THE GHOST SHIP/BEDLAM: Blu-ray (RKO, 1943-46) Warner Archive

A pair of horror classics from RKO producer, Val Lewton – the irrefutable sultan of shudders – arrive via the Warner Archive in pristine condition.  Lewton, that Russian-born zeitgeist of psychological terror, rumored to be plagued by as many haunted memories as those he eventually brought to the screen, and, who - when working for the monolithic David O. Selznick as a story editor - misguidedly informed his boss Gone with the Wind was “the biggest piece of trash” destined to ruin Selznick’s reputation in the industry, was undeniably in his element in the horror genre. Three years separate the two efforts we get here, 1943’s The Ghost Ship – interminably held up for decades because of a lawsuit, and 1946’s swan song, Bedlam, arguably the darkest and most foreboding of the Lewton/Boris Karloff creations. Lewton’s ‘formula’ for creating bone-chilling subterfuge was decidedly best served when he had non-descript B-grade talent in front of the camera, like Ghost Ship’s Richard Dix and Russell Wade. But Karloff, already on his ‘second career’ after having departed from the fame Universal had afforded him, was still ‘a name’ in the industry. And so, the movies he and Lewton collaborated on tend to be overshadowed by Karloff’s presence rather than Lewton’s reputation.

The son of a Jewish moneylender and pharmacist’s daughter, and, the nephew of famed silent star, Alla Nazimova, Val Lewton’s first real job, that of a society reporter on the Darien-Stanford Review, ended in disgrace when he lied about a truckload of kosher chickens expiring in the heat. He was barely 16! Turning to journalism at Columbia University, Lewton would author 18 works, including the pulp novel, No Bed of Her Own, later transformed into the slightly less racy 1932 programmer, No Man of Her Own, costarring Clark Gable and Carole Lombard. Veering into even more salacious material, Lewton surreptitiously published Grushenka: Three Times a Woman, reportedly a translation from Russian, but actually, his own erotic masterpiece, subject to criminal penalties, given the moral standards of the time. For a while, Lewton worked as a writer inside MGM’s publicity department. Alas, the work here was also not to his liking. But in 1942, Lewton was given carte blanche at RKO…sort of…. albeit, on a tight and standardized budget of $150,000 per picture, a restraint of 75-minutes to tell his tales, and, even tighter, weekly salary of $250. Worst of all, Lewton would be afforded pre-sold titles on which he had to base his creative genius.

For anyone else, all of this executive tinkering would have spelled disaster. Instead, Lewton saw it as his opportunity to be his own man. Cat People (1942) kick-started the Lewton/horror cycle with a truly inspired bang, raking in $4 million on a budget of barely $134,000, and also forging a creative alliance between Lewton and director, Jacques Tourneur, who would go on to direct two more Lewton masterpieces, the following year: I Walked With a Zombie and The Leopard Man (both in 1943). Lewton, who basically wrote the final draft for all of the screenplays he eventually turned into pictures, only took credit for this work twice, and even then, under the nom de plume, Carlos Keith. The Blu-ray release of Bedlam rounds out the Lewton/Karloff cycle and leaves fans of Lewton’s solo career bereft of only two remaining masterworks to reach hi-def. Here is to hoping we get the final two of Lewton’s exemplars in horror, I Walked With A Zombie and The Seventh Victim (1943) shortly from the Warner Archive.  

