“The Hidden Gems Cinema Collection” comprises articles focusing on outstanding films that may have eluded mainstream attention but are recognized by avid movie enthusiasts for their exceptional quality.
You don’t need to be a recipient of the MacArthur Genius Grant to understand why the horror genre gained popularity during the Great Depression.
When people are grappling with profound fears like unemployment, homelessness, and even life-threatening situations such as starvation, illness, or suicide.
It’s reasonable for audiences to find solace and excitement in the supernatural threats presented in horror movies—elements like vampires, werewolves, or created monsters that are far removed from their real-life struggles.
The Best Movies You’ve Never Heard Of: Doctor X (1932) and Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933)
Universal Pictures pioneered the horror genre with Tod Browning’s Dracula and James Whale’s Frankenstein in 1931.
However, film historian Carlos Clerens, in his influential 1967 book “An Illustrated History of the Horror Film,” noted that Warner Brothers emerged as Universal’s significant competitor, particularly during the initial years of the trend.
Warner Brothers’ first two horror films in 1931, starring John Barrymore in Svengali (directed by Archie Mayo) and The Mad Genius (directed by Michael Curtiz), adhered to the European Gothic style established by Universal.
For their subsequent horror films, Doctor X (1932) and Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933, both directed by Curtiz), Warner Brothers took a bold step by filming in Technicolor, utilizing the original two-strip process (marking the first use of color cinematography in the genre).
These films also broke new ground as the first “modern” horror pictures, set in contemporary New York City and reflecting the economic challenges of the Depression, a characteristic of Warner Brothers’ output at the time.
The protagonists, portrayed by Lee Tracy in Doctor X and Glenda Farrell in Mystery of the Wax Museum, are newspaper reporters compelled to jeopardize their lives, pursuing perilous stories to safeguard their jobs.
While the cynical and wisecracking newspaper reporter archetype would later become a common trope in the horror genre, the characters were distinct and genuinely entertaining in these early instances.
This was mainly due to the comedic talents of Tracy and Farrell, coupled with the sharp dialogue crafted by screenwriters Earl Baldwin, Robert Tasker (Doctor X), Don Mullaly, and Carl Erickson (Wax Museum).
Tracy, who had previously portrayed Hildy Johnson in the 1928 Broadway “The Front Page” premiere, solidified his reputation as the smart-mouthed reporter archetype.
Before Doctor X, Tracy enjoyed a highlight in his Hollywood career as gossip columnist Alvin Roberts in Roy Del Ruth’s uproarious black comedy Blessed Event.
Before her role in Mystery of the Wax Museum, Glenda Farrell had gained prominence at Warner Brothers through two dramatic classics directed by Mervyn LeRoy.
In the 1931 film Little Caesar, she took on an unconventional ingénue role, while in I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang (1932), she portrayed the more typical character of an alcoholic woman who coerces Paul Muni into a loveless marriage.
With Mystery of the Wax Museum, Farrell showcased her considerable comedic talents, marking a pivotal moment in her film career.
This performance influenced her subsequent roles and paved the way for her own ‘B’ mystery franchise as the character Torchy Blane, a reporter.
The creators of Superman, Jerry Siegel, and Joe Shuster, even acknowledged that Farrell’s portrayal in the Torchy Blane films inspired Lois Lane’s characterLane’s character.
Nearly forty years later, the archetype of the intelligent and bold reporter resurfaced with burned-out yet indefatigable scandal monger Carl Kolchak, brought to life by writer Richard Matheson and actor Darren McGavin in the successful 1971 made-for-TV movie The Night Stalker, spawning both a sequel and its weekly series.
Instead of Barrymore, the subsequent Warner Brothers horror films introduced two actors who would become closely associated with the genre throughout their careers: Lionel Atwill and Fay Wray.
Wray, unsurprisingly, assumed the damsel-in-distress role in both movies, a portrayal that would define her legacy, particularly in King Kong (1933).
Atwill’s roles in these films differed significantly. In Doctor X, he portrayed the titular character, Dr. Xavier, a respected scientist and the father of Wray’s character.
Despite some ominous dialogue and camera angles, his character was an obvious distraction, diverting attention from the true villain.
However, in Wax Museum, Atwill delivered the performance of his career as the unhinged antagonist, wax sculptor Ivan Igor.
As noted by film historian William K. Everson in his 1974 book Classics of the Horror Film, Ivan Igor represented the kind of villainous role typically played by Boris Karloff—a character initially sympathetic but ultimately “driven to madness and revenge by the greed and stupidity of others.”
Anton Grot, the innovative set designer who led the Warner Brothers Studio Art Department from 1927 to 1948, was another noteworthy contributor to both films.
