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Tuesday 31 January 2012

Democrats Beaten Back by the Waves of History: Is Rapprochement with Iran a Possibility?

 Outside the American embassy after a mission to rescue hostages failed
January 20th 2012 marked the 31st anniversary of the release of the American hostages held in Iran. 52 people were held for a total of 444 days in Teheran's American embassy, as the world (ie America and its allies) -- to coin a cliche, -- 'held its breath'. In retrospect, it was a somewhat significant period of time to be 'holding one's breath'.  A botched rescue mission by the name of Operation Eagle Claw, in which eight military personnel and one Iranian were killed, buried the Democrats at the 1980 elections, when the Republicans had a landslide victory, returning them to office after the disgrace of the Watergate years.  Incumbent Ronald Reagan was set up and ready instead to welcome back the hostages when they finally returned. The hostage crisis was a symptom of the severe lack of trust between the growing opposition movement to the Shah in Iran and the western powers, who seemed to believe they had the right of sovereignty in Middle Eastern affairs, but actually showed an appalling ignorance when it came to comprehending the aspirations of its people.

Burning an effigy of Uncle Sam outside U.S. embassy in Tehran
 Despite the fact that it actually happened, revolution in Iran was far from the thoughts of the western powers. United States interference in Iranian affairs had long been resented by the predominantly shi'ite population going back at least to 1953. A a coup backed by the United States and Britain, installed Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, Shah of Iran as absolute monarch, in direct contravention to the sovereignty of the democratically elected government of Mohammed Mosaddeqq. The Shah of Iran was a Middle East strongman of my parents' generation. His position had always been  compromised by his blind adherence to the United States who were after all, responsible for his sudden influence in world affairs. He was blatantly anti-democratic and kept an autocrat's eye on what his people thought of him through a repressive domestic spy network known as the SAVAK. With the same sense of unreality that we have become used to recently, the Shah had no idea what his people really thought of him, and when the Iranian revolution happened, it came as a shock not only to the rest of the world, but also to the Shah himself.

 Decades of interference, both overt and covert,  had convinced the west that any kind of uprising to get rid of the Shah did not exist, even within the realms of possibility. Opposition to the Shah's rule within Iran was dismissed by the CIA in a report which stated only months beforehand that Persia 'was not even in a pre-revolutionary situation'. In his New Year's Eve toast in 1978 President Carter issued the immortal words, 'under the Shah's brilliant leadership Iran is an island of stability.'

An American flag set on fire by Iranian protesters
When the hostage situation emerged,  American president Jimmy Carter appeared to not grasp the seriousness of the situation, at least not to the voters at home. The hostages were returned safely, but the damage to the self-esteem of the Democrats has probably not been adequately calculated.  Domestically, the deterioration of the relationship between Iran and the United States became a political issue in the 1980's that both Democrats and Republicans used to enhance their chances of getting elected. Consequently neither party escaped with much in the way of integrity, much less public credibility.

 The Reagan  administration was plagued (at least in its second term),  by the possibility of the public finding out about a number of arms for hostages deals. Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North of the staff of the National Security Council  gave the go-ahead to take twelve million dollars from arm sales to Iran, and give the money to the contra 'freedom' fighters in Nicaragua. This was pointedly against all protestations from Reagan that he absolutely and categorically refused to negotiate with terrorists and that any arms for hostages deal was out of the question. [1]. An ongoing scandal for the Republicans with a Democrat congress to contend with, the exact role of President Reagan in the scandal was never properly delineated, and will probably never be known.

One of many spontaneous mass demonstrations against the Shah
The Concluding Observations of the Walsh Iran/Contra report state  that the Congress was unwilling to engage with a popular president and his executive in order to find out the truth. In doing so, Congress accepted the concept of a conspiracy by subordinate officers, so they could eliminate the need for the testimony of President Reagan and Vice President Bush. Congress was essentially defrauded, and was erroneously led to believe that the administration was acting within the law.  Despite a fighting, all-American  image the Republicans enjoyed promoting, Reagan's image was tainted both at home and abroad. Arms for hostages deals appeared to initiate more terrorism, and the United States could no longer claim the moral high ground against other nations who refused to make concessions to terrorists and their demands.