Perhaps more than any other movie in Lewton’s canon, The Ghost Ship is skewed toward a psychological bent never otherwise to materialize in tangible frights on the screen. Directed by Mark Robson, whom Lewton valued and helped to give rise to his career, The Ghost Ship was not altogether hailed as another Lewton chef-d'oeuvre when it premiered. The screenplay, credited to Donald Henderson Clarke, follows the uneasy journey of an able-bodied merchant marine officer, Tom Merriam (handsome, but wooden, Russell Wade) whose bright-eyed enthusiasm is dampened when he begins to suspect his ship's captain, Will Stone (Richard Dix) is a mentally deranged sadist, deliberately imperiling the lives of his crew, while plying the men with inferences the vessel is cursed.  Ironically, RKO launched The Ghost Ship as a Christmas release where it fared remarkably well at the box office. Alas, playwrights Samuel R. Golding and Norbert Faulkner sued Lewton and the studio, claiming their spec screenplay had been stolen outright by Lewton. Due to the suit, The Ghost Ship was yanked from distribution by RKO – who settled out of court – the picture vanishing altogether from movie screens shortly thereafter. RKO buried it in their vaults where it would remain invisible to the public for some 50 years thereafter until its copyright was allowed to lapse, resulting in several bootlegs circulating on home video in the early 1990’s.  The Ghost Ship begins in earnest with Tom Merriam’s arrival aboard the ship, Altair. A blind beggar (Alec Craig) forewarns of disaster. But Tom is the optimistic sort and fails to observe the pall of doom lingering about the vessel, even as he is confronted by Finn (Skelton Knaggs), a pock-faced mute, ominously toting a large knife. Lewton affords us several rare opportunities to get inside Finn’s thoughts with a creepy voice-over narration.

At first, Will Stone takes Tom to his bosom, confiding the similarities in their pasts and careers to have brought them together now. Already shorthanded, the Altair loses one nondescript crew member before setting sail, and almost another shortly thereafter to appendicitis, mercilessly spared when Merriam and the ship’s wireless operator, Jacob ‘Sparks’ Winslow (Edmund Glover) secretly perform the life-saving surgery with instructions conducted over the radio.   At this juncture, another of the crew, Louie (Lawrence Tierney), suggest to Stone they pull into port to take on new crew. Stone infers some captains would hold such a suggestion against him. Not long thereafter, Louie becomes entombed in the chain locker where he is crushed to death, convincing Merriam that Stone murdered Louie intentionally. Remaining silent for the time being, Merriam attempts to reveal his suspicions about Stone to the port authority when the ship docks at the Caribbean oasis of San Sebastian (first to appear in I Walked with a Zombie, and later, to be referenced in RKO’s Zombies on Broadway, 1945). Alas, the rest of the crew exercise their solidarity on Stone’s behalf – out of fear – leaving Merriam the sole voice of descension.  But Merriam may be right on the money as Stone confides in his gal/pal, Ellen Roberts (Edith Barrett) he is on the cusp of a nervous breakdown. Sniffing out the crux of these allegations, Merriam is knocked unconscious and taken aboard the Altair as it sets sail, with Stone ominously inferring ‘some captains’ might hold his accusations against him.

Exposed, and, having lost the respect of the crew, Merriam, now finds the lock on his door has been tampered. Attempting to sneak a gun from the ship’s weapons locker – for personal protection – Merriam is instead found out by Stone who goads him into an anxious frenzy. No one on board will value an alliance with him. At first, it looks as though Merriam will go the rest of the voyage alone – if, indeed, he can survive it. But then, Sparks intercepts a radio message inquiring if Merriam is aboard. Stone orders Sparks to lie in reply. But afterward, Sparks confides in Merriam and is able to send off a message. Alas, Sparks is found out by Stone. As the two men walk off together for the last time, Sparks deliberately drops his radiogram to be discovered by Finn. Shortly thereafter, Stone arrives at Merriam’s cabin, ordering him to send a radio message, advising Sparks was washed overboard. In attempting to defend himself from Stone, Merriam encounters opposition from the rest of the crew. He is bound and gagged. Stone has First Officer Bowns (Ben Bard) administer a sedative, presumably, for Merriam’s own good. But Finn now shares Spark’s radiogram with Bowns who, upon reading it, also begins to have his doubts about Stone. Overhearing Bowns' conversation with the crew, Stone’s sanity derails. Entering Merriam’s cabin with the intent to murder him, Stone is instead subdued and killed by Finn. Afterward, Merriam is reinstated to active duty as the Altair prepares to make port for San Pedro.

