Horrific Inquiry: THE INVISIBLE MAN (1933)

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.

“Even the moon is frightened of me! The whole worlds frightened to death!” – The Invisible Man (1933)

When thinking of the Universal Monsters of the 1930s, James Whale‘s The Invisible Man is not the first film that comes to mind. Rather the literary works of monsters that bump in the night, The Mummy, Frankenstein and Dracula remain prominent recollections of the era. Yet, where the idea of The Invisible Man may seem initially out of place, it is perfectly nestled with it counterparts, bringing the insanity of science, the disfigurement of man and the murderous nature of humanity in full form.

Seeing Invisibility

The open credits allude to the central premise of the film, the credits blurring into focus as they pull away from the camera. It’s amazing how engaging The Invisible Man still is and the amount of excitement it is still able to craft. As the credits transition to the film itself, a man alone in a snowstorm makes his way to a local town. Viewers are given a brief close-up, a hint of bandages around his face alluding to a secret hidden below his coat and top hat. As visible as he is in the storm, there is the understanding of how alone and invisible he is to the world.

As we transition from the desolation of the snow outside, the film is immediately contrasted by the cheery camaraderie of the locals fraternizing in the local pub. It is a joyous environment, the warm inside compared to the raging storm outside felt even by viewers. Yet the icy cold of the outdoors cuts through the pub as the stranger enters, sharp and quick with his demands and expectations. Even though it is out of season, he is looking for a single room, wanting nothing more than a hot meal and to be left alone. After he is taken upstairs, the patrons in the bar immediately begin theorizing about his identity and situation – one man even positing he is an escaped criminal. There is a deeply driven sense of a small community, where everyone knows everyone, and an unknown stranger in the night is nothing more than an ominous unwelcome visitor.

As The Invisible Man is settling into his room, the film transitions to the home of Dr. Cranley (Henry Travers, It’s A Wonderful Life). I would be remised for not exclaiming – “It’s Clarence!”, the sweet angel of the Capra classic bringing a gentility to the good doctor. As is revealed, his apprentice Jack Griffen has mysteriously gone missing. While Dr. Cranley and his other apprentice Dr. Kemp (William Harrigan) initially give little mind to his disappearance, citing the mysterious nature of his experiments, Flora Cranley (Gloria Stuart, Titanic) expresses her growing concern that something has happened to Jack. Flora weaves in and out of the film, little more than the love interest of Jack, representing the last remaining bit of humanity that still resides within him as the madness takes hold.

The Invisible Man is slow to reveal the true nature of Jack’s predicament in its entirety. On his first night, only the gauze around his mouth are removed, giving viewers a brilliantly constructed front and side view of the missing portion of his face. But when an incident with the pub owner (Forrester Hall) and his wife Jenny (Una O’Connor) arise the need for police intervention, the true nature of the Invisible Man is revealed – both body and mind. The reveal is incredibly horrifying and one of those cinematic moments in history I wish I had been alive to see when it first premiered. Throwing his false nose at the officer, the camera takes in the separated body part laying on the table before turning to face straight on with the Invisible Man. The nose is vacant, looking into the back of the bandages that wrap his face. As he removes his goggles and his hair the bandages, take on a more vacant skeletal imagery, terrifying yet mesmerizing all the same. It is an incredible visual image of celluloid film that descends into incredible movie magic,

As he removes the remaining bandages and subsequent clothes, his invisibility allows him to escape into the town below. Seemingly consumed by madness, he runs through the town unseen, throwing hats, and bikes and wreaking havoc. While the horror of his invisibility has lost some impact over the years, much of these interactions work more humorously than terrifying, the effects that surround the objects and invisible interactions are mind-blowing. Strings are not seen, and movement is fluid and many times authentic. The film, even after all these years, feels real and believable. “How did they do that” became a constant exclamation as the seamless construction of movie magic still stands true.

Mad with Power

Transitioning from the terror on the town, viewers are brought to the home of Dr. Kemp, who, with the help of Dr. Cranley, has come to understand the powerful flower Jack has been experimenting with. A flower that has been known to turn a dog completely white when injected under the skin. He also understands the maddening insanity it can induce if introduced into the system. This knowledge floods his mind as he realizes Jack has made his way, unseen, into his home. Once again, The Invisible Man stretches the power of movie magic, flaunting its incredible authenticity and skill. Chairs move across the room, their positioning and movement matching that of Claude Rains‘ later when he is visible beneath his pajamas and bandages. While there are times you can tell, based on the stiffness of the items, there are strings attached, many times these items are moved with a flow of movement that speaks to someone truly being there.

Where the terror in the town borders on mischief, the true madness that is consuming Jack comes to light as he tells Kemp of the power invisibility gives to a man – the power to control the world. He tells Kemp they have the power to kill whoever they want, to basically bring the world to its knees. Yet, they can not begin their epic plans together, Jack enlisting Kemp to assist him until he has retrieved his notebooks from the town he just fled. As the radio broadcast reports the strange happenings of the day, Kemp and Jack arrive back at the town as an investigation is underway. The town is gripped with fear, an officer is resolute to determine the entire report is a hoax. It is in this moment viewers watch an invisible man consumed by the madness of ego. He could have slipped out, unknown and unseen with his notebooks. But the thought of the “invisible man” being declared a hoax was too much. Jack launches out at the group, his mischievous havoc turning to murder as he bludgeons the officer to death.

It is not a gory or bloody death, as would be associated with modern horror, but it is shocking nonetheless. To see an individual killed on screen at that early age in film history without the camera cutting away was surprising, and it once gain makes me wish I had been there when the film premiered. From this moment, the film leans into violence, the officer is not the only individual that dies. As Jack becomes more consumed by his insanity, he derails a train killing hundreds. Yet, the most brutal kill of the film, however, goes to Dr. Kemp. Having betrayed Jack, it is promised that he will meet his death at 10 pm the following night. After a series of attempts to catch Jack, as well as guard the Doctor, Jack still finds his window to get Kemp alone, fulfilling his promise. Kemp’s murder is one the camera refuses to look away from as well. Tied up, his car is run over a cliff, the camera capturing the incredible sequence as it becomes air bound, crashing. into the rocks below and burst into flames. With the death of Kemp, the madness invisibility has given to Jack becomes personal.

Conclusion:

The Invisible Man effectively and horrifically captures the work of H.G. Wells, bringing to life a literary classic for a new range of viewers and for decades to come. Like much of the Universal horror films of the 1930s, there is a terror in the unchecked experimentation of science and the disfigurement of the 1920s. The idea of the mad scientist has taken hold, giving a deeply disfigured image to those who may think themselves higher than god. Narcissism and egotism take a new form in the ability to change and manipulate nature, making the individual no longer recognizable to the eye.

Much of this is brought to life through the ingenious craftsmanship of John Fulson. His use of optical tricks and a “traveling matte” truly brings the horror of the Invisible Man to life. His skill is matched by the power of Claude Rains, his incredible performance commanding of the stage and screen. He owns his role, committing himself to both the literary expectations and the special effect requirements needed to fully encapsulate Jack Griffen. It has been 90 years since the release of The Invisible Man and much of the film holds true in spite of its age. It is a stellar example of the craftsmanship of art and the passion that fueled a growing industry of the time.

Watch The Invisible Man