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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