“The Wolf Man” (1941)
THE
"WOLF" THAT LARY FIGHTS WITH WAS LON CHANEY JR.'S OWN DOG. GERMAN
SHEPARD MOOSE.
LATER WOLFMAN
FILMS ADDED THE DETAIL OF THE WOLFMAN BEING IMMORTAL, AGAIN ,AN INVENTION OF
HOLLYWOOD, AND BASICALLY AN EXCUSE TO KEEP BRINGING THE FAN LOVED CHARACTER
BACK FOR SEQUEL AFTER SEQUEL
Bravo’s “100 Scariest Movie Moments” #62
“The Wolf Man,” shares a distinction with the “Mummy”
(1932) that separates them from the other towering greats of the Golden Age of
Universal Monsters ("Hunchback of Notre Dame” (1923), “Phantom of the
Opera” (1925), “Dracula” (1931), “Frankenstein” (1931), etc.) in that they did
not claim to be based on a classic of literature, but it alleged it was rooted
in traditional folklore.
Well...yes and no.
The most important werewolf novel ever written was 1933's
“The Werewolf of Paris” by Guy Endore. At the time, he was a scenarioist for
Universal Pictures and the studio twice drew from it, though without credit and
too unfaithfully to be called an adaptation, first in 1935 and here in 1941. It
would later adapted somewhat more faithfully twice (but only once with credit)
by England’s Hammer in the 1960s and 1970s. It has also been referenced
consciously or unconsciously in virtually every werewolf movie ever made since
its publication.
One theme in the novel not reflected in any of the
Universal werewolves, was original sin, the novel’s protagonist Bertrand was
cursed from birth becuase the sins of his father (a rapist priest), nor did
Universal touch on the idea common in many older werewolf tales the human is
not truly cursed, but consciously embrace and cultivates the beast within. In
the Universal version, Werewolfism is a virus-like, and the monster is first in
a string of innocent victims. That wasn’t original to Universal for sure, it
can be found in the folklore, and was a plot point in the oldest of all existent
werewolf films, “Wolfblood: A tale of the forest” (1925), but Universal’s
influence was so great, the innocent-victim-of-infection theme all-but-erased
all other ideas about the beast as surly as George Romero’s “Night of the
Living Dead” (1968) all-but-erased the Haitian Zombie tradition.
The first Universal version, the somewhat drab “Werewolf of
London” (1935) also entirely stripped the film of the novel’s most important
themes of sexual psycho-pathology. The film was also was not very successful.
Other projects were proposed in the early 30s, notably a script for a film
casting Boris Karloff as the monster, but these were not realized because the
themes were then considered too radical. That Karloff-intended script has never
been published, and I can’t say how boldly it took on Endore’s daring story,
but it was apparently strong enough not to be forgotten. Finally, Curt Siodmak
was commissioned by Universal to rewrite it. Siodmak was a prolific author of
Science Fiction and Horror, and though most of his nearly sixty year career
most of his SF was weakly conceived but he displayed real gifts when playing
with gothic-influenced Horror narratives. On this occasion, his version of a
“rewrite” was to essentially start over from scratch, and he gave us one of the
finest scripts career (his first script was produced in 1930, his last in 1977)
. “The Wolfman” was (barely) more rooted in the original novel’s themes than
the 1935 film it is a semi-remake of, but still eshewed the theme of original
sin and took on the sexual psycho-pathology from a much different and more
prosaic angle, but it got much closer to the protagonist’s psychic tortures,
and drew him with greater psychological depth than any of the other Universal
monsters, even more so than Karloff’s deeply sympathetic monster in
“Frankenstein” (1931).
Siodmak, like Endore, was of course was rooted in European
folklore, but his fertile imagination actually invented most of the
folklore-as-presented in the film (aversion to silver, full moons–which is,
oddly, never seen, the pentagram stigmata,etc.) much in the same way that Bram
Stoker significantly revised the vampire legends in his 1987 novel “Dracula.”