The Ghost Ship proved to be a big hit with audiences, although it was also the first Lewton picture to receive more than its share of mixed reviews and negative publicity. New York Times critic, Bosley Crowther marked it as “a nice little package of morbidity all wrapped around in gloom” while Paul Meehan harshly criticized it as a “tepid potboiler of malfeasance and murder.” The executive brain trust at RKO, exceedingly pleased with Lewton’s abilities to pad their coffers earlier, nevertheless, were not about to let him explore his passion projects in a show of their gratitude. Lewton’s desire to make a fantasy-comedy, ‘The Amorous Ghost’ never materialized, with studio chief, Charles Koerner, the sole proponent of Lewton’s aims, suggesting instead he direct The Ghost Ship to fulfill his quota of horror quickies. Inspired by the set built for RKO’s Pacific Liner (1939), Lewton dove head-strong into crafting an idea, eventually to become The Ghost Ship, taking several opportunities to draw a subtle parallel between Stone’s micro-management of the Altair, to his own meddling superiors at RKO. Mark Robson and Lewton collaborated on the concept of using single-source lighting to create a claustrophobic feeling, with cinematographer, Nicholas Musuraca, filling the cavernous sets previously designed by Albert S. D'Agostino and Walter E. Keller, with a thin sheath of studio-manufactured fog. Russell Wade, previously to provide the disembodied voice in 1943’s The Leopard Man, was promoted to leading man in The Ghost Ship, and later, recycled as the non-descript hero for 1945’s The Body Snatcher (1945). Arguably, the pall of the lawsuit against The Ghost Ship did much to sour RKO on Lewton’s subsequent projects. Indeed, not only were they forced to cut the picture’s box office intake short, but the court ruling made RKO pay out $25,000 in damages and relinquish all rights to theatrical reissues and, later, TV rights.

By the time Bedlam went into production at RKO, Lewton’s reputation as a rainmaker for the studio had fallen into ill-repute. Moreover, he was in very ill health and still reeling from the loss of his mentor, Charles Koerner. Worse - the new management seemed to have little to no stomach for Lewton’s horror pictures – ironic, since all of them had kept RKO’s balance sheets from tottering into the red. Lewton sincerely hoped Bedlam would resurrect the spark of genius he and Boris Karloff had first established in The Body Snatcher (1945). Regrettably, between these two efforts Lewton and Karloff had veered into some very dark territory with Isle of the Dead (1945) – arguably, Lewton’s bleakest horror classic. Outraged by the results, RKO’s executives demanded to know from Lewton what the point was to his apocalyptic tale of plague and vampires, to which Lewton – in his own ‘dark place – simply turned to his superiors and mumbled, “…it says death is good.” Bedlam is supposedly based on William Hogarth’s 1732/34 paintings, collectively lumped as ‘A Rake’s Progress’ and although afforded all the bells and whistles of the studio’s free-standing Victoriana sets and costumes, in every way, it proved to be something of a hand-me-down. Indeed, even the attire co-star, Anna Lee wears as she mounts her horse was borrowed from Vivien Leigh’s Scarlett O’Hara – the infamous, curtain dress from Gone with the Wind. Lewton’s questionable practice of ‘borrowing’ his authorship from other inspired sources without giving credit, pilfered a prophetic line of dialogue uttered by Karloff’s Sims, “Fierce as wild bulls, untamable as flies…these have oft from strangers' side snatched rapiers suddenly and done much harm", from Thomas’ Dekker and Middleton’s ‘The Honest Whore’. He also references the Labors of Hercules, and, quotes with exemption from Shakespeare’s Othello.

