The Bat (1959)

Is there a cooler actor in the history of cinema than Vincent Price? The answer is no! Vincent Price had the magical ability to transform the most putrid of scripts into something watchable; his presence alone often elevated many of the films he starred in.  He was a fun actor to watch and one never got the impression that he simply phoned in his performance, regardless of the material. The Bat is not a Vincent Price vehicle, despite his top billing. He is relegated to the thankless red herring role of Dr. Malcolm Wells; a character that we are constantly lead to believe is the villain of the title. There's a lot of damning evidence against him, which means that he cannot possibly be The Bat.

The Bat was the third adaptation of the 1920 Broadway play by Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood, and it is by far the weakest out of the three. The play was adapted twice by Roland West in 1926 (as The Bat) and 1930 (as The Bat Whispers).  The first version is probably the best of the three, largely because the story is so old fashioned that it is best suited as a silent film. It's main flaw is that it lacks a strong lead. Emily Fitzroy gives a poker faced performance as Cornelia van Gorder, while Louise Fazenda mugs it up as Cornelia's cowardly maid, Lizzie Allen. The rest of the cast is adequate, if unremarkable.
 The Bat Whispers is notable in that it was one of the earliest attempts at widescreen and stars Chester Morris as the strong jawed Detective Anderson. Morris has great screen presence and livens up the proceedings with his no nonsense performance. The film greatly suffers during the stretch he is off screen, because, other than Una Merkel (as Dale Van Gorder), none of the other cast is nearly as interesting. The Bat Whispers has some truly eye popping visuals; in one scene the camera glides up the side of a building, goes through an opened window, and stops on a man sitting at a desk. It's an extremely cinematic movie, unfortunately it creaks along at a very slow pace. It's a film that cries for a soundtrack, as there are many long stretches of absolute silence. It's not nearly as bad as Tod Browning's Dracula, but it is a chore to sit through at times, though it gets back on track towards the end. It also has an amusing afterword in which Chester Morris breaks the fourth wall and implores the audience not to give away the true identity of The Bat to potential future audience members.

By 1959, The Bat was extremely old fashioned and Crane Wilbur didn't do anything to "modernize" it. The 1959 version is the weakest of three, because it is, cinematically, a very bland movie. Sure, the earlier versions may be creaky at times, but both are visually stunning movies with great sets and eye popping camera movements. The 1959 version often resembles a television play that was popular during that time; characters deliver their lines while facing the camera, and scenes end in a traditional fashion, with characters exiting the frame. This could be overlooked if The Bat was remotely menacing, but unfortunately he is a rather dull villain. He wears a fedora hat, a black mask, and plods around the scenery in a business suit - not exactly the type of uniform you would expect a notorious jewel thief (and murderer) to wear. However, despite wearing a mask, the audience knows The Bat's identity from the get go, because we get a good look at his body shape, and let's just say that it's too short to be Vincent Price and too pudgy to be the red herring in the film, Warner, Cornelia's chauffeur/ butler.  The earlier Roland West films obscure The Bat's identity by never giving the audience a good look at him; in The Bat Whispers the audience only sees his shadow for the majority of the film. He also avoids detection not only donning a mask, but a fake limp as well. In the silent film, he dons a bat mask. Granted, modern audiences will probably figure out the Bat's identity fairly early on, but to audiences of the late 20s/early 30s, his unmasking must have come as a complete surprise.

The earlier versions also have a prologue that gives the audience a good look at just how cunning and devious The Bat truly is. In both films, The Bat writes a note to the police bragging about how he is going to steal a jewel necklace from it's owner, Gideon Bell, at midnight and they won't be able to stop him. This boast seems practically impossible; Bell's apartment is located on one of the building's upper floors (no fire escape in sight) and the place is swarming with police officers. Yet, despite all of the precautions, the Bat not only steals the necklace, but strangles Bell as well. The 1959 film drops this prologue altogether, hence the audience is never given a sense at just how dangerous The Bat truly is. We are told about his past exploits; the characters ponder his past crimes for a second and move onto more cheerful things. The movie is extremely lacking in urgency. The majority of the previous films take place over one night, while the action in the 1959 film unfolds over the course of a few days. It follows this pattern:

1. The Bat strikes, but is eventually scared off.
2. The characters sit around a table and have a conversation. Despite having a killer lurking about, they are rather cheerful.
3. Bat strikes again. Gets scared off again.
4. More cheerful banter by the cast.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Even after the murder of Judy (Darla Hood), the film flash forwards to a scene of Cornelia van Gorder dictating her memoirs to her new secretary, Dale. Dale hangs onto Cornelia's every word and then writes it down. This goes on for a nearly a full MINUTE of screen time, effectively diffusing all tension in the process.

