What Makes a Classic Movie Classic? Inquiring Minds Want to Know
I’m so excited to share this podcast episode with you all! I was honored to be a Special Guest on the We Need 2 Talk podcast where we chatted about — you guessed it — classic movies!
Podcast hosts Kristy & K made me feel so welcome and so at home! Even though it was our first meeting, it was like catching up with old friends. I had such a blast chatting with them — and yes, I even got to quiz them on (drum roll please) their classic movie knowledge!
About the We Need 2 Talk Podcast: Kristy & K are two best friends who never see each other and get together every Sunday to talk about TV, Pop Culture and Life.
A Big Thank You to Kristy and K — and Producer Ed!
I may have mentioned this around these parts before, but
there are few things more frustrating to a classic film lover than to read a
glowing recommendation about a movie that they’re unable to find. Well, the
Noir Nook doesn’t go for frustration, so this month, I’m serving up four
first-rate, lesser-known noirs for you to check out – and you can see them on
YouTube . . . for free, even!
…..
Cry Vengeance (1954)
Cry Vengeance, Martha Hyer and Mark Stevens
Mark Stevens (who you might recognize from films like The
Dark Corner [1946] with Lucille Ball, or the Olivia DeHavilland vehicle, The
Snake Pit [1948]) stars in this feature as ex-cop Vic Barron, who has
recently been released from San Quentin after a three-year stretch for bribery.
He instantly heads for Ketchikan, Alaska, bent on revenge against Tino Morelli
(Douglas Kennedy), the mobster Vic thinks framed him and planted the bomb that
disfigured Vic and killed his wife and daughter. What Vic doesn’t know is that
he’s barking up the wrong crook – the real culprit is a hood named Roxey
(played by the endlessly oily Skip Homeier), who trails Vic to Alaska with a
diabolical plan to put him away for good.
Stevens made his directorial debut with this feature – he
would go on to helm films like the time-worthy Time Table (1956), and
episodes of television shows including Studio 57 and Wagon Train.
In Cry Vengeance he turns in a versatile and touching performance of a
man tortured by the tragedies of his past and twisted by the vendetta that
threatens to destroy his future.
…..
Shakedown (1950)
Shakedown, Howard Duff and Lawrence Tierney
I’ve had an all but unwatchable VHS copy of Shakedown in
my collection for several decades, so you can imagine my delight when I
discovered a first-rate print on You Tube. In this well-done feature, Howard
Duff is a positive stinker as talented but completely unscrupulous photographer
Jack Early. When he parlays his dodgy penchant for “just happening to pass by”
noteworthy events into a newspaper job, Early’s quest for fame and fortune
kicks into overdrive – but he gets far more than he bargained for when he
befriends mobster Nick Palmer (Brian Donlevy) and becomes involved with
Palmer’s rival Harry Coulton (Lawrence Tierney).
After seeing Howard Duff in slightly more upstanding roles
in noirs like Brute Force (1947) and Private Hell 36 (1954), it
was a bit of a shock to watch him play such an absolute heel, but he was
perfect for the part; his pleasantly handsome face and trustworthy demeanor
provided the ideal mask for the corruption beneath. And the film was directed
with skill by actor-turned-director Joseph Pevney in his first time behind the
camera, resulting in a well-paced feature and an ironic ending worthy of Alfred
Hitchcock Presents.
…..
House of Strangers (1949)
House of Strangers, Richard Conte
With a cast headed up by Richard Conte, Susan Hayward, and
Edward G. Robinson, and direction by Joseph L. Mankiewicz, House of
Strangers is a don’t-miss. It doesn’t contain such familiar noir
characteristics as voiceover narration, or a knucklehead everyman done in by a
femme fatale – for that matter, there’s no femme fatale at all – but it’s got
enough cynicism, desperation, and bad choices to satisfy any shadowy sweet
tooth. The story focuses on Conte’s character, Max Monetti, who, at the film’s
start, has just been released from prison after serving seven years. We learn all
about Max and his family, and the reason for his incarceration, in the film’s
flashback – the Monetti clan includes patriarch Gino (Robinson), a prominent
bank owner with an inclination toward illegal business practices, and four
sons, of which Max is clearly Gino’s favorite. When Gino is arrested for his unconventional
banking policies, three of his sons turn on him, Max winds up in prison for his
efforts to save him – and Max emerges from his confinement with a determination
to pay his brothers back in spades for their disloyalty.
House of Strangers is brimming with memorable
characters and standout performances – Robinson is excellent as the headstrong
family head; Conte’s vengeful ex-convict is cold as frozen steel – and just as
hard; and Hayward plays Max’s plain-speaking, long-suffering lover, who tries
to talk him out of his plans for revenge.
…..
Wicked Woman (1953)
Wicked Woman, Richard Egan and Beverly Michaels
One of my absolute favorite low-budget noirs, Wicked
Woman stars Beverly Michaels as Billie Nash, who seems to exist by
wandering from place to place, finding whatever employment she can, and
sponging off as many gullible fellas as possible before moving on again. When
the film opens, she’s just arrived in some nameless town, and before long,
she’s living in a rundown (but respectable, mind you) rooming house and working
at a local tavern run by Matt Bannister (Richard Egan) and his dipsomaniac
wife, Dora (Evelyn Scott). In the blink of an eye, she’s attracted Matt’s
attentions, along with those of creepy Charlie Borg (Percy Helton), who lives
across the hall in the rooming house and would do almost anything to spend time
with Billie (from giving her his newly cooked dinner, to altering her clothes,
to “loaning” her money, with collateral being the promise of a date on her
night off). The film’s action revolves around the relationship between Billie
and Matt, her fantasies of “dancing and making love and being serenaded” in
Mexico, and just how far she’s willing to go to make her dreams a reality.
Billie is not your normal, garden-variety femme fatale, in
the tradition of the Phyllis Dietrichsons and Kathie Moffats of the world. She’s
not polished, or even overly calculating – she’s just getting by the best way
she can. She unwinds from the stresses of life with cigarettes and a swig of
gin, her astrology magazine, and her favorite record played on her portable
wind-up phonograph. There’s no next week for Billie – there’s barely a
tomorrow; her plans are for right now, and whatever she needs to do to get her
through right now, she’ll do it. (And if that means stealing your man, well . .
