Mysterious Mister Fathoms
Island of Lost Souls (1932)
directed by Erle C. Kenton
rating: 4 out of 5 cravats
on VHS from Cinefile Video
I can’t imagine the literary source material for Island of Lost Souls is as phantasmagorical as this movie. The story couldn’t possibly be as frightening, because those are men with real deformities beside Bela Lugosi in the mob scenes. They almost look as if they’ve wandered onto the set, or worse, that it isn’t a set at all. Maybe the rumors that it was filmed on Catalina Island are true. The sweat on Charles Laughton’s collar is real enough, and the fecundity of the location glorified in its wet, earthy plant life.
One of the rewards in watching early studio pictures is discovering the moments when the excess and possibilities inherent in a modern system of moviemaking got out of hand. Things show up in old films that shouldn’t have seen the light of day, evidence of the perversity brought on by money and desperation. The moments are casual and often in transitional scenes. In Chandu the Magician, for example – a matinee adventure film released the same year as Lost Souls - June Lang is auctioned off to a group of turban-clad merchants; ostensibly the scene exists just so Chandu can rescue her, but the lasciviousness of the camera’s eye on Lang’s exposed body says a great deal more about Hollywood than Arabian Nights.
Island of Lost Souls festers in the impression that someone has lost control. And Dr. Moreau, the tinker of monstrosities, does, as the earth cracks around him with whispers of “abomination” in the bubbling swamps. It is hair-raising and engrossing – savage science fiction. Beautiful, too, with feathered close-ups that remind me of ferrotypes. But too wild and too horrible, in the end, since Lugosi is better remembered for the more recognizably European Dracula than Laughton is for this inglorious lifelike creation. Kathleen Burke, poor thing, is barely remembered at all.
directed by Erle C. Kenton
rating: 4 out of 5 cravats
on VHS from Cinefile Video
I can’t imagine the literary source material for Island of Lost Souls is as phantasmagorical as this movie. The story couldn’t possibly be as frightening, because those are men with real deformities beside Bela Lugosi in the mob scenes. They almost look as if they’ve wandered onto the set, or worse, that it isn’t a set at all. Maybe the rumors that it was filmed on Catalina Island are true. The sweat on Charles Laughton’s collar is real enough, and the fecundity of the location glorified in its wet, earthy plant life.
One of the rewards in watching early studio pictures is discovering the moments when the excess and possibilities inherent in a modern system of moviemaking got out of hand. Things show up in old films that shouldn’t have seen the light of day, evidence of the perversity brought on by money and desperation. The moments are casual and often in transitional scenes. In Chandu the Magician, for example – a matinee adventure film released the same year as Lost Souls - June Lang is auctioned off to a group of turban-clad merchants; ostensibly the scene exists just so Chandu can rescue her, but the lasciviousness of the camera’s eye on Lang’s exposed body says a great deal more about Hollywood than Arabian Nights.
Island of Lost Souls festers in the impression that someone has lost control. And Dr. Moreau, the tinker of monstrosities, does, as the earth cracks around him with whispers of “abomination” in the bubbling swamps. It is hair-raising and engrossing – savage science fiction. Beautiful, too, with feathered close-ups that remind me of ferrotypes. But too wild and too horrible, in the end, since Lugosi is better remembered for the more recognizably European Dracula than Laughton is for this inglorious lifelike creation. Kathleen Burke, poor thing, is barely remembered at all.
posted by NPK at 11:19 PM
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