It's really a questionable decision by director (and screen writer) Crane Wilbur. You can definitely find fault with the Roland West films, but at least he keeps ratcheting up the suspense to the point that it becomes almost unbearable. Wilbur's approach will make you shrug with complete indifference, "Eh! So what?"
The death of Judy illustrates this point; she is such a peripheral character that her death fails to resonate with the audience. Hell, even the characters in the film don't seem too bothered by her untimely demise. Sure, Dale screams, "NOT JUDY!" But less than two minutes later the audience sees her in the flash forward with Cornelia and she is all shits and giggles. What the hell was Crane Wilbur thinking?!

The Bat gets a lot of mileage out of Agnes Moorehead's performance as Cornelia van Gorder. The one of the few improvements Crane Wilbur made from the source material was making Cornelia a murder-mystery author, instead of the humorless spinster she was in the earlier films. Cornelia in the film knows her business, she's not timid when it comes to using a gun for her protection, and she figures out that there must be a hidden room somewhere in the Oaks, the mansion that she is renting for the summer. Moorehead brings a lot of humor and (more importantly) warmth to the role that was lacking in the earlier incarnations. It's also a complete joy to see two pros like her and Vincent Price banter with one another on screen; it's too bad they weren't given better material to work with, because there's a great dynamic between them.

All three versions basically share the same plot: Cornelia van Gorder has rented out a mansion for the summer that is owned by banker Courleigh Fleming (John Fleming in the 1959 film). Fleming has embezzled a million dollars from his bank and has stashed it in a hidden roomed located in the mansion.  The Bat has learned about the stolen fund and stalks the mansion hoping to find the loot for himself. However, he is not the only interested party. The earlier versions slowly dole out this information to the audience, while Crane Wilbur spoon feeds us everything from the get go. In the original version, Fleming has faked his death and is in cahoots with Dr. Wells. They try to frighten Cornelia van Gorder and her associates from the mansion, so they can claim the loot for themselves without any hassle. In the 1959 version, after Fleming has confided in Dr. Wells that he has embezzled the funds, Dr. Wells murders Fleming so he claim the stolen loot for himself. Granted, he's extremely lackadaisical when it comes claiming the money and getting rid of Cornelia and company; he makes a few asides to her about the potential danger of the mansion and then goes about his merry way. At times, it seems Dr. Wells has completely forgotten about the money, especially when he is seen drinking tea and shooting the breeze with Cornelia and her lovely, much younger female guests (Dale and Judy). As I mentioned before, this film is completely lacking in urgency, even the villains are in no hurry to get anything done. Price, for his part, brings a lot of charm to the role, which is about all he can do with a completely underwritten and thankless character. His main function is act suspicious, so the audience can shout out from their seats, "HE'S THE BAT!!!" Or at least, that's what the filmmakers had in mind.

Crane Wilbur added the characters of Judy and Warner, the suspicious butler, to the screenplay, while limiting the roles of Fleming and the character Victor Bailey, Fleming's clerk who is wrongfully accused of embezzling the money. Bailey has much more significant screen time in the earlier films; Dale and him (his fiancee) are in cahoots and are trying to locate the stolen money to clear his name. In the 1959 film, Dale and  Victor are already married, and he is given a brief scene at the beginning of the film, only to be never seen again; his arrest and subsequent release happen off screen. This is another instance in which Wilbur vastly improves on the source material, because, in both of the Roland West films, Bailey brings nothing but dead weight to the proceedings. He is really has nothing to do, except provide Dale a romantic interest. Dale is Cornelia's niece in the earlier films as well. Here, she is just Victor's long suffering wife and Cornelia's future secretary.  On the other hand, killing off Fleming was a mistake, because the alliance between him and Dr.Wells brings more tension to the proceedings. At one point, Wells attempts to kill Detective Anderson, because he knows too much. Dr. Wells and Fleming do everything in their power to scare people off, which in turns, bring a sense of urgency that the 1959 remake completely lacks.

The Bat was a common fixture on local television in the 80s and 90s, probably because it plays a lot better on small screen than its more cinematic counterparts. The only way one could fully appreciate The Bat Whispers is seeing it on the big screen. Ditto 1926 silent version! On the other hand, the 1959 film is so cinematically dull that almost nothing is lost when it is viewed on television.  There's no startling compositions! There's nothing that jumps out at you! It plays like a television drama, so not surprisingly it fares a lot better on the boob tube (preferably on an analog set with a 13 inch screen).

Credits

Cast: Vincent Price (Dr. Malcolm Wells), Agnes Moorehead (Cornelia van Gorder), Elaine Edwards (Dale Bailey), Gavin Gordon (Lt. Andy Anderson), John Sutton (Warner), Lenita Lane (Lizzie Allen), Darla Hood (Judy Hollander), John Bryant (Mark Fleming), Harvey Stephens (John Fleming), Mike Steele (Victor Bailey), Riza Royce (Jane Patterson), Robert Williams (Detective Davenport).