. that’s the way the cookie crumbles.)
I hope you’ll check out these four YouTube freebies – you’ll be glad you did!
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
Spending Quiet Time with ‘The Earth Dies Screaming’
In a quaint English village, people are sitting in a parlor by the fire doing what proper Brits do: elegantly smoking and drinking tea. It’s all so genteel inside, yet outside the situation is dire as “The Earth Dies Screaming.”
That’s the excellent name of a 1964 film that is much
quieter than the title promises. Directed by Terence Fisher, this non-Hammer
film is a taut sci-fi thriller that clocks in at a crisp 62 minutes.
It gets right down to business by putting viewers directly in the middle of some strange happenings without introduction: a train going off its track, a car crashing into a brick wall, people dropping to the ground.
Add an ominous pall to the usually postcard- perfect English village thanks to the black and white photography, then throw in a few lifeless bodies strewn about and it’s eerie and quiet. Something is very wrong.
If you see these guys, don’t shake their hand in The Earth Dies Screaming.
A car pulls into the village driven a sturdy looking man with a rifle. He stops at a deserted shop and takes a radio, but leaves everything else. This guy has scruples. Meet American test pilot Jeff (played by Willard Parker) who’s such a sensitive bloke he picks a dead bird up off the ground and gently moves it to where it won’t get stepped on.
In a nearby inn (it’s too homey to be called a hotel), Jeff’s uneasy solace is interrupted by the arrival of Quinn Taggart (played by Dennis Price) and Peggy (Virginia Field).
There’s something unsettling about Taggart who immediately pulls out a gun so tiny it looks like a toy. (I snickered, but it does work on the bad guys.)
A small band of survivors deal with an apocalyptic mystery in The Earth Dies Screaming. Pictured are, from left, Dennis Price, Virginia Field and Willard Parker.
“None of us know who our friends are,” Taggart says as his excuse. He has a point – this is the first time they are seeing another person alive since “the event.”
Soon they’re joined by Ed Otis (Thorley Walters) and his wife Violet (Vanda Godsell) dressed in evening attire for his office party. They’re quite hospitable even if Ed drinks quite a bit to soothe his nerves.
So now there are five people in the inn trying to figure out what happened. There’s nothing on TV or radio, just an odd hum that modern viewers will know is not good (cue the aliens).
Jeff quickly becomes the voice of reason and the one who
will help the story move along as he realizes there’s a connection between the
survivors.
He was in the air when the disturbance happened before landing to find everyone dead. Peggy was in an oxygen tent at a hospital. Ed and Violet spent the night in a laboratory at the office to play kissy face away from the party. Where was Taggart? He deftly changes the subject and doesn’t answer. (But where was he? I want to know what he’s all about. There are a few loose ends in his story which makes me wonder if some of his scenes were cut for time.)
A young couple (the future of the world?) arrive in a desolate village in The Earth Dies Screaming. Pictured are Willard Parker, left, Anna Palk and David Spenser.
They come up with the reasonable explanation that there was a gas attack. Any doubts about that theory vanish with the arrival of a young couple who are so broke that they spent the previous night in an abandoned air raid shelter. (I did not make that up.) Mel (played by David Spenser) is a “cheeky kid” who will grow on you, and sweet Lorna (Anna Palk) is very pregnant and wants to get to her mother’s house before she gives birth.
Finally we get a clue about what’s going when two figures in “space suits” are spotted out the window and mistaken for soldiers by one of our new friends. These tin foil-suited figures slowly walk and appear to be in a zombie-like state, but they have some sort of death touch that creates eyeless creatures who also act, well, like zombies.
Is it a zombie apocalypse, an alien invasion or both in The Earth Dies Screaming?
But this isn’t a zombie apocalypse via “The Walking Dead.” These guys are slower than molasses, easy to hide from and you can even outrun them. Just wait until they are only steps away from humans and there’s still enough time to sit and have a cup of tea. (Then again, the humans often just stand there, so it’s anyone’s guess on who will move first.)
Since Jeff has scientific training and can work his way around radios and transmitters, he hatches a plan after he realizes what we, the viewers, knew all along: that sound on the radio was an alien rallying cry!
Not a lot happens in this film plot wise, but Terence Fisher layers short, tense moments to keep the film moving and the viewer on edge in quiet moments.
He plays the inn like a haunted house mystery where characters skulk about at night making the viewer question what they’re doing. Even getting a glass of milk is suspicious.
Fisher takes advantage of the fact that our humans create a lot of self-inflicted problems by leaving doors open, lights on and making loud noises like beeping the car horn. (Then there’s the clip-clopping of high heels.) All of that would get you killed in a real alien or zombie apocalypse, but Fisher uses it to build his tension.
Let’s turn the kitchen lights on so it’s easy for the bad guys to see us.
In one scene, lights are turned on in the kitchen, giving a foil-wrapped alien a clear view of the human inside. What will happen?
Later, a character hides in a closet (never a good choice) from an alien who reacts in a strange way that again allows the tension to mount.
And a corpse rising from beneath a sheet is one of those “what’s going on moments?” that should make the viewer and characters scream.
Oh wait, there’s a baby to be born, too.
Can you ever really live up to a fantastic title like The Earth Dies Screaming? Probably not. But the film’s compact run time and Fisher’s deft direction make it well worth watching. Heck, at 62 minutes you’ll have time to see it twice.
TRIVIA
Off-screen romance: Virginia Field and Willard Parker were married in real-life from 1951 to 1992 when she died, which explains the easy chemistry between them on screen.
Setting and
music: It was filmed at
Shepperton Studios, with location shooting in the village of Shere in Surrey. One
of the buildings is the Manor House Lodge, designed by the father of the film’s
composer Elisabeth Lutyens. Her avant-garde scores were heard in multiple 1960s
British horror films including some for Hammer and Amicus like Dr. Terror’s
House of Horrors, Terrornauts and The Skull.
New studio: In the 1960s, Fisher made a few movies outside of Hammer studios including The Horror of It All (1963) with Pat Boone and The Earth Dies Screaming both for the American film and distribution company Lippert Pictures. Fisher did direct other films for Hammer in the ‘60s including the great The Gorgon(my favorite) and Dracula: Prince of Darkness.
Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer at
The Buffalo News. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a member
and board chair of the Classic
Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo
chapter of TCM Backlot and led the offshoot group, Buffalo Classic Movie Buffs.
She is proud to have put Buffalo and its glorious old movie palaces in the
spotlight as the inaugural winner of the TCM in Your Hometown contest. You can
find Toni on Twitter at @toniruberto and Bluesky at @watchingforever.bsky.social
Time looms
over us all, but not as literally as it does over Ray Milland in director John
Farrow’s fascinating noir, The Big Clock (1948), which features Milland
as a magazine editor framed for murder by his powerful tycoon boss. With its
emphasis on the grinding power of clocks and time over corporate life, this
film noir reminds us that even the best paid rats are still racing as fast as
they can, and escape from the rat race isn’t easy to achieve. In addition to
Milland, The Big Clock features memorable performances from Charles
Laughton, Maureen O’Sullivan, Elsa Lanchester, George Macready, and a menacing
Harry Morgan, so it’s truly a star-studded affair, but Milland’s performance as
the beleaguered protagonist is definitely the main attraction.
George Stroud (Ray Milland) finds it very hard to leave the employment of Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton).
Milland
leads as George Stroud, the editor of a crime magazine owned by publishing
mogul Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton). George’s marriage to Georgette (Maureen
O’Sullivan) is suffering because of his relentless work schedule, but when
George quits his boss suddenly reels him back in to investigate a mystery man
Janoth wants to frame for a murder the tycoon himself actually committed. Much
to his wife’s frustration, George accepts the assignment, not because he wants
the job but because George is the mystery man Janoth intends to blame for the
killing.
Harry Morgan plays Janoth’s silent but menacing flunky.
The
narrative structure of The Big Clock parallels that of John Farrow’s
other noir films, Night Has a Thousand Eyes (1948) and Alias Nick
Beal (1949), with all three movies opening at the start of the third act and
our protagonists in peril. We’re introduced to George as he hides inside the
titular clock from armed guards who have orders to shoot on sight. George then
recounts the events that led him to this dangerous situation. It’s an effective
strategy, but if you watch all three movies together (as I did), you really
notice its repeated use. When George takes us back to the beginning, we learn
that he stumbles into this predicament thanks to a chance meeting with Janoth’s
ex-girlfriend, Pauline (Rita Johnson). George, having quit his job but still in
trouble with his wife for missing their train out of town, goes on a bender
with Pauline and then departs to join Georgette on their long-delayed
honeymoon. Unfortunately for George, his boozy evening with Pauline makes him a
perfect fall guy when Janoth kills her, so George is forced to pretend to look
for himself while simultaneously trying to keep his team from actually
identifying him. I don’t want to provide too many spoilers here, but with the
opening it’s obvious that George is on the run for a crime he didn’t commit,
and the suspense hinges on whether the clever crime editor can free himself
from his employer’s lethal trap.
For all his power, Janoth is terrified of being found out as the murderer.
An
excellent cast keeps the characters interesting even as we question some of
their motives. Having won an Oscar for his alcoholic protagonist in The Last
Weekend (1945), Ray Milland carries the drinking scenes with ease, and
while George Stroud isn’t a villain, Milland’s ability to play one in films
like So Evil My Love (1948), Dial M for Murder (1954), and Alias
Nick Beal brings moral ambiguity to a character who could have been too
squeaky clean with another actor in the role. Charles Laughton, always great, here
leans into one of his subtler villain roles, saving his bursts of violence and
temper for the moments when they really count. John Farrow’s wife, Maureen O’Sullivan,
has a decent role as the increasingly irritated Georgette, but it’s Laughton’s
spouse, the brilliant Elsa Lanchester, who steals every scene as the eccentric
painter, Louise Patterson. George Macready plays Janoth’s devoted assistant as
a suitably slippery character, but Harry Morgan makes an even greater
impression without saying word as Janoth’s silently menacing underling. Morgan
seems to be channeling Elisha Cook, Jr. from The Maltese Falcon (1941) with
his intense, unhinged stare and propensity for violence, and he’s great fun to
watch.
George and his employer do not part on friendly terms.
For even more noir films directed by John Farrow, see Where Danger Lives (1950) and His Kind of Woman (1951). Ray Milland and Rita Johnson also appear together in the Billy Wilder comedy, The Major and the Minor (1942), while Charles Laughton plays Maureen O’Sullivan’s domineering father in The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934). Laughton and Lanchester appear in six other films together, most notably The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), Rembrandt (1936), and Witness for the Prosecution (1957). For even more of Ray Milland, see The Uninvited (1944), Ministry of Fear (1944), and Rhubarb (1951).
Helen Chandler was born on February 1, 1909, in New York,
New York, to Leland and Frances Chandler. Across different census records and
documents, her year of birth, however, has been widely disputed, documented as
1906, 1909, and 1911. Her father worked as a salesman and club manager and her
mother was a housewife, raising two children: Helen and Leland Jr.
Chandler’s mother wanted her children to have careers as
actors. As a result, Chandler attended the Professional Children’s School in
New York before making her Broadway debut in 1918 at the Globe Theatre in Penrod. She frequently appeared in
various renditions of Shakespeare’s tragedies.
After appearing in over twenty Broadway plays, she made her
film debut in The Music Master (1927).
She also performed alongside the likes of Leslie Howard and Douglas Fairbanks
Jr., in Outward Bound (1930).
Chandler received critical praise for her performances and continued her film
career with The Last Flight (1931), Vanity Street (1932), and Christopher Strong (1933). At the same
time, she made frequent appearances on the radio and in stage performances in
Los Angeles, New York, and abroad in London. Despite many more performances in
films, her best-remembered role is that of Mina in Dracula (1931).
Helen Chandler, Dracula
In the late 1930s, Chandler struggled with alcoholism and a
reliance on sleeping pills as her acting roles waned. This also led to several
instances in which she was hospitalized and committed to a sanitarium.
Chandler was married a total of three times. In 1930,
Chandler married writer Cyril Hume. They divorced in 1934. Her next marriage
was to actor Bramwell Fletcher in 1935, which ended in a 1940 divorce. Her
final marriage was to merchant seaman Walter Piascik, which lasted from 1943
until her passing.
