DOCTOR X: Blu-ray (Warner Bros./First National, 1932) Warner Archive
For many, 2-strip Technicolor is widely regarded as the
inadequate predecessor to that glorious 3-strip process the company perfected in
the mid-1930’s; a mere stepping stone on the way to never looking at color
movies in quite the same way again. Yet, this is a myth, wholeheartedly
dispelled by Warner Bros. release of Doctor X (1932) – one of the most
bone-chilling and effective usages of the 2-strip technology, and directed by
Michael Curtiz, whose legendary run at the studio was just beginning. Based on Howard
W. Comstock and Allen C. Miller’s 1931 novel, ‘The Terror’, the themes
of rape, cannibalism and prostitution skirted the advancing Code of Ethics, yet
to take effect, and was, in fact, one of the swan songs of the 2-strip process.
The costly nature of reproducing prints led to the licensing of 2 versions of
the picture, with color prints reserved for only Doctor X’s major city
engagements, leaving the B&W version to stand-in and presumably survive the
later deluge and deterioration of original camera negatives. Mercifully, Jack
Warner had had the good sense to archive an original 2-strip nitrate safety in
his private collection. After Warner’s death in 1978, this copy was unearthed
and curated with UCLA’s Film and Television Archive and it is from this surviving
element the Warner Archive’s new-to-Blu hi-def debut is curated. Doctor X
really is the end of an era – not just at Warner Bros. but in Hollywood.
Thematically, it could no longer be shown in public after the institution of
the Code in 1933 without being heavily censored and edited. And its original
Technicolor, thought to be lost for all time, had become the stuff of legend by
the time Warner’s private print turned up.
The plot follows reporter, Lee Taylor (Lee Tracy),
investigating a series of thoroughly gruesome and compulsive killings in New
York City. The only modus operandi of the murderer is more than a tad
perplexing. He only plies his wicked craft during a full moon, with each victim
cannibalized afterward. Enter Doctor Jerry Xavier (Lionel Atwill), hired by
Police
Commissioner Stevens (Robert Warwick) to offer his expert medical opinion on these
homicides. Actually, the police have an ulterior motive here - to investigate
Xavier, as the scalpel used in the cannibalizations is exclusive to his
institution. Also, under the police’s microscope of investigation, the amputee/physician,
Dr. Wells (Preston Foster), presently making a study of cannibalism, Dr. Haines
(John Wray), whose sexual perversions and voyeurism suggest some weird
fetishism may be at work, Dr. Duke (Harry Beresford), a curmudgeonly paralytic,
and, Dr. Rowitz (Arthur Edmund Carewe), a professor conducting experiments on
the psychological effects of the moon. Given 48 hrs. to apprehend their fiend, Taylor’s
own search for the truth leads to a chance meeting with the doctor’s handsome daughter,
Joanne (Fay Wray), whose glacial resolve towards his romantic advances also
thwarts his investigation. Xavier rounds up all the suspects at his beach-side
estate for an insidiously unorthodox experiment. As it has already been
predetermined the killer is two-handed, everyone except Wells (who only has one
hand) is connected to an electrical monitor to track their heart rate, then
shown a recreation of one of the murders with Xavier’s butler, Otto (George
Rosener) and maid, Mamie (Leila Bennett), performing the reenactment.
Alas, the real killer’s instincts have pre-empted this
ingenious plan. A blackout occurs, at the end of which Rowitz is discovered
murdered, his body later cannibalized. Determined to complete his experiment,
Xavier plots a second reenactment with Otto and Mamie. Too frightened to play
her part, Mamie resists and is replaced by Joanne. This time, everyone except Wells
is handcuffed to their seats. Rather
predictably, Wells turns out to be the killer, strangling Otto before revealing
to all he has invented ‘synthetic flesh’, creating artificial limbs and a death
mask to carry out his crimes, using body parts to conduct further experiments.
Now, Wells explains he intends to use Joanne as his next victim. However, as
Wells prepares to kill again, Taylor, who has been hiding amidst a series of
wax figures, emerges from the shadows. He hurls a kerosene lamp at Wells, setting
him ablaze. Wells leaps from the doctor’s window, falling to his death down the
steep cliffside. Turning in his exposé to his editor, Taylor tells him to hold
a space in the personals, announcing his forthcoming marriage to Joanne.
