In Bride of Frankenstein, Dr. Pretorius, played by the inimitable Ernest Thesiger, raises his glass and proposes a toast to Colin Clive’s Henry Frankenstein—“to a new world of Gods and Monsters.” I invite you to join me in exploring this world, focusing on American horror films from the dawn of the Universal Monster movies in 1931 to the collapse of the studio system and the rise of the new Hollywood rebels in the late 1960s. With this period as our focus, and occasional ventures around the world and to earlier and later times, we will explore this magnificent world of classic horror.
Dating as far back as ancient Yule celebrations and gaining resurgence in the Victorian era, telling ghost stories around the fire is one of the great British Christmas traditions. Though only nominally a Christmas film itself, Dead of Night (1945) is, in many ways, a celebration of this grand tradition as well as the literary legacy of ghost stories. The publication of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol helped revive the custom, which was carried on by Henry James, M. R. James, Algernon Blackwood, and others.
In the 1930’s and 40’s, Ealing Studios did not make horror films. Very few studios in England did before Hammer took up the cause in the late 1950’s. Horror had gone out of fashion in Britain by the time film came along. It was seen as something the Germans and the Americans did, while the British in general, and Ealing specifically, focused on semi-documentary dramas designed to support the war effort. When World War II ended in 1945, Ealing and production head Michael Balcon decided it was time to diversify the studio’s output. As one of these early efforts, Dead of Night was a major departure for Ealing. It was not only an exploration of the supernatural, but also built on a structure rarely explored in movies up to that point—the anthology. And what a film it is! It could be called the Citizen Kane of horror anthologies. Just as Kane did not invent everything that makes it a masterpiece, Dead of Night did not create every convention of the horror portmanteau, but brought them all together into one, perfected package.
In many ways, it is a producer’s film, bringing together multiple directors working with the same crew to bring the screenplay by John Baines and Angus Macphail to life. Beginning with the frame story, which introduces our storytellers, the film unfolds in an unusual and organic way. The frame story is not a mere device, but an integral element to the story and overarching themes of the film, and the stories within it arise naturally. It begins with architect Walter Craig (Mervyn Johns) driving to a country house, Pilgrim Farm, to meet with the owner, Eliot Foley (Roland Culver), to discuss modifications he wishes to make to his home. Craig has the distinct feeling that he has experienced all this before and soon confesses that he has dreamed this experience, including meeting the people that Foley is entertaining.
These houseguests will be our guides through the stories to come: race car driver Hugh Grainger (Antony Baird), young Sally O’Hara (Sally Ann Howes), recently married Joan Cortland (Googie Withers), and psychologist Dr. Van Straaten (Frederick Valk). The good doctor is rather skeptical of Mr. Craig’s claims of having dreamed the house, guests, and certain details before and offers a psychological explanation, the first of many in the film. The other guests are far more open to supernatural possibilities and begin to share personal experiences with unexplainable phenomena.
The first to tell his story is Hugh Grainger, the race car driver, who had been injured in a crash on the track. While convalescing in the hospital he has a strange vision. He awakens inexplicably at 4:15 and goes to the window to see a nineteenth century style hearse, pulled by charcoal black horses on the street below. The driver looks up at him and says, “just room for one inside, sir.” He is startled, and turns to find that it is not 4:15, but much later. He tells his doctor about it and is given a psychological explanation about stress. When he is released from the hospital, he is asked the time while waiting in line for the bus. The answer, of course, is 4:15. As he is about to step onto the bus, he is greeted by a very familiar looking conductor who says, “just room for one inside, sir.” Grainger opts to not board the bus which he soon witnesses go careening off a bridge.
I tell this very brief story in its entirety because it gives a flavor of what will be in store for us throughout the course of the film without spoiling too much. I will only touch on the themes, ideas, and setups of the other stories. The segments of Dead of Night are very much in the style that would be seen for years after on television series like Thriller, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and The Twilight Zone as well as in the Amicus anthologies of the 1970’s like The House that Dripped Blood (1971) and Asylum (1972).
With this first story, Dr. Van Straaten is not convinced in the slightest and chalks it all up to coincidence. The young family friend Sally takes her turn and tells the only literal Christmas ghost story in the film. While playing a game of sardines at a Christmas party at a friend’s home, she is told the house is haunted. The young man who lives in the house tells her about a murder that occurred there years before in engaging detail. After hearing this story, Sally wanders off and discovers a young boy crying in a hidden room and kindly tucks him into bed. Again, the story is very brief, as are most in the film. They are the kinds of stories that people tell in friendly gatherings and in natural conversation. The simplicity of this child’s story has a charm and touch of melancholy that is infused through so much of the film. Still, it takes its supernatural subject matter seriously, something very rare in horror films of the era.