In 1950, Chandler fell asleep while smoking in her
apartment, leading to a devastating fire that left her disfigured. Her issues
with alcoholism became much worse from this point on as she navigated this
difficult period.
Chandler passed away on April 30, 1965, after a surgery. Per
her wishes, she was cremated. Her initial inurnment site was a private vault at
Chapel of the Pines Crematory in Los Angeles, California. After a major
fundraising effort led by Jessica Wahl and Arthur Dark and permission from her
surviving family, Chandler’s ashes were relocated to the Cathedral Mausoleum at
Hollywood Forever Cemetery in Los Angeles on July 13, 2023, where they can be
viewed by the public.
In 1920, Chandler and her family resided at 1306 Nicholas
Ave., New York, New York. This apartment building stands today.
1306 Nicholas Ave., NYC
In 1930, she and Hume lived at 331 22nd St.,
Santa Monica, California. In 1940, she and Fletcher lived at 2 E. 56th
St., New York, New York. Both of these buildings have since been razed.
Chandler and Fletcher were married at Riverside Church in
1935, which stands at 490 Riverside Dr., New York, New York.
Riverside Church, NYC
In 1950, Chandler and Piascik resided at 223 ½ Santa Anita
Ct., Sierra Madre, California. This home also stands.
223 ½ Santa Anita Ct., Sierra Madre, CA
Of course, the strongest testament to her legacy is her new resting place, courtesy of her fans. Today, visitors can pay their respects to her at Hollywood Forever Cemetery.
Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., is a film historian, professor, and avid scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the “Hometowns to Hollywood” blog, in which she profiles her trips to the hometowns of classic Hollywood stars. She has also been featured on the popular classic film-oriented television network, Turner Classic Movies. A regular columnist for Classic Movie Hub, her articles have appeared in TCM Backlot, Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, The Dark Pages Film Noir Newsletter, and Chicago Art Deco Society Magazine.
As
longtime readers of this column will be aware, one of my favorite pastimes is
to visit Western film locations.
I recently had the opportunity to visit Pioneertown,
located in California’s Yucca Valley, roughly 16 miles from Joshua Tree
National Park.
Pioneertown is similar to Corriganville, which I wrote about here in 2021, in that it was built specifically for the filming of movies.
Today it remains open as a tourist attraction and
occasional movie location, and it’s also home for a few hundred people.
A notable former citizen of this small community was
singer-actress Nancy Wilson, who died at her Pioneertown home in 2018, at the
age of 81.
Nancy Wilson
Pioneertown was established in 1946. Founding investors from the movie industry included Dick Curtis, Russell Hayden (“Lucky” of the Hopalong Cassidy movies), Roy Rogers, and the Sons of the Pioneers.
Actors George Tobias, David Bruce, and Adele Mara were among those who attended the groundbreaking ceremony in September 1946, along with the investors. There’s a photo of the group at the Pioneertown official website.
Pioneertown was planned as a place within easy driving
distance of both Los Angeles and Palm Springs, providing everything needed for
movie productions and their casts and crews.
Bowling Alley
There was a store, restaurant, beauty shop, and newspaper.
The town even included a bowling alley, seen above and below, which was enjoyed
by Roy Rogers, who was a skilled bowler. Some readers “of a certain
age” may remember Rogers appearing on the TV show Celebrity
Bowling in the ’70s.
The original plan was to call the community Rogersville
after Rogers, but when his former singing group, the Sons of the Pioneers,
recorded a promotional song called “Out in Pioneertown,” it received
its permanent name.
Over the years many Gene Autry and Cisco Kid movies were
filmed at Pioneertown, along with non-Western films including The
Capture (1950) with Lew Ayres and Teresa Wright and Jeopardy (1953)
with Barbara Stanwyck and Barry Sullivan.
As Western film production became less frequent in the
’50s, numerous TV Westerns shot there, including Gene Autry productions such
as The Gene Autry Show and Annie Oakley. Autry
himself spent a great deal of time in Palm Springs, where he had various
business interests; Pioneertown is roughly 35 miles away.
A small film museum documents some of the productions shot
in Pioneertown over the years.
There’s a small amount of memorabilia in the museum; it’s
chiefly filled with vintage movie posters.
I wrote about Gene Autry’s The Cowboy and the Indians (1949) here in 2018 and again more recently. I was especially enthused about seeing one of that film’s locations in person.
The town’s main street was dubbed Mane Street. Here are
views looking two different directions.
Mane Street is still home to a number of buildings which
once doubled as movie sets.
Church
Feed
Gazette
Land Company
Livery Stable
While an ice cream parlor and grocery store are no longer
there, there’s a still-functioning United States Post Office.
A marker in front of the post office says it’s “said
to be the most photographed post office in the entire United States.”
There’s also a small motel.
Before leaving we ate lunch at the barbecue restaurant
Pappy and Harriet’s Pioneertown Palace, which is also a concert venue. I was
amazed to learn that the artists who’ve performed there have included Paul
McCartney, who gave a concert in 2016.
In the restaurant lobby my eye was caught by an autographed photo of Pioneertown investors the Sons of the Pioneers, who appeared in many movies. That’s one-time group member Ken Curtis, later known as Festus on TV’s Gunsmoke, at the top center.
Sons of the Pioneers
Pioneertown can be seen end to end, including a stop for
lunch, in two or three leisurely hours. The town occasionally hosts events such
as craft fairs and cookie contests. It’s an interesting and informative stop,
especially for those who love Western film history.
The photographs accompanying this article are from the author’s personal collection.
…
– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub
Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns. She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals. Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.
Of the many talented and charismatic 1920s
female stars, there were perhaps few who inspired such rapturous fan magazine
articles as Greta Garbo. Motion Picture
Magazine once declared: “Everyone feels, without being able to explain
the fact, that this slim girl is one of the children of Destiny–as definitely
precious as a piece of pale green jade.” Picture-Play Magazine likewise gushed: “Her first appearance
on the screen struck lightning into the public’s heart.” And one
particularly insightful Screenland essay
said: “Her appeal is not direct, like that of an Anita Page or a Mary
Pickford; it is subtle, evasive, often unexpected…Most actresses have what we
might call one face. Greta Garbo is a woman of a thousand faces.”