Like the Stokers novel, Siodmak’s reinventions have been taken as ancient
folklores by every generation that came after.
This is the last great masterpiece of classic-era Universal
Horror. And though there were other fine films mixed in with Universals other
35 horror releases during the 1940s, shrinking budgets and more juvenile
treatment of the material lead to at least half to output being rightfully
dismissed as embarrassments. It was during this decade that the great Val
Lewton at RKO would steal Universal’s thunder in the genre, and eventually even
attracting some of the talent both in front and behind the camera that made
Universal great (this would include Karloff, Lusgosi, and Siodmak).
Though the budgets were shrinking, Universal’s faith in the
production was reflected in casting decisions. The choices made reflected
Universal’s power, not only as of one the Great Studios, but in its
unchallenged dominance in horror genre was now a generation old.
First off, they didn’t automatically hand the lead over to
Bela Lugosi, who had lobbied for it, as he was no longer considered bankable
(he was cast in the small, but essential, role of "Bela the gypsy").
They would’ve liked Boris Karloff, still Universal’s most A-list horror actor,
but now, ten years after “Frankenstein,” he considered himself too old to
endure the grueling process of monster make-up. Universal final casting was a
master stoke, but it was also to a degree a stroke of luck, born
more-than-a-little out of the circumstances that evolved from their now
generation-long dynasty.
Universal’s first great horror star, Lon Chaney, had died
in 1930, just at the birth of the sound era. His son, Creighton, was 24 years
old at the time. Creighton started acting shortly after his father’s death
taking the stage name Lon Chaney, Jr. He finally achieved stardom in his
critically acclaimed performance as Lenny in “Of Mice and Men” (1939). Chaney
then lobbied to assume his father’s most famous role in the lavish, color
remake of “Phantom of the Opera” but that role went to Claude Rains (that film
was not released until 1943). Chaney instead starred in his fist significant
horror film, the poorly-plotted but effectively executed “Man Made Monster”
(1941). That film and “The Wolf Man” were made essentially back-to-back, and
much of the creative team of “Man Made...” was carried over into “Wolf
Man”–Chaney, director George Waggner, special effects wizard John P. Fulton,
makeup magician Jack Pierce, musical director Hans Salter and costumer Vera
West.
Chaney was not unhandsome but not at all movie-star
looking; he combined a huge, brutish, stature and a deeply sympathetic persona.
Perhaps to exaggerate his 6'2" height, and definitely to call on the
talents of one their most bankable horror-actors, Universal cast him opposite
the man who got “Phantom” over him. Claude Rains, as Chaney’s character’s
father, was five inches shorter (short enough that in some films, like
“Notorious” (1946), his height was artificially enhanced). The fact that Chaney
towered over him played to the filmmakers advantage.
The actors Universal’s horror-stable were mostly actors
with significant accomplishments in other genres, and this film was packed with
stellar veterans. At the time, Rains was already an Oscar Nominee (“Mr. Smith
Goes to Washington” (1939)) and would go on to three more nominations
(including the above-mentioned “Notorious”). Also cast was another Oscar
nominee, Ralph Bellamy (“The Awful Truth” (1937)), as well as the highly
respected Maria Ouspenskaya.
The film opens with Chaney’s Larry Talbot driving down a
country road in a sports car, wind in his hair, a smile on his face, and a
cigarette between his fingers. He is more care-free than appropriate under the
circumstances, as he is returning home to England after an 18-year absence in
America, the prodigal son now needed to take over the family estate the wake of
his elder brother’s death in a hunting accident. Siodmak’s script uses a
strongly gothic-set-pieces, families strained by difficult interpersonal
histories, the laws of primogeniture, but only as a set-up. The Talbots and
most of the other males in the film are modern rational men (so modern that
most don’t waste their time on something archaic as a convincing British
accent) and in the wake of family tragedy, black-sheep Larry reestablishes a
warm relationship with Rain’s Sir John Talbot--so warm that it only serves to
make the impending tragedy that much more heart-breaking. You see, even if
these men are bigger than medieval prejudices, the medieval curses will still
get them, and will show no regard for the innocence of the victim.
