← Back to Reviews
in
Some rain drenched folks are forced to seek shelter after a night of constricting weather. Tensions between the old-fashioned house-owners and liberal youth ensue, and the estate itself seems to contain a share of secrets.
This is a genre paradigm: conveniently placed thunder cues, shadows, howling wind, shadows, eccentric old folks, shadows, a mad butler, an old Gothic-y estate, flickering shadows, candle lighting, and the occasional emphasis on a shadow or two. This is all told with James Whale’s self-aware humor, which is subtler and more sophisticated than later Hays code-era token comic relief stuff.
The house’s old inhabitants are the highlight. We’ve got Ernest Thesiger as a creepy old caretaker, and his zealous old gypsy bat sister, both fantastically overacted. We also have Karloff looking like Bigfoot Silva’s grandpappy. The credits ironically praise Karloff’s acting flexibility by pointing out his versatility in playing a mumbling, violent, heavily made-up, stiffly mobile guy that ends up disobeying his master… yep. Then there’s the (in)famous bed-ridden old man. This is a point of odd comedy and questionably intentional mystery. For some reason, ye olde man is played by a lady with fuzzy whiskers and Caligari makeup. Indeed, a few cats may have been harmed in the process of making these nice gluey fake beards.
The guests are sort of an F. Scott Fitzgerald-y cast of slightly conceited youths. They do turn out to be complex and are pretty well-developed following a heated fireplace chat. Compared to the silly early horror dialogue voiced earlier in the movie, the dialogue here adds surprising intelligence to characters that would otherwise seem vain. The movie does fall prey to the tacky ending cliché though.
The clandestine house itself is the main source of intrigue. Whether it’s haunted or houses hidden menace, it stays ambiguous almost till the end. Most of the movie feeds off of implied peril, instead of overt horror (sans drunken Karloff). This was before the Hays’ code started guzzling protein shakes, so the atmosphere and sexual innuendos aren’t too watered down. Really, out of the considerable bunch of classic horror flicks I’ve watched time and time again, this one might have my favorite atmosphere. The timeworn early 30s picture, without remastering, lends its assistance too.
The Old Dark House (1932)
Some rain drenched folks are forced to seek shelter after a night of constricting weather. Tensions between the old-fashioned house-owners and liberal youth ensue, and the estate itself seems to contain a share of secrets.
This is a genre paradigm: conveniently placed thunder cues, shadows, howling wind, shadows, eccentric old folks, shadows, a mad butler, an old Gothic-y estate, flickering shadows, candle lighting, and the occasional emphasis on a shadow or two. This is all told with James Whale’s self-aware humor, which is subtler and more sophisticated than later Hays code-era token comic relief stuff.
The house’s old inhabitants are the highlight. We’ve got Ernest Thesiger as a creepy old caretaker, and his zealous old gypsy bat sister, both fantastically overacted. We also have Karloff looking like Bigfoot Silva’s grandpappy. The credits ironically praise Karloff’s acting flexibility by pointing out his versatility in playing a mumbling, violent, heavily made-up, stiffly mobile guy that ends up disobeying his master… yep. Then there’s the (in)famous bed-ridden old man. This is a point of odd comedy and questionably intentional mystery. For some reason, ye olde man is played by a lady with fuzzy whiskers and Caligari makeup. Indeed, a few cats may have been harmed in the process of making these nice gluey fake beards.
The guests are sort of an F. Scott Fitzgerald-y cast of slightly conceited youths. They do turn out to be complex and are pretty well-developed following a heated fireplace chat. Compared to the silly early horror dialogue voiced earlier in the movie, the dialogue here adds surprising intelligence to characters that would otherwise seem vain. The movie does fall prey to the tacky ending cliché though.
The clandestine house itself is the main source of intrigue. Whether it’s haunted or houses hidden menace, it stays ambiguous almost till the end. Most of the movie feeds off of implied peril, instead of overt horror (sans drunken Karloff). This was before the Hays’ code started guzzling protein shakes, so the atmosphere and sexual innuendos aren’t too watered down. Really, out of the considerable bunch of classic horror flicks I’ve watched time and time again, this one might have my favorite atmosphere. The timeworn early 30s picture, without remastering, lends its assistance too.