Bedlam proved the costliest of Lewton’s horror pictures, its title, referencing the notorious 18th century British insane asylum St. Mary's of Bethlehem – infamously known as Bedlam. Set in London, circa 1761, Lewton’s darkly purposed, but historically accurate exploration of this ruinous asylum begins in earnest after an acquaintance of Lord Mortimer (Billy House) suddenly dies while attempting to escape from it. Master George Sims (Karloff as a highly fictionalized reincarnation of the hospital’s actual head physician, John Monro) tries to appease Mortimer by having his ‘loonies’ put on public spectacle. Instead, Mortimer’s protégée, Nell Bowen (Anna Lee) is horrified by the treatment of St. Mary’s patients, seeking counsel from Whig politico, John Wilkes (Leyland Hodgson) to reform it, while sincerely hostile towards Sim's corrupt practices. Humiliated by her outspokenness, Mortimer conspires with Sims to have Nell committed. As she is a willful female it therefore stands to reason she ‘must’ be insane. But Nell’s initial fear of the inmates never dissuades her from this empathetic devotion to improve upon their wretched conditions. Indeed, Nell invests herself in the comfort and care of her fellow internees. Unable to convince the board of Nell’s insanity, Sims is deeply concerned she will be released from his ‘care’, and therefore free to pursue her crusade against him. To this end, Sims plots to lobotomize Nell. She is, however, spared such a fate, rescued by the patients to whom she has been loyal, and helped to be set free.  Sims is brutalized by the inmates he once tortured while Nell flees to her Quaker friend, Hannay. In the final moments, we discover Sims has not died from injuries sustained. Instead, as the patients partake in entombing Sims within the asylum’s walls, his eyes begin to flutter. He will become a permanent resident of St. Mary’s.

Bedlam is Lewton’s most sophisticated and menacing horror classic, perhaps because it eschews many of his other movies’ verve for exploring elements of the supernatural, satanism or black magic, herein to concentrate on a legitimate chapter cleaved from history itself, the unflattering and inscrutable portrait of a seemingly benevolent foundation, presumably dedicated to the public good, but whose shame was eventually exposed and became an axiom for abject chaos. Mark Robson’s direction is haunting perfection, creates an exemplar of sheer terror to be endlessly mimicked thereafter in the horror genre, though arguably never duplicated; the Stonemason (Richard Fraser) walking silently down a darkened hall, suddenly accosted by angry inmates bursting forth from their cages.  Boris Karloff delivers his most subtly nuanced and deliciously evil performance in Bedlam. Sims is neither motivated by greed nor power, but rather a deceptive and wickedly contemptable pleasure to inflict pain on others, widely regarded then as the ‘inferiors’ of society and therefore, unworthy to partake of it. Here, truly, is a blood-curdling individual whose bottomless moral bankruptcy knows no boundaries.

The Warner Archive has finally come around to making two more Lewton masterworks available on Blu-ray. The tired old elements used to master the DVDs of yore have been replaced here with stellar examples of HD restoration and film preservation. Shot in B&W, both The Ghost Ship and Bedlam look years younger now.  Each movie sports a crisp and refined image with excellent tonality in its gray scale, superb contrast, and fine detailing virtually unseen since either had its theatrical release. You are going to love these Lewton classics all over again. It’s like seeing each for the very first time. WAC remains at the forefront of HD video mastering and we are the beneficiaries of their exemplary commitment to deep catalog. The 2.0 DTS mono is free of age-related hiss and pop. Extras are limited to only a single audio commentary on Bedlam, by historian, Tom Weaver. This was recorded for the old DVD release in 2001 but is well worth the price of admission. We also get theatrical trailers for both movies. Bottom line: while some pay poo-poo the fact WAC does nothing to advance the ‘goodies’ on their Blu-ray releases via extra content, I would sincerely argue they continue to spend their money most wisely on upgrading and preserving their vintage feature films in a quality that is far beyond anything we have come to expect from the other majors in Hollywood today – save, Sony. Such work deserves all of our respect and our coin. Say it with dollars, folks. Just in time for Halloween – some great stuff here from WAC and Lewton. I sincerely hope we do not have to wait long for the two remaining Lewton masterpieces – I Walked With A Zombie, and, The Seventh Victim (each, a personal favorite) to appear in 1080p.  We’ll see. For now, very highly recommended!

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

The Ghost Ship – 3.5

Bedlam – 4

VIDEO/AUDIO

5+

EXTRAS

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