And there were perhaps even fewer actresses
who became full-fledged icons as quickly and as decisively as Garbo. Even today
it’s not hard to see why: amid all the flappers, ingenues, and motherly types
filling the screens, suddenly here was this sleek woman of mystery with almost
ridiculously perfect Nordic features. And if that weren’t enough for the
public, talkies soon revealed a husky voice with a thrillingly heavy accent.
Garbo was born Greta Gustafsson (a very common
Swedish surname) in Stockholm, Sweden in 1905. Her family lived in a dreary
working-class neighborhood and her father worked various low-paying jobs until
passing away from the Spanish flu in 1920. Young Greta disliked school and
decided not to attend highschool, working jobs at a barber shop and a
department store instead.
Her natural beauty and experience as a shop
girl led to modelling hats and clothes for mail-order catalogues, and she also
started appearing in commercial films. Greta had loved acting from a young age,
so after playing a part in the comedy short Peter
the Tramp (1922) she decided to quit her job and join the Royal Dramatic
Theatre Academy in Stockholm.
During her time at the school she was spotted
by acclaimed Swedish director Maurice Stiller, who invited her to do a screen
test for The Saga of Gösta Berling (1924).
He quickly cast her as one of the leads–her first featured role–and she signed
a contract with Svensk Filmindustri. It was around this time that Stiller also
suggested that Greta change her name to something “modern and elegant and
international.” While stories behind its creation differ, “Greta Garbo” was the
catchy result.
Greta Garbo and Gerda Lundequist in The Saga of Gösta Berling (1924)
Stiller’s lofty reputation led to a contract
offer from MGM, which he accepted, bringing Garbo along. While Stiller tussled
with MGM over which picture to make, Garbo acted opposite Ricardo Cortez in Torrent (1926). Her performance won a
lot of praise, leading to her second starring Hollywood role in The Temptress (1926), initially directed
by Stiller. Stiller did not adapt well to MGM’s production methods, however,
and was let go. But Garbo stayed on, and when The Temptress hit theaters the delicately expressive actress with
an air of mystery was quickly deemed MGM’s newest star.
For the next few years Garbo would star in hit
after hit, starting with the sumptuous romantic drama Flesh and the Devil (1926) co-starring fellow MGM star John
Gilbert. Garbo warmed to the handsome, charming Gilbert right away and the two
struck up a real-life romance during the filming. Their love scenes on the
screen are still smouldering today, their charisma practically jumping off the
screen. Garbo’s cool, alluring performance made Photoplay enthuse: “Greta Garbo has established herself on the
screen in more sensational fashion than any other player since Rudolph
Valentino blazed out of The Four Horsemen.”
Greta Garbo and John Gilbert in Flesh and the Devil (1926)
Despite Garbo’s status as a top box office
draw, MGM was nervous to put her in talkies and delayed it as long as possible.
They finally mustered up the courage to star her in the talkie Anna Christie (1930), going heavy on the
“Garbo Talks!” advertising angle. Her deep, accented voice divided viewers at
first, but in time it would become as iconic as her face–especially when she
delivered her iconic line from Grand
Hotel (1932): “I want to be alone…”
In real life, that iconic line could’ve been
Garbo’s personal slogan. Her air of mystery wasn’t mere posturing for the
screen–not for nothing did writers dub her “The Swedish Sphinx.” As a child she
had often preferred to play alone, and as a world-famous adult her desire for
privacy only seemed to deepen. She shunned movie premieres and award
ceremonies, rarely gave interviews, and didn’t seek the attention of fans. Even
her personal style was lowkey, favoring mannish shoes and trousers, trench
coats, and slouch fedora hats, which in time were dubbed “Garbo hats.”
For much of the 1930s Garbo continued to star
in hit films, some of her biggest successes being Mata Hari (1931), Queen
Christina (1933) and Camille (1936).
But after the box office failure of the historical drama Conquest (1937), MGM tried a new tack and starred her in the comedy
Ninotchka (1939), with ads
proclaiming “Garbo Laughs!” While Ninotchka
did significantly better, the followup film Two-Faced Woman (1941) received scathing reviews. While Garbo
intended to make more pictures the projects that interested her kept falling
through. As it turned out, Two-Faced
Woman was her final film.
After retirement Garbo would retreat to the
privacy and solitude she had so consistently preferred. She sometimes enjoyed
the company of close friends, but she never married or had children (although
she came close to going to the altar with John Gilbert). After becoming a U.S.
citizen in 1951 she moved into an elegant Manhattan apartment with views of the
East River, where she lived until her death in 1990. Her legacy as one of
Hollywood’s greatest stars remains unshakeable–and so does her mystique.
Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.
13 Things You May Not Know About The Killers (1946)
Ask any noir fan for a list of their favorite films from the
classic era, and The Killers (1946) is likely to appear. It’s a stellar
example of this shadowy period of filmmaking, featuring such noir tropes as the
femme fatale, the hapless fallen hero, a painterly use of shadows and light,
and flashbacks (in spades!).
Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster
Directed by Robert Siodmak, the film centers on the efforts
of an insurance investigator (Edmund O’Brien) to unearth the circumstances that
led to the murder of ex-boxer Ole Andreson (Burt Lancaster) by two hitmen (Charles
McGraw and William Conrad). A series of flashbacks introduce a motley crew of
characters, including Ole’s duplicitous girlfriend, Kitty (Ava Gardner), and
the members of a gang Ole joins to pull off a can’t-miss payroll heist, headed
by “Big Jim” Colfax (Albert Dekker).
This month’s Noir Nook celebrates this first-rate offering from the classic noir era by serving up 13 things you may not have known about this famous film.
The Killers was inspired by the 1927 short story of the same name by Ernest Hemingway. The story focused on the two hitmen of the film’s title; the small-town diner they enter in search of their target, Ole Andreson; and Nick Adams, a local resident who warns Ole of the impending danger. The short story ends after Ole indicates that he’s weary of running and Nick decides to leave the small town behind.
Charles McGraw and William Conrad
The screen rights were purchased from Hemingway
by producer Mark Hellinger, who had recently left Warner Bros. for Universal.
