Horrific Inquiry: THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME (1932)

Welcome back to the scariest, and at times goriest, column here at Film Inquiry: Horrific Inquiry. Twice a month, I will be tackling all things horror, bringing two films back into the spotlight to terrify and frighten once more. And occasionally looking at those that could have pushed the envelope further. Join us as we dive deep into the heart of horror, but warning, there will be spoilers.

The early 1930s are looked at by many as a golden period of horror. And while horror films came to life in the 1920s, the introduction of sound took horror to new levels. And while many will associate this period with Universal’s Creature Features, they were not the only shining beacons of horrific cinema the early decade would encompass. Based on the 1924 novel of the same name by Richard Connell, Irving Pichel and Ernest B. Schoedsack‘s The Most Dangerous Game is a film that still turns heads today.

The Most Dangerous Game, a part of the Criterion Collection, is a prime example of the boundaries horror pushed in its infancy.

Brilliant first Act

The Most Dangerous Game opens in the traditional manner of older films, an eruption of trumpets welcoming the film’s opening credits. As the opening credits run through, they are set to the backdrop of a door knocker, an occasional hand reaching into the frame to rhythmically knocking while also working to build an initial tension. And as the knocker is ominously designed – a Centaur looking creature holding a woman, an arrow piercing through his heart – it too works to build the mystery and the tension. As the credits come to their conclusion, the opening score swells with the door opening into a voluminous brass chorus, no one at the door to great or allude to the film, just two single candles on either end of the frame to welcome its viewers into the horror within.

It is an effective opening, albeit predictable, based on the industry standards of the time. Yet, where it finds its real effectiveness is in the expansion of its compact visuals. As the film progresses, Bob (Joel McCrea) knocks on the door looking for help after being stranded, the same Centaur is shown on a tapestry on the wall, Eve (Fay Wray) is carried in a similar manner back to the compound by film’s end and the arrow through the heart bringing about the film’s philosophical examination of prey and predator. Where many times the opening of horror films of the 1930’s gave way to images of setting, accompanied by classical music (Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake was of frequent use), here the film proves itself more pensive in its construction and in its narrative.

With the conclusion of the film’s opening credits, its score transitions viewers to a boat making its way home from a recent hunt. As the hunters, all men, converse around the philosophy of the hunt, the ship’s captain becomes wary of the path they have navigated. As he states both to his men and to his passengers, the lights in the channel that guide ships away from harm appear to have moved from their coordinated locations. With a bad feeling, he urges the ship to change course and take the long way home to avoid any danger that may be lurking unseen beneath the waters. Disregarded, as charts are never up to date in the Pacific, the captain is instructed to continue forward.

There is a quickness to the dialogue and the scene that follows, pensive yet unwilling to waste time. Before the ill-fated ship meets its demise, The Most Dangerous Game is determined to set its philosophy of prey and predator as effectively as possible so as not to lose the attention of its audience. While it may initially feel more like filler, the conversation between the passengers weighs heavily throughout the film’s entirety.

One of the gentlemen poses the inconsistency of our viewpoint of savagery and sport when it comes to the killing of creatures. Where a man of the jungle is considered a savage for killing, a civilized man may acceptably do it for sport. This idea is pushed further, Bob positing that maybe it is as much sport for the animal as it is for man. That being chased in the hunt satisfies as much as the kill. In response, Bob is challenged and asked whether he would trade himself with the tiger. Bob dodges the question, delivering the first sense of uneasiness with regard to the swapping of predator and prey. And while the other passengers will not let Bob off easy in his answer, he is able to satisfy them with the understanding that he will never be in that position – that the world is separated into the hunted and the hunter, Bob is confident in his placement with the latter.

As the foreshadowing of Bob’s words set in, the boat crashes on the rocks. For a film in 1932, the gore it is able to accomplish is astonishing and jaw-dropping. It is not with blood, but rather a visual and audio construction of pain and agony. As the boat hits, the passengers are thrown, and fast-paced editing brings audiences to the now frantic captain as he screams the water needs to not hit the boilers. And as is expected, it does. What is not expected is the dramatically gory fashion that follows.

As the water is shown breaking through the ship’s hull, the crew below attempt to run, their efforts futile as the water meets with the boilers and the heat it produces, steam filling the room. A man is shown screaming as the steam appears to engulf him, the conclusion he is burning alive is easy to ascertain. The camera takes in the rest of the men splashing in the water, screams, and fast editing capturing the idea that these men too have been boiled alive. And while you take in the visual imagery of disaster through the pain, the film is not done yet, a wide shot capturing the boat as it explodes.

The Most Dangerous Game frames the folly of mankind, their “know it all” approach plunging them into chaos and disaster. As only three men are shown left alive, death still lingers below the water’s surface. Out of the three men left, two are shown being pulled below, images of sharks and blood confirming their fates. Bob is the only one left. And as he realizes his new position as the hunted, he begins swimming to shore.

From Hunter to Hunted

While he survives, the film uses the transition from its first to second act to establish the isolation that Bob now faces. As he stands on one of the island’s cliffs, the music swells grounding the overwhelming feeling of isolation and desperation. Yet, the film does not linger on it long, Bob noticing a compound in the distance, the lights in the window meeting the isolation with hope. As he approaches the door, it mirrors the imagery from the film’s opening, from knocker to vacancy following the door opening, the film embraces a strong sense of continuity and narrative, as well as visual planning.