With a regime change in 1992, President Bill Clinton appealed to many as a progressive who would perhaps reach out to Iran in a show of  friendship (with of course the necessary conditions.) As with most centre-left parties in western democracies, the Democrats had to worry  about managing to stay in power, once they were elected. They had to tread carefully with the voters in order not to seem indifferent to matters of national security. They had to appear resourceful, and able to take the initiative when it came to protecting the country's interests abroad. Yet the bellicosity of the Republicans did not seem to work for them. They had to forge an image which enhanced their ability at making the peace, at reaching out and achieving some kind of dialogue with nations whose customs and religious beliefs were less comprehensible to them than others, in an area of the world as important economically as it was politically.

Reagan receiving the Tower Commission report c1987
Clinton was at first stolid in his refusal to negotiate with Iran issuing Executive Orders 12957 and 12959, banning all trade between the two countries.It could be questioned whether these orders were meant to stand or were merely symbolic of a president who was inexperienced in foreign affairs.  In the late 1990's an apology for the 1953 CIA coup was placed on the table and it seemed that the Democrats were on cue to resume  necessary diplomatic relations which had been revoked since the hostage crisis. However, an apology from the Iranians for the hostage crisis was not forthcoming in return. The executive orders were not rescinded but communications had at least been restored by a combination of private negotiation and a  desire to officially attempt to ease tensions between the two countries.

With a Democrat President currently in office, the rhetoric of the hawks with their itchy trigger fingers is balanced by a more prudent and rational discourse, as the United States attempts to balance national security pre-occupations with its  international responsibilities and its revisionist stance to right the wrongs of the disreputable regime that came before the current administration.  Neither political party has had much success in breaking through the institutionalised antipathy that America and Iran feel for each other. But that isn't to say that it won't happen, and in the process save the world from a confrontation that may be too dreadful to contemplate.

[1] Bob Woodward, Shadow: Five Presidents and the Legacy of Watergate, New York, Simon & Schuster, 1999, Ch. 10, p. 110.

Tuesday 17 January 2012

The Wonder Years. When Celebrities Were Interesting

Here are some images of my favourite celebrity couples from the late sixties and early seventies. In those days they knew how to party, get married, get divorced, and manage their careers all at the same time. The beauty of it  was they didn't pontificate, and even if they did, we didn't mind because  we knew they weren't on the take. And they didn't 'take' themselves too seriously -- they were grateful for their privileged position, and were generous enough to make their lives entertaining for the rest of us. Without rubbing our noses in it.


I'm including Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller, because they seem such an interesting pair, although people at the time thought of them as kind of mismatched. Beauty versus the Brains, and all that.  Well, they must have been, because their marriage ended in divorce before Marilyn's tragic death in 1962.


That seems to be a dog Elizabeth Taylor is holding. And it looks like she's also wearing the Hope diamond. Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor were larger than life, and as a child, I really loved them. Still do.


Sean Connery visits wife Diane Cilento on the set of 'Hombre' circa 1966, with director Martin Ritt. Diane Cilento recently passed away, but she was, and still is, beautiful. They made a handsome couple.


Beauty and the Bald -- I mean beast. Frank Sinatra and Mia Farrow were married briefly in the late sixties. This pairing made for some head-scratching. It was like -- 'but why?' Age difference aside, they seemed to get along. At least until they realised they'd made a mistake and parted amicably.


Princess Margaret was the Royal rebel, and when it was revealed she was 'holidaying' with  boyfriend Roddy Llewellyn on her private island, it caused a bit of a stir. Naturally, a lot of us loved it,  and thought 'good on you', but they were never married, and must have parted amicably.


Aristotle Onassis and Jacqueline Kennedy was another pairing that had  curious onlookers scratching their heads. Onassis always kept a low profile, but he was very rich, and had known his future wife when she was First Lady. The public love affair with Mrs Onassis continued, despite trouble with the paparazzi, which seemed to make the public adore her even more than when she was First Lady.