Hemingway agreed to sell for $36,750, on the condition that Hellinger advertise
the selling price as $50,000. Hellinger reportedly went Hemingway one better and
told the press that he paid $75,000.
The screenplay for the film was credited to
Anthony Veiller (who was also the screenwriter for The Stranger [1946]
and The Night of the Iguana [1964]), but several others had a hand in
the finished product, including John Huston, Mark Hellinger, and screenwriter-turned-director
Richard Brooks. According to Ava Gardner biographer Lee Server, Brooks had
tracked down Ernest Hemingway to ask him what happened after Ole’s killing, and
Hemingway responded, “How the hell do I know!” It was Brooks’s idea to focus
the story on the insurance investigator who tracks down the facts in the Ole’s
murder.
A second adaptation of Hemingway’s short story
was released in 1964, with the same name. The two hitmen were played by Lee
Marvin and Clu Galagher, and the film was directed by Don Siegel.
Edmond O’Brien
To direct the 1946 film, Hellinger tapped Robert
Siodmak, who author Imogen Sara Smith calls “probably the director most
associated with film noir . . . one of the great masters” of the classic noir
era. Siodmak also helmed Phantom Lady (1944), Christmas Holiday (1944),
The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry (1945), The Dark Mirror (1946),
Cry of the City (1948), Criss Cross (1949), and The File on
Thelma Jordon (1950).
Ava Gardner was cast in the role of Kitty
Collins after another Universal producer, Walter Wanger, spotted her in the
George Raft starrer, Whistle Stop, released in early 1946.
Lots of changes to the film’s script were requested
by the Hays Office (also known as the Breen Office), which was responsible for
enforcing the Motion Picture Production Code. The requested changes included
that Ole Andreson should not be shown stripped to the waist, that scenes of characters
drinking liquor be eliminated, and that a scene showing the insurance
investigator in the “ladies’ lounge” only be allowed if there were no women
present and no indications that the lounge contained a room with toilets in it.
Jeff Corey and Virginia Christine
Virginia Christine, who some may remember as the
spokesperson for Folgers Coffee in the 1960s and 1970s, is featured in the 1946
version of The Killers as Ole’s girlfriend (before he meets Kitty
Collins). Christine also appeared in the1964 remake, as a blind secretary.
Also among the film’s supporting cast was Jeff
Corey, who played a fidgety hood known as Blinky Franklin. In Corey’s best
scene in the film, his character is seen on his deathbed, hallucinating about
his role in the payroll robbery. According to Corey, this scene served as his
audition for the picture: “Afterward, the film’s director whispered to me, ‘You
got the part,’” Corey said in a 2001 interview. “It was a thrilling thing to
do. An interesting part – a wonderful movie.”
Burt Lancaster’s part in The Killers marked his screen debut and turned him into a star. He was 32 years old. Others considered for the role included Van Heflin and Sonny Tufts. Lancaster once said that Hellinger hired him for the part because “I was the cheapest thing in town.”
The Killers, Shadows and Light
The makeup in the film was provided courtesy of Universal’s Jack Pierce, who was much better known as the designer of the studio’s stable of monsters, including Dracula, Frankenstein and his bride, The Mummy, and the Wolf Man. The year after the premiere of The Killers, Pierce was replaced at Universal by Bud Westmore. There are a number of theories on why he was released, but it’s commonly held that Pierce was set in his ways and the studio wanted someone with newer, faster methods.
Artist Edward Hopper’s most famous painting, Nighthawks, was reportedly inspired by Hemingway’s short story.
The film’s score was composed by Miklós Rózsa; whenever the two killers of the title appear, the audience hears a theme that was later expanded and adapted as the familiar music in TV’s Dragnet.
And that’s it! I hope this list contained at least a few tidbits that you didn’t already know. Stay tuned for future Noir Nooks for trivia on your favorite noirs!
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages. If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
Thoughts of flying saucers and alien invasions make me nervous.
Though intrigued by the concept enough as a kid to watch movies and read books on the topic, the fact that flying saucers could be real freak me out. (I remember reading War of the Worlds when I was about 10 and pulling the shade down in my bedroom because the alien images were too vibrant in my mind.)
That fear of UFOs isn’t unique to me, nor is it new. In 1947, pilot Kenneth Arnold reported seeing nine objects flying in a “V” formation near Mount Rainier, Washington. They were skipping across the sky like saucers, he said, and the name stuck.
The aliens attack a scientific facility early in Earth vs. the Flying Saucers.
Then in
1949, former Marine Corps naval aviator Donald E. Keyhoe, who became a UFO
researcher, wrote an article called Flying Saucers Are Real that was
published in the January 1950 issue of True magazine. It was such a
popular article that he quickly expanded it into a best-selling book.
Keyhoe
wasn’t alone in writing about UFOs. Other articles, books and movies fed into a
prevalent fear during the 1950s that UFO’s were real.
That was one of things addressed by filmmaker Joe Dante before he introduced Earth vs. the Flying Saucers at the 2025 Turner Classic Movie Film Festival. Dante is a great fan of these classic films and to have him share his passion and behind-the-scenes knowledge is a unique experience not to be missed.
“It was something that people just took as part of their life,” Dante said about the fear of UFOs during his introduction. “They would ask themselves: Are they real? Are they here?”
In 1955, Columbia Pictures had a hit with the low-budget It Came from Beneath the Sea, a giant octopus film produced by Sam Katzman and Charles Schneer that benefited from the great talents of Ray Harryhausen. Filmed for only $150,000, it made more than $1.7 million and you know what that means: the studio wanted more.
Katzman believed Keyhoe’s book would be a great basis for a new sci-fi film to make with Harryhausen so it was loosely used for what became Earth vs. the Flying Saucers. (The film’s opening credits read: Screen story by Curt Siodmak, suggested by the book Flying Saucers Are Real by Major Donald E. Keyhoe.)
Aliens destroy familiar sites in Washington, D.C. during a lengthy battle in Earth vs. the Flying Saucers.
I’m not sure that I ever watched Earth vs. the Flying Saucers in its entirety before I saw it at the TCM festival or if it was familiar because of its famous images of flying saucers destroying such iconic sites as the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial, but it was fun to watch. As Dante said, “It helps if you channel your inner 10-year-old when you’re watching this movie.” It was good advice.