Grot’s intentionally stylized sets significantly influenced Warner’s visual aesthetic. Grot preferred: “I, for one, do not like extremely realistic sets; I am for simplicity and beauty, and you can achieve that only by creating an impression.”
This approach aligned seamlessly with Curtiz’s distinctive visual style, rooted in his mid-1920s filmmaking in Vienna within the German Expressionist tradition. (Curtiz extensively collaborated with Grot during their time at Warners.)
The color photography by cinematographer Ray Rennehan in these two films further heightened the surrealism of the visual experience.
Like Roland West’s 1930 thriller “The Bat Whispers,” which had both widescreen and standard Academy ratio versions, “Doctor X” was produced in two formats—Technicolor and black-and-white.
While the color version was exclusively screened during initial showings in major cities, the black-and-white version was seen by most of the country.
The Technicolor company executives were displeased with this approach. Consequently, “Mystery of the Wax Museum” was exclusively filmed and released in Technicolor, as the color was integral to the film, rendering an alternate black-and-white version pointless.
Over time, both films faded from the collective memory of the general moviegoing public, overshadowed by later, more polished horror productions.
“Wax Museum” mainly lost its prominence to the more lucrative but inferior 3D 1953 remake, “House of Wax,” directed by Andre De Toth, which gained cult status primarily due to Vincent Price’s portrayal in Atwill’s role.
For many years, both “Mystery of the Wax Museum” and the Technicolor version of “Doctor X” were thought to be irretrievably lost, with only the black-and-white version of “Doctor X” surviving.
However 1970, a 35mm nitrate Technicolor print of “Mystery of the Wax Museum” was discovered in Jack Warner’s vault at Warner’s Burbank lot.
Unfortunately, the subsequent restoration of “Wax Museum” in 1970 was hastily executed, resulting in a flawed representation of Technicolor hues that failed to capture the original vibrancy of the colors—resulting in a look resembling a poorly colorized version of a black-and-white movie.
Following Warner’s death in 1978, a Technicolor print of “Doctor X” was found in his collection and underwent a significantly improved restoration in 1986 by the UCLA Film and Television Archive.
This restoration gave modern audiences a more accurate depiction of the movie’s original appearance.
In “Doctor X,” a notorious serial killer is on the loose in New York, strangling victims and then engaging in cannibalism, but only during a full moon.
The film features striking scenes of a full moon shining through clouds against an emerald green sky, showcasing the memorable use of Technicolor.
The story starts with reporter Lee Taylor (played by Tracy) exploring the city piers in search of any news when he stumbles upon a potential scoop.
He notices a couple of police officials leading a distinguished scientist to a waterfront morgue.
Despite attempting to bypass the plainclothesman (Tom Dugan) guarding the entrance, Taylor encounters limited success.
Cop: “Only stiffs go in there tonight.”
Lee: “No kidding?”
Cop: “No kidding.”
Lee: “What’s keepin’ you out?”
Subsequently, Lee makes his way to the closest pay phone in a nearby brothel, emphasizing the film’s pre-Code era setting.
Engaging in some playful banter with the establishment’s madam (portrayed by Mae Busch, known to Laurel & Hardy enthusiasts for her roles as villainesses or the shrewish Mrs. Hardy), Lee places a call to his newspaper’s night editor, played by Selmer Jackson.
Lee: “Give me the night desk, please… Yeah. Willard Keefe… Yeah, this is Lee Taylor. I’m down at the Mott Street Morgue.
Just now they bring in the body of an old scrubwoman murdered under very peculiar circumstances… No, they won’t let me see it.
I can’t get any dope. Police—” (ogling an attractive prostitute walking by) “Very good.” (back into phone) “I say very—what? I say I can’t get any dope on it. Police orders.
Just now, Stevens, O’Halloran, and a guy named Dr. Xavier arrived. Something’s doing.”
Keefe: “Yeah, I’ve heard that one, too.”
Lee: “Listen, you lunkhead, I’m not clowning. Look out the window, will you?”
Keefe: “What do you mean, the moon?”
Lee: “Certainly, I mean the moon. I’m laying 10 bucks to a dime it’s another Moon Killer murder.”
Keefe: “Well, that’s different. Now, listen, Lee, stick right on it.”
Lee: “Fine.”
By cleverly disguising himself as a deceased body beneath a sheet, Lee manages to gather crucial information indicating that the prime suspect in the murders is connected to Xavier’s Academy of Surgical Research.
The potential culprits are narrowed down to four scientists: Dr. Wells (played by Preston Foster), an expert in cannibalism with a cosmetic prosthetic replacing his lower left arm; Dr. Haines (John Wray, unrelated to Fay).