As Bob enters the home, he and the viewers are meet with the same expansive feeling of the view from the cliff, the room large enough to give a sense of Bob entering the belly of the beast. It is here the film finds its breaks from its explosive opening. Greeted by Count Zaroff (Leslie Banks), Bob is welcomed into the home, as well as provided with refreshments, food, and a change of clothing. As he discovers, there are others who have met the same fate as him. Martin (Robert Armstrong) and Eve, along with two sailors who have recently gone missing, have recently met the same fate as Bob, the Count providing the same amenities in response to their plight.

As the night progresses, Eve sits quietly with Bob, revealing her concerns regarding the count and the two sailors that had gone missing over the last few nights. As she tells Bob, they are invited to his trophy room and are never seen again. As the Count becomes quietly suspicious, he sends Eve and Bob to bed, inviting Martin to stay a little while longer with him. It is here The Most Dangerous Game begins to experiment with its camera techniques, utilizing zooms and closeups to capture not only Eve’s fear for her brother and suspicion of the Count, but of Zaroff’s devious intentions.

And while the technique of the camera stands out at this moment, so too does the staging of its characters. Eve stands at the top of the stairs during this interaction, the Count below her. While it can be interpreted as her helplessness and disconnect from her brother brought about by the space between them, it seems more could be read here. As the film tackles its ideas of prey and predator, it captures here the ever-changing position of individuals as hunter and hunted. Eve may not be hunting the Count with a bow and arrow, but rather with accusations and knowledge.

Furthermore, this moment speaks further to the folly of mankind and their never-ending belief in having the upper hand. Eve looks beyond the kind words and the hospitable gestures, where others, specifically her brother, see shared experiences and potential equality. As the men accepted the misplaced lights as coincidence and out-of-date mapping, disregarding the experienced sea captain, here, it is the warning of a woman that is disregarded – specifically Martin.

The Most Dangerous Game moves quickly to transition to the true reveal of the Count’s intentions as Martin is led to the trophy room, Bob is enlisted shortly after by Eve to find her brother. As Eve and Bob enter the trophy room, the film embraces the technical aspects of its cinematography, Bob and Eva basked in a light within the dark speaking to the truth and knowledge they are about to discover. And as Martin’s death and sport of the Count is revealed, the cinematography works further to bask the Count with devious intentions through the contours of his face and the deep lighting it captures.

As it is revealed that the Count hunts humans that are shipwrecked on his island, the film fully takes shape, role-reversing the hunter and the hunted, Bob finally becoming the film’s tiger. Yet, as well dressed as the Count is, as hospitable as he was, he is still called a savage. This idea of savage is further compounded by the portrayal and design that Count Zaroff is a foreigner, a Russian accompanied by workers from the Middle East. And with his intention to hunt man, rather than animal, this idea of savage is grounded in the film’s devious intentions.

The Circle of Life

As viewers wittiness the role reversal of hunter and hunted, Bob running through the jungle in his attempt to survive the Count’s hunt, the film proves that it is not just this or that, but rather a constant circle of life. As Eve and Bob make their way through the swamps and jungle, setting trap after trap, the film takes a break from its philosophical standing, returning both its gore and camera innovations.

While many of the traps set by Bob and Eve are discovered by the Count, speaking further to the preset ideas of savage and sport, one last-minute trap Bob crafts does catch one of the Count’s henchmen. A spike is placed in the ground, on of the henchmen runs it, the spike piercing him in the heart. While it bridges the film’s continuing continuity, it also continues the role reversal of prey and predator. The camera wants us to fully realize this moment, both philosophically and as a means of fighting for survival. The camera holds on the man as he dies, his body momentarily twitching.

As the hunt is reaching its climax, The Most Dangerous Game delivers one of the most beautiful sequences of classic horror. What seems like tracking shots, the camera captures extreme closeups of Bob and Eve individually as they run. The camera switches to a first-person perspective as the lens runs through the jungle brush. The camera turns 180 degrees, capturing the Count running towards the camera, getting closer and closer to the kill. The camera turns once again, running through the brush, its leaves opening up as it closes in on Bob and Eve. A brilliant sequence, it closes out the tension, bringing viewers to the final moment, the Count shooting Bob as his dogs mark the kill. As he falls to the rapids below, the savage has conquered, defining the sport by his own terms.

The Most Dangerous Game is not settled with this ending, however, bringing the film and its concepts full circle. With only minutes left in its runtime, the film reveals that Bob did not die, his surprise attack on the Count once again changing the role of predator and prey – even to its final scene, the Count, arrow pierced through his heart, falling to his hungry dogs below. Man is not above animal, and no one is free of savagery. At the end of the day, it is a fight for survival in an ever-changing circle of life.

Conclusion

The Most Dangerous Game proves itself to be a classic film that goes beyond the staples of film infancy. A horror film with a lot on its mind, The Most Dangerous Game proves no matter how much skin you have in the game, you are never guaranteed to come out on top.

Watch The Most Dangerous Game