Terence Stamp and Julie Christie starred together in 'Far From the Madding Crowd' and this is a still from that film. They were immortalised by the Kinks song 'Waterloo Sunset' with the lines 'Terry meets Julie/at waterloo station/every friday night'. Everyone naturally assumed that The Kinks were singing about them. They were both young, good-looking and talented, and the press ate it up.


Singer/songwriters James Taylor and Carly Simon got together and became the royalty of American popular music. Taylor had a massive hit with 'Fire and Rain' and Simon had a big album on her hands with 'No Secrets'. This was around 1972. They retired into domestic bliss, and stayed together till 1983, when they were divorced. Which is sad when you think about it.


Steve McQueen and Ali McGraw  met on the set of  'The Getaway', a heist film directed by Sam Peckinpah. Both of them were married to other people at the time, but that didn't seem to be a problem. They got divorces to be with each other. Both of them were gorgeous and it was fun while it lasted.


Jean Shrimpton was an English model who caused a sensation when she wore a mini-skirt to the 1965 Melbourne Cup in Australia. Terence Stamp was a promising young actor, and they both look great in this picture, photographed by Terry O'Neill.


Warren Beatty and Julie Christie were reticent to talk about their relationship. They were apparently together for a number of years, were politically active on behalf of the Democratic party, and made a number of movies together, including 'McCabe and Mrs Miller', 'Shampoo' and 'Heaven Can Wait'. The press respected their privacy, as they parted, and forged their careers separately.


Vanessa Redgrave and Franco Nero became parents without the benefits of marriage. Despite a lot of blather about how tolerant everyone was supposed to be in those days, it surely must have come at some cost to them both. Vanessa Redgrave has always commanded respect, no matter what she's done, so I suppose there was no harm done to their careers.


Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward seemed like the perfect Hollywood couple. In actual fact, they lived on the East coast, devoting themselves to charity work and bringing up their children. They were also politically active, when it wasn't the fashionable thing to be doing. Newman campaigned for Eugene McCarthy and got a mention on a list of celebrities whom president Richard Nixon wished would keep  quiet. Something he must surely have relished. 



John Lennon was also someone that a lot of us really loved, and it was heartbreaking when he died. John and Yoko were made for each other. People at first, didn't understand the attraction, but they made their presence felt with a big contribution to the on-going public opposition over the war that was going in in Vietnam. Their concern for their fellow man was sincere and heartfelt, and Yoko still carries on to this day, a strong and urgent reminder to the rest of us not to be so complacent.

Saturday 14 January 2012

Movie Review -- Lady Caroline Lamb (1972)


 ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ may not be the greatest movie ever made, but I happen to like it. Very much. It’s about the tempestuous love affair between Lady Caroline Lamb, (the wife of Lord Melbourne), and the poet Lord Byron.  My senior English class was taken to see ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ at the pictures by an over-zealous teacher, far too many years ago for me to remember.  I don’t recall studying the poetry of Lord Byron at school, so I suspect our teacher was playing hookie with us by proxy. 


Sarah Miles as Lady Caroline Lamb
Going to the pictures was a good way of escaping the schoolroom. In our senior year we were allowed the freedom of going to see a  movie – any movie -- that  had anything remotely to do with what we were studying for exams. I suspect our teacher closed her eyes and used a pin to stab at the local paper’s entertainment page because she wanted a break, but this is only conjecture on my part. Not meaning to sound ungrateful, for I preferred being at the movies to being at school, so I knew she was doing us a favour, whether she thought she was or not.