Director: Crane Wilbur
Screenplay: Crane Wilbur. Based off the Broadway play by Mary Roberts Rinehart and Avery Hopwood.
Running Time: 80 min.

The Monster (1925)

Even if you have never seen any of his films, you probably have heard of the name Lon Chaney. He left his stamp on the cinema starring in the definitive version of The Phantom of the Opera (sorry Gerald Butler fans). With the exception of The Hunchback of Notre Dame most of his films are fairly unknown to the average movie goer. This is due in large part to the fact that they are extremely hard to find; both The Phantom of the Opera and The Hunchback of Notre Dame managed to fall into the public domain, hence they have been readily available in stores across the country. I first saw The Phantom of the Opera on PBS when I was a kid. Despite the poor quality of the print, it was still a rather powerful experience. Not even a bad print could ruin the unmasking scene. I like it so much that I bought it on VHS, which was of even worse quality than the PBS print.  More importantly, it turned me into a life long Lon Chaney fan. When my family got a satellite dish in the 90s, one of the perks was Turner Classic Movies. Imagine my excitement when they began to air other Lon Chaney movies like The Unknown, The Unholy Three, West of Zanzibar, and the subject of this review, The Monster. 

The Monster belongs to Old Dark House horror film, a sub genre that was fairly prevalent in the silent era and the early sound era of cinema that include such films like: One Exciting Night (D.W. Griffith), The Bat (Roland West), The Cat and the Canary (Paul Leni), the aptly title The Old Dark House (James Whale), and many others.  The Cat and the Canary was so popular that it was remade three times. While The Bat got remade twice in 1930 (as The Bat Whispers) and 1959 (starring Vincent Price). With the exception of The Old Dark House, these films were adapted from Broadway plays. Another thing these films have in common is that they are more comedy-mysteries than they are actual horror films. The Cat and the Canary and The Monster sport a very similar protagonist (Johnny Goodlittle in The Monster, Paul Jones in The Cat and the Canary). Both characters are effeminate in the early going, but eventually emerge as the hero. They both serve as the comic relief as well, though neither of them are particularly funny. Paul Jones (Creighton Hale) comes across as a second rate Harold Lloyd, while Johnny Goodlittle (Johnny Arthur) is a poor man's Buster Keaton. One could easily imagine The Monster being a vehicle for Keaton given the stunt work at the movie's end.

The Monster’s first twenty minutes are extremely reminiscent of the Buster Keaton movie Sherlock, Jr. In both films the protagonist is a rather mousy fellow who aspires to be a detective (they both read a book on How To Be Detective) and is in love with the town beauty, a high society type who is out of his league. They both have a similar rival for the girl’s affections, a burly and extremely arrogant man who is twice their size (both films describe him as being the “local sheik”).  For the first twenty minutes the two films follow the same plot beats, but then they go off in extremely different directions; in Sherlock, Jr., Keaton’s character, a projectionist, falls asleep and dreams he is the world famous detective, while The Monster veers into the realm of horror.  Keaton’s character isn't really given much of a character arc; in fact, it is his girlfriend that essentially saves the day (in the film’s “real” world that is.)  Johnny, on the other hand, goes from bumbling, awkward dork to brave and resourceful hero. It’s unfortunate that Johnny Arthur completely lacks Buster Keaton’s comic timing and screen presence, otherwise The Monster might have been classic, instead of being an amusing relic from the silent era. The Monster was adapted from the 1922 Broadway play, written by Crane Wilbur (who would go on to direct the 1959 version of The Bat starring Vincent Price). Unfortunately, there's little information about it on the Internet, therefore I don't know if the film version is a faithful recreation of the stage play, or if it takes liberties with the source material. Is Johnny an aspiring detective in the play? If so, then at least I would know for certain that the film adaptation didn't plagiarize Sherlock, Jr. The gags are striking similar in many instances. 

Despite receiving top billing, Lon Chaney probably has about twenty minutes of screen time total. He makes his first appearance roughly at the half hour mark and then disappears for a considerable amount of screen time.  Dr. Ziska is probably one of Chaney’s more flamboyant portrayals; when he gets angry he grits his teeth and twitches uncontrollably, nearly foaming at the mouth. Dr. Ziska would be more at home in James Bond movie than in a horror comedy. He has colorful servants to do his dirty work (stage car accidents to get bodies for his experiments), while he remains behind closed doors; plotting his next move from the confines of an abandoned sanitarium. He constantly his clutching a cigarette holder in his hand, while he greets his “guests” with a painted on smile, taking on the role of thoughtful host.  Chaney is marvelous, which makes it even more the pity that he is given such little screen time. When he’s onscreen, the movie comes alive. Dr. Ziska's motives are fairly spotty, he wants to transfer the soul of Amos, the town stud, into the body of Betty. However, this is only briefly touched upon at the movie's climax, otherwise he remains a complete mystery throughout the film.