Larry, not a brilliant like his scientist dad, is still
very clever with his hands. They bond over repairs of Sir John’s telescope in
his observatory. Larry, who has wholly American in character during his years
away from home, doesn’t use the telescope to look up at the stars, but down,
playing Peeping Tom on girls in the nearby village. The one he likes the best
is Gwen Conliffe (Evelyn Ankers), daughter of the antique dealer.
Larry’s attempts to woo Gwen lays down Siodmak’s breaks
with, and reinventions of, the gothic traditions. Larry approach to the girl is
inappropriately wolfish (pardon the pun), the telescope spying, going into the
store with an elaborate false scenario to keep her off her balance--he pretends
to be a customer, asks about the earrings he saw her putting on in the bedroom
and insisting she brings them down–and basically telling her, instead of asking
here, that he return at 8pm to take her out. But he doesn’t come of creepy,
only like an unacclimated, pushy American. Despite already having a fiancé,
Gwen consents.
Siodmak had come to the US only four years prior, and was
probably saying something about what he thought of male manners in Southern
California and how their forcefulness was often effective with European girls
whose typical suitor was tradition-bond and terrified of girls. But he was also
creating a comment on Endor’s novel, whose tragic protagonist Bertrand was
tortured as much by his sexual impulses as he was his curse, both intertwined
since his birth. Larry seems wholly comfortable with who he is, and though his
clearly creating complications for himself, the coming horror is the product of
an outside, disruptive force, having no reference point in his liberated (or at
least more liberated compared to a small English village) life-style.
The flirtation is also the platform for much of the
exposition, as Gwen tells Larry about a silver-topped cane with a wolf’s head
and an pentagram symbol, and outlines werewolf mythology, notably about the
pentagram stigmata that appears on the hand of both the werewolf and his next
victim. Larry scoffs the ancient knowledge that the girl conveys. "Oh,
what big eyes you have Grandma," he jokes. Gwen confirms that Little Red
Riding Hood was a werewolf story. She recites the film’s infamous poem to
Larry:
Even a man who is pure in heart
and says his prayers by night
may become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms
and the autumn moon is bright.
That classic piece ancient lore is actually one of
Siodmak’s whole cloth inventions.
In the subtext of the film, there’s something going on with
Gwen, whose is virtuous and all, but is the first to speak the curse to its
victim, and after that, a string of entirely innocent decisions on her part
sets up someone or other for death. This sweet, simple, country girl is a stark
contrast to the wealthy and perverse Mlle. Sophie de Blumenberg of the Endor
novel, who was a death-obsessed masochistic drawn to the beast’s lusts, but
still tries to cure doomed Bertrand with both physical and spiritual love, and
is not directly or indirectly responsible for any of books the horrors.
Gwen’s fiancé Frank Andrews (Patric Knowles) is supremely
confident that Larry doesn’t have a chance with his girl, and unworried about
how this situation will effect his employment, he’s the Talbots’ gamekeeper. In
fact, he grows fond of Larry, “There’s something very tragic about that man,”
he says. I gotta admit, I don’t get Frank at all, but then, he’s not real
important in the movie either.
Gwen is a good girl, so she brings her friend Jenny
Williams (Fay Helm) as a sort of chaperone on her date with Larry. The evenings
entertainment included getting their fortunes read by the gypsy Bela (Lugosi in
wonderful costume and subtle make-up, suggesting wolfishness inhuman clothing).
Bela does Jenny's first, and sees a pentagram on the palm of her hand. He warns
her to get out of the woods immediately, she's in great danger.
Fleeing Jenny attacked by a wolf and is killed. Larry goes
to resuce her, beats the wolf to death with his silver cane, but gets bit in
the process.
