BY HANK REINEKE
A March 1945 notice in the Los Angeles Times reported that following his return to Hollywood
from a USO camp tour, Boris Karloff was to begin work on a RKO Radio production
titled Chamber of Horrors. The film was to be produced by Val Lewton, the
producer who had already brought to the screen such psychological-horrors as Cat People (1942), I Walked with a Zombie (1943) and Curse of the Cat People (1944). Karloff had already appeared in a pair of Lewton’s horror-melodramas for
RKO, The Body Snatcher (1945) and Isle of the Dead (1945). The actor had been enjoying his freelance status
of late. Recent castings in a series of
mad scientist films (1940-1942) for Columbia solidified Karloff’s reputation as
cinema’s preeminent boogeyman - even in roles sans grotesque makeup appliances. So the engagement of the actor for Chamber
of Horrors was properly trumpeted in a 1945 Variety notice as something of a given: “Karloff Goes Mad – Again.”
By August of 1945 the pre-production title of Chamber of Horrors was abandoned, the
film tentatively re-slated as A Tale of
Bedlam. It’s not entirely clear why
the earlier title was dropped. One can
speculate that RKO wished to differentiate their new film from the 1940 British
Edgar Wallace thriller of the same name. But this second title too was soon shortened, the resulting film eventually
released simply as Bedlam.
The origin of the film’s scenario was certainly original,
one inspired by a painting of the sixteenth century British artist William
Hogarth. In the years 1733-1734, Hogarth would brush a series of eight plates
depicting the plight of a doomed character’s commitment to London’s notorious
St. Mary’s of Bethlehem Asylum. The most
famous of these portraits was Plate #8, titled “The Rake’s Progress,” a
snapshot depicting madness on the ward’s floor. If Lewton’s films are best recalled for their psychological-horror
element, the scenario of Bedlam illustrates
the sorry fate of those irreversibly afflicted. Particularly the lurid, inhumane conditions to which they’re subjected following
internment.
In the case of Bedlam,
Lewton (under the nom de plume of
“Carlos Keith”) and director Mark Robson would craft a provocative, class-conscious
screenplay. Though the film is a historical-melodrama
in construction, the picture was marketed as a thinly disguised Boris Karloff
horror vehicle. Robson was a favorite collaborator
of Lewton’s. He helmed Karloff’s
previous film for RKO Radio, Isle of the
Dead, as well as two earlier Lewton productions, The Seventh Victim (1943) and Ghost
Ship (1943). The latter title, in
fact, appears here as one half of the double-feature Blu ray made available here
through the Warner Archive.
The budget for Bedlam
was kept reasonably low since the filmmakers were able to make use of an
existing set at RKO-Pathe’s studio in Culver City. Eagle-eyed admirers of the classic Ingrid
Bergman-Bring Crosby movie The Bells of St.
Mary (1945) will notice that film’s convent school setting has been
repurposed for the darker explorations of Bedlam. The existing set’s availability allowed the production
and costume designers on Bedlam some economic
freedom to properly – and lavishly - dress the costumes and settings. The film has a very elegant, high-budget feel
despite it’s small bankroll, and Robson does an admirable job of contrasting
the privileged world of London’s elite against the poor souls who suffer the
dank, dark asylum chamber of St. Mary’s.
The film takes place in the year 1761, an era cynically described
here as “The Age of Reason.” Karloff’s unpleasant
character, Master Sims, serves as the particularly cold and malevolent
Apothecary General of the asylum. He’s a
man without morals, interested only in satisfying his own selfish desires and
lining his pocket. To this end, Sims continually toadies and fawns to those of
regal or high political import, such as the corpulent and equally repulsive
Lord Mortimer (Billy House). To gain
favor with those of high position, Sims coldheartedly showcases “performances”
of interned “loonies” for amusement and monies.