That end sequence, which takes the last 12 minutes of the film, is so impressive and unlike anything that had been seen on film, that it inspired filmmakers for decades and Harryhausen’s footage of the saucers were often used in other films.
“The interesting thing about it
is that there’s so much destruction at the end of this movie that it’s
virtually a template for everything that came after. There would be no Independence
Day if it wasn’t for this picture,” Dante said, referencing Roland
Emmerich’s big-budget 1996 alien invasion spectacle.
Hugh Marlowe and Joan Taylor try to save the world from an alien invasion in Earth vs. the Flying Saucers.
The movie
“Since Biblical times, man has witnessed and recorded
strange manifestations in the sky and speculated on the possibility of visitors
from another world.”
That’s the voice-over opening Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, a device often used in 1950s B-movie films to explain what’s happening in a budget-friendly way.
It’s only two hours after their wedding but scientist Dr. Russell A. Marvin (played by Hugh Marlowe) and his wife and secretary Carol, (Joan Taylor), are on their way to the Hemispheric Defense Command Headquarters in Colorado Springs, for the launch of the 11th of 12 artificial satellites or “birds” that Russell is overseeing as part of his Project Skyhook.
To their disbelief, a flying saucer hovers over their car and disappears. No one will believe them, of course, but a recorder picked up the whirly sounds of the saucers. (What you’re hearing is the real sound of a waste treatment plant.)
Joan’s dad is Brigadier General John Hanley (he’s played by Morris Ankrum with his usual sturdy authority) who has just returned from surveying the damage of a meteor strike in Panama. But it wasn’t a meteor, he tells them, it was one of the satellites. In fact, most of the satellites have fallen to the ground around the world, almost like they were shot down and destroyed. And that’s exactly what happened.
The aliens destroyed the satellites believing they were weapons being used against them, later realizing they were only “primitive observation” machines. (You can’t help but feel the aliens are mocking the humans.)
While it sounds like the aliens may have come in peace and just want to protect themselves, they haven’t.
A force field protects the aliens leaving a flying saucer in Earth vs. the Flying Saucers.
The flying saucer sound captured on tape was a message to Russell that didn’t fully come through so he misses a meeting with them. The aliens – called “creatures” in this film – wanted to share their demands with him. When he didn’t show up, they destroyed the 12th rocket and the entire Project Skyhook. Hundreds were killed with only the Marvins surviving because they were in a basement bunker.
Russell eventually hears the message and contacts them, learning the awful truth of why they are there: They are survivors of a disintegrated solar system and wish to take over Earth.
Poor Morris Ankrum has his mind mined for information by aliens through the Infinitely Indexed Memory Bank.
He sees some of their advanced technology. A language translating device that looks like a big white flower (there is a large one in their ship and mini versions in their helmets) is used to communicate with humans. The awesomely named Infinitely Indexed Memory Bank is a ray that pulls knowledge out of humans, turning them zombie-like. And they have force fields around their ships which make it impossible to destroy them. (The aliens in big black suits outside of the saucers can be killed with bullets – if you can get off the shots before they incinerate you with their death rays.)
The aliens are here for business and when Russell can’t get
them what they want, they take over all electronic devices for 12 hours to repeat
this warning around the world: “People of Earth attention … this is a voice
speaking to you from thousands of miles beyond your planet … look to your sun
for a warning.”
His suit may look clunky, but this alien’s ray gun will disintegrate anything in its path.
They talk of explosions on the sun which cause all sorts of turmoil and technical issues on Earth – tidal waves, earthquakes and more – during the eight days leading up to the invasion.
But the title of the film is Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, so expect a battle. While conventional weapons don’t work on the saucers, Russell and other scientists work feverishly on a sonic weapon in hopes of knocking saucers out of the sky. Can they get it right on time?
Out of this world effects
Though Earth vs. the Flying Saucers was one of the big special effects movies of 1956, its achievements were not honored. “Did anybody say anything about it? No. Why? It was a Sam Katzman movie,” Dante said, and was not going to honor Katzman – a producer known for being cheap – or give him an Oscar. “They were embarrassed by Sam and Sam was embarrassed because he was just raking in the dough.”
It may not have won an Oscar, but nearly 70 years later we can still marvel at Harryhausen’s flying saucers.
In his book The Art of Ray Harryhausen, the artist calls the saucers “the real stars of the film.” Dante said creating them was more complex for Harryhausen than in making some of the creatures in his previous films like that giant octopus.
The group of scientists trying to save the world from aliens through the use of sound.
“It was much more complicated than doing a cyclops or a dragon, because it had to be sustained and then at various points, it had to hit things and knock them over,” Dante explained about the saucers. “So every falling rock is hand-done by Ray with strings and done one frame at a time. The result is remarkable. This had a reality to it that is unique. And the movie itself is also pretty good.”
Part of that is through Harryhausen’s
use of stock footage, which Dante called “brilliant.”
“He managed to use actual stock
footage of planes crashing and put his own flying saucers in it. And because he
was such a master of lighting, the illusion is perfect. It’s pretty remarkable
for the period.”
Toni Ruberto, born and raised in Buffalo, N.Y., is an editor and writer at
The Buffalo News. She shares her love for classic movies in her blog, Watching Forever and is a member
and board chair of the Classic
Movie Blog Association. Toni was the president of the former Buffalo
chapter of TCM Backlot and led the offshoot group, Buffalo Classic Movie Buffs.
She is proud to have put Buffalo and its glorious old movie palaces in the
spotlight as the inaugural winner of the TCM in Your Hometown contest. You can
find Toni on Twitter at @toniruberto or on Bluesky at @watchingforever.bsky.social
I happened
to watch both the 1941 adaptation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and the
1956 science fiction classic, Forbidden Planet, in the last few weeks,
and the thematic overlap between the two movies inspired me to think about the
ways in which classic films grapple with the dark side of human nature. It’s a
common enough theme in science fiction, horror, and film noir, all genres that
allow us to peel back the veneer of civilized life and examine the brutality
still seething underneath. While the narrative framework that explores our dark
side often relies on the fantastic – serums, experiments, supernatural events,
and so forth – our stories inevitably return to the issue because human cruelty
and violence constantly threaten our very real existence. When they erupt into plain
sight as murders, wars, and political oppression, we look to literature and
film to help us understand why our capacity to commit these horrors persists in
spite of all our supposed progress. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, adapted
from the 1886 novella by Robert Louis Stevenson and a remake of the 1931 film
starring Fredric March, offers a Victorian view of humanity’s inability to
separate itself from its unevolved, bestial nature, while Forbidden Planet
flings us into the future and simultaneously evokes Shakespeare’s 17th
century play, The Tempest, to engage many of the same issues. In both
films, powerful men become a threat to everyone around them when they lose the
constraints of reason, empathy, and conscience, and it’s up to others to stop
their destructive rampages.
