate the costars.  This, plus setbacks incurred by the ever-tinkering Jack Dawn, achieving the right look with aging makeup, and, an impromptu spate of inclement weather, caused director, Joe May to fall three days behind schedule. Meanwhile, May went about finalizing the details on the picture’s supporting cast. To play the lovable postman, he hired Alan Napier, with whom he had a good working relationship on the set of The Invisible Man Returns (1940). May also approved of Uni’ contract player, Dick Foran for the part of Matthew Maule, as well as time-honored stage thespian, Gilbert Emery as the short-lived Pyncheon patriarch, Gerald. In the fast advancing hours leading up to the picture’s start date, Cecil Kellaway and Charles Trowbridge joined the cast, as benevolent defense attorney, Philip Barton, and, brutally Teutonic judge respectively. Oddly, Universal believed it needed a song in the movie; Skinner, conspiring with lyricist, Ralph Freed on the forgettable ditty, ‘The Color of Your Eyes’ – warbled by Vincent Price.  By now, the studio’s executive branch had sincerely tired of delays incurred on this B-movie and pressed May to speed up production. Accommodating their request, May worked his cast and crew well into the night – in the years before work-related bylaws, each day’s shoot, begun at 6am, usually wrapping well after 10pm.  

We must pause a moment here, not to besmirch the talents of George Sanders – undeniably one of the most scandalously adroit cads ever to grace the cinema screen – but to illustrate his general scorn for humanity at large, and, on this particular outing, director Joe May in particular, whom he detested with a passion and openly ridiculed as ineffectual. Costar, Alan Napier’s patience was also tested by Sanders, who disapproved of Napier's good friend, Anne Froelick.  And while decades-long rumors abounded, Sanders and Vincent Price were at each other’s throats throughout most of the shoot, in later years Price denied such animosity, referring to Sanders as “a dear and wonderful man. I knew him intimately, and was very, very fond of him. He only pretended to be a dreadful man.” Sanders, who in one lifetime had one of the most legendary careers, mostly in exceptionally fine support as a disreputable rogue, in life, wed to both Gabor sisters (Zsa Zsa, and Ava) before taking his own life on April 23, 1972, by swallowing 5 bottles of Nembutal, left his fans with this bitter epitaph; “Dear World, I am leaving because I am bored. I feel I have lived long enough. I am leaving you with your worries in this sweet cesspool. Good luck!”

The House of the Seven Gables has George Sanders at his dishonorable best.  The brief prologue, details, in a diary, the curse on the Pyncheon clan. Their great-great grandfather, Colonel Pyncheon stole the land on which the family estate now sits by condemning its rightful owner, Matthew Maule of witchcraft, for which the latter was publicly hanged.  Alas, the Colonel died of mysterious circumstances in the library on the eve construction of his manor house was concluded, thus never to enjoy the place. At present, we find Sanders, as the Colonel’s great-great grandson, Jaffrey, arriving on a rain-soaked eve to his father, Gerald’s house.  Rather insincerely, Jaffrey, a wily attorney at law, has managed to squander the family’s inheritance on bad investments. These have since bankrupted the estate. There is no other way. The house must be sold. Not that Jaffrey would agree. In fact, he vehemently resists his brother, aspiring songwriter, Clifford’s plans to put the place up for auction, and bitterly frowns upon their bright-eyed cousin, Hepzibah, who is desperately in love with Clifford.  The men enter into a very heated argument in the library. The next day, Gerald is wounded by Clifford’s inference their legacy is predicated on a wicked past of greed and treachery. In disagreeing with his father, the elderly Gerald falls ill and collapses, striking his head on the desk. Dead upon hitting the floor, Clifford frantically summons Hepzibah and Jaffrey to bear witness. Only now, Jaffrey has more sinister plans afoot. He accuses Jaffrey of murder. The brothers briefly fight, their altercation broken up by a tearful Hepzibah, who planned to run away with Clifford to New York.

Instead, a trial ensues. With slippery ease, Jaffrey contorts the facts. The jury finds Clifford guilty. However, with the passionate resolve of his attorney, Philip Barton, the Judge is forced to commute Clifford’s sentence from ‘death’ to ‘life in prison’. In time, this too will be lessened, though only after Clifford has served 25 years for the crime. In the interim, Hepzibah learns from Barton, also acting as the family’s solicitor, that Gerald, having foreseen the animosity between the brothers likely to follow his demise, left the estate in its entirely to Hepzibah. Ruthlessly, she orders Jaffrey from the house, bolting every door and window as the public looks on with rabid curiosity. Time passes. Hepzibah’s optimism is turned to chalk. Shuddered in her desolation, she has grown harsh and remote, only allowing Barton to visit her from time to time.

Having invoked ‘Maule’s curse’ at his trial, Clifford is inadvertently forced to share a cell with Matthew Maule, who is being imprisoned for 10 days for his abolitionist protests. Amused by their fateful ‘cute meet’, Clifford and Matthew become good friends, and Maule takes the name of Holgrave upon his release, taking up residence in a rented room inside the Pyncheon’s manor, where he may continue his ‘subversive’ opposition. Realizing the family’s inheritance is fast running out, Hepzibah elects, first, to take in another lodger, Phoebe Pyncheon (Nan Grey), the daughter of a distant cousin who has recently died. Hepzibah is also intent on establishing a small shop, converting the main floor to accommodate the selling of wares. In this, Phoebe is of great help – tolerant and grateful to Hepzibah for taking her in when she had nowhere to go. Phoebe and Matthew meet and begin to fall in love. Meanwhile, Jaffrey is disgusted by the notion his ancestral home is being debased as a commercial enterprise.  For decades, Jaffrey believed the house contained some sort of secret passage with hidden treasures he might use to fatten his coffers. Unable to gain access to these presumed riches, Jaffrey has instead turned to bribe Deacon Foster, assuring him of a private investment to make them both very rich. What Jaffrey has neglected to tell Foster – a staunch abolitionist – is, he has taken the moneys to ply in the lucrative slave trade.  