Based on real-life historical characters, ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ is set in the early 19th century, during the Napoleonic wars, and the defeat of French forces by the English at Waterloo. Born to the purple in 1785, Lady Caroline Ponsonby married the Hon. William Lamb, heir to the 1st Lord Melbourne in 1805. In 1812 she embarked on a foolish, but passionate liaison with George Gordon, Lord Byron. In the film, Byron and Caroline’s first meeting is depicted at a bare-knuckle boxing match. These pugilistic events were frequent in Regency England at the time.

a portrait of  historical Lady Caroline Lamb
Lord Byron, (played by Richard Chamberlain) gambols into the make-shift ring and promptly disposes of his much larger adversary. Lady Caroline  (Sarah Miles) is present. He informs Lady Caroline that he has no money and she invites him to have dinner with her, where he orders a meal of potatoes and vinegar. Hence is the start of their tempestuous relationship, played out against the backdrop of a malicious and disapproving upper-crust society. You’ve never seen a bunch of dislikeable  snobs like these before, this side of ‘Age of Innocence’ (1992). But where would a tempestuous relationship be, without a bunch of frustrated socialites clucking their tongues as they spied on you in the background getting on with it? 


Lamb’s mother ( Margaret Leighton) is against her son marrying Caroline. Caroline was very much at odds with her society in that she shunned, almost violently so, the sexual hypocrisies of her era. Her downfall appears, at least in the film, to be her lack of  ‘discretion’, which let powerful men do what they wished, with the onus being on the woman to keep quiet about what was going on..

Mad, bad, dangerous to know?
  William Lamb (Jon Finch) loves his wife through everything, despite her immodest behaviour and inconstancy. He is eventually appointed as ambassador to Ireland, but is told by King George IV (Ralph Richardson) that he should leave his wife behind if he cannot guarantee that she will ‘behave’ properly.  (According to Wikipedia, this  is not historically accurate.) The film concludes sadly, as a testament to how Byron broke Lady Caroline’s heart, by being ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know’, much like Caroline herself.


 Firstly, you should watch ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ in its original wide-screen aspect ratio. It looks pretty ravishing. Photographed by Oswald Morris, the rural  English countryside is truly picturesque. With Art Direction by Carmen Dillon, its interiors are  quite beautiful, and seem truly authentic. If you like lavish costume design, then you may also be in seventh heaven: Sarah Miles looks  lovely as she dresses to seduce Lord Byron.  That is at least, before being deserted by him.  


Historic houses true to the Regency period were used for exterior shots, namely Chatsworth House, home to the (current) Duke and Duchess of Devonshire; Brocket Hall and Wilton House. (They are open to the public at the moment. Just do a Google search.) All three appear to be fully preserved as of 1972 when the film was made and add an atmosphere that is pleasingly authentic as an historic backdrop to the more personal dramas of the protaganists. The musical score by Richard Rodney Bennett is for a full symphony and is by turns melodic with solo viola,  and evocative of the romantic era in classical music, the period of Beethoven, Schubert and other great classical composers.

watch the film for an explanation of this still
 ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’, was written by Robert Bolt, as well as being directed by him. The writer of such epics as Doctor Zhivago, and Lawrence of Arabia, Bolt curbs the historical detail in favour of a closer look at the relationships that Lady Caroline had with her husband, her lover and her society at large.


 Laurence Olivier is in the film briefly, playing the Duke of Wellington, but the most interesting thing he does, is wearing what appears to be a false nose. Whilst  some people do not like Sarah Miles and find her a little mannered in speech, I think she’s perfectly cast in the lead role. She captures Caroline’s delicacy as well as her iron will to live life on her own terms, which, being two extremely contrasting personality traits, must be a difficult thing for even the most accomplished actress to pull off. She gives herself to the part, which has the viewer sympathising with her through every temper tantrum, when they could be laughing  at her. But I think she does  well. 


The Iron Duke & Caroline in intimate conversation
Jon Finch seems to SHOUT OUT some of his lines, when he should be merely speaking them. Maybe it was a case of being misdirected by a first-time director, but he gives a sympathetic rendering of the lovelorn, but faithful William Lamb. Richard Chamberlain shows a different side to himself as the selfish and indifferent Lord Byron, as he trundles around the edges of the English upper class, rootless, but believing in his talent as a poet, and breaking lots of  hearts on his melancholy way to fame and fortune.

