No, not the 2005 remake that's best known for depicting the death of Paris Hilton. The first movie by this title benefits from starring an icon of the genre, Vincent Price. (I almost called it the original. That would be Mystery of the Wax Museum, also included on the disc but skipped by me.)
In 1890s England, Prof. Jarrod starts as a seemingly good if eccentric fellow, quite enamored of his own purely tasteful Madame Tussaud-style waxworks. But partner Burke, unsatisfied with the profits, decides to commit arson for insurance fraud -- leaving the uncooperative Jarrod inside for dead. It looks as tho Burke will get away with it, until a figure more disfigured than the average Phantom of the Opera kills him and makes it look like a suicide. The body disappears from the morgue. Soon after, a new wax museum under the name of Jarrod includes an exhibit on Burke, boasting the innovation of ripped-from-the-headlines morbidity in addition to more historical grotesque reenactments. It sells well, but some customers find the dummies a little too convincing....
Yeah, it's not hard to guess what's going on. I considered a "mystery" label, but even characters don't have much detective work to do. The one thing I wasn't sure about until the third act was who exactly did the murder. Jarrod presents himself in a wheelchair with hands too burned to sculpt anymore but otherwise looking like himself. Perhaps it was one of his servants, most likely the cliche-named Igor (a suitably Neanderthal Charles Bronson), unless...
You might call this one of the most believable horror flicks I've seen this month, insofar as it doesn't rely on outright sci-fi or fantasy premises. I don't think it contains plot-important self-contradictions either, tho Jarrod gets a number of historical facts wrong when giving a tour. Where it really fails at credibility is in human behavior. At least, quite a few major characters act dumber and/or more evil than I'd expect, as if they'd walked in from a farce.
Let's start with Jarrod. If I were widely presumed dead, I would either contact authorities to rectify the misapprehension at the first opportunity or, for underhanded purposes, assume a new identity. I certainly wouldn't reenter the public eye as myself without explanation months later. That only arouses the wrong kind of curiosity.
And of course, there's his MO. I don't blame him for wanting to kill Burke rather than testify against him in court, and beyond that initial bloodlust, perhaps such a high degree of personal trauma could lead to an ongoing insanity that values half-Gothic beauty over the lives of others, albeit enabling a genteel demeanor most of the time. But the most magnificent crazy villains do not come across as foolish to the point of self-sabotage via obvious clues and easy-to-improve methods. I might as well tell you that he's foiled by the police -- not one officer, like Clarice Starling, but a whole team. I suppose that adds to the realism, at the sad cost of sensationalism.
Not that Jarrod's enemies are so much more competent. They tend to be slow to run or fight, aiding the odds for a badly burned man. And while none are as cartoonishly deserving as Burke, we don't really feel sorry for the next victim we know of. What woman in the world would giggle while telling of the recent suicide of her loaded fiance?
OK, maybe I'm harping on the plot and character details too much. Does it succeed at horror? Well, it is impressively hideous for the era, helped along by Technicolor and, under the right conditions, 3D. (Like some modern movies of the sort, it employs at least one gimmick that, y'know, falls flat in 2D.) I hadn't been entirely certain that the Hays Code allowed everything that happens herein. And when things got unpleasant for the actors themselves, it showed.
I don't recommend this film for genuine scares; it offers fleeting chills at best. Still, it's not bad for a history lesson of a different persuasion from Jarrod's.
No comments:
Post a Comment