HOLLYWOOD LEGENDS OF HORROR COLLECTION Blu-ray Review

After Universal exploded the box office not once but twice in 1931, with Dracula and Frankenstein, other movie studios wanted in on the action. And while none of these developed the same identity as Universal, horror fans were graced with a number of classic efforts that endure to this day. The good folks at Warner Archives have recently assembled a collection of six titles under the Warner/MGM banner, all lovingly restored and ready for rediscovery by enthusiasts everywhere! The Hollywood Legends of Horror Collection features Doctor X (1932), The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932), Mad Love (1935), Mark of the Vampire (1935), The Devil-Doll (1936), and The Return of Doctor X (1939), all on Blu-ray with each film given the star treatment via audio commentary tracks and special documentary features, as well as an assortment of WB cartoons to help set the Saturday matinee mood.

A distinctive entry in pre-Code American horror cinema, Doctor X blended mystery, macabre thrills, and technological experimentation at a moment when the genre was rapidly taking shape. Produced by Warner Bros., this early effort by director Michael Curtiz (Casablanca, The Adventures of Robin Hood, White Christmas) is notable for its early use of two-color Technicolor, making Doctor X one of the first color horror films. Legendary character actor Lionel Atwill (Son of Frankenstein) stars as our titular character Dr. Xavier who, along with his fellow cohorts, falls under suspicion when a serial killer begins stalking the streets, murdering (and eating!) victims with surgical precision.

As Xavier’s daughter, Fay Wray (King Kong) brings a welcome blend of strength, resourcefulness, and vulnerability while Lee Tracy provides comic relief as a fast-talking reporter, balancing the film’s darker elements with sharp humor. (Curtiz, Atwill, and Wray would re-team the following year for Warner Bros.’ Mystery of the Wax Museum, sadly – and surprisingly – not included here.)

There are two different audio commentary tracks, one by Alan K. Rode, author of Michael Curtiz: A Life in Film, and another by producer and film historian Scott MacQueen. The other highlight is the featurette, “Madness and Mystery: The Horror Films of Michael Curtiz” (28 min), produced and directed by the consistently professional Constantine Nasr. There is also an 8-min examination of before/after scenes of the recent restoration, as well as a theatrical trailer.

Next is The Mask of Fu Manchu, produced by MGM, the first of many adaptations from author Sax Rohmer’s popular Fu Manchu stories. Playing on fears of the “Yellow Scare” with its unfavorable representation of Asian characters, there’s no denying that the film is problematic and should be seen as a historical artifact, one that probably would not have survived through the years except for the presence of Boris Karloff in one of his first post-Frankenstein roles. (The newly released version even comes with a disclaimer saying that neither MGM nor Warner Bros share the film’s sentiments.)

Charles Brabin replaced Charles Vidor after a few days as director, spinning this adventure yarn about a bunch of English archeologists trying to uncover the sword and mask of Genghis Khan. Karloff’s flamboyant, sadistic, and deliberately stylized performance is an undeniable highlight, as is the presence of future Thin Man star Myrna Loy as Fu Manchu’s sexually aggressive and equally twisted daughter (both in cringe-worthy “Asian” makeup).

With torture scenes, mass violence, and apocalyptic threats to spare, it’s understandable how audiences of the day enjoyed the pulp thrills, but these days it’s, well, less enjoyable. Thankfully, classic film historian Gregory Mank is on hand to provide audio commentary, helping set things in context for the viewer, so it feels more like a respectable exercise in film appreciation than an outdated racist exploitation effort.

A few years later, MGM gave us Mad Love, based on Maurice Renard’s 1920 French serialized novel The Hands of Orlac, in which the hands of a murderer are transplanted onto an injured concert pianist. Peter Lorre’s stunning performance as Dr. Gogol, a brilliant surgeon driven mad by obsessive love has given the film cult status, and he is incredibly well-supported by Frances Drake as Yvonne Orlac, star of the Grand Guignol, and Dr. Frankenstein himself Colin Clive, as her tormented husband Stephen Orlac.