As I said at the beginning. ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’ is not without its faults, but I also think it has its share of virtues. If you’re looking for an undemanding but solid, romantic costume drama, based on a little bit of history with some good lead and supporting players (I also forgot to mention that John Mills is also in the cast), as well as excellent production values,  I recommend ‘Lady Caroline Lamb’.

Sunday 8 January 2012

Great Depression body horror


As the world struggles with the consequences of economic downturn, the book has not been written yet,  that would make the connection between social forces beyond our control, and our continual evolution as a species. Conservatives conveniently ignore the psychological scars left behind by economic uncertainty and a sense of impending apocalypse. They seem to consider themselves  the cultural overlords of the general populace, whilst mollifying them that things are not really as bad as they seem. Conservatives consider it their duty in life to explain to us that we are still better off than most others in the world. That our way of life is superior to everyone else’s, as we resign ourselves to a loss of rights, a downturn in our standard of living, and a general sense of malaise as to how it all started in the first place.

People silently observe as the march of scientific progress  carries on.  They struggle with the spectre of unemployment and the loss of their homes and I would argue that any situation portrayed in a horror film that was meant to be ‘horrifying’ couldn’t possibly scare them. The prospect of economic ruin is horrifying enough, and has struck so close to home, it would seem that the horror movie has become redundant, a joke, and scarcely the kind of ‘art’ thought to be worthwhile. To counter this, I would argue that in fact, the horror genre is the repository for most things our culture refuses to discuss, that is, in a normal, or rational way and is therefore worthy of close attention -- as well as enjoyment.

A rare still of March and Hopkins rehearsing with director Rouben Mamoulian

 The discourse of horror contains those things which are brushed aside as being unworthy, simply because they become impossible to think about  within the limitations of a more public, or political, mindset. The public and private spheres of our culture very rarely overlap --  our private desires, our fascination with evil, the obsessions we hide from the prying eyes of others , are  exactly why horror films exist as a reflection of our more basic instincts. The horror genre was once the  doppelganger or uneasy traveller with the sunnier side of acceptable, financially driven,  Hollywood-marketed entertainment, and I wish this was still the case. But now, torture is big business, and Hollywood goes where the money is. 

Once upon a time, an aesthetic case could be made for the artistic relevance of a good horror movie, and even make a point of its social relevance. Since this is likely to become more problematic, (at least for me, because I refuse to watch the torture porn being made at the moment), I would like to draw the reader’s attention to a number of films released in the 1930’s. They record  a humane and understandable reaction to the disaster of the Great Depression as it tossed the world into a cataclysm of uncertainty and economic disaster from 1929 onwards as another world war loomed and the destruction of civilisation seemed more than just  a remote possibility.  [1]


[1] David J Skal, ‘The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror’, London, Plexus, 1994. See Chapters 5 & 6.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Paramount, (1931), starring Fredric March, Miriam Hopkins, Rose Hobart, screenplay by Samuel Hoffenstein and Percy Heath,  directed by Rouben Mamoulian

 The re-creation of Stevenson’s epistolary narrative, in order to arrive at the point in time when this film was made, (1931) would make a story in itself. With Miriam Hopkins as Hyde’s unfortunate  lady friend, (a character not actually in the book -- as the bad girl) -- and a buttoned –up ( but also quite sexy) Rose Hobart as Jekyll’s fiancĂ©e, or the ‘good girl’, a progressive young doctor is fascinated by the notions of good and evil. He concocts an elixir that he imbibes at regular intervals, which turns him into a monster.