Doctor X is a moodily lit 2-strip masterpiece, expertly photographed
by Ray Rennahan. The screenplay by Robert Tasker and Earl Baldwin is boldly un-tethered
by the restraints of the Code and delves, with considerable aplomb, into these
macabre murders. Technicolor’s stake in the success of Doctor X could
not have been higher. Indeed, it was a process in search of the proper showcase
to celebrate its wares. But the public’s general apathy towards its technical limitations,
not to mention the sheer expense of shooting a picture in color during the Great
Depression, caused Jack Warner to rethink his investment in color features,
withdrawing from the competition thereafter. Many today think the B&W version
of the picture is just the color version printed onto B&W stock. But
actually, Doctor X was shot twice, not simultaneously, with subtle
differences between the two versions. Herbert Kalmus, Technicolor’s founding
father, was not at all pleased Jack Warner was promoting his B&W version to
the smaller venues to reach a wider audience than the color version by sheer
virtue of its distribution. Nevertheless, Doctor X was a sizable hit for
the studio, almost immediately followed by Mystery of the Wax Museum
(1933), to reunite much of the principle cast responsible for the previous
movie’s success, including Curtiz, co-stars, Lionel Atwill and Fay Wray, make-up
specialists, Max Factor, and, set designer, Anton Grot, whose inventiveness on
both features ensured their unique and bizarrely unsettling look.
Viewed today, Doctor X remains a curious and
cunning blend of horror/mystery with the occasional respite into comedy to
offset its gore. The killer’s make-up, appearing as a grisly fish-like monster
with distorted appendages, is truly grotesque, augmented by the effective use
of the 2-strip Technicolor process. The one failing here, perhaps, is Lee Tracy
as the over-zealous reporter, carrying the farce of being locked in a closet full
of skeletons to the nth degree and truly, to diffuse the otherwise grave
suspense as another murder is being committed right under his nose without his
knowledge. In B&W, Doctor X is not nearly as exhilarating as in
Technicolor – proof that the process was the real/reel star of this show.
Although the color ‘red’ photographed extremely well in 2-strip, cinematographer,
Ray Rennahan uses it sparingly and to truly unsettling effect. The picture is also the benefactor of one of
Hollywood’s outstandingly ghoulish and menacing actors – Lionel Atwill, who
always gives the impression of being more sinister here than he is eventually
proven to be. Fascinating also, to view the doting father/daughter
relationship between Atwill’s mysterious doctor and Fay Wray, especially in light
of their perilous combination the following year in Mystery of the Wax
Museum.
Doctor X arrives on Blu-ray in a painstakingly restored 1.37:1
image, sure to impress. Lest we forget, this movie is just shy of its 90th
anniversary, but provides not even a hint to suggest so much time has passed.
Prepare to be astonished, as they used to say, because Doctor X’s Technicolor
is a revelation, with exquisitely reproduced flesh tones and exceptional
contrast and shadow delineation. The ravages of time have seemingly been
reversed, with spices, sprocket damage and missing frames all seamlessly corrected
for a smooth and visually arresting presentation. The 2.0 mono Westrex sound
has been meticulously restored, careful to eradicate hiss and pop, while
faithfully to reproduce crisp-sounding dialogue with exceptional clarity.
Extras include 2 separate commentaries, the first – and more densely packed -
by Alan K. Rode, the latter by Scott MacQueen. Both are highly informative and
well worth a listen. Also on tap: the B&W version of Doctor X, shot
by cinematographer, Richard Towers. Perhaps, best of all, there’s the all-new, nearly
half-hour documentary, Madness and Mystery: The Horror Films of Michael
Curtiz, reuniting Rode and MacQueen to discuss the 3 horror classics made
by the renowned director, as well as a ‘before/after’ restoration comparison
reel to illustrate just how far technology has come in salvaging near ‘lost’
movies for future generations to admire.
Bottom line: Doctor X is a perversely dark and exhilarating testament
to that first cycle in horror movies, thoroughly to satisfy the public’s
insatiable appetite. The picture has not looked as good as it does here on
Blu-ray since its theatrical premiere of long ago. Impressively mounted and stunningly restored, Doctor
X is a must have in hi-def. Very highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
3.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+
EXTRAS
4
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