Things start going bad for Sims when he’s challenged by
Nell Bowen (Anna Lee), a mistress of Mortimer’s whose earlier haughtiness and indifference
has softened by the grotesque showcases. Rightfully seeing Bowen as a threat to both his position and pocketbook,
Karloff does what he can to break the woman’s spirit. He cynically and falsely charges her with
derangement, leading to a commitment to the ward at St. Mary’s. Her only hope in breaking free – and continuing
her fight for the well-being and humane care for fellow inmates interred in this
“bestial world” – is through the interventions of a pacifist Quaker (Richard
Fraser) and a sympathetic, anti-Tory Whig politician Wilkes (Leland Hodgson). But the malevolent Sims will do all he can to
silence and destroy the determined woman to prevent that from ever happening.
The film’s monochrome cinematography looks great, Director
of Photography Nicholas Musuraca atmospherically capturing and juxtaposing the
elegant lifestyles of the rich and powerful against the sorrowful living
conditions of the mental and emotionally disturbed inmates of the asylum. Such attention to detail is particularly
impressive when considering the production of Bedlam was shot quickly, photography wrapping by the end of
September 1945.
The Hollywood trades would report shortly afterward that
Karloff was scheduled to appear in yet a third
film for the team of Lewton and Robson, Blackbeard,
presumably a swashbuckling pirate epic. RKO
executive producer Jack Gross was to supervise this new production, one scheduled
to commence filming in spring of 1946. That film would, sadly, not see the light of day. Lewton’s relationship with Gross was
reportedly an unfriendly one, and the box-office for Bedlam wasn’t what the studio had wished it to be. The revenue shortfall was partly attributed
to troublesome distribution issues.
Such issues aside, it was also true that public interest
in horror films had diminished. Such changes in taste had allowed Karloff to -
briefly – be free of playing roles that exploited his reputation as cinema’s
man of menace. This respite, however,
wouldn’t last long. The gentlemanly,
lisping actor was soon back to playing villains, mad scientists, and mysterious
Swamis before decade’s end - even terrorizing Bud Abbott and Lou Costello as an
acrobatic Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Lewton would go on to produce four subsequent films
following Bedlam, but the filmmaker would
pass on in March of 1951, a somewhat uncelebrated figure in Hollywood. It wasn’t until the late 1960s that film
scholars would reassess his contributions to cinema, anointing several of his
earliest 1940’s efforts as classics of the horror genre. Robson’s career would continue unabated for
decades, scoring big successes with such films as Von Ryan’s Express (1965) and
Earthquake (1974).
Though this Blu ray’s second film lacks a star player of Boris
Karloff’s caliber, Robson’s The Ghost
Ship is certainly worth a watch. Despite its titillating supernatural
title, this film too is not a horror-vehicle. Tom Merriam (Russell Wade), a newly hired third mate to Captain Will Stone
(Richard Dix), suspects the cargo freighter’s commander is not only mentally
disturbed, but possibly homicidal. The
problem is no one on the crew or at the shipping company seems to agree with
him. This despite mounting evidence of the
Captain’s increasingly suspicious actions and demonstrably bizarre behavior. In some respects, The Ghost Ship is similar to Bedlam
as it suggests one remain wary of being too trustful of those holding positions
of power and prestige. Though a sixty-nine
minute B-film, The Ghost Ship is a
pretty effective effort, some even preferring it to Bedlam as it’s a bit more suspenseful in construction.
This Warner Archive Collection Region-Free Blu ray edition of Bedlam and The Ghost Ship is presented here in 1080p High Definition 16x9
1.37.1 and DTS-HD Master Mono Audio. While the set includes the trailers of both films, the only other special
feature offered is an informative and entertaining commentary courtesy of film
historian Tom Weaver in support of Bedlam. Those of us who already invested in Warner’s
nine-film DVD set The Val Lewton Horror
Collection (2005) might not choose to upgrade for this Blu two-fer, but
fans of Karloff and Lewton will be amply rewarded should they do so. This set not only features upgraded transfers
with great balance, but also Weaver’s usual comprehensive supporting commentary,
absent from the original DVD release.
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