The music (by Charles Previn, Hans J. Salter, and Frank
Skinner, none of whom were credited), and the many scenes in the foggy shrouded
woods, seemingly shot on a single set (cinematography by Joseph A. Valentine,
art direction by Jack Otterson, and set design by Russell A. Gausman), are
marvelous. They are the aspect of the film that most harkens back to the early
1930s films that established to this studio’s aesthetics. These marvelous
scenes also nearly killed a cast member. The thick fog was a really noxious
chemical mix which made breathing difficult. In one scene, Gwen/Ankers had to
faint and fall to the misty ground. In the her prone position, the fumes made
her pass out. Director Waggner was distracted by another aspect of the scene,
and forgot about her. She was eventually found, still unconscious, by a studio
technician began breaking down the set. Ankers was out at risk again when
600-pound bear (used in a scene that was ultimately cut) escaped its trainer
and chased the actress up a ladder, she had to be pulled to safety by an
electrician.
The day after the killings, authorities tell Larry that the
body found next to the dead Jenny was not a wolf , but is Bela. Larry no longer
has a visible bite mark. Larry, unsure how he could’ve mistaken an man for a
wolf, is grief stricken, and attends Bella’s burial. Bella’s mother, Maria
Ouspenskaya’s Maleva, gets into an argument with the local clergyman over
should a Christian or Pagan ceromony be performed. The iron-willed old lady
wins and the preist declares, "Fighting against superstition is as hard as
fighting Satan himself!"
In her ritual recitations, Maleva’s speaks to her dead son
with affection, but also with terrible foreboding for others:
The way you walk was thorny through no fault of your own
but as the rain enters the soil the river enters the sea
so tears run to a predestined end
Your suffering is over
Now you will find peace for eternity.
That night, Maleva seeks out Larry. She doesn't blame him
for the death of her son, as Bella was a werewolf, he was beyond saving. She
also informs Larry of the unfortunate fact that he is now cursed, and come the
next full moon, he too will become a wolf. She repeats the infamous poem.
The transformation scenes, a series of lap-dissolves of
progressive steps in the make-up process, is primitive by today’s standards,
but was in fact was not surpassed for two generations, not until two completing
films revitalized the then exhausted werewolf genre in 1981, “The Howling” and
“American Werewolf in London.” Both of those films gleefully reference this
one.
Jack Pierce, who also created the monster make-up for
“Frankenstein” had originally designed this work for Henry Hull in “Werewolf of
London” but it was uncomfortable to wear and difficult to apply so Hull refused
it. Chaney adopted it as his own, and reaped great fame, but he didn’t exactly
like it, saying he forced to sit motionless for hours as the scenes were shot
frame by frame, and sometimes had to remain sitting even while the crew broke
for lunch and was not even allowed to use the bathroom. The special effects men
drove tiny finishing nails into the skin on the sides of his hands so they
would remain motionless during close ups. "What gets me is after work when
I'm hot and itchy and tired, and after I've got to sit in that chair for
forty-five minutes while Pierce just about kills me, ripping off the stuff he
put on me in the morning." (There may be some exaggeration involved in his
descriptions.)
Waggoner cleverly chose not to show the facial
transformation of Chaney to wolf in the first big FX scene. Talbot, waking from
bad dreams, removes his shoes and socks, watches in horror and legs and feet
grow hairy and transform into huge paws (courtesy of uncomfortable
"boots" made of hard rubber, covered in yak hair). Another deft bit
of visual story telling was that the progression of the curse/disease is
implied without exposition. Bella was wolfish in human form, and after
transformation was indistinguishable from a natural wolf. Larry has not
suffered under the curse near as long, and it has had time to alter Larry’s
appearance in human form, and in wolf form he is still more man than wolf.
That’s a beautiful touch that I don’t think was readdressed in another Werewolf
movie seventy years, not until the very fine “Ginger Snaps” (2000).
In the morning light, Larry is tortured by vague
recollections of the savagery from the night before. He turns to both his
father and Gwen (who is now falling in love with him) for help. But nothing can
stop the next transformation.
