Monday, October 12, 2009
Horrorfest 11: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jyde (1931)
Okay, I watched the 1920 silent version with John Barrymore in the title role(s), and now I've seen the 1931 sound version with Fredric March as both the good doctor and the evil. . . Hyde.
After watching the silent version, I read so much about the greatness of the 1931 version that I just had to check it out. The most impressive thing was the fact that Fredric March actually won an Oscar for his portrayel of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the first Oscar ever won for a horror film, a genre which is still severely lacking in Oscars (SILENCE OF THE LAMBS notwithstanding).
I think I prefer the silent version if only for the added creepiness of how slimy Hyde is. Sure, he's evil in the 1931 version, don't get me wrong -- but he's more of a cartoony monster. One of the strengths of the 1920 version is that Hyde could almost be a creepy guy you run into in a dark alley in real life. He gets more deformed and depraved with each monstrous transformation, but he's the least "monsterfied" version of Hyde out of the two films.
The 1931 film takes an interesting approach, though. The Hyde character wears a lot more intrusive makeup, similar to the appliances Lon Chaney wears in HUNCHBACK and PHANTOM. They serve to make him look almost like an animal -- specifically, something in the primate family. On top of that, in certain chase scenes involving Hyde, he seems to be quite adept at swinging, jumping, and climbing. So, the first thing we think is -- evolution. Is Hyde, the evil part of Jekyll, also the less evolved part? Does evolution bring knowledge of right and wrong?
To be fair, aside from referencing evolution, the 1931 also appeals to God and religion more than the 1920 version does. On multiple occasions the good Dr. Jekyll appeals for forgiveness from above -- first admitting that by dabbling "too far" into the world of science, he has accidentally and egotistically gone where only Gods should go, and then attempting to solve his problem by making sacrificial offerings to God -- namely, by giving up his fiancee (Rose Hobart).
The other thing that sets the 1931 version apart from the silent 1920 version is the experimental techniques director Rouben Mamoulian seems to delight in. From the very first scene, we're in experimental territory, as Mamoulian chooses to shoot the introductory scenes all from a first person point of view, belonging to Dr. Jekyll. We don't see the main characters' face until he looks in the mirror, and the first-person shot takes us from his pipe organ, down the halls of his mansion, and out into the courtyard and into a carriage. These days it just comes off as unnecessarily showy, but I guess back then it must have been fairly mind-blowing. Add to that the fact that this shot, and others like it throughout the movie, were accomplished with huge, cumbersome cameras and lighting rigs without a single steadicam in sight, and you get a fairly impressive result.
Mamoulian also experiments with interesting editing choices, usually in the transitions from one scene to the other. More than once, a scene change relies on an extra long dissolve, allowing the image from the previous scene to linger into the next scene much longer than was customary at the time, or is even customary now. This serves to show what image is on one or more of the characters' minds as they attempt to go about the rest of their business. Sometimes it's literal, as a woman's bare leg is superimposed over Jekyll as he reluctantly walks away from her bedroom. Other times it's more figurative, as a rain drenched window is superimposed over the action of a followin scene as if the movie itself was sobbing.
Then, there are the split screen transitions, as we see the action of one scene and other occuring simultaneously, in some cases creating an illusion that a character in one scene is speaking across the scene's divide about or to another character. Again, a fairly gimmicky technique, but taking into account the age of the film and the conventions of most other films of the time, and these things stand out almost as much as some of the tricks guys like Tarantino pull today.
I mentioned the 1920 film seemed to be about addiction. This 1931 version maintains some of those same elements but focuses more on the sexual aspect of the story. The sex stuff was in the other version, too, but in this one there is a much more blatant line drawn between Jekyll's frustration with his extended engagement and his desire to get laid. We even get a shot of a pot symbolically (and violently) boiling over at a crucial moment, suggesting Jekyll is so horny he can't control himself. After an erotic encounter with the low-class Ivy Pierson (Miriam Hopkins) Jekyll compares his engagement to being lost in a desert, starving for water. Appropriately, Hyde seems to be more fixated on sex, as well. Shockingly, the film makes references to extreme forms of sado-masochism and paint the Hyde / Ivy relationship as the kind of abusive relationship one usually associates with much more modern times.
One refreshing change in this version is the character of Dr. Jekyll. In the 1920 version, Jekyll comes off as completely innocent and idealistic until he's invaded by Hyde. In this 1931 version, Jekyll is still a genius and a do-gooder, helping the poor, but he has a more smug and self-satisfied air about him. He's more primed for a downfall -- his ego is too big and he needs to be taken down a few notches. Ironically, the physical difference between Jekyll and Hyde in the 1931 version is greater, but the personality difference between the two is slightly more blurred.
Hyde is evil, that's for sure, but Jekyll isn't all good.
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