Director Roland West is definitely more at home directing than film’s scary scenes than he is at comedy. The first twenty minutes (the poor man’s Sherlock, Jr.) drag on endlessly as we are forced to watch Johnny Arthur mug it up for the camera.  The film goes above and beyond the call of duty to make us empathize with poor Johnny, but to no avail, he’s just not that compelling of a character.  Like I said, if it would have been Buster Keaton or Harold Lloyd in the role, then the film probably would be hailed as a masterpiece, but alas Johnny Arthur just isn't up to the task.  

It certainly doesn't help that Betty, the heroine, is fairly dull as well. She has two functions in the movie, to look pretty and be a damsel in distress. Neither of which would be a problem if she had anything vaguely resembling a personality, but unfortunately she’s a lifeless as a mannequin. It makes you wonder why the two male protagonists would be endlessly pining for her….SHE’S NOT THAT GORGEOUS!  Granted, Johnny isn't exactly the brightest bulb in the lot, but surely he could find a much more interesting woman to fall in with.  There’s a rather painful scene at the film’s beginning where Johnny attempts to have a conversation with Betty, but just ends up staring at her like a drooling idiot. He can’t have a single, meaningful conversation with her, yet we are supposed to believe that she is interested in him. Sure, Amos has the upper hand in the early going, but she does invite Johnny to her birthday party.  If you want to see romance done right, check out any of the six silent comedies Harold Lloyd made with Jobyna Ralston. In each of their films, you sense that these two characters are destined to be together just by the way they look at one another. In each film, Jobyna likes the Harold character for who he truly is and constantly dodges the advances of other men. It's a great screen romance, far more convincing than the Johnny Arthur/Gertrude Olmstead pairing we get in The Monster. 

Sure, The Monster is highly flawed movie, but there a couple of things (other than Chaney's performance) that enjoy about it. I like the revelation that Amos, Johnny's rival for the hand of Betty, turns out to be a decent guy. When he his first introduced, we automatically label him as being a complete and utter douche bag. He comes off as extremely arrogant and is very condescending towards Johnny (which is understandable). Yet, as the movie progresses and the situation takes a turn for the worst, he behaves rather nobly, often putting Betty's safety before his. In a lesser film Amos would have transformed into a quivering stack of Jell-O and bolted on Betty, leaving her at the mercy of Dr. Ziska. This doesn't happen, Amos is scared at first, but eventually regains his cool and devises a plan with Johnny to escape from the sanitarium. By the movie's end, Johnny and Amos have developed a mutual respect for one another.

While The Monster is played mainly for laughs, there are some genuinely frightening scenes, the stuff straight of a nightmares. The film begins on really spooky note with Rigo, Ziska's zombie like assistant, sitting on the branch of a tree waiting for his next victim. Rigo causes car accidents by lowering a mirror into the road, tricking the driver that a car is headed straight for him, thus forcing him to swerve off the road and into a swamp like area. Rigo then takes the body and throws it down a chute that leads directly to the sanitarium. It's a nice, unsettling way to begin movie. 

The most memorable moment in the film is when Betty is sleeping in a bed and pair of arms slowly rise out from underneath the mattress and grab her. She is then slowly lowered into the basement by a trap door connected to the bottom of the bed. Again, it's nice frightening moment and  certainly takes you off guard, considering all the silliness that has preceded it.

It's these touches and  Chaney's performance that make The Monster a worthwhile effort. It may not be the great movie, but it is a lot of fun.

On a final note, the film's director Roland West is mainly remembered, if he's remembered at all, with his involvement with the Thelma Todd murder case. On December 16. 1935 comedienne Thelma Todd was found dead in her car, apparently as a result of carbon monoxide poisoning. The death was ruled accidental, but many people suspected foul play, despite evidence to the contrary, and Roland West was high on the suspect list. He was Todd's business partner and lover, plus he was one of the last people to see her alive. His connection with the case essentially ruined his Hollywood career. It's shame, as West was probably one of the most gifted directors from the silent era. His films, however flawed, are visually striking and extremely entertaining. Allegedly his gave a deathbed confession to actor Chester Morris, but no one has ever corroborated this.

Credits

Cast: Lon Chaney (Dr. Ziska), Gertrude Olmstead (Betty Watson), Johnny Arthur (Johnny Goodlittle), Hallam Cooley (Amos Rugg), Charles Sellon (Russ Mason), Walter James (Caliban), Knute Erickson (Daffy Dan), George Austin (Rigo), Matthew Betz (Detective Jennings).

Director: Roland West
Screenplay: Willard Mack, Albert Kenyon, Roland West (adapted by), C. Gardner Sullivan (titles). Based off the stage play by Crane Wilbur.
Running Time: 86 min.