Directed by Karl Freund, who began his career as a renowned cinematographer on such classic films as Metropolis, Der Golem, and The Last Laugh before assuming directorial control for Universal’s The Mummy. Freund’s distinctive visual look of Mad Love was heightened by none other than DP Gregg Toland, whose highly controlled and deeply shadowed lighting and camera compositions anticipate the technical mastery he would display in Citizen Kane.

Further heightening the atmosphere is the eerie, restrained score by Dmitri Tiomkin, another legend in the making with credits for everyone from Capra to Hitchcock to Hawks, and everything from sci-fi, westerns, war films, and comedies to his Oscar-winning name. Dr. Steve Haberman adds another sterling audio commentary to his credit, something which we’ve come to expect given his vast experience.

Released the same year as Mad Love, MGM remade London After Midnight (1927) as Mark of the Vampire. In the earlier effort, Lon Chaney played the dual role of the police inspector and a mysterious vampire haunting the estate of a murdered nobleman. Tod Browning, who helmed the original, handles the same duties here, with Lionel Barrymore, Lionel Atwill, and Bela Lugosi sharing Chaney’s characters.

Mark of the Vampire combines the eerie, fog-drenched Gothic atmosphere of the Universal classics (Lugosi’s presence helping out immeasurably in this regard) with the whodunnit elements of any good Arthur Conan Doyle murder mystery. With its brief running time, enthusiastic performances, and venerable plot twists, this is a ton of fun.

British writers and frequent commentators Kim Newman and Stephen Jones offer up all kinds of behind-the-scenes tidbits and observations for their audio track.

Browning was back at MGM the following year with The Devil-Doll, with Barrymore once again in the lead role of a wrongfully convicted prisoner who escapes Devil’s Island with his scientist cellmate. Returning to Paris, the scientist and his wacky wife reveal their ability to shrink people down to doll size, with Barrymore disguising himself as an old woman (!) and using miniature assassins to carry out his revenge against those that put him away.

Maureen Sullivan (aka Jane from the Johnny Weismuller Tarzan movies) plays his daughter, and their scenes together provide the emotional heft supporting the more fantastical plot elements. Haberman and Nasr team up for the commentary track here (as they have done on many occasions in the past), providing a ton of background information about the players and the technicians.

No need to scroll IMDb when these two are on the case!

Our last feature is The Return of Doctor X, a sequel in name only to the 1932 film. In fact, the titular character isn’t even the same person! This marked Vincent Sherman’s (The Adventures of Don Juan) directing debut as well as featuring Hollywood legend Humphrey Bogart in his only horror role! A crusading reporter (Wayne Morris) investigates a series of murders linked to illegal blood transfusions and uncovers a secret experiment that has revived a brilliant but morally corrupt surgeon (Bogart). The film represents Warner Bros.’ final major foray into horror before the genre fell out of favor in the early 1940s.

Sherman started as an actor before moving behind the camera, enjoying a lengthy career in film and television. His approach gives The Return of Doctor X a brisk, modern pace, emphasizing investigative suspense over Gothic atmosphere. It’s also worth noting that by 1939, Hollywood horror was operating under the full enforcement of the Hays Code, and the muted shocks and emphasis on mystery rather than monsters or gruesome effects is notable. (As is the presence of Dead End Kid/Bowery Boy Huntz Hall.)

Haberman returns to the fray with an archival commentary track featuring Sherman, with the two doing more of an interview segment than commenting on the onscreen action, which may frustrate some fans (although since I suspect rabid fans of this movie are few and far between, it’s probably not a big deal). Sherman assures listeners that while Bogart publicly mocked the film and his performance in his later years as a star, during the shoot itself he was entirely professional and gave the role his absolute professionalism.

If you’ve made it this far, you must surely realize that this is an essential purchase for all classic horror fans, one which you can buy at Movie Zyng Warehouse (because seriously, F*CK AMAZON). Enjoy!!

Special Thanks to AV Entertainment as the sponsor of the review copy.

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