Stevenson’s original narrative was inspired by the true-life story of criminal William Deacon Brodie, the son of a prosperous Edinburgh cabinet-maker. Brodie was a notorious criminal, leading a double life until his capture and execution in 1788. [1]   Stevenson was inexorably drawn to the darker side of life, a reflection of his Scottish religious tuition. ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ is a moral tale about the risk of expressing the pure evil that exists under the surface of even the best of men. [2] Published to great success in 1885, the late Victorians seemed to twist Stevenson’s narrative around in such a way as  to exemplify their facile interpretation of  family values. Whilst demonising sex outside of marriage, the hypocrisy was such that the promiscuity of the married Victorian ‘gentleman’ became an open secret.  Where he was getting his ‘bit’ on the side –- was at any one of literally thousands of brothels scattered around London.  By damning extra-maritial sex  as  the perpetrator of all that was evil, the Victorians unintentionally brought the  social problems  they had with prostitution and venereal disease out into the open, which was surely not intentional.[3] 
  
Fredric March becomes progressively more hideous to look at, and his transformations are more alarming to the viewer, coming upon him no longer with any warning, or the need to imbibe an elixir. As an example of early, and perhaps undeveloped ideas about body horror, Rouben Mamoulian’s version of ‘Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’ is pertinent. Evil is what tortures Jekyll’s body in the impressive  transformation scenes  which serve to reveal to the viewer  the dual animus of Hyde. He turns into a simian creature with baggy eyes, protruding teeth and unkempt hair, unrecognisable to his friends and associates as the benign and  helpful Dr Jekyll. As Hyde, Jekyll leads a secret life in which he emotionally abuses a vulnerable young barmaid (Miriam Hopkins), and commits all kinds of mayhem, to get back at the respectable pillars of London society who have condemned Jekyll’s ideas about the benefits of having the dual nature of humans exposed so they are able to exist side-by-side. Jekyll’s physical torture seems just as chronic as his mental torture, as his evil side is brought out into the open.  Not in a religious sense, but in the sense that Mr Hyde is a sociopath with no conscience, nor any moral connection to his fellow man and thus retains his status as an object of physical ugliness.

 As with many other 30s horror films, the crazy onward march of science is to blame, with Jekyll debasing his Christian upbringing and believing himself to be some kind of God.  Jekyll  is punished by being turned into a shambling, ugly, and venal monstrosity, unfit for society and incapable of having a relationship with a ‘decent’ woman. By the end of the film, the status quo of outward good, and internal evil has been restored. Jekyll is redeemed by death, his experiment exposed as a vile offence against God, but his face returning to a calm and self-contained death mask in the last of the sequence of transformations and thus the end of the film. A possible interpretation of Mamoulian’s visualisation of the story could be this, taking into account its year of release  in the darkest days of the Great Depression.  A form of painful physical transformation is  a plausible response to  the observances of a corrupt society that permits war and economic inequality to run rampant at the expense of the wider body politic.  The sickness of evil should be impossible to externalise as it is a religious problem rather than a scientific one, but once this has occurred the bacteria runs rampant and infects, -- metaphorically at least, -- the entire society.

 As a brief footnote, the 1941 remake starring Spencer Tracy is not  as highly thought of as this version, primarily because Spencer Tracy in the title role was considered to not look grotesque enough to have the audience believe that he was a  monster.

[1] Raymond T. McNally & Radu Florescu, ‘In Search of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’ Los Angeles, Renaissance Books. 2000, p. 43; [2] ibid. p. 21; [3] Peter Gay, ‘The Cultivation of Hatred; the bourgeois Experience Victoria to Freud’ London, Fontana Press, 1993.

 The Raven, Universal, (1935), starring Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Samuel S. Hinds, Irene Ware, screenplay by David Boehm, (suggested by the poem by Edgar Allan Poe), directed by Louis Friedlander

‘The Raven’ has the dubious honour of being the last genre film to be seen in England when the censor indefinitely banned horror films from being exhibited in that country. ‘The Raven’ was described by one English critic as ‘quite the most unpleasant picture I have ever seen, exploiting cruelty for cruelty’s sake.’[1]  ‘The Raven’ is in fact, a watered-down version of ‘The Black Cat’, directed by Edgar G. Ulmer, released by Universal a few years previously. Lacking the artistic panache of Ulmer’s original, ‘The Raven’ is a passable melodrama involving the doings of a mad plastic surgeon with an obsession for a young girl he can never have.