The finale involves the Wolf Man hunting down Gwen, and
Larry’s loving father being forced to kill his own son. Waggoner saved the more
famous effect, the facial transformation for this final scene, when in death,
Larry is released from his curse, and reverts back from wolf to man. Ralph
Bellamy as Captain Montford arrives soon after, and says Larry must died trying
to save Gwen from the wolf.
Allegedly Evelyn Ankers had difficulty working with Chaney,
who was disgruntled because she was given his dressing room (the studio was
punishing him for vandalizing studio property while drunk). Chaney went out of
his way to irritate her, nicknaming her "Shankers" and playing
juvenile, practical jokes; he liked to sneak up on her in full makeup and scare
her. Despite this, and nearly being killed twice on set in this one production,
she appeared with Chaney in seven more films and stayed strongly enough
associated with Universal’s horror-film stable that she earned the reputation
of Holloywood’s first “scream queen,” being the only actress to appear in all
of the four of the five major franchises, Werewolf, Vampire, Invisible Man and
Frankenstein films.
American isolationism informed many of the Universal monster
films. Common themes were that the villain was an immigrant and/or corrupt
aristocrat of some medieval heritage (“Dracula”) or that backwards European
culture and superstitions threaten the very existence of healthy, sun-lit
Americanism (“The Black Cat”). They are present here, albeit more gently. Some
critics try to make the case that Siodmak, a Jew who fled the Hitler, was
making a statement about his life-long neighbors suddenly transforming into
untrustable Nazis–but I don’t see a good metaphor for fascism here. What I do
see is that it was set in a make-believe version of the then present, England
with not a hint of the war then raging throughout Europe and directly
threatening that nation. Ironically, production wrapped mere days before the
December 7, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor. One would assume that noise of America
entering into the war would’ve hurt Universal’s ability to market the film, but
it was a huge success.
Still, the realities of World War II couldn’t be held at
bay fore-ever, not even in the tidy little ghetto of fantasy-land. The argument
has often been made that it was Hitler who made the Universal monsters too
quaint to be taken seriously anymore. The last of the serious films in the
Werewolf franchise was“House of Dracula.” By that time, Universal was so
running out steam and new ideas that the started putting all the monsters
together under one roof. Pierce’s make-up designs were still being used, though
he had already lost his job because he couldn’t adapt to the new technology of
rubber prosthetics (which were much kinder on the actors). The film was
released in 1945; according to a small blurb in that film's press book, a
nationwide shortage yak hair from the war-torn Orient prevented the Wolfman
character from appearing in more scenes.
This film has a rippple-effect still being felt. Pierce’s
make-up inspired Rick Baker to pursue that career, he would win an Oscar for
best makeup for “American Werewolf in London,” in 1982, the year that marked
the first really significant advances over Peirce’s techniques displayed in
here. Chaney’s wrenching performance inspired Benicio del Toro to become an
actor, he’d go on to garner two Oscars (“Traffic” (2000) & “21 Grams”
(2003)). In 2010 del Toro produced what he described as his “dream project” a
Universal Studios remake of “The Wolf Man” with him playing Larry Talbot. When
hearing that news of the remake, Baker contacted an executive at Universal (at
the time, he was working on the insufferable comedy “Norbit”) and told him that
he "had" to do the makeup for the film. As it turned out, Baker was
Universal's first and only choice, but they couldn't contact him because he
does not have a manager.
I’ve grown cynical of most remakes of classic horror, but
this one was clearly a passion project, and I had looked forward to it with
great anticipation. But, alas, something went terribly wrong between desire and
execution. Roger Ebert put it rather pithfully, “‘The Wolfman” bites, but not —
I think — in the way the filmmakers intended."
Trailer”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AsrFMBWRC1M
Collection of transformation scenes (the first is said to
be from “Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman” but it is actually the first
transformation sequence this film):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1q4Wn63uof8
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