Previously suspected of cannibalism during a lifeboat incident where one of the men disappeared, Dr. Rowitz (Arthur Edmund Carewe) specializes in lunar studies and researching the psychological effects of moonlight on people.
Dr. Duke (Harry Beresford), a paraplegic reliant on a wheelchair and crutches, was the other surviving scientist in the lifeboat above incident.
Even from these brief descriptions, enthusiasts of mystery fiction may have already deduced the guilty party’s identity!
The police grant Xavier a 48-hour window to conduct his investigation before they release the story to the newspapers, a commitment rendered irrelevant once Lee exposes the arrangement.
Subsequently, Lee deceives his way past the maid into Xavier’s residence, leading to an amusing encounter with Joanne Xavier (played by Wray).
Caught red-handed pilfering photos of Joanne and her father, Lee is immediately infatuated and clumsily attempts to flirt with her.
From then on, the film portrays their playful, somewhat affectionate banter, a precursor to the light-hearted sparring commonly found in the emerging screwball comedy genre established just a few years later.
Lee: “Are you going swimming with me in the morning?”
Joanne: “No, thanks. Good night.”
Lee: “What will you do if I start to sink and yell for help?”
Joanne: “Throw you an anvil. Good night.”
Clocking in at a concise 76 minutes, “Doctor X” adheres to a conventional three-act structure.
The initial half-hour, Act One, unfolds entirely in New York City. Act Two, the subsequent half-hour, shifts the narrative to a secluded mansion at Long Island’s Blackstone Shoals, where Xavier aims to further his investigation.
(In a recurring horror film trope, the ominous old mansion is perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean.) Following theatrical convention, Act Two culminates in another murder.
Finally, Act Three, comprising the last two reels, propels the movie into high intensity, particularly in its most celebrated sequence, where the antagonist undergoes a monstrous transformation utilizing electricity and a disturbingly eerie invention referred to as “synthetic flesh.”
Providing a plot summary for “Mystery of the Wax Museum” seems redundant as many film enthusiasts are already familiar with “House of Wax.”
Several scenes from the original were faithfully replicated in the remake, including the opening scene depicting the sculptor’s museum being destroyed in a fire initiated by his unscrupulous business partner for insurance purposes.
Other duplicated scenes involve the theft of a young woman’s corpse from the city morgue, featuring the morgue attendant’s sexist wisecrack about a dead female body moving and moaning under the influence of embalming fluid, with the remark, “Ain’t that just like a woman, always has to have the last word.”
Additional mirrored moments include the grand reopening of the wax museum in New York, the female ingénue defending herself by beating on the sculptor’s face to reveal a mutilated face hidden underneath a wax mask.
The police interrogate a suspect who is a strung-out addict (heroin in the pre-Code “Wax Museum” and alcohol in the post-Code “House of Wax”).
Then the climactic scene where the sculptor attempts to transform the ingénue into a recreation of his masterpiece, Marie Antoinette, by securing her to a gurney and showering her with molten wax.
The only enhancement in “House of Wax” over the original was David Buttolph’s effectively frightening background music.
However, there are notable distinctions between the two versions. The original film was set in contemporary times.
At the same time, the remake took on a period piece approach, unfolding in the 1890s—a reflection of Hollywood’s somewhat tiresome penchant for nostalgic depictions of “the Gay Nineties,” a trend that gained momentum during World War II.
The prologue in the initial version is situated in London, while in the later iteration, it shifts to Baltimore.
Yet, the most significant contrast lies in the emphasis on humor in “Wax Museum,” predominantly delivered by Glenda Farrell’s reporter Florence (surname not specified) and her cynical editor Jim (Frank McHugh).
(In “House of Wax,” there are no equivalents to Florence and Jim, and the film’s humor is limited to a character with paddleballs.)
Numerous dialogues between Farrell and McHugh foreshadow the comparable verbal sparring seen between Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in Howard Hawks’ “His Girl Friday” (1940).
For instance, when Florence observes the new wax museum’s Joan of Arc statue resembling the young socialite whose body was stolen from the morgue, it sets the stage for witty banter reminiscent of the exchanges in “His Girl Friday.”
Florence: “I am right! I know I’m right!”
Jim: “Well, no one would ever suspect it. You don’t sound right.”
Florence: “Listen, Jim—and if you wisecrack while I’m talking, I’ll crown you with the inkwell.”
Jim: ”All right, wise guy. Go ahead. Spill it.”
Florence: “Jim, there’s a little hokey-pokey wax museum opening up down on 14th Street.”
Jim: (sarcastically) “Now don’t that call for an extra?”