The third story, told by Joan Cortland, is one of the best in the film. It is a haunted object story, in this case an antique mirror. As with the previous two stories, there is great connection to Victorian era conventions (the hearse, the large house with its dusty attic), juxtaposed against a modern time and place. In the segment, Joan buys an old, Victorian mirror for her fiancé, Peter, and has it hung on the wall in his room. When he looks into it, he sees a different room, one from the past that seems to beckon him. At first, he is able to resist, but soon becomes more and more drawn in, as though he belongs in the world of the mirror and not the one he actually inhabits. Peter tries to explain it away rationally, but over time, is less able to do so.
Joan eventually meets again with the antique dealer who sold her the mirror. He tells her the story of its previous owner. This interwoven theme of various storytellers not only within the frame story, but also within the stories being told is found in three of the five segments. We as an audience are also being told these stories within stories within the largest story, the film itself, by those who made the movie. It is a kind of Russian doll or Chinese box—inside the largest story is another smaller story, which in turn contains another, even smaller, story. In a way, the whole film is a commentary on the nature of storytelling itself and the many ways it can be done.
After hearing the end of the disturbing and rather convincing story Joan has to tell, Craig confronts the skeptical Doctor Van Straaten with an important thought. “Hamlet was right Doctor,” he says, “there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy. And my recurring dream isn’t just a meaningless trick of the mind.” At this point, Craig attempts to break this cycle of recurrence by leaving, but is convinced to stay to hear another story, this time from the host Eliot Foley.
The fourth story, often called “the golf story,” is an odd one for a film that takes itself so seriously for most of its runtime. Even after being faced with the key point of the movie about the possibility of the supernatural being very serious and real, we are told a humorous story about two men who love the same woman and the game of golf even more. The two friends, George Parrat and Larry Potter agree to play a game of golf for the young lady Mary’s hand. Larry loses and walks into the lake, drowning himself—dark stuff for such a comic segment. Soon, Larry returns as a ghost to haunt George and worse, damage his golf game.
This story is unusual in several ways compared to the others. Being the only comedic segment, it gives a kind of break to the tension. It is the only story that its teller does not appear in as a character. When Foley is finished, it appears to have been told as a somewhat dirty joke rather than an earnest attempt to prove the supernatural to Dr. Van Straaten as the others do. “I didn’t want to be left out in the cold,” says Foley in response to the friendly scolding he is given after finishing. The story was removed from the American release of the film, and some might say for the better. Though it is quite a change in tone from the rest of the film, I still find it enjoyable on its own terms.
The final story, told by our skeptic Dr. Van Straaten, is by far the most famous. It stars one of the all-time great British actors, Michael Redgrave, as ventriloquist Maxwell Frere who has been charged with the attempted murder of another ventriloquist, the American Sylvester Kee. Much of the story is told through Dr. Van Straaten reading a written deposition from Kee—again, a story within a story. We learn of Frere’s unusual relationship with his dummy, Hugo, and begin to wonder who is really the one in control.
This is the best and most memorable segment in the film, which is saying something considering the caliber of these stories. It inspired a multitude of others like it from The Twilight Zone episode “The Dummy,” to William Goldman’s novel Magic and the film based on it, and even elements of Toy Story 4. It is the most ambiguous story of the bunch as well as the most modern in style. It is not dependent on classic Victorian conventions like ghosts and premonition. The story leaves us wondering if Hugo was really alive or if it was all in Maxwell Frere’s mind. Also, the element of multiple personality presented in the segment sets the stage for Psycho fifteen years later.
After this final tale, everything in the film begins to collapse in on itself, taking on a nightmare quality. Craig begins to encounter elements from each story invading the house and attacking him. It is a frenzied, heightened reality that climaxes with Craig being attacked by Hugo in a sanitarium cell as the children from the Christmas party look on. The ending implies that the whole film has been a premonition of a future reality. Or perhaps, Craig is constantly reliving a hell of his own making within his own mind, brought on by guilt of a murder. The film ends as it begins with Craig driving to Pilgrim Farm and being greeted by Eliot Foley. It is a masterful conclusion and so much more than the “it was all just a dream” ending it could have been.
Ealing made other films that could be considered supernatural, but, despite Dead of Night’s success, none that could truly be considered horror. Still, its place in horror history is absolutely vital. It opened the door for a new tradition of British horror in which the supernatural is taken seriously. This would continue with films like The Innocents (1961) and on into modern times. It also paved the way for a new brand of horror anthology. Seeds planted here were taken up by television and Amicus films as mentioned, but also on into the great modern anthologies like Creepshow (1982), Trick ‘r Treat (2007), Tales of Halloween (2015), and television series like Tales from the Crypt. Though these tend to have their roots in the far more graphic tradition of EC Comics, they owe something of a debt to Dead of Night as well. This year’s stylish ghost story The Haunting of Bly Manor also shares more than a little DNA with this great film.
The tradition of storytelling is alive and well, but we tend to tell our scariest at Halloween or save them for summer camping trips. It seems to me that this tradition of the Christmas ghost story is one well worth reviving. We may not be able to do much gathering around fires this year, but perhaps within our own households or with a few friends over zoom, we can still raise a glass, as the nights grow long and cold, and tell a tale. And as we all know, when it comes to stories, the scarier the better.