Walter Pidgeon plays the secretive and controlling Dr. Morbius in Forbidden Planet.
The
protagonists in the two movies have a lot in common. Both Dr. Jekyll (Spencer
Tracy) and Dr. Morbius (Walter Pidgeon) are motivated by their scientific
curiosity to experiment on themselves, although only Jekyll knows that he is
playing with the dark side of human nature in his tests. Both men have a high
regard for their own intelligence and consider themselves above the other men
around them (they don’t regard the women in this consideration at all). Both
are the beneficiaries of a system that gives men of their class access to
education, authority, and status, with Morbius becoming absolute ruler in an
empire that consists only of himself and his daughter. Our stories are full of
such men, from Victor Frankenstein and Dr. Griffin (aka The Invisible Man) to Aldrich
Killian in the MCU, and none of those stories ends well, but hubris tells each
newcomer that his plans are better than all of those that failed. Jekyll
believes he can separate the good and evil sides of human nature, while Morbius
believes he can control the ancient, alien technology of the mysterious Krell.
Both men are correct to some degree, but where they err, they do so
disastrously, with Jekyll setting free his sadistic Hyde persona and Morbius
unleashing his nameless id monster.
In Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1941), Spencer Tracy’s usual features are contorted to express Hyde’s sadistic nature.
The id
monsters in both films are violent murderers who enact urges that their
creators repress and even refuse to acknowledge, because to do so would admit
their own flawed natures. Jekyll cannot articulate his sexual frustration about
his long-delayed marriage to Beatrix (Lana Turner), so Hyde becomes a rapist
and abuser to the unfortunate Ivy (Ingrid Bergman). Morbius cannot control his
resentment when his daughter, Altaira (Anne Francis), chooses to leave with
handsome Commander Adams (Leslie Nielsen), just as he could not control it when
his fellow colonists chose to leave the planet years before, so his id monster
lashes out to destroy everyone who defies his will. In both cases, the id
monsters attack anyone who opposes them but seem to harbor particular malice
toward women, suggesting a deep vein of misogyny running beneath the
high-mindedness of both men. These are men who expect women to obey them in
every way, whether they be wives, mistresses, or daughters, and any rebellion
or hesitation is met with the unleashed violence of the id that is otherwise so
carefully hidden from view. In the same way, real-life abusers hide their
violent sides from neighbors, friends, and family so that others don’t suspect
the monsters they become in private. Hyde torments Ivy instead of pursuing
Beatrix because Beatrix is too public a victim as the daughter of the wealthy
and important Sir Charles Emery (Donald Crisp), but Ivy has no such protection,
and Jekyll’s unacknowledged attraction to Ivy fuels Hyde’s cruelty toward her. Morbius’
id monster is literally invisible except when hit by force fields and blaster
fire, a secret he keeps even from himself until Altaira becomes his next
intended victim. Morbius loves his daughter and wants to protect her, but he
also wants to punish her. For years she has belonged to him alone, never
questioning or disobeying him in any way, but now she is a grown-up young woman
with desires of her own, especially where Commander Adams is concerned. Unable
to process his paternal emotions, Morbius unwittingly summons the id monster to
destroy his child.
In Forbidden Planet, Commander Adams (Leslie Nielsen) and Lt. Ostrow (Warren Stevens) ponder the true nature of the invisible monster.
Like most
of their brethren in literature and film, the two doctors eventually pay for
their transgressions with their lives, but only Morbius achieves redemption by
recognizing the darkness as part of himself. In Shakespeare’s play, the
magician Prospero claims his brutal servant, Caliban, when he says, “This thing
of darkness I acknowledge mine” (Act 5, Scene I). In the same way, Morbius has
to admit that the id monster is part of him before he can dispel it and save
Altaira. He only reaches this epiphany because Lt. Ostrow (Warren Stevens)
sacrifices himself to the Krell’s brain machine in order to be intelligent
enough to figure out the nature of the invisible creature, and Commander Adams
then insists that Morbius heed Ostrow’s dying words. Jekyll never achieves this
kind of insight, and his rampage as Hyde only ends because his friends and the
police kill him. With the help of a determined intervention, Morbius comes back
to reason and saves his daughter, but Hyde must be put down like the rabid
beast he has become. Perhaps the 1956 science fiction film is more optimistic
about a person’s ability to face his own inner demons than the Victorian horror
story, given that the movie ends with Commander Adams assuring Altaira that her
father’s reputation will one day be lauded across the stars, but in both
stories it’s clear that other people must intervene to call out, oppose, and be
willing to stop the carnage of the unrestrained id. Jekyll and Morbius were
never going to confront or restrain their monstrous urges on their own, no
matter how many people suffered as a result.
In his lab, Dr. Jekyll foolishly experiments on himself even after his tests with animals have failed.
While stories about mad scientists and manifestations of the Freudian id might seem far removed from reality, films like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Forbidden Planet remind us to beware of the darkness inside all human beings, but especially in those with power to let loose their monstrous urges on the larger world. We keep remaking Frankenstein, The Invisible Man, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and other, similar stories because we keep seeing real-life embodiments of the monstrous id wreak havoc on our world, whether they’re celebrities, tech billionaires, autocrats, or mass shooters. Leigh Whannell’s 2020 revision of The Invisible Man, for example, reimagines the title character as an abusive tech CEO. For a recent film that brings all of these concerns together, see the newest release in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America: Brave New World (2025), in which Harrison Ford plays a United States President who struggles with his own monstrous side. The Hulk is, after all, just another manifestation of the Jekyll/Hyde duality and the destructive urges that lurk beneath even the most scientific mind.