Convict Bateman (Karloff) approaches Dr Vollin (Lugosi) to have his face changed, but does not bargain on his visage actually looking  worse than it was before the surgery.  Dr Vollin is obsessed with the work of Edgar Allan Poe and plots revenge against Judge Thatcher (Samuel Hinds) for blocking Vollin’s access to his daughter Jean (Irene Ware). Vollin possesses a torture chamber underneath his house where he imprisons Judge Thatcher in homage to the story ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’, which has a protagonist strapped to a table with an enormous swinging pendulum edging closer and closer to his body.


The most effective section of ‘The Raven’ involves the relationship between Bateman and Dr Vollin, as Karloff and Lugosi spar with one another for audience sympathy. As played by Karloff, in a cleverly written role, Bateman is a criminal with a violent history who is no match for the more sophisticated corruption inherent in Dr Vollin’s mindset. Physically unattractive for all of his life, Bateman comes to the conclusion that ‘because I’m ugly, people expect me to do ugly things.’ Vollin finds this philosophically pleasing and performs surgery on Bateman that makes him look even more unattractive for the purposes of blackmail. Lugosi loses out in audience sympathy as more of a cardboard cut-out villain. Vollin’s  motivations are obscure, considering the damage he causes, whilst Karloff,because of the mutilation he has been subjected to, is  a misunderstood unfortunate, who is no match for the conniving doctor.
Snoozies on the set

Aside from the somewhat prosaic plot mechanics, ‘The Raven’ has some good moments, especially when Lugosi is reciting ‘The Raven’ to a group of onlookers when they are invited to stay at Vollin’s residence for a weekend sleepover that they probably won’t forget in a hurry. In this concluding section of the film, we are reminded of ‘The Old Dark House’ and ‘The Cat and the Canary’, drawing-room melodramas filled with billowing curtains and moving bookcases which hide behind them all manner of grotesqueries and bizarre instruments of torture which exist only in the mind of the viewer, but nonetheless seem very real.

[1] Skal, op. cit., p. 195

Freaks, Metro Goldwyn Mayer, (1932), starring Leila Hyams, Wallace Ford, Henry Victor, Olga Baclanova, Harry and Daisy Earles, Johnny Eck, screenplay by Willis Goldbeck, Leon Gordon, Edgar Allan Woolf, Al Boasberg (based upon the short story ‘Spurs’ by Tod Robbins), directed by Tod Browning


  The debate still rages: Is ‘Freaks’ sympathetic to its characters, or is it an exploitation piece only trying to cash-in on their disabilities? ‘Freaks’ portrays the social life of a collection of circus freaks as they tour Europe with a travelling circus. Nothing much happens really, but the viewer becomes a pupil of director Tod Browning, with the film  acting as  a living testament to their unique world. Hans and his wife (played by Harry and Daisy Earles) are small people performing in the circus. Hans falls in love with acrobat Cleopatra (Olga Baclanova), a large woman who attempts to poison him and steal his fortune, along with her boyfriend circus strongman Hercules (Henry Victor). When the other freaks find out what’s going on, they decide to wreak revenge on behalf of their friends. Notorious for its use of real life circus oddities like Johnny Eck, the Bearded Lady and the Pinheads, ‘Freaks’ tries to wear its heart on its sleeve, but never quite succeeds. Browning wants it both ways for the sake of a good silent melodrama, and the moral tone of the film is left strangely ambivalent.

 The most famous sequence in ‘Freaks’ is the banquet scene, in which Hans and Cleopatra are married. When a communal cup is passed around the table for everyone to drink from, Cleopatra refuses to drink; her disgust with the freaks is obvious, and they know they have an enemy in their midst The audience is meant to feel pity for these handicapped characters, but  the film takes a nasty tack. Intent on making us believe that the ‘freaks’ are perhaps  too  vindictive for their own good,  an operation is performed  on Cleopatra, which  turns her into a bird-like creature and she ends up as an exhibit herself.