Florence: “I asked you to keep your trap shut!”
Jim: “Well, you can’t blame a guy for getting a little breathless with a scoop like that.”
Florence: “All right, you poor baboon, you can guess the rest of it!”
Jim: “No kiddin’? What’s your idea?”
Florence: “Just this, I got a look at that dump a little while ago and if they haven’t got a wax figure of Joan Gale in that line-up, then I’m crazy.”
Jim: “We’ll grant that.”
Florence: “What?”
Jim: “About the Gale girl, I mean. Where do we go from there? What of it?”
Florence: “Listen, Jo-Jo, does this mean anything to you? Joan Gale’s body was swiped from the morgue! Did you ever hear of such a thing as a death mask?”
Jim: “I used to be married to one.”
Florence: “And it came to life and divorced you. I know all about that. Now my idea is this, somebody swipes the girl’s body, takes an impression, makes a mold, produces a wax figure, and—bingo—peddles it to this old skate down there!”
Jim: “Work that up into a comic strip and we’ll syndicate it.”
Florence: “You go to hel—“
Jim: “What?”
Florence: “Let it go.”
Jim: “Come down to earth. Do you think they would dare do anything like that? Don’t you think they’d know that figure would be recognized? Shake your head real hard, you’ll be all right.”
Florence: “All right, mastermind, but there’s something cockeyed about that joint, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
“Mystery of the Wax Museum” can be seen as one of the first feminist horror films.
Well before Joss Whedon introduced the vampire-slaying character Buffy, Florence demonstrated resilience and superiority over her male counterparts.
She outsmarted the police, exposed the villain’s plot, and rescued her friend Charlotte Duncan (Wray) from a dire fate.
In the remake, the savior took on a more traditional male role, embodied by police inspector Frank Lovejoy. Nevertheless, in both versions, it was a male cop’s punch that sent the villain plummeting into a vat of boiling wax.
With her toughness and independence, Farrell’s portrayal of Florence is accentuated by her impeccable comic timing and caustic delivery.
For instance, when Florence’s playboy date hesitates to assist with her investigation, she retorts, “All right, brother, then you can go to some nice warm place, and I don’t mean California!”
The narrative saw another remake in 2005 titled “House of Wax,” featuring a lackluster cast, including Paris Hilton.
However, this iteration deviated into the realm of teenage torture porn. It was so poorly executed that it single-handedly terminated the successful annual Halloween attraction series by Warner Brothers’ Dark Castle Productions.
A more enjoyable alternative to either remake is Hy Averback’s “Chamber of Horrors” (1966), initially designed as a television pilot but released theatrically.
In this version, the House of Wax is reimagined as the headquarters for a trio of amateur criminologists in turn-of-the-century Baltimore.
The villain, played by Patrick O’Neal, is a demented blueblood with a prosthetic hand equipped for instruments of torture.
Notably, “Doctor X” was never remade. Despite its title, Vincent Sherman’s “The Return of Doctor X” (1939) is not a sequel, with its only claim to fame being Humphrey Bogart’s sole performance in a horror movie as a resurrected scientist dependent on the blood of others for his undead existence.
Bogart, who disliked the film, humorously remarked that draining Jack Warner’s blood would have made the experience more rewarding.
“Mystery of the Wax Museum” is accessible in DVD and Blu-Ray formats, often included as an extra for the 1953 version of “House of Wax.”
On the other hand, “Doctor X” has been exclusively released on DVD, packaged as a double feature with “The Return of Doctor X” in Warner Home Video’s Legends of Horror set.
Both films frequently appear on Turner Classic Movies, particularly around Halloween.
It’s plausible that the prospect of becoming Warner Bros.’s counterpart to Lugosi and Karloff played a significant role in John Barrymore’s decision to follow his brother Lionel’s advice and switch to MGM.
“Introduction to Film Studies,” edited by Jill Nelmes, Routledge, 2012.
In the remake, the partner was portrayed rather unremarkably by Roy Roberts. At the same time, in the original, the role was taken on by one of Hollywood’s most delightfully villainous actors, Edwin Maxwell.
Notably, Roberts met an early demise in the proceedings, whereas Maxwell continued to be a significant supporting character throughout the rest of the film.
Unfortunately, many film historians have perpetuated the error on IMDb, listing Dempsey as Florence’s last name.
This mistake likely originated from a humor-impaired film enthusiast who failed to grasp the sarcasm when a cop, responding to Florence deliberately slapping him on the back, referred to her as “Mrs. Dempsey” (a reference to the boxing champ).
Even though Florence is single and roommates with Charlotte, this error has persisted for years.