Meanwhile, the governor releases Clifford from prison. He returns home to find Hepzibah much changed. Despite her careworn nature, he loves her even more. Reunited with Matthew, Clifford has him conspire to spread rumors about town that he has since unearthed the hidden treasure at Pyncheon house. News of this reaches Jaffrey, who now plans to have Clifford declared legally insane. Jaffrey barges in on Hepzibah and Phoebe. She orders him to leave. However, in the middle of their argument, Matthew begins banging loudly on the floor boards directly beneath them. Jaffrey assumes this is Clifford searching for the treasure. Unknowing of the plan hatched between Matthew and Clifford, Hepzibah finds Holgrave in the basement, and, assuming he is conspiring against Clifford with Jaffrey instead, she evicts him from the house at once.  Hepzibah then searches Holgrave's room, discovering he is actually Matthew Maule. Forewarning Clifford, Hepzibah is brought up to speed on their conspiracy.  Hence, when Jaffrey returns sometime later, informing Clifford he intends to have him committed for lunacy, Clifford and Hepzibah are prepared to fight the charge.

Clifford demands Jaffrey sign a prepared document exonerating him of the murdering of their father. Jaffrey smugly refuses. Only now, Deacon Foster arrives, terrified his treason will be found out and demanding Jaffrey pay him the money his stole from the abolitionist fund-raising box. As Jaffrey has not the money to repay, the bewildered and mad deacon goes into the hallway and commits suicide with a revolver. Now, Hepzibah accuses Jaffrey of murder. Panicking, he signs Clifford’s document and tells him he can keep whatever lost treasure he has unearthed, just as long as he – Jaffrey – does not go to jail for murder. Clifford confides the truth of his scheme. There never was a treasure. He also reveals to Jaffrey that Holgrave is Maule. Hearing the name, the curse is invoked and Jaffrey struggles to breathe, suffers a heart attack and dying before their eyes. The camera pans away to the exterior of the Pyncheon manor. In the Spring, Hepzibah and Clifford, at long last, are wed in a double ceremony with Phoebe and Matthew. As close friends rejoice in each couple’s happiness, Barton makes ready the honeymoon carriage. The estate is put up for sale – the family curse, at long last lifted.

The House of the Seven Gables is not a terribly prepossessing melodrama. And despite its Gothic trappings, it can hardly be considered part of Universal’s horror canon, although some historians have tried to pigeon-hole it as such. In hindsight, George Sanders unscrupulous usurper is the best thing in it; Sanders, able to convey a devilish cynicism; cruel, calculating and commanding, all at once. Vincent Price’s role is distinguished only, arguably, by his passion for the work. Even when miscast, Price is giving the part his all. Herein, he is amiable to a fault, and, at intervals, theatrically ebullient as he leaps about with overjoy for having sold one of his compositions to a prominent music publishing firm. Price also excels in the scene when, restored to his rightful place as heir apparent of the ancestral home, he tenderly embraces and declares his unabated affections for the emotionally scarred Hepzibah. Margaret Lindsay is in fine form here too; her transformation from winsome ingenue to wounded spinster, not only convincing but wholeheartedly a very tragic figure. Mercilessly, redemption does not come too late for Lindsay’s Hepzibah, given this last reflection on her youth, as momentarily seen from Barton’s perspective; the ever-charming Cecil Kellaway, conveying great warmth, a certain unquestionable dignity and utter devotion in his friendship. In hindsight, it is the script that fails these wonderful performances; that, and Universal’s miserly approach – rewriting Hawthorne and budget-slashing what ought to have been a literary epic into a rather pedestrian and largely forgettable B-grade melodrama. At almost every turn, The House of the Seven Gables lacks, subtly, finesse, and, the elusive spark in screen magic to make it click as it should.

Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray is very disappointing. Universal has obviously supplied this third-party distributor with sincerely flawed, older elements for this 1080p uptick. The image, while passable in its first and final reels, suffers from interminable damage and light-bleeding throughout its middle act; night scenes appearing faded, with very weak contrast and a decided loss of fine detail. Film grain has been inconsistently rendered. Age-related artifacts are everywhere, and, at times, intrude upon our viewing pleasure. The entire image falls into a middling tonal gray with no genuine blacks and whites; the latter quite often appear to be boosted and/or blown out. I have stated it before, and will continue to do so: as long as Uni continues releasing its vintage product in less than stellar quality, they do neither fans of these movies, nor their own reputation any good. The House of the Seven Gables on Blu-ray looks as though its rights ownership belongs to some fly-by-night public domain distributor, not a reputable major Hollywood studio. Badly done is badly done, and this is quite lousy indeed. The audio is a passable 1.0 DTS mono.  Kino has splurged for a new audio commentary by Troy Howarth who is spirited and offers insightful back story on both the making of the movie and its players for the entire run time without a pause to catch his breath. Bottom line: The House of the Seven Gables is mediocre entertainment. This Blu-ray transfer is at least several notches below that assessment.  Regrets.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

1.5

EXTRAS

1