‘Freaks’ also suffers from a strange case of aesthetic schizophrenia -- it doesn’t know whether it should be a sound, or a silent film. Browning was an acclaimed but controversial director of the silent era, best known for his work with Lon Chaney, who was a master of make-up and physical transformation. [1] He never adapted to the new medium of sound and  may have been forcibly retired by his employers at MGM, as a result of his recalcitrance with the new technology. [2] Browning had a problem with sound directorily, as if making people talk in front of the camera  made them less mysterious and interesting.  Without the silent cards to indicate to the audience what the characters were saying to each other, the mystery dissipates, indicating Hitchcock’s thesis that most sound films are nothing but photographs of people talking to each other.

 Because of Browning’s preference for action over dialogue in the tradional language of silent film, the best sequences in ‘Freaks’ (such as the banquet sequence)  whilst having dialogue, seem to be shot as if they should be silent.  The sequences more dependent on dialogue, for example where Phroso (Wallace Ford) shows Venus (Leila Hyams) his newly thought-out circus trick,  are not as graceful and seem to have been heavily edited.

Phroso the clown and Venus are the couple of  decent regular-sized people with a  sub-plot of their own, but what happens to them seems straight out of the silent film that Browning actually wishes he was making. Sadly it seems to be the shock value of ‘Freaks’ that most people come away with, as opposed to  a warm and fuzzy feeling that they are empathising with a group of misunderstood outsiders.

[1] David Thomson, ‘The New Biographical Dictionary of Film, Great Britain, Little Brown, 2000, p. 148; [2] Skal, op.cit. p. 145-59.

 Island of Lost Souls, Paramount, (1933), starring Charles Laughton, Bela Lugosi, Richard Arlen, Leila Hyams, screenplay by Philip Wylie and Waldemar Young, (based on the novel The Island of Dr Moreau by H.G. Wells), directed by Erle C. Kenton

‘Island of Lost Souls’ was banned in England for 25 years when it was first release in 1933. I mention this in order to emphasise the degree to which horror movies were marginalised, in this case the story of ‘Island of Lost Souls’  being interpreted as a challenge to the concept of natural law. [1] ‘Island of Lost Souls’ works brilliantly as  a classic mad scientist story, a genre involving a subtext which subverts Enlightenment reason with the populist fear of technology run rampant and out of  control of the general population.

The story  concerns  a couple who are shipwrecked (Leila Hyams and Richard Arlen) and arrive on an island where they discover a doctor who  is using animals for  bizarre reproductive experiments. Doctor Moreau (Charles Laughton) is an autocrat, an English overlord who runs his island as if it was his personal  outpost of the British Empire. Moreau  keeps his live animal experiments disciplined with a whip, and will not tolerate any transgressions. The animals have been given the promise of social elevation, but this is an illusion. The Sayer of the Law (Bela Lugosi) leads a revolt of the malcontents as they realise that Moreau has been exploiting them all along. [2]. These unfortunate malcontents could be interpreted as the working class of the Great Depression, who had been promised a better life by the American Dream, but were instead thrown out of work by a capitalist system that was collapsing into the abyss, by a combination of corporate greed and a lack of concern for its fellow man.
As his penultimate blasphemy, the doctor attempts to change a female animal into a human woman for breeding purposes and he will perpetuate a new race.

 In the late 19th and earlier 20th century, eugenics was considered a plausible and respectable science in which the domineering race could choose who would live and who would die within the context of a superior civilisation. But where does this ‘brave new world’ lead to, when no other social contexts were available as a guide, except the fascist regimes of Hitler and Mussolini?  Doctor Moreau attempts to play God, like other mad scientists of ‘30s horror films, who overstep their mark and come to believe science is no longer the lapdog of religion, but its superior. Laughton gives the impression that not only is he one of his half animals/half humans, but that his very body, clothed in its white suit, can barely contain his overwhelming impulses and desires. [3] Laughton suggests that the Doctor possesses a perverted life-force in which the act of birth becomes an abomination in the hands of science.

[1] Skal, op.cit., p. 171; [2] ibid. p 169; [3] Simon Callow, Charles Laughton A Difficult Actor, London, Vintage 1987 pp. 54-55.